Back Injury

I lie here, struggling against the need to stay still but wincing at the discomfort that wriggling brings me.  This is the third day of looking up at the bars of the bunk bed above.  The parallel lines form a perfect cage.  I try to erase the 'g' and write 'v' instead, welcoming the safe presence of the cave of darkness around me, trying as hard as I can to embrace my situation.

My thoughts frequently flick back to my friend Jacky, who, two years ago, woke up one morning to an experience of paralysis in his toes.  The deadness crept up, day by day, moving past his ankles, his knees, his hips, until he was forced into a hospital bed here in Guatemala City under the care of my friend Mindi, at whose house I am currently refuging.  Jacky lay still as the paralysis rose and rose, stopping just under his chin to tease him with fear.  But throughout it, he remained bright, his smiling Chinese eyes and laughing mouth continuing to welcome in the experiences life brought him.  He became famous among our community for his endless tolerance and trust in the process, no matter how terrifying it must have been to slowly watch your body disappear.

I cant help but compare myself to Mindi's recollections of Jacky.  He was always so grateful for everything, so strong in his belief, so powerful even in his lack of movement. His experience set off a long journey of healing, a journey he is still going through.  His willingness to go through what life had brought him led to some deep understanding of his place here in the world.  He must have been so scared, but he just shouldered his load and allowed it to take him where it needed to take him.  His trust allowed his recovery - a slow one, but a recovery nonetheless.

And here I am, three days in to my own confinement, seeing a bunk bed as a cage and raging against the changes to my schedule I'm having to make. 

Three days ago I woke up in an old woman's body, my spine somehow twisted and bent in a way that makes it almost impossible to stand or sit, and uncomfortable to lie down.  My shoulders, far from being in line with my hips, have moved and twisted a few inches to the left. I feel as if I have a corset around my center, laced up the wrong way, so that my bones jar each time I move.  I seek constantly for some kind of alignment, but if I try to move myself back to a 'normal' position, my left foot lifts up off the ground.

I have been instructed - basically by my own body - to lie still and take it.  This is my vacation time and I am attached to my expectations for it - visions of relaxing by the beach, cuddling up to my girlfriend, eating what I want, when I want, painting and walking and running.  Instead I have been caught off-guard on a quick trip to the city and forced to stay here, away from everything, abandoning my hopes and my plans and my freedom for the stillness of this little cave.

If someone had told me last week that I would be forced to stay in bed for a week, I would probably have laughed, welcomed in the silence.  I would have enjoyed the thought of such laziness. So why am I finding this so hard? Is it because I am not at home? Is it because I am separated from my love, Bonnie, who can not be here right now? Is it because I have little control over my food, my movements? Is it because I might have to give up my teaching job next week, because I simply cannot sit down?

I am sure there are many things contributing.  But despite this. I see through this mess of thoughts to the essence of this event.  Have I been moving so fast that this is the only way my body can slow me down? Have I been so reluctant to look at myself that I have to undergo painful structural misalignment in order to do the work that must be done?

I think back to the last training, and how many times I practically had to run to class because I had left my cabin so late.  I think even further back, to my time in California, and how I felt the need to walk or shop to fill any alone time I had.  And I see the painful interactions between me and Bonnie, how we fought against each other in the attempt to find closeness and connection.

I have known I've needed time, but I haven't given it to myself. I have seen the need for creation and I feel the damage this unbirthed creative energy has done to my system.  And I also see how my judgement of myself and my actions - just like I am judging myself now by marking myself up against Jacky - have effectively robbed me of my personal power.

This cave is quite cosy if I allow myself to feel it.  There is noise and commotion coming from outside - a group of party-goers singing to Mexican music being played from the hot dog stand just outside.  My fingers crackle on the keyboard, moving in a dance that my current body could never do.  My belly is full, my body unable to process the huge volume of bread and cake I have been comfort-eating since I got here.  My back is sore, from half an hour spent sitting upstairs at Mindi's table, trying to enjoy dinner.

My mind consistently strays to find meaning in my experience. I want to control everything. Rarely have I been unable to do what I want.  I cannot help thinking what this all means - whether I will be able to  teach again, whether my ability to do handstands and arm balances will be affected, whether I will be judged for not being able to do what I used to, whether I will be ok financially now that I have spent all of my money and have no idea how to reclaim it without a working body.

My father just wrote; Do any of the usual stretching movements help? Hang by your arms etc.  Sometimes good sleep with lots of paracetamol or ibuprofen and heat helps. Sorry feel helpless from this distance xxxxx Los of love and hugs for your bad back xxx I might have hepatitis - more tests Monday am xxxxxx dad xxxx

I cannot say what my father needs most but as an outsider that loves him very much I would say that an experience like this has the potential to knock him out of the mundanity of life inside four walls and out into the world, where he might at last be free to really look at what surrounds him.

My head swirls with thoughts about his potential illness. Surprisingly I am not scared.  I have felt something coming. It is hard to accept something like this and know that it is because he drinks too much. Part of me is happy about it, thinking perhaps it will help him to quit drinking.  And part of my is just sad, because my life has taken me away from him and his presence in my life has just grown smaller by the year.  He is still my dad, still adored. But it can be so hard to connect across the miles and daily mediocrity that so often becomes the default for our conversations.

Life does seem to bring us exactly what I need and - here's the crux - it is always in a way that will challenge us.  What I needed most was time.  Time for myself, time for my body, time to allow revelations to come through. 

I cannot remember the last time I washed my face in the lake or lay on the dock looking up at the stars.  In this life of intention, where has the connection gone? I try to look around me all of the time - I feel such a deep appreciation for nature. It is not as if these things are missing from my life. But somehow I have become dulled to beauty, hardened to experience, in such a way that things have ceased to amaze me.

I live on the edge of a volcano that towers up in cloud-shrouded magnificence. But the background has become familiar.  Is this hardening simply a result of growing older? Next year I am to turn thirty, and I wish to do so with grace and wonder at the beauty I have drawn into my life.  It is a new decade.  In order to enter this, I must somehow move through the 'seen it all before' attitude and back behind my baby's eyes. No matter how many times I've seen something, it still holds a magic that will touch me in a new way.

I have an idea of myself that is not true. After so many years of being mean to myself, my latest strategy - one that works well - is to tell myself how good and accomplished I have become. But this again is not quite on the mark.  There are pieces missing here. Of course, I have done much work on myself, accomplished and understood many things.

Underneath all the layers lies a strong, graceful woman, walking her path. But there is so much more to this image.  My struggle right now shows me how headstrong I have become, how much control I really seek.  I am a queen, seeking to make the world my own, seeking to make others act and objects shift in a way that pleases me.  Where is the leniency, where is the flow? If I am truly this spiritual seeker then this perhaps is my next challenge - to live and let live, to accept what comes, even though it might not be quite what I had in mind.

I still have so far to go. I still talk like a teenager and react like a child. My connection is strong but my discipline is poor.  I say all this not to judge myself - rather to highlight areas that I know I will grow into simply through this awareness.  I speak this language well and I act the part.  I know how to hold space and I can sense what people need. But underneath it all I feel like a fraud - as if the skill with which I play this part is so fine that I feel like I am wearing a mask.

What is real? What actually matters? In this place here I feel so disconnected from what reality is. Antyhing could happen. My father's hepatitis seems so far away - he is not in this room, therefore how can he be real? The oncoming course at which I am due to teach is just a figment of my imagination. How can I place myself there now, with the pain that I feel? How can I know how long it will take to regain my body back once more? How can I know which is the real body and which is the moment?

In all this movement and with all these demands on my time and energy ,I must take the time I need to nourish myself. This doesn't necessarily mean pamper myself with good food and nice things, which is what I've been doing so far. It means taking the time to connect back to the source that feeds me - the belief I have that this path is the right thing for me.

I am strong. I am light. I am healing. I am strong. I am light. I am healing. I am strong. I am light. I am healing.

JIYA JULIA

Jiya works in the field of self-empowerment, particularly through creative expression, helping people to identify their challenges and fulfill their full potential.  A founder of international organization Kula Collective, Jiya offers her retreats around the world.