Before my first symptom began in the 1990s, I wrote a poem after never having written before. The metaphor that guided the poem was a nerve:

The Power is running through me now.  The breaks in energy are excruciating.  Synapses suck.  As it jumps does it increase in power?  The movement just before the jump surge is an eternity—the place where agony lives, where death becomes a real possibility.  Life is in the jump.  (The Vocalized sigh gives life.  Expansion for Creation.  The echoes of the sigh bring community.  Love.  Breath.)

It jumps because it has to.  It knows no other Way. There is no consideration of consequences.  No sureness that land lies beyond the trajectory.

We grow.  We make our choices.  “It” doesn’t care what our choices are. We create our experiences.  “It” continually provides us to be in the Love.

It doesn’t matter what one chooses.  One must choose and move on.  Take the jump.

Little did I know that within one year my life would change forever. As excruciating as the challenges have been, the gifts have been equally transformational. Once the symptoms began they were subtle, but I suspected what might be coming. I became frozen in terror. I couldn’t eat and I lost thirty pounds. I also began to open in meditation and any other healing modality that I thought would be helpful. One morning I woke up groggy. I clearly heard a voice that said, “with the symptoms comes the Renaissance.” When I heard it it was clearly different from my thinking mind. I remember not understanding the word “Renaissance” and having to translate it. Renaissance equals rebirth.

Okay, with the symptoms comes the rebirth. I started to trust a higher purpose in this acceleration of my journey. Before the illness, I tended to get stuck in complacency. But the symptoms catapulted me forward. In retrospect, the acceleration righted my trajectory. For that I’m very grateful. I see it as divine guidance, and myself as its partner.

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