It's 6:34.
My feet were too cold to walk barefoot today. My toes tingled, my heels felt like frozen lumps and my ankles ached. Even though I'd wanted to go all out and get my hobbit on, my body firmly asked me to please wear shoes this morning... and wait until a warmer day to frolic barefoot through the fields.
"Remember that one time you caught frostbite in Ireland? Yes? Well, we do too. Be gentle with us. We were hurt. Be patient with us. We're recovering. Be compassionate with us. We''re the only feet you've got."
There are times when I'm overwhelmed and frustrated by my limitations. I view them as humiliating, hateful chains holding me back, binding me down, preventing me from living a full life. I beat myself up, tear myself down and let those hateful, hurtful thoughts carry me around and around this self-destructive merry-go-round.
Why is my body so broken?
I have psoriasis. This condition affects my skin, my joints, my circulation, my mood. It occasionally becomes so intense and painful that I can hardly move. The aching of arthritic feeling joints confines me to the couch. The itching and burning of my scalp makes it difficult to be present. To be focused.
I caught frostbite in my feet in 2011. To this day, hot showers are difficult because my sad, fat feet swell into plump balloons and hot tubs are out of the question (unless I sit in such a way that only my torso is submerged).
My bone on bone compression keeps me from melting down or flying up into yoga postures I've been working on for years.
This is my body. These are my limitations. I can choose to resent and resist or love and accept.
To resent and resist would be to put myself outside of my body. To wallow in feelings of anger and "why did this happen to me?" simply deepens the pain.
To love and accept is to journey into the body with compassion. To joyfully explore the limitations to see how they make your life unique.
This is my body. These are my limitations. I can choose to view them as chains or as paintbrushes.
I believe that every person is an artist. I believe that life is a giant, glorious canvas and each choice we make on our individual journeys is a piece of paint brushed on.
The reason my painting looks different from yours is because I have different paints. Different brushes. A different perspective.
If a photographer took one picture of the whole wide world and everything in it, I don't believe this photograph would be art. It would be more along the lines of google maps -- which is tremendously useful, but doesn't fall into the realm of art, in my opinion. When an artist focuses his limited lens on something that has meaning to him, I believe he is creating art. His perspective. His choice. His frame. His story.
If we were all equipped with the same magical lens that could capture the whole wide world and everything in it, we'd have nothing to share. We'd have nothing to learn from each other. Our pictures would all look the same.
The limitations of my mind and body give me a unique perspective. Accept and explore the pain. See how it shapes the pictures you take. Accept and explore the blockages. See the colors of your palette and use them to make your painting an expression of your soul.
I have no money to stay in fancy hotels. This limitation helps me find beautiful people.
I have closed, tight hips. I will never safely do the splits, but I've learned to balance on my arms like a yoga ninja.
I have no room in my bag for oil paints, so I learned to use my watercolors.
As you flow through your practice and then through your day, I encourage you to explore your limitations. Find the blockages. Instead of resenting them, see what it feels like to accept and explore.
How do these brushes shape your painting? how do these colors lend it life?
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