melancholy days
When you're recovering you learn to take things slow. The rigours of an urbanized, competitive lifestyle sloughs away as you force yourself to relax so your body heals. You learn patience, you learn acceptance, you rediscover yourself.
Yesterday i dislocated my shoulder again, the difference being it didn't pop back itself and that i had to ease myself into a position in which it would. Another difference lying in the pain. it is not mind-bendingly excruciating, yet i can feel its malice, like a hint of greater destruction to come to my battered shoulder. the muscles are strained and aching, the joint loose and stiff.
Like a scene in a matrix my movements become painstakingly slow and my left side restrains itself to match the right. Simple motions like picking an object from the floor, or raising a glass to my mouth become actions that require care and calculation. While trying to cut a piece of duck with my spoon and fork, my arm shoots agony and spasms like a jammed gear system.
So i learned, again, to slow down. Everytime i return to the reality of the quick ruthless world my arm pulls me back, as if to say i should learn to take things at a slower pace, at a relaxed and comfortable pace.
Fears of being left behind have always hovered at the back of my head, scary but ignored, distanced but possible. This slow way may salve my soul and heal my body with that price. Whether its worth it i do not know, but as always, i surrender myself to what i call a chain of possibities and hope for the best. As always.
Yesterday i dislocated my shoulder again, the difference being it didn't pop back itself and that i had to ease myself into a position in which it would. Another difference lying in the pain. it is not mind-bendingly excruciating, yet i can feel its malice, like a hint of greater destruction to come to my battered shoulder. the muscles are strained and aching, the joint loose and stiff.
Like a scene in a matrix my movements become painstakingly slow and my left side restrains itself to match the right. Simple motions like picking an object from the floor, or raising a glass to my mouth become actions that require care and calculation. While trying to cut a piece of duck with my spoon and fork, my arm shoots agony and spasms like a jammed gear system.
So i learned, again, to slow down. Everytime i return to the reality of the quick ruthless world my arm pulls me back, as if to say i should learn to take things at a slower pace, at a relaxed and comfortable pace.
Fears of being left behind have always hovered at the back of my head, scary but ignored, distanced but possible. This slow way may salve my soul and heal my body with that price. Whether its worth it i do not know, but as always, i surrender myself to what i call a chain of possibities and hope for the best. As always.
posted by slipperdan at 7:55 PM
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