Someone once asked me why I ‘bothered to practice.’ He was speaking to the progression of my neurological disease and the potential for finding peace within it.

“Look at you, sitting there all crumpled up,” he said. “I can tell you’re in pain. Why bother?”

And, he was right. I was in pain – chronic, debilitating pain. So much so, that I’d literally lost sleep. I had difficulties tending to my daily chores. There were bills piling up, and dishes to be washed. Even the gardens which once shared such insurmountable joy, were now in a terrible state of disrepair.

And forget about those simple movements – walking, driving, getting up from a chair – all of which were now a labor of love. Accomplished not because I wanted, rather – because others needed me more.

To him, I must have looked the fool – sitting there all alone on my meditation pillow. Hoping to accomplish what? More suffering, more physical pain?

Oh, and wasn’t I angry – at first. I mean, who on earth would dare to judge the manner in which I navigated my fear? This was my path, my pain – my journey.

And, then…

Against the droning hum of the yoga studio fans, my anger lifted. My thoughts, suddenly clearer and less rigid.

Perhaps, it was the sound that drew me in – thunka, thunk, thunk. Much like the heart, its constancy reassured. For a split second, I wasn’t consumed by the outcome.

I found my ‘gap’ – that space between the chaos of thinking mind and the restful bliss of eternal peace.

Somewhere within me, the words find their roots.

“Why bother?” I asked, smiling in return. “For this promise of now; nothing more, nothing less.”

After all, if we can’t find happiness along this path of peace then where else do we expect to find it?

A little something to consider, my loves…

Namaste ❤