There’s a glorious moment of not-knowing first thing in the morning. Just on the edge of wakefulness, as consciousness beckons, life takes a deep, silent breath and waits. In that moment, before reality comes rushing back in, potential is at its peak. Everything is possible because nothing yet exists. Nothing of our past is present, and the future can’t exist because it has no present to work with. There is only emptiness and silence, both waiting to be filled with whatever comes their way.
That peaceful moment is most noticeable, unfortunately, when life has taken a recent turn for the worse. Having enlisted sleep to smother our sadness or ease our pain, we wake up and for that one second before we remember, we feel free. Then, without permission or declaration, the past comes surging back in, reacquainting us with a reality we had hoped to leave behind. I experienced a mild version of that last week after my back, for the first time in a few years, had suddenly gone into spasm.
Unexpectedly and inexplicably, as I was getting up from a chair the previous evening, my spine felt like it was about to dislocate from my pelvis. Instantly, the muscles around my lower back tightened, and all of a sudden I was back where I have been so many times before. There was no reason why it should have happened, and I immediately felt myself being pulled towards familiar negativity regarding my health and well-being, and the realisation that my run of daily exercises had probably just ended at 1251.
When I awoke the next day, sure enough, reality allowed me a moment’s grace before flooding my world with physical and mental discomfort. I repeated the positive thoughts she and I had practised the night before; reassured myself that everything was okay; and told myself to accept that this is how it is right now. My first steps offered promise, and I soon established that I was still mobile enough to be able to give a workshop that morning. Moreover, and most impressively, that evening I was able to do my exercises.
Since then the recovery period has been shorter and less arduous than it has ever been in the past following similar episodes. Things are different to the way they used to be. I have a clear feeling that the muscles are transitioning between two sets of memories. The old memories, conditioned over decades, say: ‘Contract. Hold on tight. Protect.’ The new memories, on the other hand, say: ‘Relax. Let go. It’s okay.’ The transformation is a result of the daily exercises. Every day I am retraining – reconditioning – my muscles to create a different reality with a different outcome.
The same is possible with every aspect of life, and the morning is a great place to start. That glorious moment of not-knowing is always there. Every morning, as sleep releases you, take a second or two to set your reality for the whole day. Determine your self, your attitude, and your outlook. Pour into life whatever reality you desire. Practise it often enough and, should a familiar reality come knocking one day, you’ll find that you have asserted your will sufficiently for your world to be different this time.