Meditation vs. Medication

This is a weird thing to share, but I’ve shared enough to date to think, Why stop now?

I woke up feeling a bit “germy.” That feeling as if the flu is coming: achey shoulders, achey back. It’s normally a precursor to the flu for me.

I’m well aware that when I’ve had the flu in the past, it was because I was really craving down time, thinking time, rest time—essentially just time. If I don’t consciously stop and make time for myself, I generally get a virus. My body steps in with an “I’ve got this” flag, I’m forced to the couch, and I suddenly get time for me.

This time was different, though. I didn’t feel rushed or stressed. I didn’t feel my time was compromised at all, and I was strategically doing every single thing I wanted to do. So this viral feeling had come without the standard explanation.

Enter weirdness.

I pulled out my bolster and sat down to meditate. A few breaths to settle. In my mind’s eye, I stepped into a room of cushions and beanbags. There was a warm light to the room, perfect for an un-intimidating round-table discussion, so to speak.

Into the room, I invited in the virus, as well as my immune system. We acquainted ourselves, and I opened up a dialogue between the three of us about what was going on here.

The virus started laughing and said it had no idea, but found the whole scene very funny in that it was circulating through my body without understanding why. I turned to my immune system, which looked sheepish, awkward, even embarrassed. It said, “I was busy doing other things. I guess I just moved my focus.”

I asked where its focus had moved to. Awkward silence. I laid my hands on different parts of my body. “Here?” I moved them around with each, “Nope, not there,” until I received a few yes’es.

The yes’es were related to freckles and moles on my skin that I’ve been meaning to get checked out by a specialist. I frequently think of it at random times, like in the shower, but then forget once I’m out of the bathroom, so I hadn’t made the doctor’s appointment as of yet. The worry about them was obviously sitting within—and apparently, my immune system took up the call.

So I asked, “Are you focusing on these areas because it’s required, or because of my worry?”

“Your worry.”

We proceeded to have a conversation, clarifying that the Immune system had my complete permission to attend to what is real, rather than what’s in my head. I also promised that I would make an appointment with the skin specialist immediately, so as to remove the worry lurking in my subconscious.

I was able to personally thank my immune system for taking one for the team and totally stepping up, even out of its normal role, in order to protect and look after me.

We actually bonded over this. My immune system felt appreciated, and we had a heartfelt hug. We invited the virus into a group hug; after all, it was the virus that allowed this conversation, as well as the recognition that my immune system is truly on my side, doing as I ask. The virus suddenly had a purpose, and with that, it vanished out of the hug, leaving two.

To clarify, none of this seemed weird at the time. In fact, it seemed perfectly normal, very logical. And it was the most beautiful, genuine, and honest conversation and connection with my physical being. It’s only now that I put it in black and white that I realize just how weird it sounds!

Either way, though, I know where I’m going as my first point of call with any sickness in my body in the future.

Sherrie Laryse

About the Author | Sherrie Laryse

Sherrie Laryse is a mentor and writer, dedicated to living her life with growing self-awareness. She lives by the guiding mantra that "growth occurs as the border of support and challenge." For Sherrie, life is a fluid gift that reshapes itself as we change our perceptions. This is what gives rise to Sherrie’s grounded wisdom and ultimate inspiration to others. Sherrie lives in Sydney. Australia, with her husband and second-hand cat and writes at www.sherrie.com.au

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