I like to go for short runs. Fresh air, the delights of nature, feeling my body in motion. Sometimes I am fighting gravity, other times my feet seem to barely touch down. I run fast or slow. I walk, stop or sit as I please. I commune with Spirit. I solve the world's problems. Or at least some of my own.
There is a curb along the entrance to my complex. The earth does not rise to meet it, so it is like a balance beam that I enjoy the challenge of running on. Sometimes I slip off, but stay on my feet and keep going.
A couple of weeks ago I slipped off and fell forward, the paved road quickly rising to meet me. I caught myself with my right hand, the fingers hyper-extending against the back of my palm. I rolled over and lay against the curb. My body was fine except for my hand, which was screaming in red hot pain. The air was calm and quiet. The sun bathed me in warm, golden light. I breathed deeply, smiled, and sent my hand all the love that I could muster. Panicky thoughts jostled for attention. "What if it's broken? You have no insurance! You won't be able to work! You'll be devastated! -Pain!" I pushed them out with light, love, healing energy. I lay there until the pain subsided and gratitude filled me. Then I got up and gently finished my run.
I wasn't miraculously healed. I broke my hand. It is permanently altered, as the photo shows. I have had to ease up on it and use my left hand more. But it still works. It may not be pretty, but I can still do what I need to do.
There's a lesson in everything. Sometimes that wry smile plays upon my lips. God seems to have a twisted sense of humor. "Hmmm...how shall I challenge this precious one who has no insurance and must work with her hands? I know! I'll have her break her hand!"
I have not chosen an easy life, because I want to learn and grow. I welcome every challenge. I am going through shifts and changes. Sometimes they throw me physically off balance. My fall coincided with another romantic heartache. Another story for another time.
I fall down and I get up.
'The cup he brings, though it burn your lips, has been fashioned of the clay which the Potter has moistened with His' -Kahil Gibran
'The cup he brings, though it burn your lips, has been fashioned of the clay which the Potter has moistened with His' -Kahil Gibran
2 comments:
Awwww. As my daughter Kate used to say: BummerRats!
I am confident that your resilience will pull you through, Miss Jayne. And the physical trials such as this are but a passing thing.
Be well, m'dear.
oo - David
Our outward life manifests our inner life. For a moment, you forgot yourself, and fell. Broken. But up you get, changed, to move forward. But......I really think you should go to a clinic and get that fixed!This is America! No need for artists to wander around with untreated broken hands. I am sure there is a program out there that conservatives are trying to cut.
Post a Comment