Move It, Baby

I tend to think that for 99.9% of us, there is no single 'ah-ha' moment that explains it all. It is an accumulation of mini revelations that add up to your truth. And I would guess there is no destination, either. No sum of these revelations that means you have arrived, you are finally brilliant, and enlightened, and perfect. But each ah-ha moment in itself is the truth. A beautiful yoga instructor I had used to say, 'How perfect it is what you are doing. How beautiful it is. Your own right way.' Such simple statements of love and acceptance. This is grace. Meaning, 'In your crooked, inflexible, impatient movements, you are doing. And that is all you need to do.' It took me thirty four years to hear these words, and even then, I only heard them in this hot yoga room. When will I learn to hear them in my writing, on the street, in my thoughts?

Yet when I look back, I am astounded that I am here. I am strong and safe. I am married to a bright and generous man. I have magnificent friends. I have solid professional credentials. I have lived in New York City and I own an apartment there! How did I get here? I certainly wasn't headed here, if left to my own devices. I was headed more for substance abuse and destruction. And I can't say I did some brilliant thing to turn it all around. All I can say is that it was some combination of luck, destiny, and my angels feverishly arranging my good fortune. And to my credit, I listened and I moved. When I began to move, I began to heal. These words slipped out of me the other day when talking to a friend and she said, 'Wait, wait! That's your mantra!' And so it is.

At first I ran. Pretty much as far as I possibly could, and still hold down a full-time job. I ran like a crazy woman who had discovered how to control her weight, her depression, her world. I've never been one for moderation. And somehow, the running got me hooked, hooked on feeling my body, hearing my breath, my heartbeat, my rhythm. Running was my gateway drug. Then came other things, spin, weights, yoga, pilates. All to the max, of course. But enough of it stuck in the right places to work on my head, too. I began to hear my voice with my body. Don't make me explain it, maybe you know what I'm talking about. Like a slow magic, the running, the yoga, it all became more balanced.

So what's the point of this story? Move. Just move. You'll likely do it wrong sometimes, but even the wrong is right. Find the voice in all that busyness. Walk to the grocery store and pick out something colorful, fresh, and extravagant to prepare for yourself. And carry your groceries home with your own arms and legs. Run. Your head doesn't run the first mile, your legs do. Dance. And when you are still, be still. And listen. Your body has a wisdom that will make you strong. And it gets more and more fun the stronger you get.