Tag Archives: The Body

Frailty

It’s one of my unfavourite words … and sometimes I see it in the mirror.

Here’s another one: “careful”.  Also yucky but increasingly necessary.

(Sigh)

But on we go.  Yesterday I did laundry in a building only fifty metres from my home.  I took my shirts out of the drier while they were some wet so the wrinkles would fall out.  As my underwear and jeans continued their drying journey, I grabbed my ten shirts and ten hangers and headed home.

There are fifty-two steps from the street to my apartment.  No elevator.  Clutching my moist shirts to my breast, I started climbing.  Partway up something jolted in my left hip.  It’s called bursitis, and it thought that yesterday was a fine time to say hello.

A second climb to the heights involved an IKEA bag in my right hand while the left clung to the railing and hauled the body upwards.  In the uncareful department, I was still putting only one foot on each riser.

Hours later I hobbled down the stairs and towards a dinner restaurant.  I chose a route sweetly but unconsciously, one that involved climbing twenty steps towards the end.  Imagine more hauling up with left hand, still stepping “normally”, but this time publicly.

As I ate, I thought of my decision to rent an apartment way up high.  I knew that someday I wouldn’t be able to do those stairs … but I thought that moment would be years away – not TODAY!

There were two exit doors from the restaurant. One involved climbing two steps. It was very clear that I’d have to put two feet on each riser to deal with the pain. I felt the angst of not wanting people to see my plight. I chose the other exit.

The whole other discussion is that I haven’t stretched for months. At the end of June, I sold my home in Belmont, Canada and shipped my belongings across the ocean. It felt “convenient” to place my yoga mat in one of those boxes. Convenient and dumb. No yoga mat, no stretching. “Oh well,” said my deluded mind.

Today I start again to extend my body parts in various directions … now smiling at my foibles.

And all will be well.

Soaring

Right now my feet are dangling over the edge of my Lazy Boy chair. My stomach is heavy and my eyes feel like closing. I’ve been sick the last few days.

I wonder if it has to be this way.

Can I create flying right now? Can I rise above the vague nausea and lift into the sky? Can I feel the power of my wings pulsing down, pulling me upwards? The wind whistling through my feathers?

Can I look downwards to the sweep of the land and all the folks walking on it? Can I then lift my head to the far horizon and the mysteries that lie beyond?

Or am I stuck in the pull of the body … the pain and the weakness? I know. I’ll ask a friend:

He says “Come join me on the currents of air. There is much to discover, dear human.”

Days Thirty-Two and Thirty-Three: Birthday Marathon … Lost in Space

At the edge of awakening this morning (Saturday), I heard Jody come in the front door. I smiled and got up to greet her. As I rounded the corner, she barely glanced at me, and retreated into another room.

“Where’s Jody? Where did she go?” … “She’s dead, Bruce.” And it took awhile to let that in.

My mind has crashed and burned over the past two days, with little resurrections yesterday as I was together with the members of the Evolutionary Collective. Now, at 7:45 am in Berkeley, California, my heart is rising again after twelve hours of sleep.

The flight from London, England to San Francisco lasted between eleven and twelve hours. It made for my longest birthday ever, and perhaps the dreariest one. The voice inside said “No pills” although I had a sleep inducer tucked into my wallet. I obeyed the voice.

Within the growing dullness, I could feel that I was being held by friends even though they were all far away physically. I was also being held by life, Spirit, the bigness that permeates all. Still I slumped.

At the beginning, I talked to my seatmate, a young lawyer going home. But then he put on his headphones, and that was essentially that. After dinner, I put my feet flat on the floor, extended the seat back, put on my blindfold and waited. Again, nothing of peace came.

I worried, I fretted. What’s to become of this wayfaring Canadian? Since leaving Dakar, Senegal on Wednesday evening, sleep had given me maybe one hour. I was approaching my previous record of sleeplessness – 34 hours. I remembered the delirium – the thought, jangled with desperation, that I was going to die.

Blessedly, the San Francisco Airport eventually appeared on the horizon … now about 42 hours. There was a long delay before we could get off the plane – some problem with the runway. (Sigh) Finally we moved/stumbled down the aisle. I don’t know how I managed to avoid smashing into the person in front.

Down twisting and turning corridors, grabbing on to the meaning of overhead signs, trying to remember the San Francisco subway system (BART).

Customs ahead. The lines barely registered. And then they did. My foggy eyes seemed to be saying that there were 150 people ahead of me. It wasn’t an illusion … they were right. (Sigh, sigh, sigh)

It took over an hour to reach a customs agent. He was delightful. I was a mess, but hopefully a kind one.

I got to bed at 11:00 pm at the Downtown Berkeley YMCA. Forty-six hours without appreciable sleep. Two minutes later, I was gone.

Yesterday held many joys, all revolving around love shared. We looked into each other’s eyes. We saw who was there. I spoke to the whole group a few times. What I said rang true inside, and that made me happy.

After we returned from lunch, the fade accelerated. I was in a practice with three other folks and I could feel my words starting to slur, my contact with goodness, truth and beauty letting go. I pushed myself into communion but the pull of sleep intensified.

Our day was done at 5:30 and I approached my friend Lara to see if she wanted to go for dinner later. “I need to sleep for an hour first.” Lara took one look at me and said “I’ll walk you home.” I didn’t resist. She took my arm in hers and we meandered the two blocks to the Y.

Thank you, Lara. There was no dinner for this guy. And … Voilà! … it’s today. A perfect time to be with people once more.