Off.

When you're forced to slow down, the little things are suddenly more prominent.

Last week I walked along the coast of a beach in Melbourne and took a seat next to an elderly gentleman sitting on a bench. He had two dogs, one tiny one sitting on the bench next to him, and a large golden retriever sitting between his knees. Gray old canine face looking up at him as he panted contently. "So what happened?" he asked as he observed my neck brace. I explained, and then listened as he recounted the time he flipped his motorcycle in the 70's while he and his buddies were traveling the west coast of oz. As he spoke, he scratched at his arm and I noticed it started to bleed.  I intentionally took the sunscreen out of my purse and offered him some.  " This sun really is powerful," I said.   He laughed..."it's too late hun, the damage is already done."

These days my life has been sped down tenfold as I continue to heal from injury.

As my friend and I were getting out of her car yesterday she turned and looked at me and outright  said "you've changed, there's something really different about you."  Her comment didn't surprise me because I've felt it too, but have found it difficult to externalize what it is. This may be some of the most introspective days of my life .

I miss my art, incredibly. When I think about the reality that I could have been paralyzed or dead, I get emotional. I don't know where I would be without the ability to move, nor can I imagine it. I've never been much of a speaker, but I can convey the deepest and most intricate stories through my body. It's my fundamental language.  When I climb, I'd feel all my struggles dissipate as my mind and body become enveloped into a moving meditation.  And my yoga practice has been my graceful and supportive counterpart. And now that I'm on a hiatus from my high's , my lows are more prevalent. Maybe I had been using this too much in the form of escapism, and losing the balance. I still believe in a way, this accident has happened to get my attention and slow me down for once.

Life continues on, but I suppose any trauma we face has the inevitable of changing us. I was given a dose of comfort recently when I attended the weekly Melbourne acro jam, when I had a discussion with a woman who knew about my accident and experienced a similar injury. She described how it took a lot of time for her to feel like herself again, and the changes she also underwent. Naturally when life seems to continue on around us when we're in a vulnerable state we cannot control , I think a feeling of isolation is inevitable. My thinking patterns, my body, my existence feels completely out of sync, and no one will ever quite understand.

I had X-rays taken last week, and my dear body has been one hell of a warrior for me. I've gotten permission to begin to take off the neck brace and even engage in a very gentle yoga practice as I start to rehabilitate my neck on my own, three weeks earlier than expected.  The task of looking left , right, up or down is excruciating since my neck has been immobile for so long. A few days ago after moving my neck around a bit and doing several modified sun salutations, my neck was feeling really good. But the next morning I woke up in agony and extreme discomfort all day. Another reminder, that I need to abide in time and patience.



Random Musings I want to remember 2/9/16.