On foot

Walking toward wellness: Jeff stores up health he would need ten years later. Point Reyes National Seashore, California, May 2003.
Walking toward wellness: Jeff stored up health that helped him survive ten years later.
Point Reyes National Seashore, California, May 2003.

“Sickness comes on horseback, but goes away on foot.”William Carew Hazlitt

Seemingly out of nowhere, it hits– the devastating diagnosis, or the catastrophic accident, or the debilitating chronic pain– shattering the life of a loved one, or self.  Life changes– sometimes forever. We feel blindsided, helpless, resentful, afraid.  But somehow, we keep going.

The horse that arrived so suddenly may have been heading for us quite some time, although we did not know it.  A sudden reversal of health carries with it the shock of surprise, but in most cases, it was building gradually to a tipping point where it became too obvious to ignore. Occasionally we can send it away with almost as much speed as it arrived; the quick, successful surgery or “miracle” drug that carries a swift cure.  But even then, complete healing will take time.

Likely, the recovery will seem even slower than it is, because when we travel on foot, we notice almost everything. This may seem a curse at first, but in reality it’s also a blessing.  Gradually we come to realize that the tiny details that fill our newly-slower days are the true substance of the life we crave.  We recognize the value of this altered life, and resolve not to take for granted a single minute of enjoyment, laughter, or freedom from pain.

Even if we have never been sidelined with illness, our wellness has always traveled on foot.  It cannot be rushed or wished into existence. It is made of clear, cool water, sipped serenely on a warm day; of morning breezes that visit us carrying birdsong; of real, unadulterated food eaten with joyful gratitude, of quiet moments spent reading or praying or meditating; of comforting words or companionable silence with someone we enjoy.

If the illness comes back, we will bear it patiently, knowing that we will return to our walk toward health again. Perhaps the pace will be slower, with longer breaks that must be taken more frequently, but we walk in the direction of well-being, whether mental, physical, or both, and we are surrounded with the solace of fellow travelers who know the way, and understand.  It’s a lovely road, and the weather is often breathtakingly beautiful. If you should happen to meet us along the path, let’s walk awhile together.

This post was first published seven years ago today. It reads like something I could have written yesterday to describe the past month (yes, it has been almost a month since our current nightmare began) in the most optimistic terms possible. “But somehow, we keep going.” 

The original post, comments and photo are linked, along with two other related posts, below. These links to related posts, and their thumbnail photos, do not appear in the blog feed; they are only visible when viewing the individual posts by clicking on each one. I have no idea why, nor do I know how they choose the related posts. That’s just the way WordPress does things.

2 Comments

  1. suzypax's avatar

    Good morning, Julia!
    I’m glad you are able to be home again. I really like this post. I needed to hear it. I have a purring kitten on my chest as I have been reading it, and it reminds me that I needed to slow down and breathe. The kitten apparently enjoys the feel of my heartbeat and the gentle movement of my breath. I’m pausing to appreciate that gentle movement, too.
    I’m praying for you, and wishing you moments to appreciate the movement of your own breath.

    The kitten has signaled that rest time is over….

    • Julia's avatar

      I love kittens! Even though their nap times (as with human babies) are always too short.

Thanks for encouraging others by sharing your thoughts: