Anne Malatt on Life

“Yes, Officer I did see the Speed Limit sign, I just didn’t see YOU!”

When I saw the title I laughed out loud and then I was stopped in my tracks.

I realised that this was how I had lived my life, thinking I was getting away with it.

What do I mean when I say this?

For me, it means that I know I am doing something that is not right, but I somehow think I have a right to do it, and that it will not have the same consequences for me that it has for other people.

The arrogance of this is stupendous.

How do I do it?

When I was younger, I used to drink like a fish, smoke like a chimney and root like a rabbit. I did not get away with it, any of it. As a consequence, I was forced to make major changes to the way I lived, in order to keep on living. I made these changes at the age of 28, long before I moved to the Byron Shire and met Serge Benhayon. Even though I cleaned up my act, I was still not self-loving in the way I lived. There was still a hardness there, especially on myself, and a drive, that came from never feeling enough, just as I was.

Now, my life is much more loving and seen from the outside, probably pure and boring, but I still do stuff.

I speed. I would like to say I used to speed, but I still do it. I love to drive a little fast, to push the boundaries a little. I drive fast in a measured way, carefully calibrated – 10-15 km over the speed limit, so that if I get caught, the consequences will not be dire. Occasionally I get a little reckless and go faster, but never more that 30 km over the speed limit – I will not risk losing my licence. I used to pride myself on being able to sense when there were police around and on knowing when to slow down, so that I got away with it.

I eat. I know there are foods I can no longer eat, foods that do not support my body and my way of being, but I still eat them. I still like the taste of them and even the thought of being able to eat them sometimes. I don’t stop eating something when it causes tiredness, bloating, dullness. I keep “enjoying” it until I feel exhaustion, get stomach cramps and diarrhoea, or my heart starts to race; until I can no longer get away with it. 

I push myself to the limit. I know when I am tired and when my body needs to rest, but I push it beyond that. I do not rest when I am tired, but when I am exhausted. I do not stop and be still until I have to.  I do not say no until I reach breaking point. And until now, I thought I was getting away with it.

I was diagnosed with lymphoma in 2102. It is a relatively benign, chronic cancer, but it was a shock nonetheless. I found a lump in my left leg. I had it removed (the lump, not the leg!), other tests were clear and I did not have to have any further treatment. So I thought I had gotten away with it.

A year later, I felt a funny feeling in the same area. My doctor could not find anything wrong, but I had a scan anyway and there is more disease there, and a biopsy has shown the same cancer. I have just had a bone marrow biopsy to see if it has spread throughout my body. This test is not something I would wish on anyone.

So really, did I get away with anything?

Is it possible that the way I have lived has led to this?

Is it possible that the way I have walked through life, denying the knowing of my body, refusing to listen when it spoke to me, and waiting until it was screaming before I changed my way of life, has something to do with where I am now?

It is not about blaming myself, finding fault, beating myself up.

It is about being as honest as I can with myself from now on.

It is about being willing to stop, be still and listen to my body, and to live from and with the knowing that lies within me, the wisdom of my inner-heart.

It is about understanding that we never get away with it; that everything we think, say and do carries an energetic imprint, that is either loving and heals us, or is not loving and harms us. And we live with every one of those imprints, every day.

So why not live in a way that is loving? I, for one, am ready to give it a go.

This blog was first published on Medicine and Serge Benhayon