I've been more than a bit grumbly lately, what with all the flus and barfing and curving spines around here (by "around here," I mean in my body). It has felt a little relentless, I've felt a little sorry for myself, and I've been a bit resentful of this new routine being imposed on me. Every night, it's yoga or, mostly, pilates. If not, the next day means pain and discomfort. I'm not all that interested in food, and then a staggering hunger overwhelms me and I want to eat anything in sight. Some nights I'm still needing nine or ten hours of sleep.
In short, I'm getting unexpected, unwanted feedback from my body. And I've been pissed about it.
But then, this morning, a revelation, prodded by some reading in Mike Dooley's Infinite Possibilities. And that is this: I have been wanting more time to take care of myself, to make myself stronger, to rest. These have been conscious intentions. I've been getting those gifts, too, though in the form of H1N1, or scoliosis. I was looking for rest and care in completely different forms--maybe some massages or something? Swaths of free time to just fall into my lap? But since I wasn't making those things happen, I got these other things instead. Not as delightful, but teachers anyway.
Here's my new intention: just take the extra hours of sleep, and enjoy them. Do the pilates (and enjoy my newfound stomach muscles). Push some stuff off my plate at work for a while. Eat when I feel like it, not when the schedule says it's time. Be still. And be grateful for my body's feedback.