The Miracle of Rest
Practicing with chronic illness
Nanala McMillan
8/28/20267 min read
Photo taken at the Poconos, PA in 2025
The path of mindfulness has been a blossoming journey of healing. In all aspects of my life, there it is, a warm embrace of awareness peeking through the curtains of body, speech, and mind. Mindfulness and meditation have allowed me to slow down, enjoy the simple things, and show up for myself and the community around me. It has become an art, not something you are meant to perfect but a means of exploring the depths of ones self (or lack thereof) that manifests differently for each individual but on a shared path like a bountiful garden nurturing flowers of all seasons and kinds.
It was no surprise when actively taking steps to heal my mind also healed my body in turn. No, I don’t mean all my ailments magically disappeared (though some did haha), but I’ve been given a set of steps and skills to better deal with my obstacles.
When mind and body are one, there is harmony. When we take care of one over the other, there is imbalance. They feed into one another like a running stream that flows to the ocean and returns into a stream once more.
However, for some of us we may be dealing with a constant, unavoidable ache that doesn’t go away. How are we supposed to find peace and balance when we are faced with such a strong force of opposition? In my journey, I have been learning how to see my chronic illness as not an opposing force but an opportunity to touch the miracle of rest. What started as anger and denial has melted away to acceptance and understanding.
Many of us are familiar with the covid quarantine that began in March 2020. It was a confusing and anxiety-inducing period of time that had seemed to last forever and still has relevance today. For some of us, it built a deep-rooted fear and removal from a healthy social life, and for others it had a permanent impact on the body. In that moment, I had only recognized the former but as the months turned into years I realized my body was going through a metamorphosis that would change the entire way I would navigate life.
After years of struggling to keep up with my own body, in December 2025 I went in to cardiology for my POTS (Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome) diagnosis. The results of many tests came back positive, affirming the reality I was already living. For years, it had been a background notion for me. It just was what it was and I had already had my suspicions of the cause. However, upon the diagnosis which didn’t change any of the symptoms but gave me a treatment plan, I felt shaken. Emotions that were buried behind my condition that I refused to face had finally surfaced. I was angry. Maybe part of me hoped that it would all just go away and now it had become very real. My anger turned into grief, a longing for how things were when I was child. Running in fields and climbing trees with no care in the world and nothing to stop me. Now I was afraid to run lest I hurt myself, and every climb my heart climbed higher.
As a young adult dealing with chronic illness, I have a hard time keeping up with my peers and as a very active hiker and outdoorsy woman, it was a hard pill to swallow that people ten times my age and ten years younger were going to always surpass me as I struggle to regulate my heart and nervous system. The doctors told me that while my life wasn’t on the line, my condition would be and has been detrimental to my “quality of life”.
What defines quality of life anyways?
Acceptance.
My anger and grief was fueled by a lack of acceptance as things were. I didn’t want to face the reality that I had been handed, and I was determined to push forward without limiting my actions. The more I denied reality, the more my emotions seemed to stir in my heart and mind. A lack of acceptance can be dangerous, ignoring our warning signs and basic needs to prove a point. That I did.
I fought reality and in turn fought my own body. Unable to accept that I was living a different life than others, I pushed my body to its limits. On hikes, I would push forward until I could no longer walk and found myself falling to the side of the trail, struggling to lift myself to my feet and falling again only twenty steps later. I would take midday naps despite the negative impact on my body that would leave me feeling nauseous and unstable for hours.
Reaching a breaking point, I realized the hard way that no matter how fast I ran I could not escape reality and by doing so I was only perpetuating my own suffering. The practice of “mere recognition” allowed me a new perspective into my situation, one not based in stories and narratives, but just as things are.
After removing myself from endless notions, the backbone of my practice became The Five Remembrances. suggested to me by one of my Order of Interbeing (Tiếp Hiện) mentors in the Plum Village Community of Engaged Buddhism.
“I am of the nature to have ill-health. There is no way to escape having ill-health.”
While it may be a difficult pill to swallow, practicing with that line allowed me to come to terms with not only my own reality but reality as a whole. As human beings, we are all of the nature to have ill-health at some point in our lifetime and trying to deny that fact would only lead me into further delusion.
The line may come as a shock, instinctively it may feel negative. How can it be beneficial to constantly focus on the fact that I’ll grow old, get sick, and die?! Looking deeply into the words, I see them as not something to ruminate on but a warm embrace from all of humanity, a shared life we will live together and a bell of mindfulness to take care of myself in the present.
Who knows how many minutes I have before me, so why waste them? Longing for what could have been and what was before only dragged me more out of the miracle of the present. Breathing in, I accept my body as it is. Breathing out, I aspire to let my thoughts and actions carry my legacy into a beautiful future for us all. My actions are my continuation.
Gratitude (and a little bit of cognitive reframing).
Finding the stillness to accept my situation had opened a broader awareness of everything I did and didn’t have. It is easy to forget all the miracles we presently possess when we’re so focused on what we don’t have.
Breathing in, I give thanks to my body.
Breathing out, I care for my body.
Each day, my body works hard to carry me throughout my many tasks and interactions. I have two working feet that allow me to walk without much consideration. I have two working eyes that allow me to see many wonders. I have two working hands that allow me to write this reflection. There is so much to be grateful for and to not take for granted. Not everyone has these miracles, and while we shouldn’t get caught up in comparison, it’s a lovely reminder to look deeply into what we possess presently. I am of the nature to change, my body will not always be as it is today. If I ruminate on what I do not have, I will lose sight of the many wonders that I do have and before I know it that will have changed too.
My body is not broken, my body has offered me a miracle.
Reconditioning.
“When mind and body are one, there is harmony. When we take care of one over the other, there is imbalance. They feed into one another like a running stream that flows to the ocean and returns into a stream once more.”
Taking care of our mind is only one part of the equation. Once we have recognized and accepted the change and reality that is our body, we understand our needs. We must learn to recondition our habit energies that may have once served us but now push us to the brink of exhaustion. We must learn to let go and embrace change.
I invite you to reflect on what habits surround you and how they affect your body. With hiking, I had to recondition my body to slow down and pause. What was once a quick ascent is now a long journey, taking breaks whenever needed without prejudice. Instead of standing up quickly, I allow my body to slowly rise with any additional support I may need. Instead of agreeing to plans on impulse, I create space to reflect on how much energy my body has and whether or not the environment I would find myself in would be conducive to my wellbeing.
Reconditioning is an invitation to breathe with your body, acting in the moment rather than acting out of habit. Slowing down and learning to say ‘no’ is not defeatism, but respect for the temple that is our body. When we recognize the sacred boundaries of our body, we learn to live in harmony with ourselves.
Advocation.
One of the biggest obstacles in our journey can be asking for help. I know for myself that I fell into old insecurities about being a burden on others and having to face the anxiety of speaking up. I wanted to be heard but not pitied. I wanted to be understood not redefined. Coming back to the mind, through acceptance we practice the humility of admitting to ourselves that we need to change and embrace care, embrace help.
As a human species, we aim to work together to create a harmonious community that adapts to others and our own needs without discrimination. The first step is owning our reality. Insecurity feeds insecurity. If we can accept and admit our position without watering the seeds of self-degradation, others can see us with fresh eyes. Having an honest conversation with others about our own needs creates understanding and new opportunities to grow together.
Finding the courage to own our existence helps promote strength in others to be their authentic selves. Reaffirming a slower pace of life invites the world to contemplate what the miracle of rest means to them—and when faced with backlash we can practice cultivating compassion and understand that they too have their own struggles and have not yet found the courage to ask for help. When we ask for help, we practice for everyone.
My quality of life is not defined by external conditions. My quality of life is defined by the state of mind in which I embrace life itself.
Breathing in, I know my body is there for me.
Breathing out, I am grateful for the miracle of rest.
Smile & Be Well,
Nanala McMillan
original publication on Substack