It is so interesting that, on the heels of ten days or so of truly being aligned with myself in this place that I love, I would literally fall through a portal into a new reality. We are so defined by what we do, aren't we? And almost everything that I do, or have done in the past, has involved my right hand/arm. Not being able to write properly, type properly (this'll be short!), draw, carry, is like being a different person; even the staples of womankind through the centuries and my guesthood -- doing dishes, sweeping, mopping or vacuuming floors, errands -- all are out of bounds for the moment. I've been humbled knowing that there are so many people who may live entire lifetimes or parts of their lives unable to do these things. How overwhelmed I am by the good fortune of 62 years of mainly unimpeded activity, travel, work, carrying, driving, self-expression! But even I have had some moments of despair...when I can't even write in my journal, who am I? If for even a somewhat limited time I cannot do the things that have defined me, who am I?
I had to stop and remind myself, what can I do right now? I can just barely get dressed and do basic self-care. I can walk. I can think. I can sing. I can smile. I can see. I can love. I am grateful.
Of those things, who am I? Well, hopefully on my best days, these are also who I am. I hope most of the time that I am love. I am song. I am vision and wisdom and as much happiness as I can find within. Those things will presumably always be "me" no matter what I can or cannot "do."
