Posted by: Miguel Clark Mallet | 8 February 2011

Starting Silly

I turned the rocking chair sideways then pushed it against the wall. Then I worked the coffee table back and forth until it was against the chair and the television stand. I had cleared a space in the middle of the living room, between the couch and the television. I started the DVD and watched the muscular, middle-aged, almost comically serene-sounding man begin to talk about breathing, postures, and positive energy. I followed the movements of his hands as best I could. I tried to breath, inhale and exhale, at his commands and shifted my body, hands, hips, feet, and head to try to match his. Meanwhile my wife watched, relaxed on the couch, as she surfed the net from the laptop. She didn’t say anything, and I don’t even know how much she paid attention to me while I took my body through its gyrations, but I couldn’t help feeling a bit silly. I know that wasn’t about her or any disapproval she actually showed—she didn’t give a hint of any. It was more about feeling myself moving again, inexpertly, awkwardly, trying to sink consciously back into my body. I haven’t done that for weeks now, not since the last time I went for a run, and I felt clunky and robot-like sometimes. But as I progressed, I could feel my muscles tingling and my lungs easing. And I’ll go to bed in a few minutes knowing that at least today I stepped out of the stream of mindless rushing and worry and felt my body working. I cleared some space in the room, then stepped into it.


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