∞

Invention, they say, is born of necessity. In my case, a crippling viral disease struck me down in my late thirties and left me bed-ridden for about six months. I lost almost all my nerve sensations, and my body became thin, weak and brittle, a far cry from the dynamic, athletic person I had been before. Then one day, perhaps by grace, a series of images appeared, flooding through my mind. In the beginning there was just a tiny flicker, then came endless mandalas and numbers made of spokes of light. To me, it felt like a message beckoning me to come back to life. This resurgence of hope lifted me out of my despair. Progress was slow at first. Sitting up in bed was the job of the day and the first step of my recovery journey. It took me two weeks to sit up for longer than just a few seconds, but I persisted. I would then draw the mandalas and write down all the numbers that had “appeared” to me in my dreams. This also took effort since I had a hard time articulating the dexterity of my fingers required to use a pen again.  After about one month, I gradually began doing house chores. Simply taking out the garbage felt like running a marathon. I coached myself by saying constantly, "I'm doing the best I can! I'm doing the best I can!" 

After another month had passed, I was finally able to get myself out of the house and walk for a couple of blocks, but only in the shady alley behind our building. My inner state had been so shattered by the ordeal of the protracted illness that I could no longer face the world. This passage gave me a glimpse of what it means to be “walking in the valley, in the shadow of death”. My broken condition kept me humble. 

However dark those early days were, I hung on to the light I had seen in my inner visions, however flimsy a support this seemed at times. It prompted me to continue onward. It was literally one second at a time. Because my brain circuitry felt severed, I was disconnected from any preconceived notions as to how to function in the world. I was literally lost, back at square one. Yet finding myself in limbo provided me the opportunity to discover new ways to regenerate my body, my brain, and even my thoughts. It took me about one more month before I was able to talk in daylight, although still very self conscious and shy about facing people. I’d stand by the river bank, observing carefully how the ducks paddled about and the water swirled. The movement of the water and the flickering sunlight propelled me to mimic these circular motions. So I started with some simple shoulder movements. As absent-minded as I was at the time, I knew my movement was not at all fluid. The motion I attempted to do was merely a dotted line rather than a circle. I realized it was going to take some practice to relearn how to give orders from my brain to my body to enable it to move again as before.

Losing my health physically and mentally also meant that I lost my identity as a popular yoga teacher featured on the cover of Yoga International, a studio owner who led educational programs, and a recognized expert who trained new teachers. It brought me DOWN to earth. Later on, I realized that it was a blessing in disguise, for all this loss offered me a blank space in which  to REFRESH the page. One thing was very clear. This had to be done from a position of humbleness and compassion.