THE STRETCH

Every little pain used to be cause for alarm. But now my entire body aches. And it’s beautiful.

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I can’t tell you how long it’s been since I was able to touch my toes.

My. Own. Toes.

Today, I bend my torso and trace the length of 39” from hip joint to sole and attempt to touch the floor.

“Bend your knees if you must,” my instructor’s voice noticing the frustration in my eyes.

A rigid body. Then comes the revelation that I must also have a rigid mind.

Staring at the floor, I sketch an invisible line diagonally from the top of my pelvis to belly button. This is where my “tumors” lie. We—those of us with varying progressions of disease—are masters of the nuance.

For example, did you know that all tumors are lesions but not all lesions are tumors?

For nearly all of us “tumor” is a daunting word. But I would ask, “What are the things in you that don’t belong?”

Regret. Disappointment. Anger. Bitterness.

These are the words I fear above all the rest.

I walk past the indoor tennis courts and watch the ball go over the net, and I catch myself imagining that I am standing on the other side. It’s been a while since my favorite game and I have enjoyed one another’s company. “I’m not ready,” is the mantra that has quietly reverberated more than once inside my head.

But today, as I linger in this imagining of arms, shoulders, hips, and legs moving in concert with ball tossed high and then surging over the net, I hear a more insidious murmuring that sounds like a living death—“What would be the point of starting again?”—

Those of us who have been brought back from the edge find believing in a future to be more than a little stretch.

Still, I am jolted by these self-imposed limitations, particularly in context of recent encouraging labs. It appears that agreeing to live [all in] again is a much scarier proposition than I had imagined, particularly when the subconscious is testifying to an entirely different point of view.

The body, if fed the same thought over and over, will lock into a posture of rigidity, the muscles follow the brain in its refusal to analyze, compromise, bend.

Here’s the question that is challenging everything I am at this stage of the journey—

If body mirrors brain, what are all the areas of my life I need to stretch in?

Hand over head. Leg extended to elongate back, hips, thigh, I’m reminded of the game we played as children on the beach— body impossibly bent, straining to glide under a stick from where I stand, to the other side.

Limbo. It’s literal meaning? Stuck between two places.

But it’s the spiritual implications that touch something deep within:

A temporary place for souls awaiting Heaven.

 Souls. Awaiting. Heaven. Isn’t this the most profound statement of all?

I am struck by the unfavorable implications of an unyielding nature.

Then envision a flower bending toward the light.

This stretching—

There is no part of me that escapes the aching,

not only in the moment but a deep and insistent residual effect.

The pain is foreign, even alarming.

Have I mistaken pain as something to be avoided, even feared?

Have we missed that pain is necessary for our growth?

Breathing through the discomfort, my body begins to understand, respond. “ So, this is where we’re going,” it opens, and flexes just a little more.  The result is incremental…and cumulative. Not only in the moment but in the recognition of what comes next.

Stretching is such elegant transform. Body. Spirit. Mind. This is our Creator’s intention. His favorite disposition of the humankind.

Transformation is hard work accumulated. Not a simple moment in time.

To stretch. To bend. To open.

If you’re mind is seemingly closed and inflexible,  stand and touch your toes.

What you do with your body, the mind will follow. And miraculously, the converse is true.

Before I begin, I advise myself to avoid looking around the room.

This work is solely about all the hidden and obvious parts of who I am.

I am reminded that my stiffness is arrogance disguised.

There is much to learn from stretching, even just a little.

There is always more work to be done.

Stretch and repeat—I am alive, healthy, transformed, purposed, and not done yet.

NOTES:

As I write, I am struck by the notion that there are things inhabiting us that keep us from bending toward the light—

Regret. Fear. Bitterness. We mistake we have room for these along with the things that nurture and edify—

But what if these are occupying space that prohibits the infiltration of what we need?

We can’t have it all—

Regret can’t cohabitate with hope, disappointment with gratefulness.

We believe the battle for our freedom is in the mind. But what of the healing that comes from releasing the body from the physical strongholds that hold us back?

It’s easy to become “locked down,” feeling like things will never change.

If you can relate to a bit of this in your life, here’s a few ideas to transform your now—

 ~Move your body. Your mind will follow.

 ~Align with those who don’t agree with you, but stretch you.

~Believe you don’t have all the time in the world to change.

~Do things that make you uncomfortable—

Compliment someone who intimidates or confounds you.

Give your heart back to those you have removed from your life.

Speak the truth about who you are—vulnerability is a superpower.

Forgive someone.  

~Develop your underdeveloped strengths.

~Stop pretending your life is perfect.

~Stop believing life is perfect.

~Turn [back] to God. Ask him who He is. Invite him to do something surprising in your life.

~Acknowledge you cannot run from your weakness…it will catch up to you.

~Let loose of control—situations, people, reactions, relationships.

~Stop manipulating your own life to be something you think it should be instead of trusting a greater plan.

~Connect with the stretch—Body. Mind. Spirit. All in.

~Don’t allow distractions into the movement moment…the benefits only come when there’s a profound connection between action and intention.

~Remain in the pain…Stay with it. Hold on. Don’t give up. Don’t turn away.

The new creature you long for is already within you, waiting to be developed, explored. stretched.

P.S. If you love this post, you might also enjoy Somewhere Else.