NaBloPoMo | Open Space Practice, (AKA: A Thousand Shades of Gray)

Heron in flight

I’ve been thinking about how difficult injury and illness can be — especially if they are chronic and ongoing. The ways our body can limit our activity, our access, and the ways it can keep us from things we love, the overwhelming need it has to be cared for. I have chronic pain and fatigue, for various reasons. It keeps me from fully experiencing my life in the ways I want to.

I was reminded of this difficulty, this grief, this morning. Eric was taking Ringo hiking, running, and because of Sam’s back issues, he can’t go. Eric put him in with me while I was meditating, and Sam spent the whole time lying by the closed door, intermittently whining. I feel so sad for him because he loves getting to go so much, but his body just won’t allow it right now. And since we’ve been working with this injury since January, it’s becoming clear this might be as good as it gets for him — two walks a day, sometimes almost a total of 4.5 miles, but no more 8-15 mile hikes, no more running.

It’s all mixed up for me with the loss of Obi and Dexter, with my dad’s recovery from his stroke, with the struggles of friends who also live with chronic illness and pain, and the ways all our longings to move and not suffer are limited. Sure there’s help to be had, remedies and support that can lessen our discomfort, but there will be no miracle, no return to being exactly as we were before.

There’s so much grief around that. I think sometimes we forget that when working with our various obstacles. We forget that it’s not just physical, not just our bodies but our hearts are broken too. We need to allow space for that to heal as well.

1. Morning walks. For the next couple of weeks, it will actually be light out again when we walk in the morning. When we went out today, we walked along the river. I’ve been missing it. In the summer, the mosquitoes keep us away, and after that it was too far for Sam to walk, and then it was too dark to enjoy, but we were able to go today. Sam loved it.

2. Having loved someone so much that nine years later it still hurts to be without them. Nine years ago today, we had to let go of our first dog, Obi. As I said on Facebook this morning, I get it. Everyone dies. And our dogs most likely will go before we do because their lives are so much shorter, but it still feels massively unfair. I suppose the fact that it still hurts, that I still miss him like crazy, is both the bad news and the good.

3. The ones you love that are still here. Having friends who are smart, kind, creative, and funny is just the best.

4. Flowers in the bathroom. Even when they are from the grocery store, leftover from last week.

5. My tiny family. Ringo was especially cute this week.

Bonus joy: warm peach pie, fresh pesto, seeing Winona LaDuke give a talk at CSU, texting, being able to prioritize without guilt, my infrared heating pad on a morning when it was only 19 degrees on our walk, indica for sleeping, sick days, writing, reading, watching TV, teaching yoga, practice, long naps, sleeping in, down blankets and wool socks, a crisp gala apple with crunchy peanut butter, the hug my new intern gave me when she finally was able to start working, lunches with Aramati, writing with Chloe’ and Mikalina, being home by myself.