I’ve always been a nature lover. I like nothing better than going for a hike in the woods or strolling along the beach or gazing at the mountains. Since I was diagnosed with dystonia—a neurologic disorder marked by involuntary muscle contractions that cause abnormal postures and pain—more than 20 years ago, nature and all its bounty have given me some profound insights into how to live with a chronic illness.

Lesson 1: Persevere

Last spring, as I was heading to my neighbor’s house, I walked between two bushes—and right through a spider’s web. When I turned around to gauge how much I had destroyed, I was amazed to see the spider already spinning a new strand to attach to the bush and repairing tattered pieces. I had trashed its home, and it just pressed on. It didn’t moan and groan or fuss and whine; It went right to work. The spider’s reaction was a beautiful reminder that when life feels like it’s falling apart or I’m having a bout of pain I can’t seem to relieve, I need to be patient and fix one strand at a time. Doing one self-care activity that points me in a better direction always helps at such times.

Lesson 2: Rebloom

In 2018, North Carolina was hit by a powerful hurricane. Many trees fell on and around my house. One limb speared through my roof into my living room. I opened my bedroom door and was stunned to see a tree staring at me. When I was able to get outside, I was met with a wall of debris blocking my driveway. My house and all the flowers I planted earlier were covered in tree branches. One of my planters was completely buried. I thought for sure the flowers were all dead, but within a few days of clearing the brush, I noticed new blooms. The plants didn’t look like they did before the storm, but they didn’t give up and kept growing. Throughout my journey with dystonia, I too have sprouted new blooms and become a better person today than I was years ago. I’m more patient, grateful, and focused and have a greater sense of purpose now. Thinking of those flowers helps me focus on who I am now and whom I am becoming rather than grieving the person I was.

Lesson 3: Adapt

I was driving home one night when a tree frog landed on my windshield. Perhaps it was jumping to get across the street in search of food or to go for a swim, mate, hang out with a froggy friend, or do whatever frogs do, and my car had changed its trajectory. Humans change creatures’ trajectories all the time. When I’m out walking and my foot lands in the path of an ant it is forced to go in a different direction. It doesn’t resist or fight and try to eat through my shoes. It might climb over, but usually it just recalibrates. Unlike the ant and the frog, I am good at resisting change, but from their example I am learning to let go and allow life to simply flow. For me that has meant being okay with discomfort and learning to make the best of a difficult situation instead of insisting on trying to change something that can’t be changed.

Lesson 4: Pause

On a particularly busy morning with a hundred tasks on my to-do list, I was rushing around the house when I noticed something out the window: two birds dancing with each other. I don’t know if it was a mating ritual or something else, but the two minutes I took to stop and watch them was all I needed to slow down and smile—and resume my day in a less rushed manner.

Lesson 5: Accept

The way my houseplants grow fascinates me. Some thrive like weeds and others barely change at all. Watching the process is a great lesson in patience and acceptance. They teach me that everyone and everything grows and changes at its own pace. When I am experiencing adversity and change, big or small, I try not put too much pressure on myself to get through it at a certain pace. I let the results of my progress determine the timetable. Like water, when I take the path of least resistance and flow with the current, my stubbornness diminishes, I am less stressed, and my overall well-being improves. Negative emotions like anger and bitterness exacerbate the tight muscles and other symptoms of my dystonia. The more at ease I am in my mind, the more at ease I am in my body.