Sitting Still

As I signed in to check my e-mail this morning, an advert on the web site caught my eye. It said, 'If you die unexpectedly, how much cover do you need?' and then it went on with a list of figures ranging from £150,000 to 1 million squillion, and a button to press if you were foolish enough to want more information, thus opening yourself up to insurance spam for the next year at least (unexpected death aside).

'Hmmm...' I thought. 'How much cover do I need if I unexpectedly die? Well, I'll be dead, so that'll be none, then.'

I've always been given to believe that post-death one's financial requirements are pretty much zilch. I rather thought B & B in Heaven would be gratis, having gone through the purgatory of paying the mortgage in the earthly realm.

Or were they talking about a different kind of cover? I've already given instructions to my nearest and dearest that I wish to be wrapped in my Celtic pattern wool shawl and buried with a tree on top. If they can afford a coffin, all well and good. But cover of a few depthly feet would probably be good for health 'n' safety reasons and avoid me being dug up by a curious badger.

So that's sorted then. Of course, if the badly written catch line of the advertisement really meant, 'How much cover will your FAMILY need if you die unexpectedly?' then the answer is still none. They'll have to fend for themselves. I've had to.

I also take exception to the use of the word 'unexpectedly.' This is the last word to use in conjunction with the notion of death. Death is the one thing in life that we know is going to happen and is therefore 100% expected at some point. The surprise is 'when?' So they should have used the word 'suddenly'instead, or just left it out altogether.

Pedant rant over.

I've just finished reading a very thought-provoking book. It's called, 'Teach Us To Sit Still - A Sceptics Search for Health and Healing,' by the novelist Tim Parks. It's not the sort of book I'd normally pick up and read, and to be honest I found the author to be highly irritating, but the story of his journey to overcome crippling ill-health is thoroughly fascinating not to mention fully in keeping with the kind of thinking I am doing as I set forth into my life as an holistic therapist. Which must be the reason why a little voice in my head told me to pick it up and buy it last week.

The basic premise is that people in the 21st century are too busy to keep in touch with the link between mind and body, that we separate them off instead of encouraging them to work in unison, and as such we lose our sense of self - of living in the moment. We plan too far into the future, make our bodies do things our minds are telling us not to, so should we be surprised that ill health follows? We tend to think that illness comes from external forces (and I suppose if you get hit by a bus, then you have a case) whereas we should be thinking more that ill health comes from within. And if we can accept that responsibility, then we can be more able to maintain our health ourselves, without scooting off to the doctors for a bottle of jollop when we're not well.

It's a difficult concept to deal with in this quick-fix, throwaway society we live in. It requires hard work and challenges of a different kind, leading untimately to the benefit of regular meditation. Meditation makes you live in the now, be aware of what is happening now. Now you are well. Now you are ill. Now you can do this. Now you can deal with that. Don't fret about what might happen in the future. The future never happens. It is variable, unsettled, open to too many external influences. When you think you've got there, you find you are still in the now.

Anyway, it is a good book. It's inspired me. It's given me a lot to think about regarding what sort of holistic therapist I am.

And before I go, I'd like to share a little discovery I've made this week. I have discovered that storing brazil nuts in an old tea-caddy makes them taste like fish.

So I won't be doing that again.