I spend more time disconnected from my body than connected, and am only beginning to learn to connect. That it’s OK, safe, and that what seems like boredom is peace. Peace in my soul, body and mind. Peace not boredom.
Sitting on the patio with morning java; a deer, golden brown in the meadow munching grass, three bluebird siblings only feet away on the tripod dropping into the grass and back up to perch, bright yellow finch even closer on the shepherd’s’ hook, and only inches from my face as they buzz in for a drink, hummingbirds.
It’s easy to get lost in the needs of others, whether friends, grand-children or husband. I work at paying attention to my own needs, and reinforce that it’s OK and necessary. I incorporate more exercise, walking, biking along the canal path, and movement in general, bending, twisting, arching; my body, the beauty of movement, how good it feels.
I allowed grief and arthritis to stop me still. And after too long realized, it’s not OK to give in to those things. Life is to be had. I’m not old enough to sit and rock and wither. So I’m moving more and feeling better. I have limits. I try to connect with those limits and enjoy both movement and rest. And for it to be OK.