This past week, a surgeon peeled my boyfriend's hamstring like a string cheese to replace a torn ligament in his knee. Several days later, I took him to physical therapy and was reminded that, for every day I get up and don't take a moment to appreciate my body's well-being, I may be cursed with rabies by a thousand necromancers for ingratitude.
Because you know what? People recovering their ability to walk after a stroke have to WANT to live and face that struggle every morning. There's no room for "I just want to watch Netflix and die" when your livelihood depends on your desire to keep living, even when it's almost entirely in your head.
I feel a noticeable loss of energy sometimes when I think about how frumpy I feel and can't afford to visit salons or how I want to take vacations and can't afford them and how some people don't have those kinds of problems. But we can't all be Beyonce and it is a huge injustice to ourselves to focus in on that.
Ego could take down the planet, but it seems most people reach a certain age where self-obsession fades and looking outward becomes more attractive, more natural. Philanthropy is the best cure for anxiety and self-pity because we stop looking at ourselves and what we lack.
So let any headache, strained back, nagging cold, or otherwise passing illness serve as a reminder that health is wealth and, if we keep overlooking the simplest good fortune of it, a witch doctor will descend from the creepy crawl space in our closets to strike us down with mad cow disease THAT'S RIGHT the crazy cow disease.
Go for a walk and feel the fresh air, even if it's humid and gross and your hair turns into a wild and untrimmed hedge of an English tea garden, and take a moment to bask in the ease of your physical presence here. You are not yet fated by bad karma brought on by ungratefulness to sail the caribbean waters as a gross, bony-in-the-moonlight pirate in search of a cure that will let you taste apples again.
This week has been surprisingly exhausting for me and, even this morning while writing this, I am a little irritable and not well-rested. I have gotten up at least a dozen times while writing this post and I feel like a bit of a mess. But I am ABLE to get up and help with all these things. And if I don't focus on that more, the evil spirit of Kramer's bad press from that time he went crazy and called a bunch of people the n-word will hijack my body and make my head twist backwards.
Our time here is already so riddled with lessons of learning to quiet our amygdalas and exist peacefully in spite of anxious tendencies, but we overlook how lucky we are on the most basic level. What I'm trying to say is that your torso, with all its innards and all the extremities attached, is as fragile as your grandma's china cabinets and the world is an emotional psycho that will not pause to smash your plates on the walls!
Guard your innards and stab stab stab at anyone and everyone for they are all trying to harm them and they must be stopped!! But also, you cannot even fathom the size of one person relative to the universe and your body sits here today like a lil to-go cup so you can be out in the world, thinking and feeling things. How weird and miraculous is whatever on earth this is? So, be peaceful. Or else!
Appreciate your 7-11 slushie cup body, look for the good things in this life, hop up and down if you can, and never forget to look up at the stars.
BACK TO BROWSE.