My Menopause Blog

I’m currently reading Buddhism Without Beliefs by Stephen Batchelor. This morning, these two sentences jumped out at me.

“One of the most difficult things to remember is to remember to remember. Awareness begins with remembering what we tend to forget.”

I clearly forgot.

During my first 3 days of being on retreat I had forgotten something of vital importance. The reality that we are all connected had somehow slipped my mind. Instead my old belief of separateness and isolation had invaded my being, whipping me into a fearful frenzy of “I’m all alone.” That and a dose of sleep deprivation made up a big bowl of steaming dukkha for me to chow down on.

Yum yum pigs bum.

We all know that sleep is good and sleep for relief of Parkinson’s symptoms is very good. Now with one solid night of zzz’s under my belt all my symptoms settle down. I am more grounded. I am more present.

Loyola House sits on over 600 acres of organic, blessed land owned by the Jesuits. I’m a volunteer for the Old Growth Forest Project on this property and have been walking the trails for close to 20 years. When my balance disappeared in 2007, I could no longer roam the land. My heart broke with that realization - there is nothing I like more than being out in nature - but except for the occasional heroic effort by strong friends with me in my disability Wike, my capacity to visit the nooks and crannies of the Ignatius Jesuit Centre was gone like the dodo.

Or so I thought.

After almost 2 years of needing a wheelchair or walker to get anywhere, my balance and mobility returned in July. My neurologist was shocked by my progress - he had been certain I would never walk independently again and could not account for the improvement. Seemed my alternative approach was bearing fruit.

My health continued to improve. By September I dared to walk around my block alone. In October I was out on trails with friends. And now in November, I was alone on the property I love, doing walking meditation.

As I walked down the dirt path toward the Villa, a tree full of chickadees caught my eyes and ears. I stopped in awe and allowed the spectacle to take my breath away. Suddenly I felt the rush of blood pulsing in my veins and my heart beating strongly - a feeling of love washed over me. I felt deep tenderness for the chickadees flitting about. But it didn’t stop there. The feeling kept expanding, beyond the birds, over the fields, all the way to the retreat centre and beyond.

The day before I was gripped with the fear of being judged. But suddenly, on that narrow dirt road, I loved everything and everyone.

I drew a heart on my note page sometime that day and added these two words.

Settling.

Kindness.

I am connected to everything and everyone. I am love.

Sue Richards