That Which Is Important

March 12, 2006

It’s been years since my second transplant. I have worked so hard to rejoin society! I have a “real” job now and 2.5 children. ( 2 dogs and a bird count, right? ) I pay my own bills and have a wonderful husband. I live in a nice home, rented, but nice. I have some friends and a few hobbies. I’m working on my dream to be a (paid) public speaker. From where I sit, I’m doing everything there is to do to hold my place as a “normal” member of this society. I’m living the rat race and the dream all at once.

With all of this, I have lost hold of one of illness’ greatest gifts; the clarity in day to day living of That Which Is Important. Lately, I have been focusing on this and trying to bring it back. I have been amazed at how unsuccessful I have been.

That Which Is Important is all that is sacred and sweet about life. It is enjoying all that this physical plane, this earth, has to offer. Jason and I hold hands as a natural display of affection and connectedness. How many times do I hold his hand and really feel the texture of his skin, the gentleness of his grip? Very rarely. This is usually something that I do absent-mindedly. Today, I put all of my consciousness into the grasp of his hand and I was overwhelmed with tenderness. The touch of his skin was intoxicating and I felt like the luckiest person in the world to have that opportunity to hold such a perfect hand. This is what it is like to be in touch with That Which Is Important.

I was able to catch a few more fleeting glimpses today when I ate my favorite Mexican meal, cuddled my silly dog and had a good laugh about the possum on our front porch. It is a matter of simultaneously being in the moment and being just outside of it enough to appreciate its simple magnificence. It is a moment of profoundly deep gratitude.

I remember when I was very sick this kind of connection with That Which Is Important was very natural. It was as though there was a grid in front of me and I could see the connection between events and individuals so clearly. I could easily see how we, as humans, stand in our own way with self doubt and complicated excuses. I watched people miss the beauty in their own struggles. Things just made sense. Since I have crashed back to earth with my physical health, this grid has disappeared. I am once again, standing on the ground with two feet, confused and full of self doubt.

I imagine when we leave this earth certain kinds of experiences will not be available to us. No longer in a physical form, food and touch (and possums?) will not be a part of existence. For this reason, it is imperative that I stay aware of all of the modest parts of living that, when noticed, are truly exquisite. In this whirlwind of a world, I will continue the struggle to remember That Which Is Important.