We all need to be. And we all need to do, and sometimes not do if it doesn't suit us, we don't want to or can't for reasons of ill health.
Dobedobedo is where I'm at right now. I do, rest, I be. I do, rest, I be. Then I do, and tend to carry on til I'm silly with exhaustion and flop into a lovely bath.
But that's how the routine round here is at the moment. Must put in another rest after tea before bed. Tedious but it works, and sometimes means I can watch something nice on telly with my son, or perhaps a DVD, that doesn't involve me disappearing under a mountain of tissues.
The point I'm trying to extricate from this waffle is this.
In coming to terms with disability, and getting one's head around a longterm state of fluctuating health where the goalposts shift and you're never really sure how you are from month to month, I've learned the following.
We all need to do, to a certain amount. Doing makes us feel part of things, vital, alive. Not doing can deaden the spirit. But doing a little, and doing things differently is the big improvement to my life that has taken me so long to work out.
I pace, I can do more. I tentatively start writing, it becomes a blog. I buy a camera, I now have a hobby. I paint, badly. I watch films, I cry. I watch nature documentaries, I marvel. I pass by the piano, and sit down to tinkle. Yesterday I wrote a bit of a Tori variation on an old classic. The piano works better for me at the moment than CDs. I am in charge. It's my expression, my emotion coming out, not others' emotion coming at me.
All these things help me reclaim the me that psychiatric services stole. And they did steal me away, stuff me full of drugs and then...well it's not been very pretty.
Being is just as important as doing. Fluttertongue wrote beautifully about it here. It's about not doing. Being is stopping, for some meditating, but for me just stopping, breathing, lying still, no stimuli. It is a wonderful experience. I love listening to the rain. These precious moments.