What Comes From Lemons
July 31, 2022
“Wisdom doesn’t feel very wise. It feels like stumbling through life looking for answers.” - message from my dream
Blissfully cool after days of rain. Walking (slowly) after days of pain. Life exploding out of the cool and wet, Green where once brown had swept. Finches buzzing, blackbirds squawking, robins chirping, swallows swooping. (Ok, enough rhyming!) Rising sun. Light fog. 63 degrees in July! Birds and bugs dance together Hummingbird flits in over my head So close I can hear his wings I miss the camera for a moment but then I see the music, the colors he spins in the air Magic woven between tree and bird Bugs infuse their own notes Hummingbird responds Already knowing which way to move. Colors I've never seen. Music I hadn't heard. I am missing my "eyes" but my senses are alive. I was focused on what was lost, what was missing, what I couldn't do. Here, for a moment, something new emerges. Something I miss in my "normal" way. Gratitude washes over me. The best kind of lemonade.
I managed a little video of the hummingbird with my phone. I’m amazed how well the phone kept the little guy in focus in among all those branches and leaves. If you have a large enough screen you might notice his one little ruby on the throat, the first one of many for this first-year male.
It’s been a challenging week but I’m happy to say it is winding up on a much better note than it started. I am utterly grateful for the support of my dad and my sister, the medical resources I was able to access, and even the meds which made me feel like hell but did mitigate the pain. I am also grateful for being upright, for physical therapy and for the healing that has started. I know this is something so many don’t have.
To my friends who deal with nerve pain - OMG. I had no idea. (I hope I never do again.) Pain is HARD. Earlier this week all I could do was focus on the pain, breathing, trying to relax around the pain and “allowing what is”. Beauty and gratitude were pretty far away. As it eased a little, I found that letting my mind remember experiences of joy was strangely helpful. Here’s a video of one of those I can clearly recall, the amazing (one time only - so far) experience of watching and listening to giant baby woodpeckers in May of 2015!
It is true that after a few days of not being able to walk - barely keeping at bay the fear that it could be a lot longer - the gratitude I felt for walking (slowly and imperfectly) outside was immense. Feeling the cool breeze (in July!), watching the hummingbird even without my camera was felt deeply. More than that, I noticed without my camera how much more I tuned in to the sounds of the birds, the colors of their flight and how the colors spin and weave between birds and trees and bugs. An opening of perspective I hope to spend time with even as the camera is accessible again.
Sometimes we want to change. We need to change. We know we should change for our own well-being. I often wonder why it is so hard - until it isn’t. Pain is certainly a great motivator. I have known for a while that sitting too much and not doing certain strength and mobility exercises wasn’t good for my long-term health. I still didn’t do what I needed to do regularly enough.
This week I had no choice, sitting was no longer an option. I created a temporary way to stand at the computer with tools I had from previous attempts. With my added motivation, lack of options and opened awareness, I saw the source of the previous failures - discomfort. Not physical discomfort, which I previously blamed, rather I realized as I dove into a mental task that I “curl in” to the work and constrict my muscles in a way that “freezes” me in place as a way of parking my body so my mind can “think”. It is a way of exiting my body to “get things done” and I do it even with creative tasks like journaling and drawing!
Luckily the tools I’ve been learning are the exact tools for dealing with this discomfort. I took some deep breaths into my heart and acknowledged the discomfort. I also acknowledged that this constriction is the core of the physical problem and it is no longer ok to continue in that way. I let myself walk around a bit. I came back. I started the task. I felt the discomfort. I acknowledged it. I let myself move a little. I came back. I did the task. I did it slowly. I did it in pieces. I did it.
The desire to return to what was comfortable is strong - until it is no longer comfortable. Changing this pattern will take patience. It will take time. I will be “less productive” for a while. The desire to revert will be strong when the pain is gone. It will require kindness, gentleness and awareness. I can do it as an act of love for myself.
I wonder what might emerge as I relax my way of doing things, just as I noticed the sounds and colors with the hummingbird? Are there gifts waiting there?
What are you trying to change in your life? How can you love yourself through those changes?
Take good care friends, these are challenging times. Be kind. Be gentle. Include yourself in the circle of compassion.
Friday was my last day of physical therapy for the acute tendonitis and radial tunnel (nerve) syndrome. Now I must maintain the gains I have experienced by continued practices and exercises at home, knowing that if I slack off and get sloppy I will be back to Square One. I can totally relate to "curling in," as I literally was curling my hands into a ball both waking and sleeping, thus putting undue stress [sic] on both muscles and nerves and resulting in 24/7 pain for nearly six months. Yes, the lessons of chronic pain are daunting, and when relief comes, the gratitude and joy are immense -- a new lease on life! May we both have taken these lessons to heart in the form of being advocates for our own healing and self-care. XO
I'm so sorry to hear about your challenges with pain this week. Thank you for the beautiful insights and photos you captured in the midst of it. Sending lots of good thoughts and healing energy your way! 💖