|The Water of Leith|
I've done absolutely sod all apart from listen to Eckhart Tolle, potter up to the shops and wander alongside the Water of Leith, which is what the river is called.
It's been a day of no-thinking or rather of observing my thinking when I did think ... and seeing just how much thought is really a waste of time. Way back at the beginning, I called the LED Nigel simply to dissolve its power. But it's not the dis-ease that was ever Nigel, it was the thoughts about it. It's the thoughts that are scary, not what's actually been happening. But of course the thoughts are afraid of what happens and the thoughts create the reality so they manifest their own scariness.
It was really interesting observing in the last few days how my thoughts don't spiral into fear if I've only got a few people in the audience. That's experience from workshops — and from doing church services where five people was a good turnout! So that part of my thinking process has been tamed; my ego doesn't scream 'nobody likes you!' which is what I could see in the Tickled Pig guys yesterday. They started out with an audience of 25 on Saturday and it has gone steadily down each night. That's not because they are any better or worse than they were ... or any better or worse than any of the other comedians. It's because they didn't think the initial 25 were enough. Nor the 12 ... nor the eight nor the four.
But spiralling thoughts are exactly what happens when you have a 'bad' diagnosis or something is showing up that you don't want. And it's all rubbish really even though it seems so utterly massive at the time. I can see that now ... I went through three-four months of deep fear of a concept that the doctors believed in ... and other people believed in ... which just got bigger the more I feared it. Occasionally I still think it's what other people believe but mostly I know that it's my lymphatic system dealing with old poisons the best way it knows how in order to save my life, not destroy it.
And here I am, in perfect peace, in my hermitage on a pilgrimage or a retreat to rediscover a part of me that had gone missing — the part that once (truly) considered becoming a contemplative nun; the part that loves to be alone and to eat simple food when I want to eat it instead of at breakfast or lunch or suppertime. And simultaneously the part that needs new experiences and adventure.
I don't miss Devon. I don't miss Lion. I knew I wouldn't - and he knows that and doesn't see that as a threat. The person who's away on the adventure doesn't miss the one left behind in the usual scenario as much as the one still at home will do. It's quite natural.
Of course there will be times when I'm homesick; times when I could really, really do with a cuddle, times when I wish there were a TV to watch and a nice home-cooked meal and times that I'll really look forward to getting off that plane and being wrapped in those much-loved arms.
But I am content with what is. And that is such a joy. It is what it is and that's just perfect.