Last night, I started feeling unwell during a company meeting. As the meeting progressed, I felt cold and began shivering. By the time it ended, the shivering had intensified. Even with socks on, I couldn’t warm up. I went to bed around 2 a.m. but had to get up multiple times to use the bathroom. I didn’t want to disturb my wife, but eventually, I needed medicine. She gave me Panadol and some biscuits, which I ate before taking the medicine. After that, I finally slept.
In the morning, I still felt weak, though I didn’t have a fever. After breakfast, I remained in bed, lacking the energy to do anything. I asked my son to bring me some books and started reading. I also finished a long podcast featuring an interview with the Anthropic CEO, which I had been listening to in chunks during my commutes.
Strangely, despite feeling unwell, I experienced a sense of calm and presence. It felt as if I had already achieved whatever I wanted in life and no longer needed to strive for anything. My entire purpose seemed to be reading books and listening to podcasts. My mind was quiet, like, it wasn’t juggling multiple tasks or thoughts at once. You know how a CPU makes noise when too many processes are running and becomes silent when those processes are killed? The same thing happened to my mind. The strange part was that even when I tried to think about my goals, they didn’t bother me; they simply vanished. Maybe I had accepted that I was ill and didn’t have the stamina to do anything. I don’t know. The feeling of this surrender was amazing
I watched and appreciated how my wife managed multiple tasks; giving me medicine and food like chopped carrots and mutton yakhni (gravy), measuring my mom’s blood pressure and sugar levels, cooking, and keeping an eye on whether our elder son was studying. I had no words, only appreciation for her.
After lunch, I offered Zohar prayers, performing Tayammum instead of Wudu due to weakness. After praying, I felt a deep stillness, something I hadn’t experienced in years. I could hear the silence around me, a sensation I remember from childhood. As children, we live fully in the present, free from the weight of the past or future. That’s why we long for childhood; not just for the experiences, but for the simplicity of being present.
Oh, besides that, another positive side of illness is that it allows you to do things you usually don’t or don’t do often, like reading and listening to podcasts.
This illness, in a way, became a form of meditation. It forced me to pause, both mentally and physically. I wasn’t chasing anything, just observing and appreciating what was around me. Sometimes, the best thing to do is nothing. Just as an overloaded computer heats up and slows down, our minds and bodies need rest to function well. When we constantly push ourselves, it takes a toll on both mental and physical health.
Take a break. Appreciate what you have. Be thankful.
