The Story About A Cold

It came as an absolute surprise.

Actually it didn't.

For a couple of weeks already, the virus was signaling its presence around me.

On Friday, I had a free public coaching session with a coach that I would hire on the spot, if I would only have the money to pay her. During the session, the theme of sickness came up as a basic fear in the system.

On Saturday, I was braving and participating in a local event for entrepreneurs and felt really great about it. On Sunday, I woke up with a head cold. I was actually happy to have it, because that meant that my body is fighting a potential killer. I was not resisting it, but I was using Greg's Good Day Method every night and every morning and was pretty sure that it will not last longer than a day or two. That's how it has been for the last couple of years for me. In the evening, I even got some fever and was even more happy, because that meant that the immune system was speeding up the healing process.

On Wednesday, I felt good enough to attend an even bigger and fancier local event for entrepreneurs. After the event, I went to my daughter's school to get the paperwork done in order for her to receive a bit more pocket money for the next two months. It ended well, but the process was not very smooth and I started feeling that something was off with it. Afterwards, I met my daughter and we drove home on a bus together. A couple of times she told me to stop talking about money. And I was thankful to her for that, because I didn't like what I was doing myself. I wasn't talking about money. I was talking about how poor I am.

That night, I woke up with a nasty cough and couldn't get back to sleep for 3 hours.

The next morning though, I decided to take advantage of the nice weather and go to the town to finalize the paperwork (next week, it would be too late and my daughter would need to wait for the money to come in for another months) and to visit another establishment to file a case against an agency that owes me money for translation jobs finished months ago.

I didn't feel well and the question popped into my attention field: "Would you do any of this, if you would be rich?" My honest answer was: "No, at least not today. But ... my bank account says that I am not rich and that I need to fight for those tiny sums of money today."

So, off I went. Feeling crappy, but happy that I still can move and that the weather is gorgeous.

The establishment couldn't help me because of the character of my agreement with the agency. The only solution left for me would be going to court with it.

At my daughter's school, it didn't go so smoothly either, but I got the paper I needed to get to the other establishment. Only it cost me walking to and fro more than once, waiting on a bench in the park for half an hour, and being unnaturally persuasive. The belief that I am not rich and need that money to come in even though it's not much and will be paid only for 2 months until my daughter is 19 helped me to pull it through. The truth that I am rich and actually the source of all that can be considered wealth and value made it feel unnatural.

Even though I had a wonderful session with my one and only client later the same day, and he told me, that he wanted to continue working with me and would pay me for the next month in a week, my body had the hardest night afterwards. I was thanking it and accepting the consequences of my own decision to feel and act like I would be poor and put it out there even though it most definitely needed to stay home and be supported in its battle with the virus.

The next day, the body felt week, but the symptoms hadn't worsened. I didn't beat myself up knowing that such events are a natural part of our journey here, that we will never be done with falling into believing the reality of our dream even though we are aware that and how we created every part of it. But I took it easy, stayed home and let the body do its job of staying alive.

The night after that, I slept like a baby and felt almost completely healthy the next morning. :)