Yesterday my mind was clouded, body seemed ok. Today my body is a brick, mind is fuzzy and communication verges on gobbledygook. This is the roller coaster of chronic illness.
However, what illness can bring is a different way of thinking about life. Included is the sometimes fleeting ability to appreciate life and living, the big and the small, the obvious and the hidden, the unusual and the mundane.
Today, in a bit of a fog, I drove the 50 minutes to the city and back. On the way I appreciated the neat grass edges on the highway, new building works in a new subdivision, bright printed real estate posters, and on the way home, neat bright shining street lights showing the wide far-reaching road in front of me. The rest of the trip is a blur and I’m sure I saw lots of other things in my environs but I remember those things. They are always there. Mundane. Basic. Standard. But here went my thinking.
What though, if I saw these things through the eyes of a poor Indian person? (Why Indian jumped into my mind I have no idea why, there are plenty of countries with extremely high poverty.) But what would this person think? All these people in my country living privileged lives. With everything new. And clean. And organised. And these privileged people still find reasons to whinge and to cry and to want more.
I suggest, step back and have a think:
What do I have?
What am I grateful for?
Why am I lucky?