This beautiful, unbroken body.
When you call upon the void and it tells you to sit the fuck down, you just do it.
Friends, this new flu variant is no fkn joke.
As I write to you, I am on day 11 of being kicked around spit on and shidded on by h3n2 (most likely, though my tests for Covid, Influenza A & B, as well as Strep all came back negative).
My symptoms: the worst muscle aches I’ve ever experienced, a gnarly cough that sounds prehistoric and haunting, about 4 days of a 104° fever and the lowest morale I’ve had in a minute.
The way these strains mutate is so viscous. It’s not just our physical health but our sense of hope that gets disrupted when our bodies are beaten down by things we can’t control.
We’ve been in scary times for several years now, and the world is never going to be the way it was “pre-Covid.”
When our bodies get sick, we are plunged into the shadow realms and forced to contend with what our society deems as unworthy, unproductive, unlovable. For decades, disabled activists have brought this to our attention, that internalized ableism is so insidious and colors the lenses with which we look upon the entire world.
This sickness has only weakened my body for a couple weeks, but I cannot help myself from connecting the discomfort I feel to larger stories and larger bodies.
I’m having to rely on pharmaceuticals more than I ever have for this viral infection.
It feels like an edge because I’ve never been one to take over the counter meds for headaches or pain, and y’all know I work with the plants for just about everything.
I’m grateful that I have access to pharmaceuticals because if I hadn’t started taking Tylenol, I would’ve ended up in the ER for having a 104° fever for more than 4 days.
It scares me that a lot of illnesses can’t be treated with 100% plant medicine - yes, many of our drug store selections are plant derivative and yes, multiple healing modalities can co-exist and co-conspire with each other. We have access to many and should find ways to work with them simultaneously/harmoniously.
There’s just something kind of sinister about our quickly evolving/mutating illnesses that speaks to what’s happening to our planet, and as a result, our bodies as well. And who benefits from us getting and staying sick all the time? Who is able to invade countries, separate families, carry on with every kind of treacherous and illegal activity because we are too sick, immobilized and demoralized to do anything about it?
It is not just another round of flu strains that frighten me. It is my own cavalier attitude toward my health and the health of those around me that is terrifying.
I feel so stupid when I go out into the world unmasked, get sick, and have the audacity to be upset about it.
I feel ashamed at how poor my survival skills are in this moment.
What I’ve observed: my fever, climbing. At home with family, because I could no longer take care of myself. No one in the house owns a thermometer. Someone offering to Amazon Prime one to arrive in the morning. Heartbreak. I wish someone would just go to the store. I am begging, take me to the ER. Discouragement. It will pass. Try a cold compress. Where is the urgency? Who does this save? How do we contend with the ways we’ve all, now, harmed each other with this act?
By now, we know the consequences. And still, sometimes, we choose wrong. Many times I’ve chosen wrong.
But beating myself up isn’t going to make this infection go away any faster. I wish for myself, and everyone reading this, grace.
Grace while also knowing we can only afford to give ourselves permission to make the same mistake so many times. and many people don’t have the luxury of “slipping up.” It could cost them their lives.
Grace while also daring myself to be better each day, to stand more in alignment with my dignity, to make each choice the one that feels the most aligned in each moment.
I am crawling to the threshold of where this sickness dominates my body, and with every wad of mucous I spit out, finding myself closer to reclaiming what has been taken from me. I’m finding my resolve and, thankfully, my health, after nearly two weeks of spit and spite.
There have been glimmers, which I will share here with you in case you or a loved one are also recovering from this brutal season of viral infections.
Steams to break up mucous, soothe a sore throat, open up pores to release additional toxins, and warm a tired body. I brought Lemon Balm and Elderflower with me to my family home and added them to a bowl with fresh clementines.
Lymph node massages paired with gentle movement like arm circles, floor stretches, twists and neck rolls to drain inflamed nodes. I did this for no more than 30 minutes a day – this has been a very enjoyable part of my day, but I am cautious not to overdo it by accidentally increasing the inflammation in my body with excessive pressure.
Letting myself enter the void. Getting existential while I sit around and do nothing but cough, cry, wheeze and try to keep an steady supply of pharmacy drugs in my system is difficult to avoid.
I have let myself go into deep reflection around why I find sickness so uncomfortable, not just the physical data of the sensations I’m feeling but the deeper meanings and stories behind what it means to be sick. In this void I am meeting collective shadows, personal shortcomings, and new aspects of self that demand I look upon them without judgement or fear.
A friend and I began birthing an offering in November, to share with our community in January. Without divulging too much information, because we still do plan to host our intended event, I want to tell you that we called upon the Void and the Void werked us good. Both of us are navigating flareups that require deep listening and deep compassion for our bodies — which are good, beautiful and perfect. A sick body is a body deserving of so much love and care.
In the void, it’s time to sit my ass down. Can I love myself, truly and unconditionally, when my body does not do what I command?
A body does not exist in service of commands.
With that, I leave you. I wish you good health, caring community, and time to reflect on what you can do in service of your body and the one Earth body in this “new year.”
Love,
Shel
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The Dream Seeding Studio weaves herbalism and poetry with hands-on workshops, BIPOC virtual writing circles and small batch herbal remedies. The Studio is nurtured by Shel, a Black/Chinese/non-binary herbalist and poet, chaos gardening their way into remembering on Kumeyaay Land (San Diego).