The Paradox of Presence

My life has simplified enormously.  As nearly all of the “normal” ways that people occupy their time become impossible for me to do, I have been left to explore a simpler range of options.  I’m not sure what I expected life to be like when I stopped working but the reality feels surprising.  It is not uncommon for damage to the central nervous system to produce severe muscle spasms and the options are exercise, drugs, or even surgery to sever the nerves.  But living that reality, figuring out what it means to navigate life’s simplest tasks like walking to the bathroom or making a cup of tea get a lot more complicated and require a surprising degree of creativity.   I can’t pretend it’s all bliss and ease, but it’s a lot more of that than I would have expected.  I actually feel a little guilty that I have this amazing freedom to do anything I want – no one is expecting me to do anything. 

I am completely free to do whatever the moment suggests.  I don’t have to struggle with what I should do; I just do what calls to be done.   Some of what calls are great books, movies, conversations with friends, sitting in Silence.  I also find myself becoming ever more curious to play with ways to ease my struggling body – what happens when I lean into the spasms, feel the movement and where it wants to go.  The idea of “exercising” in the sense of finding a “plan” of appropriate exercises and following it feels disconnected and abusive.  Instead a sense of dance arises and it makes more sense to respond with love and attention to each physical disturbance, feeling into what it is asking for, responding with respect and curiosity.   That could be anything from screaming in pain to struggling to figure out how to move my body from the bed to the bathroom when the muscles are so painfully locked that it is impossible to stand up.  It could also be playfully exploring the strength and persistence, the intense sensation of my body trying to unwind.  It feels good to explore the spaciousness surrounding the intensity, experimenting with unconventional movements that stretch a muscle contraction so that it moves out of constriction if only for a moment.  There isn't a need to “think” about what to do, all the actions arise out of the intense movement flowing through my body in unpredictable and ever changing patterns.

This immersion in pure presence, just being where I am is peaceful, easy and more loving than I could have imagined and I feel a flood of gratitude that I have been given the opportunity to explore this mysterious landscape.  Everything that I formerly worried about and spent my life working to take care of, like paying the bills, taking care of the house, running errands , working, are now being magically taken care of.  There is enough money; there are wonderful people who help me, most especially Don.  I could spend time worrying that I am causing trouble to them, but the reality is that there is such a sense of love and sharing that I can’t keep up the story of helpless victim imposing on others.  

There is a lot of mystery in this because I sense that I always had this choice.  Has there really ever been a moment when I was not just living in the present moment and doing what the moment called for?  Why should working with excruciatingly painful muscle spasms be easier than meeting the daily tasks that used to show up in my life?  Why does it seem easier instead of harder?  This is a very interesting question and I know that the relationship I have now with my life was always available to me but I didn't understand how to accept it.   I was busy being “responsible”, which is just a word that disguises a whole catalog of ways that I needed to prove that I was worthy, that I was right, that I could do all the things I was supposed to do so that I didn't need to depend on anyone else or impinge on them.  It was always a question of defending my right to be a separate person taking up space, making impacts that I struggled to keep beneficial or at least benign. 

Now when I can no longer do much for anyone, not even myself, and I regularly rely on others to help me, the joke is that all that trouble was deluded.  I am not separate.  I could no more choose not to impact those around me than I could choose not to breathe.  I have always relied on the benevolent actions of all the people in my life, but because I was so focused on my own capability, I had not the humility to recognize the extent of the gratitude that I owed to the wondrous munificence all around me.   I don’t need to prove myself anymore; I can cede the effort to the love that is the fundamental energy moving life.  It is in love that I meet the pain; it is in love that my needs are met and it is in love that I’m finally able to feel gratitude that I am truly free to feel at ease.