Contemplations on lichen sclerosus

I interrupt this 30-day blog series… and now, for something completely different.

Those of you who are new to my writing will find this post a departure from what I’ve been writing this month on LS.

Those who know my writing well will recognize what’s written here as the flow of inspiration as it usually arrives for me.

My kids have been quite sick with the flu for weeks. I congratulated myself on dodging it while being super mom and writer: tending to everything. Until it crept in yesterday. There’s something about being sleepless and wanting to dive into the couch and rewatch Bridgerton that makes me more pliable and available to deeper contemplation. I offer you the below. Do with it what you will. May it inspire your wellness journey in some way. I’ll be back tomorrow to continue the LS series.

I see women in the online support groups sharing names of doctors around the world who can perform this laser therapy or that injection. I can feel the desperation to heal. Of course, I can. I’ve known it personally. And how fortunate are we that modern medicine provides these methods.

What is it about us that we’ll fly across the world to put our healing in someone else’s hands but won’t step into our own power to heal? Our own daily choices of what information to receive and reject. What foods, thoughts and experiences nourish us.

Our own slow connection to Mother Earth. A daily dedication to our unique well-being. A swell of gratitude for all of life.

It’s hard to do the work.

There was a time that it was blissful for me to meditate daily and prepare nourishing meals. Even wild-harvesting herbs and preparing my own salves and infused oils.

After my second spinal injury, it became a chore. More than a chore. For a long time, I couldn’t do any of it. What’s the fucking point if it doesn’t prevent future pain?

I can smile at that thinking now. Because years have passed and I’m re-immersed in daily meditation, mental health practices and nourishing myself in all ways available to me.

I cannot stop the future from coming. I cannot guarantee no further illness or injury, no matter what my practices may be. Doctors can’t make that guarantee either. No matter how fancy their tools.

What about my tools?

I have a rather substantial toolkit filled with wellness practices. I have Mother Nature right outside my door and, more importantly, within me. She provides the elements that make me.

I walk a delicate line between working to balance my body and mind, and let go of clinging to all of the trappings of the ego, perceived trauma and ‘perfect health’.

We’re so much more expansive than these beautiful (if often fickle) bodies lead us to believe. Actually, I think the body knows the truth of who we are. It’s the mind and the emotions that require tending. There’s the opening for dis-ease: disconnect between body/mind/emotions/spirit.

Years ago, I took a course from the beloved Zen Master, Thich Nhat Hanh, called Body and Mind Are One. I think about that a lot lately. It’s become my guiding mantra. Om mani padme hum. Body and mind are one.

Not only one with each other but one with the great ocean of wisdom and timeless spaciousness.

There is no separation. Body and mind are one. Wholeness. It may feel elusive but it is, in fact, our nature. I dip in and out of this contemplation, working each day towards its unfoldment.

Until then, I’ll carry on with my research, weaving science and spirituality together until it becomes seamless.

Much love,

Stephanie

Read the next post in the series: Lichen sclerosus and oxalates

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**This blog is meant to inform, not diagnose or treat specific health conditions. It is not a substitute for professional medical advice, diagnosis and treatment. Always consult your doctor or health care practitioner.