Last time I wrote, it was my soul that was speaking out. It was telling me to slow down and take a break through the action of a seasonal illness (which turned out to be the respiratory flu) that pretty much stopped me in my tracks. At this time last week I was experiencing the vicious cycle of chills, then fever, then chills again… followed by more fever. I heeded the warning at the time, allowing myself to sleep as much as I needed, drink plenty of fluids, read both mindless and meaningful things, and just lay low in the process of healing. That lasted about a day and a half…..
Since I didn’t have a fever on Monday morning, I got up, got showered and dressed as usual, and headed in to work. Although I felt ok, I certainly didn’t feel great. Luckily, I could go home and relax that night and didn’t need to be back in to the office until noon the next day when clients would start to appear on my doorstep again. I gave myself permission to sleep in and forego my usual Tuesday morning trek to the gym, and instead spent the morning relaxing, and once again leisurely reading my way through the start of the day. Although my soul was on the fence for whether I was up to being at work, someone else decided to pace my soul and create another slower rhythm to my week; Her name is Mother Nature.
The news had been calling it the biggest storm of the decade, one that shouldn’t be ignored, and one that was clearing the shelves of all staple-type provisions. As predicted, the snow started falling just after noon on Wednesday, starting first with small flakes, then growing bigger and more plentiful as the day went on. My 2:00 p.m. client had already called to cancel her appointment, and my 3:30 p.m. meeting was postponed. So, I decided to head home and settle in for the remainder of the day. That turned out to be the best decision I had made all week, as by 2:30 p.m. the roads were already snow-packed and many of those who had started their own trek home had to turn around and go back—some staying in hotels, others spending the night in their workplace.
The snow, mixed with ice pellets and freezing rain, continued falling for over 24 hours, measuring approximately 10-11 inches in my back yard. Had I wanted or needed to get out of my driveway, I couldn’t. So, I just hunkered down, watched movies, read in the sunroom once again, and did whatever else that passed the time.
Mother Nature apparently decided I needed more quiet time and rest regardless of my improving physical health. True, I hadn’t fully recovered from my illness, but even truer, was that it wouldn’t have mattered even if I had felt back to 100%. Both my soul and the Universe said “STOP”! I wasn’t going anywhere. Instead, I gave in to my soul… I gave in to Mother Nature, and I simply surrendered.
The funny thing is that I began to enjoy my captivity. I enjoyed the fact that I was responsible to no one and no thing. The occupational hazard about being a psychologist is that you always feel responsible, even if not in the presence of a client. You know that you could receive a crisis call at any given time and be called to action no matter what time of day. But in this case, even though I knew I could be called, I knew I couldn’t leave even if I tried—the incline of my driveway would have created an impassable challenge, and I would be released from the expectation of having to run out to take care of someone.
No, instead, it was once again time to take care of me… take care of my soul. This time Mother Nature demanded the care—I just listened. She gave me the permission to once again synchronize my soul with the cadence of life that was balanced and grounded, not one that felt more like a race to check things off the list.
The only item on the list this time? Me—living consciously, living fully.
Why is it that we get so seduced by the human condition? Why do we abandon our sense and need for balance when we know how much better we feel when grounded. What is so appealing in the human rat race that we overlook or dismiss the voice of the soul?
I am not the only one who has this lesson to learn, and I likely will have to learn it again. Although I may not enjoy the reminders, I always appreciate them.
Thank you, Mother Nature. And thank you, soul!