Once more while I was lightly sleeping, my dreams this morning turned to darkness. With that - and the movement of a fresh tear on my cheek - my eyes opened. With a silent whisper, I asked no one, “Am I awake now? Was I crying in my sleep again?” Crying continued on its own as I began to wake up in the gray morning light. With tremendous tenacity, slowly I began to take my focus off of the unforgiving fibromyalgia pains. My spirit was being crushed with enormous heaviness like a manhole cover that had been stolen from a dead end street. Such agony – both dull and sharp full body pain. Convincingly, I pretend that crying is good for my soul – it is a spiritual detox. Slowly, my spirit forces the body to do one of the stretches my physical therapist instructed me to do while I am still in bed during such a morning as this.
Next, I start to say my prayers as I slowly remove myself from my bed and shuffle onto the loft connecting to my bedroom. I sit at my desk. I drink the purified bottled water that I keep next to my beloved lap top. I force myself to move my focus to the window on my left. As I put on my glasses, I can see the water from the rain slowly gliding down the surface of the window. I imagine a cold small puddle is forming directly below it, out of my sight. As I continue to look out my window, my view to the tops of the bare winter trees outside are a bit blurry. The soft sounds of the combination of rain and birds become quite soothing to my soul. The steady soft voice of the water reassuring me that the outside world will be renewed, sparkling and clean. The plants and trees in my community are happily receiving their coating of the freshness from the rain as their roots accept their favorite special delivery treat from the heavens.
Completely surrounded by the warm and cozy comfort and security of my home, here I sit, as my cup gradually runs over with gratitude and appreciation. I’m feeling the magic from a gift of love as I appreciate my soft and cheerful red gingham pajamas. They are the perfect Christmas gift from the perfect friend. She seemed to have read my mind knowing this particular gift is something I needed – and I am grateful. I know that the roof of my home does not leak. It never has. And also for this, I am grateful. I feel another layer of gratitude as I remind myself that just two days ago I swept the leaves from the gutters and drains outside. While I was at it, I double checked and cleared the drains of the condo next door as well - hopefully my neighbor has never seen me do this. For it is my pleasure. No worries for me if the rain decides to burst into a down pour. Just like a Brownie before she is able to become a Girl Scout, I am equipped, prepared and ready.
Food? (that includes cat food) Check. Check.
Broom and chair cushions cleared off the patio? Check.
Front door mat put away because it gets soaked in the rain? Nope. Forgot. But I don’t care about that right now.
I like the sound of that: “I don’t care.” My list of what I care deeply about is long. It’s no secret, I’m sensitive, that’s for sure! And while we’re at it, I confess that I’m quite passionate as well. Heck yes. Sensitive and Passionate. I could make up one of those silly combination names like they do in Hollywood. For example, Brad and Angelina? “Brangelina”. So, for my being sensitive and passionate, that would be, “sensi-nate”? Yup, that’s me, oh so very sensinate. Perhaps these qualities of mine are an asset – or perhaps these qualities are a defect of character – at this moment as I speak – guess what? I don’t care. Because that’s who I am today. My spirit is comfortable with that. Gratitude of the small things make a big difference. My body has a lot going on – Fibromyalgia is indeed a pain. However, I am in gratitude, therefore my spirit is joyful this morning. And I am my spirit – not my body.