I woke this morning feeling out of sorts – flat and weary, with a sore lower back. I began writing simply but honestly in my journal. I asked myself, “how could I feel this way when I had just woken from a full night’s sleep?” I asked how yesterday had been, what had been disturbing me, and what I had done when I had felt disturbed. I wrote down exactly how my body felt physically and more generally, I wrote how I felt. As I wrote I had more clarity on my weariness, and felt beyond the sense of flat, to sadness, to a feeling of being a little bereft. I wrote as honestly as I could about the things that had been happening that triggered those feelings. 

And then I got up, dressed, and as I usually do, took my dog for a walk.

As I started out I became aware of how snug, secure and warm my body felt – I was wearing my new thermal tights and vest under my walking clothes. I felt the care and nurturing I had given myself in choosing to wear them. And then I noticed how easy and flowing my walking felt.

I enjoyed that feeling of ease and harmony. I then became aware of the weather: it was what many people would call ‘miserable’. It was damp and misty, and almost raining at times. In my warm thermals, protected from any cold, all I could see was the deep beauty and quiet that came with the weather. The shapes of the trees seemed more pronounced against the mist, and the sounds of the birds seemed more distinct and clear.

I remembered Serge Benhayon talking quite a few years ago about how it shouldn’t matter to us what the weather was like, how in truth it shouldn’t dictate or alter how we felt. At the time I had thought the comment fanciful, something that was lovely in theory, but not achievable in practice, but now I found myself fully appreciating that no day was more beautiful than another: that this ‘miserable’ day was equally beautiful to a bright sunny one.

So, here I was, the person who had woken distinctly out of sorts, now walking along feeling the ease, stillness and quiet, and fully appreciating the beauty of the day. The things that had been bothering me on waking were still there, but they were not dictating or affecting how my day would be. They were not engulfing me like they had when I first woke up.

And what had I done? I had simply committed to feeling what I was feeling, to being as honest as I could be about what I felt, and writing it in a journal. They are very simple practical techniques that have been presented at Universal Medicine events, and which, when I commit to them and put them into practice, help me on a day-to-day basis.

By Catherine, England