Who needs crutches?

Crutches. The very word elicits images of dependence, of infirmity, of weakness. To use a crutch suggests that something may be unpleasantly lacking or structurally unsound. Correct.  My back is not right and it isn’t pleasant at all.  Reminds me of the song ‘That’s life; you’re riding high in April, shot down in May.”  After I learned to adapt to the pain; after I came to accept that there are many things I can’t do; after my bubble popped like a big, fat, yellow balloon – I found myself in a new reality.  Being a respected teacher of English, exploring China’s exotic hinterlands, traveling the backroads of South-East Asia, all those dreams were gone like the balloon. 

Initially, my aspirations towards leading a spiritual life disappeared as well.  I cannot meditate formally because there is pain in sitting, or my mind is fogged by medication.  I see my reflection in the eyes of strangers as a pathetic figure, struggling along with my crutch, eyes glued to the ground. So many friends have been very kind, offering assistance.  Medical people shake their heads and talk about operations.  My fine yellow balloon was long gone. This went on for ten days.

After the period of feeling sorry for myself it dawned upon me that the universe might be trying to teach me something.  There’s a strange symmetry in that two previous visits to Asia in my life have resulted in similar adverse circumstances. First, in India in 1976 I got so sick I thought I was going to die.  The image was of a snake casting off its worn out skin - not yet comfortable with the new, tender, shiny skin and still painfully attached to the old skin. It took some time to adapt, but my life took a whole new turn; the transformation was dramatic. Second, in Thailand in 2012 I lost my beautiful Yoyo, my lover, in a shocking and sudden accident. I found myself emotionally devastated and all alone in a far-off country.  I am no stranger to disaster.  So what to make of the third and current scenario – crippled in a foreign land, but destined to struggle on regardless? 

What can I learn from it all?  The small self has taken a beating once more. Each of the other stories eventually made sense in the light of the great teachings, the universal truths that I have been pursuing for most of my life.  There is a purpose to life and it’s not just about collecting coloured stones, crossing mighty rivers and climbing the rugged mountains.  The ego cannot awaken from the dream.  I know this.  For me the world has stopped.  For what reason?  Why am I here now, in China, on crutches? Perhaps, is it because there is indeed a treasure to be sought, a truth to be realized, but it's one we we must seek without seeking? Who is the seeker? Who is the one who even poses the question?  Meditation is vital, but what is meditation for one who cannot sit in the lotus posture? What is it for one who cannot sit still for 5 minutes?  Now with no balloon I am cast into the sea. Who I thought I was before this seems illusory. My experience of life rises and falls daily like waves on the sea, like the movements of the tides, like my breath coming in… and going out. Just observe….be aware…remain equanimous…what is high will fall…what is low will rise… it is constantly changing.  Here, now, here is peace. Peace.