On Wednesday I was strong, lifted lots of weight. Jumped high.
This is me today, Sunday. It was not supposed to go like this. It was supposed to be that I would meet my girlfriend for a lifting session and again I would be lifting lots of weight.
Instead I am lying on the floor, breathing. I am tired, resting an old shoulder injury that is resurfacing due likely to some combination of too much time at the computer, strange sleeping shapes and (I hate to admit) an overly ambitious training schedule.
Pain comes. Pain goes. Strength comes. Strength goes. This too shall pass. And then that will pass. Goodbye this, hello that. Again and again.
I believe that those of us who commit ourselves to pursuits of the body ~ gains in strength, complex yoga asana, athletic competition, dance performance ~ do so not only for physical exhilaration, but for the way in which these pursuits mirror the bigger patterns of existence. There is no distinction between physical experience, mental experience, emotional experience, spiritual experience. They are all just shades of the grand cosmic tone.
To be embodied is a profound, wild, wonderful endeavor. As humans we are continually asked to muster huge amounts of strength, strength we didn't know we had.
And then at the next turn we are asked to graciously surrender, to be quiet and humble, to accept the truth of what is, even when that truth hurts and disappoints.