Ebb and Flow

The moon waxes and wanes, tides ebb and flow, and the earth twirls her face in and out of darkness. Plants sprout, grow, flower, fruit, and go to seed. One day, my world is scorched and sunny, and the next, cool air blows in, and rain floods the ground. The world around us is in constant flux. And yet sometimes, I imagine that I should be different—my body a fixed point, my spirit an unbending line.

The truth is that I have never been fixed or unbending—not prior to Covid and not now. Every body ebbs and flows. The difference now, of course, is that my body refuses to be bullied—refuses to pretend that the tide is unchanging, refuses to let me to ignore her rhythms.

Can I hold the rising and falling of my energy the way I hold the rising and falling of waves? Can I view the waxing and waning of symptoms with the same gentleness that I view the waxing and waning moon? In the long, hard stretches, can I lean into the experience, wrapping myself in blankets and treating myself to steaming mugs of herbal tea, like I would for any winter? 

This moment is just a moment, and it will eventually do what every moment does—pass.

What’s true of moons and waves and plants and my long-hauling body is also true of my spirit. Some days, gratitude and presence flow like a river. In many moments, I am at peace with my life, limitations and all. Other times, even though all the same beauty is present, I feel blocked off from it—numb. I see only gray, hear only static. These words from Mark Nepo capture these fluctuations of spirit:

Like radios, we struggle through our static to receive wavelengths that are always there, and, being human, we are unable to sustain the clarity necessary to apprehend the magic inherent in everything. So we vacillate from extraordinary to the ordinary, time and time again, and most of us blame the world.

What if we don’t need to blame anyone or anything (including ourselves) for our ups and downs or are dark, dull moments? What if blame misses the point? We don’t apportion blame for the rising and setting of the sun, the waxing and waning of the moon, or for the changing of seasons.

In this moment right now, I accept (without blame!) my body and spirit just as they are. I accept the pressure in my head and the aching of my joints. I embrace the pleasure of writing, of my body sinking into the couch, of key clicks filling my ears. I accept, too, that in some not-too-distant moment, I will forget to practice acceptance. I will crackle with resistance, my ears filling with static, the loveliness around and within me growing dim. I know now what I might briefly forget then: that this ebb and flow, this dimming and brightening are just part of being alive.

I hope you’re enjoying Corona Cafe. I’d love to hear from you! If you would like to share some aspect of your long Covid story, post in the comments or reply directly to this email. If you want to say ‘thanks’, you can do so with a like, a share, or by buying me a coffee below. Thank you for being with me on this journey!