I’ve received many loving and kind messages from people as I’ve shared about my husband Ed falling and breaking his hip and elbow.
When other people are going through challenges, I will also say to them, I don’t know how you are doing this, this is difficult, you’ll get through this, I love you. How is it that we manage to show up for life’s curveballs when we’re not sure we can?
I’ve often wondered what would happen if Ed needed constant care and assistance. What would I do? Could I do it? As this situation is unfolding and I am showing up and able to be present and evolve, step by step, I am reminded of a story I read about Allan Lokos. The question to him was why he meditates. As I remembered and then reread his story, I understand why we do the “work”, the inner, spiritual work, the practice, over the course of our lives. We do it so we can show up for the outer, visible, physical world when we are called to do something that seems beyond our capabilities.
You can read Allan’s full story “In The Fire” here . Briefly, Allan was a meditator and meditation teacher who was badly burned in an airplane crash. Someone asked him, is it possible that his meditation practice helped him in his recovery? He said, “Maybe . . . due to practice, I’m not under as much stress as a nonpractitioner might be. I think the way the research about these things puts it is that there is no illness or condition that is not made worse by stress. None! So if we’re dealing with less stress, we have a better chance.” In his long process of recovery, all those years of meditation, of just showing up, bearing witness to whatever arose, came to the fore. All that foundation of just showing up for himself every day supported him in that healing journey.
All that I have done all my life, all the studying, applying, teaching, failing, resetting, forgiving, practicing . . . all of it led to this moment when I just needed to show up. Not just for Ed, but for me. And to my surprise, the foundation was there. It fills me, carries me, nourishes me. It’s not amazing or grand or extraordinary. It just is. Yes, thankfully, it just is.