It’s been six years and almost two months since I hit the pavement off my bike after being unable to avoid a van door that opened into my path. In those six plus years I’ve had regular chiropractic adjustments from a guy who shares my love for the wild earth, massage therapy from a free-spirited motorcycle riding RMT who loves to garden, and I’ve attended weekly Iyengar yoga classes with highly trained instructors plus I've completed a few intensive yoga workshops. I eat organic local and vegan, and supplement with calcium and vitamins when I feel it’s necessary.
All indications suggest that my back is strong and healthy, including some computer generated chiropractic images.
Maybe it’s connected to the seemingly perpetual heavy metal detox I began years ago after a kind and gentle dentist rescued my mouth from all the crap that had been poured into it previously. I dunno, but for whatever reason my lower back lumbar region, the precise area where I landed on the pavement all those years ago, has decided to remind me what it feels like after a serious bike crash. I’ve spent much of the past six years healing it, quite successfully, but the past 24 hours I’ve been flat on my back, or in gentle restorative yoga poses, watching silly movies like Open Season 2 and A Mighty Wind and wondering if this is some cruel joke from the universe, and trying not to think about all the summer fun events I’m missing.
It’s like the universe (I don’t happen to believe in “God,” rather I ascribe to the reality of evolutionary science which suggests we are all co-creators, collectively influencing the evolutionary process) is saying “ha – you thought you were such a fit 49 year old, well get a load of this.” As if my mid life crisis, inspired primarily from a close examination of the global mess we’re collectively stuck with thanks to a small handful of greedy and selfish capitalistas, isn’t enough to deal with.
The universe has a delightful sense of humour and one day, when it doesn't hurt to move, I'll share in it again.
