It’s 7:08pm and I’m crying in my hotel room, because I love my mom so much. I laugh a bit now as I write this, but there’s just been so many beautiful moments here in this quarantine hotel already, and it’s barely first full day here. I arrived yesterday at 5pm-ish, at this blessing in disguise, where I was greeted by the people that work here, and where after an extensive health interview and review of my luggage, I was ushered into room 274. The hotel suite that will be my home for the next 10 days.
You see, one of the reasons I love my mom so much is because she deeply ingrained the knowing in me that -everything- happens for a reason. So this positive test-result, leading me here to this hotel, must also have one.
At the beginning of this week I found myself crying in the park a couple of days in a row. On a call with friends I dramatically exclaimed “I am just so filled with sadness. My body is trying to tell me something and I can’t remember how to listen.” I let out a wail that shoo’ed some doves away, and carried on with my day. Blabla’ing with friends, getting coffee, and planning an autumn retreat with Hannah. Later that evening I noticed I could not smell a thing. I frantically picked up every single scented item I could find in the house, cinnamon, Dr. Bronners, ground coffee, the Dahl I had just made. Nothing. Not a single scent would enter my consciousness, nor a single flavor.
I blamed it on the antibiotics I was taking and assured Hannah that it was nothing to be worried about. Until the next afternoon, when I was. Just. So. Tired.
After some encouragement I spent the day getting tested. Fast forward, and now I am here.
So far I’ve spent my day and a half here netflixing, self-pleasuring, endlessly scrolling on instagram, talking to friends and napping.
I am a firm believer that illness shows up, when our body is trying to tell us something. And my inner being is trying to tell me something. So I hope I can become still enough to listen. That actually is my main intention for writing this. To remember to listen.
My symptoms are pretty mild, thanks to God. And my body is healing very quickly and very well. I am happy to have such a strong healthy body and to have so much trust in her. I can not taste, and can not smell. Yesterday I had some flu-like muscle aches, which seem to have disappeared now. And I am a bit congested. Ocassionally if I’m too enthusiastic with movement I lose my breath. And I get quite drowsy suddenly. The body is healing. Thank you.
In the morning break today I stood out, danced with bare feet on the grass and began connecting with a tree. My quarantine friend. The flowers called me to come closer, and I began roaming around the court yard to pick some flowers for the room. I was reminded of my mom’s resourcefulness and her ability to make the best out of every situation.
7:27, second ambulance of the day coming to pick someone up. So far my biggest enemy seems to be the deep program of fear that is somehow still running my subconscious mind. The actual symptoms I’m encountering are much milder than the life-threatening “what-if’s” I’ve been brainwashed into. And I do find myself facing my fear of death here. The fear of dying alone in a hotel room. The fear of my symptoms suddenly becoming uncontrollable. And all I can do when they show up is be present to these thoughts, and begin to move the energy out of my emotional body.
The fear of death is one that follows all of us. The awareness of our mortality, so deeply ingrained in our being. After the temple training in Greece, and the grief-portal that happened after that, a lot of fear had been dispelled from my body. I remember in March, for the first time in a lifetime, not being afraid of flying, much less afraid of dying. Feeling a deep sense of peace with the thought that it might be my last flight. Today, however, my emotional body feels a bit more distressed. And I believe it is my duty to move through these layers of fear and resistance. As an embodiment of the collective.