My right wrist has been sending me messages. In the language of tendons, which is pain, it has tried to convey that there needs to be a change. I bought a brace and wore it for a few weeks, which stabilized the joint. Yet my pattern of sitting at the sewing machine, and playing guitar, plus hours tapping at a computer did nothing to ebb the demands on an aging limb.
John suggested that I consider the angle of my palm. Being higher up can lessen the strain. I was not convinced but put a pillow on my chair, and bought a lap table for my keyboard. I continued to write and sew and sing.
Today I noticed the lack of pain. It takes attention to focus on the absence of something, as we seem to be pre programmed to identify presence. This picture offers the veins and scallops of a leaf that has let go of her branch. I contemplate the light and textures. Yet there is also the invitation to acknowledge what is missing. In this case, a corner of the leaf.
It seems small, the few inches of height afforded by a pillow or tray. Yet the message looped back to me is one of relief. The connective tissues between my hand and elbow sighed with gratitude. They are still willing to do my bidding, but it hurts less. Sometimes suffering is optional.
A friend coined a saying that has stayed with me.
"Rise above it."
In those moments when I want to shuffle along in criticism three words can lift my heart to acceptance. Going high can elevate our words and thoughts from an ornery default position. The real benefit is that fewer people get hurt.
