Today is my birthday and for the last 8 months I have been thinking I would be turning 49. Thing is, I am only turning 48. Time has become an amorphous thing during this pandemic - or maybe I am at the age where you lose track. However, I feel older. During the last year my body has begun decomposing. Or at least that is how I am thinking about my diagnosis with osteoarthritis that has shown up in my left hip and my neck, and the onset of chronic pain in the last few months.
For me, someone who has relied on my body to do so much – hike mountains and backpack in the wilderness, run half marathons, practice and teach yoga, biked hundreds of miles and more - this feels like a betrayal and a tenderness. Perhaps most accurately what I feel is grief. I have loved my body but also taken it for granted. I have pushed myself to my limits. My body is literally screaming out for a new way of being. I am learning, resisting and slowly accepting. Moving from always doing more to accepting that what I can do is enough. That I am enough.
My birthday has always been a time of reflection. The beginning of a new year. Some contemplation time about what I have learned and how I want to spend this next rotation around the sun. Against this backdrop of physical change, for this birthday, I contemplated writing a list of 48 things I have come to know. In all honesty, writing 48 things I know just felt exhausting. So, I came up with a solution 4 + 8 = 12. That is perfect.
12 Things I Have Come To Know
Mavis snuggles are the best.
Usually, I know the best right answer, but I have to get still and quiet to hear it’s truth.
In order to be who I am, I must let go of who I was, who I think I am or who I should be.
Every day I get to begin again.
My stories, especially the ones I have hidden because of shame, are powerful.
There is no such thing as too much ice cream.
It is a kindness to receive and accept the love others have to offer. Not accepting compliments, offers of help or other small kindnesses robs people of giving love.
Sometimes I am too much for other people. Too loud, too abrasive, too emotional, too effusive, to impulsive . . . too, too, too. The people I am too much for – those aren’t my people.
Food is love and a good meal, particularly with good friends, can always make me do a wiggle dance in my seat.
What I do is not who I am. My worth is not defined by my productivity.
A walk in the woods is always a good way to find perspective.
I am divine and worthy, just as I am.
There it is. I am sure I have come to know more than this. There is always more. But this is enough.