Living with “What Is”

    I’ve just returned from the grocery store.  A couple of women I spoke to gasped when I removed my sunglasses.  Jan, the woman working at Starbucks, made a special trip to the storage room to find me a dark chocolate graham.  At the checkstand with a cart full of food, I offered to let a man who had one item to buy to go ahead of me, but he refused, even when I urged him twice.  All of them (and probably others, too) had seen the large bruises on my face and probably wondered if I’d been mugged, been in a car accident or been beaten by my husband.

 

    In fact, I had had gum graft surgery the previous week and the results manifested in a black, purple and red black eye, as well as bruises around my mouth and left cheek.  This change in my appearance has caused all kinds of emotional reactions in me, and has challenged me to be (or not be) with “what is.”

 

    For the first few days I did quite well.  I felt a certain fascination as I watched my skin protest the work that had been done.  Jerry, my husband, would periodically stare at me, moving through despair, amusement, and resistance to escorting me in public.  (He was concerned, and rightly so I felt, that people would assume that I was a victim of domestic violence!)  I also knew that resting was important to my recovery, so I sort of drifted through the week-end until Monday, when I realized I’d need to visit a client.

 

    All kinds of emotions passed through me when I prepared to leave for my appointment:  I felt self-conscious:  there was no way I could cover up the bruising, so I felt that everyone would be looking at me.  I wondered what people who saw me would project on me as the cause of my condition.  Fortunately the client was empathic and even teased me about my purple sweater complementing my complexion!

 

    Today I have felt a slight depression; the bruises are fading too slowly, and my over-the-counter pain reliever isn’t working well on my palette, and I have an unexplainable throbbing near the corner of my mouth.  I’m not feeling amused.   I don’t feel like letting it go.  I feel like screaming, in fact, and I’m trapped, not so much by my bruises but all my thoughts about my bruises.  That’s simply where I am, and “what is” at this moment.

 

    The beauty of my spiritual practice is that it allows me to notice all of these reactions, by me, by my family and by others—and not make any of it wrong.  I also notice that today is a big shift for me.  I’m spending most of my day alone, feeling a bit sorry for myself, helpless and annoyed that there is nothing I can do about these ugly bruises.  And I can also feel myself smiling at my huge desire to be in the condition I was in seven days ago when my gums were receding but intact, and the only “disturbances” on my face were wrinkles.

 

    My spiritual practice helps me notice and appreciate all of this.  Life is unfolding in an unusual way.  It’s pointing out how I like to keep things the same; how I count on seeing my usual face in the mirror in the morning; how I wish that my communications with others would have nothing to do with my appearance and everything to do with what we have to share with each other.  I’m very attached to having things just the way I want them to be.

 

    But I’m also called to notice what comes up for me, and to realize that sometimes life unfolds in unexpected ways that I may find pleasant or unpleasant.  I can also notice whether my bruises will become the center of my waking hours, or whether they are in the background of the work I am doing today.  I can experience great compassion for those people all over the world who at this very moment are dealing with distortions of their features and how others respond to them.  Better yet, I can appreciate all of those who are struggling with serious lifelong deformities and physical difficulties.

There is no good or ideal or right way to move through this period of bruises and discomfort.  What I can do is observe how I and others respond to life and be grateful for my ability to be fully present to what is happening in front of me.  Spirit most deeply calls to me to appreciate my life, whatever shows up.  Paradoxically, at the same time, when the last thing I feel is appreciation, but rather annoyance and discomfort, I remember that Spirit is still present, in each and every conscious or unconscious moment…simply with  “what is.”