Finally I get to sit and let my body tell me what is happening. I haven’t paid much attention to it today as I worked to get as many tasks completed as possible.
It wasn’t a hard or difficult day but it was busy. So now I sit and slowly the tiredness comes up to greet me. My old friend, the one who dutifully retreats behind the scenes to allow me to push on, to push through. My body that has endured so much in these past two years. My tired, tired body.
How often do we ignore this glorious machine that houses our soul. How often do we demand more than it can give and then berate it for failing.
The first anniversary of the completion of the war against the so called Invader is approaching. The war the medical profession pulls out its entire arsenal to battle. What a battle it is. And the battle ground of this war is the body, my body. Innocent and trying to do its best as it is cut, burned and poisoned by their endeavors to win.
I become so focused on the battle that sometimes I forget the ground on which the battle is being fought. My body, my wonderful courageous body that I, too often, take for granted. My body that I occasionally do not feed well and push to its limits. My body that this evening is saying, “I’m tired. Let’s rest. I’ll be stronger tomorrow. I will.”
And finally I hear, finally I listen, finally I acknowledge, finally I embrace the tiredness and I allow my beloved body to rest.