“An awareness of one’s mortality can lead you to wake up and live an authentic, meaningful life.” ~ Bernie Siegel.

When my father was in his mid-fifties, he had a heart attack.  It sneaked up on him, aches and pains in his left shoulder, that he ascribed to driving up and down the winding country roads in Jamaica.  Rheumatism, he thought, which was one name for joint pain.  Frozen shoulder, another possibility.  When he went to see his local doctor, and EKG was done, and the doctor was able to determine that my father had (past tense) had a heart attack, but no idea when.  He suggested he go to the nearest hospital (at the time that was an hour’s drive away), and tell them he was having chest pains.  So, after the fact, he was admitted.  On discharge, my father asked the doctor what kind of activities he could do.  The doctor told him he could play golf. ‘Good’, said my father, ‘I’ve never been able to play it before!’

What changed in his life after this diagnosis was that he learned to say no.  As minister in a small country town in Jamaica, Parson is on call to everyone, all the time.  This is not limited to spiritual needs, though of course that would be primary.  Your Parson is who you go to when you receive a letter of official importance; when your husband has decided to take up with a young woman; when your children are acting up; when your wife is pregnant and you don’t own a decent bed for her to sleep on; when your grandmother is dying.  Before you call for a doctor, a lawyer, or a social worker, you go to Parson, and ask for advice.  More often than not, this would be an in person visit, telephones were very scarce in rural areas in the 70’s. 

My father loved to tell the story of one visitor who came knocking on the door just as my father had decided to lie down (a midday lie down in the hottest part of the day seems very sensible).  When he heard the knock, he yelled out from the bedroom: ‘Who is there?’.  The timid response of a young boy was ‘It’s me, Parson!’.  My father’s next question: ‘Who is me?’.  There was a puzzled pause.  Then came the reply: ‘You is Parson, Parson!’ 

Learning to say no meant listening to his body rather than the demands of his congregation, and the community he served.  He realized what many of us don’t, that if you don’t look out for number one, if you don’t practice self-care, you won’t be around to take care of all of those who depend on you.  And if you don’t learn to say no, people will soon come to expect you to be superhuman.  His self-care must have worked, for although he never played golf, he served his community until his retirement and beyond, and lived to be 90.

Some years ago, I explored the concept of how much we take our bodies for granted.  Do we notice what is going on inside and out, unless a pain, or a change in habits draws our attention?  One of my family members who did a lot of driving, described how carefully he observed his only vehicle, knowing how much everyone depended upon it to get them to and from work.  He could recognize every strange sound, each new squeak or rattle, and would not be happy until he had diagnosed and corrected it.  Are we as attentive to our body?

My recent visit to a new doctor has revealed a few areas of my body that may need a tune-up.  Until the diagnostics revealed that, I would have said I was in perfect health.  Since the results have become available, I have become somewhat paranoid about the squeaks and rattles that I had not even noticed before.  The question is, where they always there, or has my attention to them made them more pronounced?  I remember as a bedside nurse, when administering medications we are supposed to alert patients to the possible side effects, so that they are aware of what to report, or what to expect as an insignificant but possibly annoying side effect.  The problem is that many people are very suggestible, and once you hear that the medication may cause dizziness or headaches, you are sure to experience them! Like the placebo effect, there can be placebo side-effects! 

I remember a co-worker telling me a story from his childhood.  As a teenager he had been diagnosed with some kind of spinal cord anomaly, one which caused him no problems, but which put him at risk for complications.  As he started to obsess on the possibilities, his father (who himself was born with a cardiac condition) warned him not to ‘fall in love’ with his illness. In other words, not to be so fixated on his condition that he forgot to live.  When I returned to school after years of nursing, I remember being told the importance of not referring to a patient by their diagnosis, for example, you should not describe someone as being ‘a diabetic’, you should say they are a person ‘with diabetes’.  It may seem a small difference, but it reminds you that we are all people first, not a diagnosis.

When we talk about the act of mindfulness, we often think about being in an emotional state of acceptance, of noticing emotional responses to things in order to let go of anxiety or fear.  Also, in being mindful, we are encouraged to notice things around us, so that we are grounded in the present moment, instead of wandering away in our thoughts to the past, or to the future.  But another piece to mindfulness is being aware of our bodies, so that we can pay more attention to them.  Many of us develop neck or back pain and never notice the weight of the large bag that we grab from the front seat of our vehicle then throw over our shoulder each day.  Being mindful helps you to recognize this action, and find ways to alternate, or walk around the vehicle to pick it up in a way that distributes the weight more evenly. 

Recently we have watched as an elder statesman had to accept the fact that he may not be up to the challenges that faced him.  He had to pay attention not only to his body, but to the perceptions of others, and decide what to do for the best of the country.  In stepping aside he gave way to a whole new possibility, which has energized a huge portion of the population.  Let us hope that the larger population can make a choice based on policies and values, and not be swayed by prejudice and bias.

This Friday morning, I hope that you are mindful of what it takes to keep your body in balance.  I hope that you can begin each day with an unconditional acceptance of who you are, and then treat yourself gently, listening to your body and learning to say no, if necessary.  And if you hear any squeaks and rattles, be sure to get them checked out! Maybe all you need is an oil change!

Have a wonderful weekend, Family!

One Love!

Namaste.