History

October mornings have left a residue for me. Routine simplicity of pouring a bowl of cereal became a poignant chapter in my life’s journey. Groggily shuffling to the kitchen, I embraced the familiarity of Cheerios, a staple my mother deemed a “healthy” breakfast, promptly adorned with two tbs of granulated sugar .

Cereal in the 80s was more than breakfast; it was culture, an experience carefully chosen from the supermarket shelves. The classics – Cinnamon Toast Crunch, Count Chocula, Franken Berry, Kix, Lucky Charms and of course Fruity Pebbles – each box held the promise of a morning adventure.

Yet, this routine morning would unravel into an unexpected turn. A year prior, asthma had entered my life, introducing an inhaler (Proventil) and Theodur into my daily routine. That particular morning, as I sat down at the kitchen table, an odd sensation cascaded over the right side of my body, rendering my right cheek completely numb.

Genuine Panic made an appearance into my life for the first time. before that I never knew what a sense of impending doom was and my body from that moment on imprinted that sensation which would become my aura. Ever since then my mind is constantly scanning and looking for any sign of it on the horizon.

I rushed to my mom, collapsing into her arms as my body pulsed in a discordant rhythm. Chaos and peace intertwined as my body and mind separated, akin to oil dropped in water. Surrendering to this strange dance of electrical impulses, I felt a break, a pause in the surges produced by my brain, much like a car slowing down when it has run out of gas.

When the seizure ceased, I looked at my mother in disbelief, tears streaming down my face. Uncertainty enveloped me – would it happen again? When? Would my peers at school find out? As this stream of questions came in, I lost something that we all lose at different times in our life. what was lost was the hubris that only children have, that the body and mind are time wasting assets, as children this is hidden from us.

Yet, within this loss emerged an invaluable gift – a deep understanding that health, both of body and mind, is a cherished gift not to be taken for granted. This revelation, not fully comprehended until my 40s, became a defining force. It propelled me to embrace Jocko’s philosophy to “get after it,” urging me not to hesitate in pursuing my dharma (purpose) in this unpredictable journey of life.