The Transforming Power Of Illness

     Like the butterfly he came to resemble, he would realize his illness was but the cocoon of his transformation. At first, as it spun out its fibers, he could only see the darkness close in around him. Why is this happening to me?-a question that, alone and afraid, he churned over and over. Completely encased, curious changes occurred. Within the darkness, where his vision could only focus inward, he saw how he had been crawling around his whole life, never seeing beyond the twigs and branches; always in search of the next watering hole. Glimpses manifested in his awareness of something greater, that he was greater; that he didn’t have to spend the rest of his life crawling, but could soar above all that encased him. Becoming aware of the beauty that was his, he felt as if he could actually sprout wings, and take off in a flight of ecstasy and self-realization. His thoughts becoming reality, he emerged a sight to behold: a focus of admiration, and a wonder of nature. He had healed in the most unexpected way, and for the rest of his existence, revealed to all he touched, the beauty of their own essence, just waiting to be realized and transformed.

     The ones so transformed are in actuality many of us. Illness is a hand that can reach deep down into the recesses of our soul, pulling up more of its existence into our awareness. In so doing, we become greater than we were, because we realize there is so much more to us than we had previously thought. In the early 1980s, I was diagnosed with Hodgkin’s Disease. At the time, I was in my last quarter of classes in my graduate program. I was forced to drop school and drop work. Recovery became my full time job. The discovery of my illness was a terrific blow. After all, this was—according to my thinking then—one of those things that happened only to other people, but certainly not to me. There was no room for it in my plans. There was no room for it in my psyche; no frame of reference to ground it. Eventually, there was little room for anything else but my recovery.

     In the beginning of the ordeal I was to go through, occasionally while sitting alone, I would find tears dropping silently down my face. Unconnected to any specific thought, I wondered where they came from. What inner reaches of my self were being touched? That I may be spinning the cocoon of some transformation was still beyond my comprehension. Yet I had fortunately already developed enough spiritual awareness not to feel like a victim, but to recognize the opportunity for growth this illness afforded. I remember the idea of accepting responsibility for my illness, and thinking that if there really were anything behind the notion that illness could be transformative, then by being open to it, I would in time be able to grow and learn from it. What began as an experience in physical recovery eventually led me deeper on the path of spiritual awareness and self-discovery. Sometime later I was asked if I somehow felt stigmatized by having had cancer. When I thought about it, I realized that I had learned so much from it that it was worth at least a college degree. While I couldn’t put that down on my resume, I was content with the knowledge that many of the credentials we acquire throughout life are not framed by a diploma. But the building blocks they form may make an even stronger foundation for our life’s edifice than the ones more formally recognized.

     What exactly did I learn? The question is more easily answered when asked about a class in school or a college course. Then we can cite facts and figures, or concepts and theories. We might demonstrate a position or maneuver we learned, or a calculation we can perform. When the lesson learned comes not from a book chapter, but rather from one of life’s chapters, of what does the demonstration consist? Can I tell you I’m a bit wiser; that my heart is opened a bit more; that I am more empathetic to the suffering of others; that I can resonate more to the difficulties of people around me; that I now more readily recognize the experiences that transform the lives of others; that I recognize in my own transformation a higher consciousness—a higher awareness of my soul, perhaps? I might answer by asking you to think about your own life, and the experiences that may have turned the focus of your own eyes inward; away from the perception and nagging knowledge of what you think others are always doing to you, and toward the awareness of a part of you that perhaps was always unknown, because you had never looked at and examined it before.