Posts Tagged ‘body awareness’
New Grass
That snow didn’t last 24 hours. It’s almost like it didn’t even happen. Reminds me of what I’ve heard about places in the south, where snow melts away nearly as fast as it arrives.
Looking at that picture, did you notice the difference in the color of the new grass along the driveway compared to the established grass in the foreground? It seems like the new grass never went dormant throughout the winter months. It stayed so green.
I am very curious how the greening of growing things will play out in the weeks ahead. It is never clear to me how deep into the ground the frost is. The top layer has been freezing and thawing and refreezing all winter long. We’ve had a few days where it stayed above freezing overnight but it keeps dropping back again.
When we finally get a continuous span of many nights when it doesn’t freeze, I expect that will kick the greening into gear.
It’s been over a week now that I haven’t had anyone around the house who talks to me with words other than my own reflection in the mirror. I don’t much listen to what the mirror rambles on about.
Asher speaks with his eyes, mostly. Sometimes he whines for attention or barks at squirrels or delivery trucks.
Being alone this long has triggered some random weirdness in me. Yesterday, with little consideration, I decided to put my belt on in the reverse direction from the only way I’ve ever done it before. I don’t know how old I was the first time I put on a belt, but I wouldn’t be surprised if it has been over 50-55 years of doing something only one way.
It’s like brushing your teeth with your non-dominant hand to strengthen or grow new neural connections in the brain. I have never done well with that exercise. Flipping my belt was much easier. I don’t know how doing so might invigorate my neural networks but I was thinking about shaking up the routine of repetitive muscle activity.
Ever since I crash-landed hard on my left shoulder, I’ve felt a bit off balance. My left arm and shoulder have been sore and weaker in the aftermath and it has made me much more aware of use that was previously unconscious. I can’t mindlessly reach to do something with my left arm without receiving a twinge that gets my attention.
Now I have to think about undoing my belt because the buckle is on an unfamiliar side of me. (Just to be unconventional, I have always oriented my belt buckle off-center.) I don’t know what the switch has to do with young green grass, besides both being unusual.
Gives me something to think about, I guess.
.
.
Pushing Through
It has been a long stretch of time since I played either of my guitars. Lack of playing tends to become its own feedback loop. Arthritis in my hand discouraged me from pulling out my instruments as often as I used to, and not playing regularly led to the loss of calluses on the fingertips of my left hand. Lack of calluses fed into an inclination to not bother playing and the situation dragged on and on.
Alas, recent activity to ready myself for the Tour of Minnesota bicycling and camping week triggered thoughts about bringing my travel guitar this year. Before fulfilling that idea, which I said back in February that I planned to do, I figured I should check out whether I could still form chords with my left hand.
I was a little rusty, but mostly functional. My session was rewarding enough that I felt inspired to try a second time a couple of days later. That went even better, despite the tenderness of starting the process of developing new calluses. Then I moved to reach a particular position and experienced the classic jolt of a painful joint.
(No, Mary, I have not had the surgery performed yet, despite your wise advice to not wait. The doctor preferred waiting, and I chose to not try convincing him otherwise.)
After that stab of pain, the rest of the session tended to become increasingly more comfortable. It seemed a little counterintuitive at first, but then I remembered a similar experience during a lumbar disc pain episode.
The body has a keen ability to constrict movement in the presence of pain, but remaining oblivious to what is happening in these situations can allow that avoidance of pain to become its own malady. I made a surprising discovery during an early assessment of my condition when physical therapy was prescribed.
The therapist asked me to show them how far I could bend over to reach toward my toes.
“Bend over!?”
My thinking was that I couldn’t bend at all without suffering that stabbing pain. That is why I was moving around like a stiff zombie!
So, I set about showing her how I could barely lean forward at all. To my surprise, those initial hints of possible pain that normally freeze any further motion did not get any worse as I pushed through them. I was able to bend a lot farther than I believed possible.
The same thing happened with my hand yesterday. The avoidance of pain had kept me from trying to play the guitar, bringing a mindset that it would no longer be possible. Pushing past that warning message of pain proved there is still some function left in the old joint.
I don’t have the strength I used to, but I can still manage a few chords for a reasonably short duration of pickin’ and grinnin’.
.
.
Relative Something 