Movement, both physically and emotionally, has not been my strong suits within the last year.
Because I need to redeem myself slightly in your eyes, let me state also that this lack of movement, both physically and emotionally, have not always been the norm. I was born a runner (ask my parents; I ran my own mini marathon, away from them, when I was just 5 years old!). My last name is “Walker,” for goodness sake, indicative of my favorite movement, along swimming, hiking, and running.
Nevertheless, sedentary action and stationless movement promptly filled the last years of my life.
Something I didn’t consciously acknowledge until I spent an afternoon scraping the popcorn ceiling off our second bedroom. Days later, the pain on my lower back would not subside. It didn’t even dawn on me that I had overworked a muscle – any other time in my life, I would have been able to jump into the swimming pool and put in 800 yards or so with no problem nor consequence.
I was younger, limber perhaps, and my stretches between moving and standing still were short. Short because I thrived on how engaged with life my mind and spirit would become as they caught the energy bug my physical movement provided my body.
However, I have been sitting excessively comfortably in my life for just a little too long, long enough that sitting still is just easy. Long enough that my brain, no longer feeding off the energy of movement, is no longer questioning my choices or even prompting me to think about looking at choices.
Now even the simplest movement feels like a stretch that my muscles, bones, body just can’t take. I move and bones creak, muscles ache.
Where did this image of slow death come from? Moreover, how did I let it reside within my spirit for so long?
I can state that putting out fires left and right was something I did comfortably, for years. And perhaps there needed to be a season in my life in which I mandated stillness, where my brain needed to turn the volume down a couple of notches, where my body just needed to stay still for just a second.
Perhaps that is what initially started this winding down. Perhaps that was a good enough reason to stand still and be okay with standing still.
But standing still without purpose has led me to just standing still. Honestly, when I stopped moving, I just stopped. I never rationalized why I was standing still, after moving so fast and so hard for years. I never asked myself why I needed to slow down, or even asked what I was slowing down from.
And so I began to wander into standing still, with no purpose and without purpose. Which eventually led to my weakened body and a back strain. It wasn’t only my body that was now suffering, my brain, my spirit, my soul were also suffering.
And the only way I recognized those “strains” was because when I began to ask myself why, I didn’t have any answers. My brain, my soul, my spirit had been standing still for so long that they creaked and ached when I wanted to use them.
It wasn’t just my body – the deepest part of me, my soul, my spirit, those things without physical shape yet the true drivers of our hearts and deepest passions, they too were out of shape. They are the core that keeps you motivated beyond exhaustion, feeding your passion, your curiosity, your desire to engage with this world, to change it.
The fluffed up pillows of excuses sit high on that comfortable chair of indecision, of standing still. In reflection, while my soul may ache and creak as I attempt to use it, it has not been voiceless. My ears are out of practice in listening and yet my mouth is not out of practice of making excuses.
I need to move. Tomorrow. Too much trouble to move towards a place where I can walk for 30 minutes. Too much trouble to take 5 minutes to reflect on what I no longer want in my life and why I no longer want it. Too much trouble to write down five sentences of what I do want in my life and why I want it, why I need it, why it makes breathing beyond enjoyable, why it makes waking up every day joyful.
Really? That comfortable chair of indecision, filled with fluff, filled with hot air, is deceptively making it okay for me to sit on it for just a while longer.
The back pain has subsided. I’m walking along a path by the waterway, against the wind, attempting to jog, if even for a minute.
Movement. It’s contagious. I’m walking in my mind, moving some cobwebs of doubts and fears, making space for something new. Regardless of what muscle soreness will come tomorrow in this slightly older-model of mine, I’m taking one step forward. Then another, and then another. This pain of growth is a heck of a lot better than the pain of slowly dying among excuses for not moving.
I love sharing purposeful, thought-provoking experiences. I share life experiences to empower women to attain their best life. When I'm not studying life, I'm trying my best to live it, by drawing, gardening, and attempting to design my own unique clothes. Follow my blog with Bloglovin and connect with me on Twitter, Facebook, and Instagram!