I didn't sleep well last night. As a result, I have been sluggish and feeling off for a good portion of my day thus far. As I sat here staring at the screen, I realized that the discipline of Moura was good for more than just housekeeping matters. It provides structure to my day, which supports me when I am feeling unwell. I forgot how much that helps me.
In my heart, I know that this is something that I really need. My pride, however, frequently trips me up. I look around and say to myself "I don't need this stuff. I can do just fine with out it." It really is unreasonable for me to do that to myself. Since becoming disabled, I find that I need more structure to be successful. It helps me when I can't focus enough to do things. A notebook in the kitchen with my daily routine in it, habits of daily housework, and focused attention to the plans I made for myself when I was well does me wonders. When I'm well, however, I get a bit arrogant and tell myself that I don't need those 'crutches.'
This year, I am reminded multiple times since the beginning of the season that humility is a virtue I should cultivate in myself. And the reminders point out that false humility does me no good. It has been hard to set aside my pride and ego to use these tools I have at hand. I find myself feeling penitential when I realize that my pride has moved in my way. I look around, unsure what I should do to resolve the feeling I should make offerings to rectify the breech that opens up when I fail to take care of myself properly.
The message that I keep finding myself facing is "Don't say sorry. Just don't do it again." This makes failure even harder to bear, honestly. Because I realize that I have disappointed myself and the gods. Some of my difficulties doing the things that are healthy for me come from my illness. Those difficulties are met with compassion and understanding at every turn. And when I lapse in my efforts because I have gotten cocky, there has been that refrain I mentioned earlier. All of the anger and frustration surrounding these failures are upon my own shoulders and crafted by myself.
Perhaps the hardest part of Moura this year is forgiving my errors and letting them go.