I've learned so much more this time from being "grounded," maybe better defined as "couched." Eight years ago, I stepped off my front porch on a lovely Spring day and rolled my ankle. At that time my hubby was three hours away working in another city. I was pregnant and had three other kids to take care of, but I got them all loaded up and we headed to the doctor. My husband had to come and get me and the kids and drive us to my dad's so that someone would be around to help out the gimpy pregnant lady. I was so busy trying to care for everyone else that I didn't really worry much about myself.
Fast forward eight years to me once again rolling my ankle on yet another lovely Spring day. Curses! This time I drove myself to the doctor all alone while my oldest babysat the other kids. I may be stuck in a boot, but my kids can pretty much do all the chores. No one needs a diaper change. Sure, I've still been cooking the meals, but they can make a sandwich or get a bowl of cereal. In other words, this time around I can actually rest.
Rest is medicine for a broken ankle. Resting is so difficult for me; I can't even sit through a movie without getting restless. I know that others have bigger problems than a broken ankle, but for me this injury is pretty devastating. I can't teach yoga. I can't go for a run. I can't spend the day running errands. I can't help anyone. I can only rest. (and eat cookies)
This time around things are much different. This morning as I hobbled to the post office I wasn't chasing after a toddler and hoping to just get in and out as fast as possible. No, this morning I could hobble and limp and take my sweet time. I had time to notice the man walking with a cane. He wasn't wearing a boot; he was just handicapped. Life had thrown him a permanent "boot," one which he doesn't get to take off in a few weeks. I was grateful to limp along today knowing that my boot is here to help and support me through a temporary injury. Thank you, boot.
Last time I broke my ankle I wasn't yet practicing yoga. This time around I'm not just practicing, I am teaching. The bottom line hit me pretty hard: I can't teach yoga. I can't, and that hurts more than the ankle.
But I can still practice. My practice doesn't look the same right now as it did a week ago. I have to remember the one thing I tell my students all the time: your yoga doesn't have to look like everyone else's yoga. Your yoga, no matter what it looks like, is still yoga. Will my yoga look like this?
Not for awhile. Right now, my yoga looks like this:
And that's cool because it's still my yoga. Friends, I've had to learn to take my own advice many times in the last few years. That in itself is a pretty tough lesson. In the next few weeks I'll have to follow another piece of my own advice: listen to your body. What my mind wants will be irrelevant for the next few weeks. My ankle is the boss of me, and I'm going to let it rule. I'm going to be grateful for the time to heal and for the lessons I'm learning.
Thanks, boot. Thanks for the lessons.
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