Upside of Down

Today is a quiet one.  It's damp, mild, and grey outside.  But I don't feel the same, which pleases and surprises me, because I'm laid low with a bum foot, and my sciatica has flared up again.  Lying and sitting down hurt me much more than standing on my feet, so I haven't been able to do some of  things I enjoy, like sleeping, reading, and writing long enough to get some much-needed rest, or get into a productive groove.  Thanks to my smashed tootsie, I can't take a joy-walk, either.  Yoga's out of the question for the same reason.  But for all that, I'm feeling at peace.  The gentle, grey day has muffled the sounds of a big city and makes me feel as if I'm encased in a cocoon.
I have nowhere to go, no one to see, and no commitments to meet.  It's truly a day off and away  from busy-ness and activity.  And I'm okay with that, too.  I want to do less these days anyway, even when I'm healthy and fit.  But right now I don't feel guilty that I haven't been out for many weeks to take in a movie, or an art exhibit, or anything that supposedly vibrant, interesting people do.  Until this morning, when I awoke feeling strangely at peace, I lamented my flagging interest in interesting things, even before my recurring and recent injuries forced my present seclusion.  Today I don't feel remorse for my acquiescence, nor do I envy keener, busier people. Today is a gift.  And that is at it should be.
I'm making do with writing a few sentences at a time, then rising up out of my chair to alleviate the discomfort of sitting for too long.  Like most people who work at a desk, hunched over a computer, I spend too long in the same unhealthy position.  Now my body is making sure I don't.  In fact, I'm almost grateful for my current indisposition.  When I'm hale and hearty I feel as if I have to be doing something all the time, and then end up feeling like a loser if I'm not.
It's taken me a while to find a sense of stillness with my present circumstances.  At first, apart from the physical pain, I was resentful and bored.  I lost some hours and wages at work, as well as the required hours of practice for the yoga teacher's certificate I'm pursuing.  Eventually I got tired of feeling crappy, and realised there was no rush to do anything anyway.  It finally occurred to me that I'm fortunate that my life isn't rigidly structured or scheduled.  If my situation had happened to someone who's always out and about, doing things because they must or choose to, it would disrupt their lives far more than it has mine.  I'm not a type A personality.
I think and talk a lot about living a simple, mindful life, but don't really practise it.  A fall and a twist of fate have changed that, at least for now, and maybe for good.  It's a lesson learned the hard way, because it seems I wasn't able to learn it otherwise.
There are no accidents.  With my recent losses I now can see what I have left.  My instincts for living more deliberately, slowly, and simply have always been right, but I've always felt pressure to do more in order to appear worldly.  How shallow is that?  But I'm grateful for that unflattering realisation as well.
Quiet, self-contained people have always fascinated me.  I admire and respect such individuals, but seldom envy them, which makes me hold them in even higher regard.  They are invariably the humblest people I know.
My current situation has humbled me.  I'm forced to live with myself and ostensibly do nothing now that I've been laid low.  I don't look or feel my best, but somehow a little bit of the best of me has emerged. Changing the landscape is a privilege a fortunate few can afford, but with enough desire, anyone can change their soul.*
Namaste.
- G. P.
*  with thanks to Emerson and Thoreau.