I’ve been struggling with nerve pain in my legs. It’s a relentless burning, tingling sensation that will not stop. My feet feel like I’m walking on ball bearings. Consequently, I’m sleeping poorly which potentially brings out the worst of my coping skills. Above all else, it makes me afraid.
We are all walking around on ball bearings now. Paths that once felt normal to us are shifting and shaking. It’s as if we all woke up in March 2020 with a mobility impairment. No one can go to familiar places using the same old tools.
Mobility impairments are not fun. Walking, socializing, and traveling all require ingenuity and looking at tasks assessing the value of multiple tools. It is tiresome and exhausting. There are brief exhilarations of “Yes! I did it,” followed by dozens of “Shit. I can’t do that today.”
With lack of sleep and the inability to calm my nervous system, my therapist asked me what I could be. Is there a place I could go in my head to get a respite or break? Thinking, I said, “I could be a blade of grass.”
“Where?”
“In a meadow. In the sun. Just being with the other blades of grass.”
I took my dog for a run on the scooter today. It was a furlough day for my state agency. I parked in a local neighborhood with good blacktop and lots of trees. Sheba has a halter that’s attached to a six foot leash around my waist. She alternates running and sniffing. It was partly cloudy with the sun peaking in here and there. I make an effort to raise my hand to passing cars and smile if I feel like it. I got waves and a thumbs up.
We avoid other dog walkers as Sheba, a rescue dog, gets overwrought. She assumes all comers are enemies. She can’t get away from me but she makes a loud racket. In an effort to find a garbage can to drop her poop bag, we make our way to a park. The first thing I see is a lot of open grass. The scooter leaves the sidewalk and we lit out for the perfect place partially under a tree so Sheba can be in shade and me in sun.
I lay down and become a blade of grass saying to myself:
“I am just a blade of grass.
I am among many other blades of grass.
I don’t see. But, I feel.
In sun, I am warmed.
In rain, I am nourished.
“Underground, I am connected with other blades of grass.
We are a network of roots, dirt, and neurobiology that communicates.
We feel the vibrations of a child running on us and report to each other.
“I can be bent but I am flexible.
I can be crushed but I spring back.
I can be cut but I recover.
“If I am flooded or burned, my one blade will be gone but others will take my place.
My contributions to birds, bugs, bunnies, and spiders are endless.
I am grass. I am good.”
I laid there relaxed in dappled sunlight knowing I could stay as long as I wanted. Forever sounded good. Nothing was pressing. The dog panted in the shade and watched parents and children quietly from a distance. I felt peace being among the trees and grass.
I am nature. I rise. I fall. I die. I rebuild. I am just a blade of grass. I am a small part of the whole and will always be so. I am forever molecularly connected with all the other grass. This is the truth of my being. Nothing changes this. I am grass.
L’Chaim.
Joceile
7.24.20
[Picture of Sheba laying down, a long haired, brindle multi-colored dog, under tree with scooter in background.]
