Perception

I looked good when I woke up in the morning.  Bed Head was tamed into submission.  My favorite Fabletics yoga pants were clean and on top of the stack , my favorite black top was similarly situated.  My pedicure was still unchipped.  The outside was good to go.

Inside, a combination of analgesics -aspirin, turmeric, Advil - and energizers - BComplex and caffeine laden green tea - had me gliding around the living room.  I was wearing sneakers, which always helps my gait, but there were internal changes I noticed as well.  Nothing was sticking or poking or prodding. 

There haven't been that many days where all of this has come together; I was lighter than air.  I walked through the bagel store with nary a lurch.  I walked up the staircase to Pilates without pausing on the landing which accommodates the turn.  I wasn't holding on, either.  I held my head high and my back straight and my sacrum reaching to the ground.  I was a posture goddess.... at least that's the way it felt.

Capitalizing on the feeling, I practiced standing with both feet evenly weighted as I studied the new items in the little store across from the Welcome Desk.  Bringing mindfulness to my stance has been a way to integrate my meditation practice into my daily life.  Waiting in line at the market can be an exercise in alignment. I'm rarely impatient as I check out, these days; I'm too busy organizing my quadrants.  I brought that same intention to my faux shopping, turning around my center to greet a classmate, making the movement a twist instead of a try-not-to-fall turn.

I think this is what is meant by integrating exercise into your daily routine.  I was complimenting myself on having that thought and on living that life and on getting to where I am now as I strode through the gym, on the way to the restroom.  A class was just beginning.  The students and teacher were standing, facing the mirror in front of which I had to walk.  They all smiled at me as I went by... big, joyful, happy smiles.

It was a watershed moment.  These women had seen me for months, some for years, as I hobbled across the studio floor.  My gait is smoother once I've gotten going, but the first fifty feet or so are an example of woman-trying-her-best-to-figure-out-where-her-appendages-belong.  It is many things.  Graceful is not one of them. 

But that day, everything was different.  My arms were swinging alternately with the movement of my legs, which may not sound like much to you but which is a huge accomplishment for me.  My head was perched atop a long neck, my pelvic floor was engaged, I was pushing off my back foot, rolling all the way through the entire sole and coming up and over my femur moving smoothly beneath my repaired acetabluae. 

I was walking.  I had witnesses.

An hour later, our workouts finished, those students and I met at the shoe cubbies.  We were still smiling at one another.  I felt great.

"Is he yours?"

"How old is he?"

"He's so little!!!"

I was quite confused.  FlapJilly is female, and there are no pictures of her tattooed on my forehead, nor screen printed on my tank top.

Beyond that grandchild reference, I didn't know what was little or old or whose.  I was flummoxed, and I suppose my face reflected my confusion because it all became clear when Maggie brought out her teeny tiny puppy.... the one sleeping on the desk in the studio in this picture taken the next week...

and the one who had followed behind me, trotting happily, tail wagging, face wobbling from side to side, as I walked in front of four women who were smiling at me because I had such a cute little beastie in my wake......

 

and, for a moment, I was sad. 

 

"Oh.  I thought you were commenting on my excellent walking," said I, with a mopey face and tone which was noticed immediately by the instructor who smiled even more broadly and said, "Oh, yes, that too!" and I felt a lot better right away.

 

Happy is very good place to be, even if I have to drag life's cursor by the scruff of the neck in order to get there.