Jill Bolte Taylor's Stroke of Insight

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Wednesday, June 5, 2013

Cure

I dream of a cure.
One day I will wake
and not feel the weight of the infinite
yet somehow delicate paw-prints of gravity
making their way across the bed to settle
in their customary place upon my chest.
There will not be this unspeakable stone lodged
somewhere between my mouth and my lungs
so that breathing becomes an unnecessary chore.


KB © 6/5/2013

3 comments:

  1. may that day, that gentle breath come sooner than later


    breathing

    and you

    are necessary

    ReplyDelete
  2. KB, I have been there; years where it simply hurt to breath. I found a way forward, but it is an unlikely way and will probably piss you off. Please read with caution.

    The way I found was to choose gratitude as a worldview. Like a spiritual discipline of old, I willed to be grateful for everything, even ugly, awful things for which no one in their right mind would give thanks. I wasnt it my right mind. I had been depressed for so long that my neural chemistry had changed and I needed to change it back.

    About eight or so months later, I realized that it hadnt hurt to breath for awhile. About a year in, I would still get a wisp here and there, but was mainly better. Now, six years in, I have a hard time conjuring up that level of pain when I want to.

    I have no idea if this will work for you, but you mean a great deal to me and I wanted to share from my journey.

    On a practical level, what it looked like is when I noticed my chest was tight, I would breath deeply and say thanks; generally for the good stuff first, but also for the crap. I dont know what it is, but there is something about gratitude that unlocks the mind/heart/soul.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. On the contrary, it doesn't offend me at all. Thank you.

      Delete