On the Mat: Healing from physical, mental and moral injuries
The Mountain and Cataract Trail
A few weeks ago I hiked a loop on Mount Tamalpais, (Marin County CA) that included the Cataract Trail. It was spectacular: Redwoods in Spring, Trillium and wild iris, overfull creeks, and that smell of the soil, the rocks, the incredible moisture of Spring. The hike was also treacherous for someone who cannot fully flex her knee (two reconstructions and two “cleanout” surgeries). Hopping off every left side boulder instead of stepping like my partner did was slow, tricky and frustrating. The mud was both slick and sticky. I returned home determined to spend more time increasing the ROM in my knee, though progress will be in millimeters.
But I have recently won a big victory in my right shoulder, where I carried pain and inability for many years. A “stinger” injury 20+ years ago, years of playing sports and rarely stretching; carrying a child and heavy books on that one side for several decades. These imbalances add up. I was motivated to heal my shoulder because I wanted to be able to lift heavier loads while working on landscape gardening and because, well, being uneven in joints that should be bilaterally even is not a good thing for a body. Because imbalance often spreads.
Sitting on the mat, things come up.
I feel where I am tight
I feel where I was injured and developed shortened muscles, ligaments and gait.
I lean in to the pain. It hurts, but I know how to find the edge, and I work the edge: slowly, patiently. I feel where I am afraid to move to. I feel. I have the power to stop at any moment. But every day I return to the mat, to the practice. Forty years alternating between softening and hardening, between injuries and healing injuries, both physical and emotional.
Memories arise. I pay attention for a bit. Then I get back to the practice of feeling, naming, exploring the edges and sitting with the pain. I observe, push and hold an edge that resists doing what a joint, ligament or muscle is supposed to do. At the same time I try to soften into the pain, to let go, if only for a bit. Often there is a tiny re-opening in my body. An ability to move to places that I have not been able to move for many years. Under my rib cage, for example, and all along the right side of my body. In my knee, certainly. In my left hip. The tailbone.
Although I have done any number of bold, challenging, and impetuous things, there is also much fear to unlock in my body. There is fear and pain associated with going to each of these places, same as there is fear and pain associated with going to the scarred psychological places. I am (still and ever) learning to attend to these feelings, to love the part of me that is still so afraid, and claim the healing. Delight in the healing. So many injuries and impingements that accumulated over time. I have gradually learned that locking the fear of rehab pain—both physical and emotional—away leads to less ability and less of what I think of as physical, mental and emotional “flex.” Opening the injured bits hurts, and I find that slow is smart (Thank you Matt Hsu of Upright Health! youtube.com/@Uprighthealth). Managing the edges, the places where the scar tissue lives, is where the healing happens.
The knee will be harder than the shoulder has been. Patience and attention over months, maybe years: that’s what yoga, meditation practice and wise physical rehabilitation have in common. I am so grateful to have had good teachers!
Matt Hsu youtube.com/@Uprighthealth)
Michelle Cordero https://michellecordero.com/
Kassandra Reinhardt https://www.youtube.com/user/yogawithkassandra