Another injury, another lesson

We sprang off our bed and ran foot-first into the edge of the bedroom door.

Pain. Blood. Lots of both.

This happened on July 4. Yesterday, it became clear that we might not need medical attention. The wound is still weeping, and we kept it clean enough that it could start to heal.

Luckily, we were taking a round of antibiotics at the time–as we have a primary immune deficiency so that a gouge-type cut is an infection risk.

This is the latest in years of foot injuries. Basically, we forget our biological age. One of our many younger parts is up front. The part attempts to drive this adult body and crashes it.

Happens routinely. The only way to avoid it is to practice presence. We do this a lot. Still, we have much room for improvement.

Practice being in this body. Notice its aches and pains. We’re also in physical therapy right now for neck and back problems. So you might understand that being in the body means acknowledging pain and suffering.

Jack Kornfield says, “when we learn to bear our own pain and face our own fears, we will no longer blame and inflict it on others…”

So we will try to be brave and be in this achy body. Try to bear our own pain. Maybe we will drop our aversion and anger in the process.

Maybe practice good things, too, in this body: foods that taste good; safe and gentle touch; warm shower.

Accept the aches that also exist. Listen to their wisdom. Be reminded that we are passing through middle age (optimistically).

2 thoughts on “Another injury, another lesson

  1. Sorry yous got hurt. We love yous!

    We like the Jack Kornfield quote. Reminds me some of:

    The Waking
    By Theodore Roethke

    I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
    I feel my fate in what I cannot fear.
    I learn by going where I have to go.

    We think by feeling. What is there to know?
    I hear my being dance from ear to ear.
    I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.

    Of those so close beside me, which are you?
    God bless the Ground! I shall walk softly there,
    And learn by going where I have to go.

    Light takes the Tree; but who can tell us how?
    The lowly worm climbs up a winding stair;
    I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.

    Great Nature has another thing to do
    To you and me; so take the lively air,
    And, lovely, learn by going where to go.

    This shaking keeps me steady. I should know.
    What falls away is always. And is near.
    I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
    I learn by going where I have to go.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Dang. Good lyrics. We are healing up. Trying to let anger and aversion to truth pass by like a cloud. It’s not a fast cloud. Still, one time we felt it pass. Maybe it will happen again


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