The Wordless Revelation

I am in search of sentences. Have been for days, weeks actually. I gather words but they are more a jumble than not.

As witless as my words are, my hands and arms feel as if they belong to someone else. I’m in another major flare-up, a conflation of autoimmune and spinal cord disease.

With all the “parts” that now make up me–fused cervical vertebrae and two metal hips–I am a bit of a puppet. Having incorrect arms and hands doesn’t feel a foreign thought.

I suppose I’m searching for body parts as well as words.

My arms feel covered in armor, complete with demi-gauntlets and gloves on my hands.

I am hardly the knight or fight type, although I often use battle imagery in describing chronic illness.

Not too long ago, there was a post comment asking me if I thought illness was a battle.

I don’t but did is the short answer. It made me realize how frequently I use the battle metaphor.

I don’t fight chronic illness but I don’t give into it, either. I meet its energy every day and aim for even. Why “wind myself up” and exhaust the most powerful resource I have, being present.

For me, to fight is to leave the present in search of what is not mine–reasonably good health. Mostly, I don’t think of my health as one label or another, which is not to say it doesn’t dominate some days.

In some way in every post, I write about the power of the present. No matter the state of my being, I am in awe of the present. It reveals the world to me and all that I have. It’s so much.

The power of the present keeps me from the thought of tomorrow. That day is never a guarantee.

So often, I think of Blake’s “To see the world in a grain of sand” –and I do. That is the power of the present.

What I have discovered is that the present expands proportionately. When I am ill, I am at my most powerful for the present is concentrated within a smaller frame.

I have found my way through moments I once believed a total eclipse, perpetual darkness. It is in these moments that I find the sliver of light. An eclipse maybe total but it is not forever.

When I am immersed in the power of the present, I face the unknown. Often, I’m gob smacked; even the minutia is eye-opening. Always, it’s a revelation. I have no words.

Be serene in the oneness of things and

erroneous views will

disappear by themselves.



(Note: This picture of the August 21, 2017 eclipse was taken by my father, Len Huber, in Washington state.)

Aim for Even posts offer equanimity a dose at a time. No day or dose is ever the same, even if the aim is. You may read about the origins of Aim for Even here or on this site’s About page.


2 thoughts on “The Wordless Revelation

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  1. Your words never fail to bring me to the present, no matter how far I may have strayed. Thank you. I’ve been away from my routine for a while so haven’t kept up. Now I can return to my daily doses. Or whatever rhythm your posts take.

    Liked by 1 person

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