Illness is never welcome, but it often has surprising positive effects that I hadn’t considered before. During a recent bout of man-flu (the worst illness known to… well, man), I came to realise that the quiet gift it gave me was Surrender.
There’s a calm that comes over us when we become ill. It’s the inevitable silence of incapability, knowing we have no energy for the heady rush of life. A blanket of surrender falls over us, making us stop in our tracks and forcing us to allow life’s calmness overwhelm us.
In that moment of vulnerability comes a realisation that most of our troubles aren’t that important. Not in the great scheme of things. When our pace slows, so too do our minds. And, in the serenity we find ourselves, is the huge gift of quiet reflection.
It’s at times like these that I wonder why I don’t allow this feeling to linger after I’m well again. But I just know that when my power returns, so too will the adrenaline rush of life. And as much as I’d love to learn from this moment, I know I won’t have the strength to resist the pull of life’s intense pace. More fool me.
But now, right here, I hear birds chirping and the welcome sounds of life rushing by in the distance as I lie here, vulnerable and calm. Why is it we have to wait until life crushes us to know the folly of our ways? Appreciating the moment for what it is, instead of chasing the future?