Lately, I've been writing for ten minutes from a given prompt. I'll be posting these bits and pieces from time to time, and maybe one day they will be included in a memoir.
Prompt: Body part
My ankle has been giving me problems pretty much ever since I turned fifty. I have feet like my mother with the big toe on each foot turning toward the pinky toe. Creating a bunion. Classic stuff of aging I suppose. In addition though, my left foot has a fallen arch. So, at times my ankle on my left foot swells a little and it becomes painful to walk. I’ve developed a limp. For a while it infuriated me. I was angry at getting old and bereft of my lithe, young, agile body that I once had. I felt as if my body had become my enemy and I would growl, groan and grimace when I looked at myself in the mirror or even if I just looked at my feet while putting on my shoes. And then one day I read something – I can’t remember what – and realized that my body is important for me. After all, it carries me around and allows me to do things that my mind is thinking about: walk to the store, walk in the woods, dance, go up and down stairs, carry me to sleep, or just sit in a chair to read or meditate. It wasn’t that I needed to love my body. But just acknowledge its importance in my life, and learn to appreciate its worth. Am still not quite sure what that means, but I find that when I am becoming agitated or frustrated with my aching ankle, I say to myself quietly, “Thank you for all you do for me, ankle. You carry me from place to place, even when I don’t take care of you very well. After all, I put on weight without thinking how hurtful that is for you, or how hard it makes it for you to carry me around. All I ever seem to do is growl at you.” And when I do that kind of compassionate talking, somehow the ankle feels a little better and I find myself walking with less of a limp. It’s quite amazing really. Recently, I decided to take myself in hand and eat less and move more in order to try and shed some of the pounds I’ve gained since moving to a condo and not having three flights of stairs to deal with daily as I did in our old house. Indeed, my life has become easier and as a result I have neglected my body by enjoying just sitting around eating delicious cookies. But the more I thought of the burden that my ankle has to carry, the more I realized how cruel and thoughtless I have become when it comes to my body or its parts. I mean. How else will I live if I don’t take care of myself?
Note: This piece of writing reminded me of a post I blogged about in 2008: A womb of my own
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