Dis-ease in the Gut

 

All dis-ease begins in the gut.

Hippocrates

After all the years of a twisting turning gut reaction to stress...my gut is sick. 

Sick?  I thought you said there was no sickness?  

On the vertical plane, in the true reality that exists beyond this superficial world of maya that we walk through...there is no sickness.  On this horizontal physical plane, where most of us are consciously stuck,  there is a belief in illness, therefore the signs of illness. My body is showing those signs.  

My gut has probably always been more active (and reactive) than my mind ever was. I tend to  perceive life first through my gut. Encounter a situation the gut likes and I feel a flutter of butterfly wing in there or a pleasant swooshing before the mind even knows what is going on. If I encounter a situation or person the gut doesn't like...there is an instant  drop, a sudden pull of energy downward, the same feeling one gets on the ferris wheel when it is dropping down.  Sometimes, when my gut is overwhelmed and confused it feels like a whirlpool in my abdomen ...churning, swirling, splashing against my insides like mighty ocean waves resisting the rocks in front of them. 

My gut resists my life...or resists the fact that I am not listening to the way it is telling me to approach or make peace with this life.  My gut reacts to stress. Big time.

I spent my life ignoring my gut. I was so busy straining to hear what my brain had to say about what was going on, I couldn't hear what the Brain's southern cousin, much wiser in many ways, had to say. I didn't take the time to listen to its wise messages, to follow its advice and it is not happy.  So I now have a rock in my gut, it seems, all the time.  I have chronic heartburn that is barely controlled by the medication I am on, and I am having other issues as well.  Constant discomfort. A constant inconvenience to my daily life. Sigh! The gut is protesting my neglect of it.

That is what I am experiencing now, on top pf protests from other body areas.  The billion gut cells (mostly migrant workers in the form of microbs) have unionized and are now standing in front of me with their placard signs shouting into bullhorns so loudly I have no choice but to listen. "Change Your Approach to  Life! Change Your Mind! Protect and listen to us or we are out for good!"  

Is it too late to make peace with them and my life?

I hope not.

All is well.