For days now I’ve been in pain.
A few nights ago, Briggs made his way into our bedroom, and I picked him up and put him between Ken and me…in my sleep.
I woke up with a throbbing left shoulder. The pull, or strain, or whatever has left me looking stiff, angry, and distracted.
All of which I’ve felt – minus the angry.
Despite the shoulder pain, and the temptation of living in a golden age of television, I’ve continued to say “no,” to staying up late and binge watching, and “yes,” to 8-10 hours of sleep and three morning pages.
Though, as I relayed in a conversation with my sister yesterday:
What I’d actually like to say yes to is – yoga then writing in the morning. Finding a way to wake up at four or five. I know very few things, but I do know that I’m a morning person, so doing this at night, is just never going to really work for me.
Last night I happily volunteered to put Briggs to bed at eight o’clock. He and I were down in no time.
At 3:45 this morning I woke up, mostly rested with an intense throbbing. I barely could make my way out of the bed, and decided to try the couch – propped up by one of the oversized throw pillows. A homemade Craftmatic of sorts.
I got in another hour, and then around five woke up again feeling fully awake but not quite certain of what I wanted to do.
Try and sleep more? Get the heating pad? Start writing? Take a shower? Yoga?
I tried talking myself out of yoga. My shoulder really hurt. Getting off the couch hurt. I hadn’t done it in a long time. So, I started super slow. Before I even touched my mat, I went for the matches.
Lit a candle and some incense.
And as soon as that little fire flickered and that peace smoke flew, I knew that I was doing exactly what I wanted.
The practice wasn’t perfect. But it was so good. And the pain’s not entirely gone, but it’s no longer crippling.
Maybe the pain’s not even the ultimate problem. Maybe it’s the thing that brought me back to my mat.
Maybe, the pain has purpose.