Be Still

I hurt my knee three weeks ago.  I was playing soccer and the goalie dove into my leg while it was fully extended.  The physical therapist says it will need at least six weeks to heal.  So once again I have been forced to reinvent myself.  To say I have been freaking out a little bit would be putting it mildly.  When your sanity up to this point relied wholly upon moving your body, and when you know you cannot live without your sanity because you have three young beings for whom you are Everything, you start to freak out a little.  Okay, maybe a lot.  

Up until this point, over the last several years, moving your body has been what has saved you time and time again from losing it completely:  your peace and strength and flexibility came from what you did on your yoga mat.  Your angst and competitiveness and anxiety you worked out with your sisters on the soccer field, and your solitude and clear-mindedness you found when you ran. 

So, what was supposed to be the summer of yoga and hiking and camping and running on the beautiful trails that surround your home, and the summer of yard work and learning how to plant a garden, in an instant turned into the summer of not even being able to walk around the block.  But after three weeks of pain and misery and crying and loneliness and self-pity, you finally start to see the light in your situation.  Because finally you are not just coerced, but forced to be still.  You are forced to be still and sit with the reality of your current situation.  You finally must stop running and doing as you have been since your life turned into Crazy Town, and simply be still.  And you see that it is much easier to keep on running so you don’t have to look the truth of it in the eye.  It is much easier to be busy.  But now you see that you must be still, and accept, and ponder and learn from the stillness.  And rest and accept and be still.  And you understand that finally taking the time to do these things will heal your heart in ways that running and moving could not.

And you sleep.  Finally sleep has come to you when it has eluded you for so long.  Real sleep.  Un-medicated sleep.  The kind of sleep you wake up from and marvel that you are finally able to sleep like that again.  And even your dreams seem to know you are sleeping real sleep again.  For they have become less frantic, less haunted, less anxious.  Steady, peaceful dreams of processing and figuring things out.

So instead of sitting around being angry at the goalie who dove into you, you find yourself seeing the light and embracing this time for what it is.  And even though not a day goes by where you don’t wish you could unroll your yoga mat or put on your running shoes, or take your kids out for a hike, or go out and pull the weeds that are taking over your garden, you fully appreciate the fact that after you clean up the breakfast dishes, you must go upstairs for your morning nap.