Days of surfing and socialising in Durban has left me ill. Not the kind of 'call the cavalry, feel sorry for me, use my hospital plan for once' kind of sick. NO, the excruciating kind, where 'i really should stay in bed, i should rest, get remedies from my homeopath, fruit smoothies and vit C' kind of sick. And I am so bad at it. I hate it. I want to go run. Surf. Dive.
AND BANG, just there, I lose my Freedom! Because freedom is not the fact that I don't do a 9- 17 job. Or the fact that I own 5 fins, 4 boards and 7 wetsuits, AND USE THEM ALL.
No.
Freedom is being happy where you are. Accepting where you are. The story of the monk who spoke to the prisoners about his life in a cell, no TV, no mattress, no sugar... and they were like, 'Shame, you could stay over here in high security if you'd like some comfort.' And the monk's point, and my point is... the monk chooses his cell. So he is Free. So I, like the wise monk, choose to be happy in my illness. Not focus on all the things my achy body cannot do. But accept the rest, the tea, the soup, the naartjies and the books.
I am Free, to be Sick!
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