Fighting Fever. Warring Self. Dark Nights.
Altered mind states
Truly alone within
Brief moments of pure clarity
I currently have chickenpox. To be entirely specific, the doc said it’s the same virus as causes chickenpox and shingles (and a dozen others that ‘mimic’ those), but lays somewhere in between. It’s sucky! Suffice to say I have a myriad of delightful, tiny blisters in the strangest places all over, including my face. I’ll come back to that. As they burst and heal they scab. Lovely. Did I mention the insanity-provoking itching? Calamine and antihistamines have been my friend. Added to that over the past day or so, pain relief, as the headache from dehydration is profound (yes I’m drinking gallons, even sugar/salt sachet solutions to combat it, but the fever and sweats… oh the sweats).
So yes, having a ball here in my ‘spare room of isolation’. That phrase has become representative of the whole experience to me. Literally the isolation; yes of course my beloveds check on me, bring me sustenance, tea and sympathy… but I spend endless hours alone, in my own company.
I discovered again on day 1 that I quite enjoyed my own company. That was pleasant. Having quiet, peace, rest and even just ‘time’ to myself was a delight, despite feeling so rotten. Solitude is something lacking in my life and, as busy and lovely as it is, I resolved to take more quality time for me in future, rather than existing on the few snatched hours of sofa/flump/collapse at the quiet end of the day.
Yes. Rest too is lacking, real rest. Also imposed during this period of poorliness and equally appreciated with the same, new-found respect.
Being in this ‘spare room of isolation’ is interesting, fascinating intellectually and emotionally. Cut off from the rest of the house, separated physically for the sake of everyone else (my beloveds, visitors etc), for prevention of contagion. But gosh, it really is ‘separating’ after a few days. Like being completely cut off and plonked on a mountaintop for meditative contemplation.
Around day 3 I realised I felt quite institutionalized. Automated. Numbed to it. This room could quite literally be in a different country, or underground. If it weren’t for the changing light from the window and the greenery of the garden view, I’d not know what time or day it is. Thank goodness for technology, at least I have outside ‘entertainment’ and communication (after a fashion) when I really desire it. It’s quite hard work though. I don’t have much energy outside of fighting this revolting virus. And for thought. Although I have discovered a resilience and ability to focus for short periods, thus have managed a few client sessions from here. Inordinately pleased about that.
I’ve had many ‘lessons’ from this experience. It has shown me quite clearly, several things I needed to look at. Spiritually I’ve explored a real sense of self, truthful awareness, deep core beliefs and illusions. Something I’ve not had the simple luxury of time to explore for awhile. Philosophy. Sociology. Anthropology. Spirituality. My mind’s been all over the place. Ponderances and realisations around the whole human physical body mental/emotional construct rubbish we have going on, a bit like the cultural societal ones we exist in, often without being aware of it, until we look for it that is. Flesh sacks on loan between spiritual progress steps. Body is a temple? Yeah… some real work to do there too. Deep, huh?
Vanity. Gosh I’d hate for anyone to see me this way. My face? A red, blistery, scabby, icky mess. Healing now, thank goodness. But ugh. Talk about looking in the mirror at one’s own physical vanity. Talking of social constructs. Hah, hoisted by my own petard so to speak. Recognised, laughed at, accepted and ignored. Phew.
Day 5. There’s an expression called ‘the shaman’s death’. Also rebirth. The stripping away of ‘self’, surpassing fear, into acceptance. Allowing. Appreciating. So much more, far more than I can do justice within mere words. Timelessness. Formlessness. Connection to all things. Cellular level, experiential, phenomenological and on a more spiritual woo-woo level… moving from head, to heart. From mind, to spirit. Flowing between the realms. Fascinating stuff. An unintentional (at least consciously) Vision Quest. Who needs a tent in the woods?
Did I mention I have a fever? ~chuckles softly~ Talk about altered mind states. There are other ways to get there, I’ve tried most in my lifetime, but nowadays simple meditation, shamanic journeying, or tantric… well, you get the idea. Doesn’t usually take a fever. However this particular experience certainly resonates with a more recent and profound spiritual ‘experience’ a few months back. Similar to others in the past too. Round and around and around and around we go, till all is let go, accepted, learned. The great cosmic joke. The nonsense that is time. The unreality of all that we perceive of as, reality.
I expect I’ll read this when I’m fully lucid and roll my eyes at the poor language, falling short of explaining fully. My own, limited thoughts and feelings splurged onto the page without, to be truthful, much consideration for you poor things reading it. Ah well. I write it for me, by way of a journal through this experience. If anyone should read it? Good luck!
To sleep, perchance to indulge in more feverish spirit work in the dreamtime. All growth. All lessons.
Off I go to die and be reborn again a few dozen times bathed in sweat and darkness… ~chortles and doffs cap~