A couple of weeks ago I put my back out throwing the tennis ball for my dog. My usual chiropractor was out of town, so I went to her backup, who suggested I get some physical therapy to "strengthen my core muscles."
That's been going fine; I even bought myself an exercise ball so I could work on stuff at home (though my husband thought it would be fun to put the cat on it last night so I'm going to need to buy a new one, as this one's now full of holes!)
But yesterday's PT session was particularly strenuous, and this morning I ache all over. Which means that both meditation and blogging are being constantly interrupted by little messages from anxious nerves and muscles: "I hurt! Is this okay?"
It's a good reminder that meditation alone isn't enough: body, mind and spirit all need to be in good health, working in concert and communion. But what it feels like right now can best be summarized by this photo I took at the Seattle ferry dock on Sunday. It feels like that lovely empty space I carve out to rest with God is horribly cluttered, filling up with garbage thoughts, little gnarly bits that have no particular value but aren't decomposing rapidly either, and I'm running out of space; can't figure out where to put them all.
Oh, goody, a thousand opportunities to return to God!