Fragility

I ironically injured, or more accurately aggravated old injuries, my left hand after posting last week's newsletter and then spent a good chunk of the following week trying to baby it back into some form of health. It feels mostly better (we're back to the normal 3 on the pain scale at the moment) and I was able to lift on that Thursday after being responsible and skipping Tuesday. Now I'm sick with a cold because the universe is cruel. I would like to do a bunch of stuff but instead I slept in and skipped my workout and will probably have to skip lifting tomorrow if for no other reason than to try and not get anyone else in my class sick.

Also as I have learned (well, let's be honest I keep learning over and over again) the universe will make me rest if I don't do it. Bleh, so here I am, resting this week even though it's making me fucking grumpy. Someday I will get my brain to shut up about not being "productive" when things like this happen. In the meantime, have one of my favorite Mary Oliver poems. I'm going to go lie down on the couch for a while.

Love,
K

Wild Geese
by Mary Oliver

You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting—
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.