One often takes things that are used every day in an everyday way for granted. Their very useful normality in our lives renders them almost invisible to the waking mind. When you turn on your cellphone you expect to see the time and whether you have any texts messages, when you pour your orange juice in the morning you expect it to be orange and not blue and to taste like an orange and not a . . er. . blue. Simple, reliable, standard, all words we use to describe the things that we seldom take the time to name at all anyway.
However, Life would appear to be a bit of cruel jokester, it seems to really get a kick out of periodically reminding you of these things by making them not work for you, often when you need them, usually the most. Take for example, my back. I like my back, it does an excellent job of staying behind me, of keeping me upright when I wish to be, and of supporting the admittedly extra bit of front I keep filled with tacos and ice-cream. I have been blessed with a very sturdy back for lo these 41 years and it has seldom, if ever, given me any cause to notice it for more than a few hours and usually then only after I had done something stupid and abusive to it first.
Well now its fucked.
I am sincerely hoping that it’s not going to remain in said state of fuckedness forever, but it has certainly showed me that it plans to at least remain near fucked or at least in the fucked neighborhood for a while.
I have known quite a number of people with back problems in my time, my ex-wife had sciatic pain so bad that she was bedridden for a full month, in pain, on her stomach. It was horrifying to watch and now it seems like its my turn to take a bite of the ol’ shit sandwich known as “a strained back”.
As of now i have only had to shorten a couple of tattoo sessions and reschedule a handful, I am being extremely careful not to push it and yet when im in this unhealthy state all i can think of is how I want to exercise to “make it better”. Yesterday (valentines day) I took my lovely wife to Phipps Conservatory (actually she took me since she was driving, but I told her where to go and how she was doing it all wrong so technically i can claim at least partial “taking” credit) and the few hours we walked through the amazing gardens was inspiring and romantic as our first date (which was at Phipps). It was so inspiring that it inspired my newly assholish back to spasm all day today and make me want to stab myself in the eyes.
One of the most painful parts of any injury is the barrage of information and the sort of ‘stern talking to’ voice that people tell you. Oh, I should take it easy for a while? you don’t fucking say!? I should stretch!? well, golly gee i never thought about that! A heating pad!? well hall-ay-lujah I never thought of that!!!! Just once I want some motherfucker to say “you know if you mix toothpaste and diet Pepsi and rub it on your back it will be cured instantly” and have that shit work! If you don’t have some voodoo magic like that in the old pile of advice then guess what? Your “advice” sound more like telling a particularly stupid child not to put their burned hand back on the stove.
Sorry, I get a bit “testy” when I’m not feeling well, I also tend to blow off meditation and since this is like day 6 of not meditating I’m pretty much a huge cry baby prick to everyone. Surprise world, the old Jason showed up and he still sucks. I’ll hit the Zafu tomorrow, I promise!