Sunday, March 27, 2011

It's just my body; it's not me!

My body is feeling fatigued these days. Fatigue of the mental sort, which I haven't experienced in recent years, as well as physical. Luckily, I am not my body! I am reminding myself more of this fact as I experience these little difficulties and physical limitations. My shoulder blade area, I use the possessive loosely, has been aching recently, with the pain radiating into my arm, and my fingers on that side are tingling with possible nerve issues, but this seems to be the biggest casualty of the extra hours I have been putting in recently. (I haven't been completely ignoring this problem. The chiropractor worked on me once and helped, but it's lapsing back.) So long as I don't get sick, I really will be fine! THREE MORE WEEKS!!

When you really contemplate that this body, this shell you have been assigned for this earthly existence, is not "you," it is such a freeing thought. It is why people feel the same inside as they age. I have spoken to people in their 80s who expressed the sentiment that they were still the same person, inside, as they had been as children! Of course, older and wiser, but essentially just the same inside. That is why it comes as a surprise -- a nasty shock, at times -- that the body continues to age. I am not becoming a different person, so why is my body?

It will be so nice if I can remember that I am not my body as I age, if I experience real physical limitations of the sort most people bump into as they get old. This is "heaven ringing the doorbell of your life," if I can paraphrase the Zen podcast I was enjoying today. Funny thing how life can strongly urge you to stop clinging. When your kids become teenagers, they become temporarily so obnoxious (so the myth goes) that you can't wait for them to be gone. Similarly, if you are fortunate to live a long life, your body wears down to the point that you should be glad of the chance to finally leave it in the dust! Literally!

Speaking of "obnoxious" teenagers, Andrew and I have a running joke. He's my 14-year-old who just recently sprouted way up and is now taller than I am. We share the joke that he is my bull elephant. It's because he often is running into me, punching me in the arm, stepping on me, or otherwise assaulting me in his affectionate way, sometimes leaving bruises. I remind him that if he were in an elephant pack, the women would have kicked him out to go rampage through the brush on his own and get his hormone-packed energy out, no longer in the company of the female elephants who raised him, because he is too rough for them! This actually happens when the male elephant turns about 14, so it matches up perfectly. I feel like I've mentioned the "bull elephant" story here before, but it bears repeating.

The dinner bell chimes, and bed won't be far behind (if I'm lucky). Good night, and good luck.

1 comment:

  1. I've got a 14 year old bull elephant of a son myself. He is beautiful and strong and makes me laugh and cry. I cannot imagine my life without him.

    I like this piece about our bodies not being us. An extremely important lesson to learn. Thanks for the reminder. I hope your shoulder area feel better soon.

    Sleep well.


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