A Sticky Place
This is an excerpt from the weekly News-Loveletter. If you would like it sent to your inbox directly (with all the other juicy bits, including a mini joy practice), you can add yourself to my mailing list here.
Dr. Emily Mangan, gently inserting acupuncture needles to help Miru.
A couple weeks ago, we heard a tremendous thud in the bathroom before Miru walked out slowly, looking dazed and shaken, after what we’d guessed was a clumsy dismount from the towel rack. He ascended into the loft and slept until the middle of the next day before I fished him out, realizing then that something was wrong.
In the coming week, my sweet kitty barely moved. He would sit up and tentatively put out one front foot, then draw it back and try the other. Neither seemed comfortable. The vet suspected an upper back injury, prescribed pain meds, and told me to watch and wait.
From day one, I breathed with the little guy. I breathed for me and for him. I considered what was in my power to do that could be helpful. Worry, though tempting, did not top the list. In fact, I found myself actively re-routing worry as I daily assessed his mobility and pain. It was no easy feat to side-step concern on those fronts. It would not have been possible without meditating daily with Miru and seeing him climbing, running, and jumping in the fields of my imagination. I climbed with him and sunbathed at the tops of trees. It was a lot of fun, actually.
I carried my feeling of joy in this vision into my daily life, greeting my kitty with delight rather than concern, seeing all things possible for him. I signed him up for a Co-Heal International pet healing meditation. I shared with the Joy Collective the worklove I was engaging in and asked them to visualize with me. I did not want to carry the weight of others’ worries, so this share and request took courage.
It’s been helpful. Thankfully, Miru has gotten a little bit better each day. And then I found an acupuncturist who moved some mountains for him. In the skillful hands of Dr. Emily Mangan of Wisewood Veterinary (Discovery section below), Miru has begun to make strides. His body is catching up with his mind more quickly now. I know that feeling. I take my boy out to slowly wander in his territory, and he sniffs the marks of animals on bushes, trees, and grass. In doing so, he comes to life. When Miru’s eyes meet mine, we see a future for him that is unlimited without question, and this quiet, joyful anticipation shapes our days.
I’m so grateful for our commitment, which is doing wonders for both our nervous systems at the moment. Calm and interested triggers oxytocin rather than cortisol, lives in alpha and low beta brainwaves rather than the high beta brainwaves of stress and survival. Day by day, Miru gets a little more confident and capable. We are seeing this through, together, in joy.
When have you experienced the convalescence of a loved one and paused to adjust your thinking and feeling for their benefit as well as your own? Do you feel confident in your skills to do this? If not, reply back to this email to sign up for a free workshop 11/25/23, 9-11:00 a.m. for some strategies. :)