I’ve recently done what, even for me, is a truly bizarre injury. I fell over coming into my building on a rainy day, where the marble foyer floor becomes slippery slick when the weather turns. And as I fell I threw my hands down to break my fall and broke *both* wrists. It’s a surprisingly debilitating injury as you can’t do anything without help. You can’t eat (well other than face forward cat-like nibbles), you can’t type and you can’t drive. My assistant has been doing a remarkably buoyant job of taking down by dictation as voice recognition SUCKS. Especially if you have a broad accent as I do.

Being in hospital is always a strange experience. I was about 40 years younger than most other folks on the ward. We were all struggling with wanting to be home and wanting to get some independence back.

It reminded me more than anything that I have a (generally!) functional body. I don’t hate it. I want to be healthy. I want my kids to see me being present in my body and maintain their presence if their body. And when I forget, I can think about when I’m older how I will look back to this time as a time of energy and activity. And then I can look at my boys and remember that they naturally stay in the moment, eat when they are hungry and enjoy climbing and running and stretching. And use those thoughts to bring me into myself, today.

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