It's not how far or how fast. It's just how.

Disrupting the linear.

‘Healing’ feels like a soft word to use for this process of total excavation of my psyche. In unravelling Parkinson’s, I am unravelling myself.

I’m untangling a ball of emotional string, so that I can follow a trail back to its source. That trail is labyrinthine, so although I’m moving through the terrain, you could say I’ve not made much progress in terms of an A-B kind of journey.

I imagine a bird’s-eye view, a kind of drone footage, showing me wandering about aimlessly, or staggering around looking lost. Twisting and turning a lot and standing still at tight bends.

Impatience and frustration are not good companions when it comes to navigating a labyrinth. They are both born of a focus only on the destination, and awaken in me when I forget that this journey is anything but linear. To defuse the chaos and exhaustion they trigger in my sensitised nervous system, I have to step back and bring my attention to the present moment, to whatever is there in my journey right now.

That can be discomfort, with a feeling of failure or despair. It can be physical pain as I feel the tension within my body. Yet I’m finding that as I sit with that pain or unease, beauty inevitably uprises through it, like a flower through compost. It’s as if life always tends toward that beauty, no matter what, and all that's required is a willingness to remain quietly present with pain long enough to allow for the blossoming.

Centauries on the path

My walk on Tuesday brought this so home to me. As I walked along a path through a sunlit common next to the azure sea, I could feel that push in me to ‘reach the end’, to measure my progress in speed or distance walked. And I could already feel the dissatisfaction with myself - not fast enough, not far enough.

I had to actively interrupt this inner impulse and physically stop until it subsided. I let go of the need to push myself and judge my journey.

That need is still a powerful creature in my psyche, one that I created to keep me safe, prove my worth. I’m learning to interrupt her power by looking her square in the eye, with love and gratitude, and telling her she’s no longer needed.

Then I can surrender again to the present moment and to whatever beauty lies seeded in its heart. On Tuesday, that beauty was in the centauries nodding in the breeze amongst the grass. It was in Elberry Cove, not far along the path, a jewel of sea, wide beach and cool woodland.

Not far when judged by miles walked, but far in terms of an inner journey back into the generous present moment. I don’t think there’s an app that measures that distance.