Walking with Grace

This week, I faced the specter of hip replacement surgery. I’ve been grappling for a year with a new level of pain and restriction in my left hip, the one stacked above the knee that was ruined in the ski accident when I was a teenager, and had to be reconstructed. You know our body operates as a whole system, and other parts have stepped in over the past 40+ years to compensate for that unstable knee.

I have loved a mental image I was given long ago, comparing the human body to a hanging mobile: it is asymmetrical, yet hangs in balance. However symmetrical we may be at birth, the activities and stresses of life - and our responses to them - mold each of us into uniquely asymmetrical forms over time.

Some of us will eventually move with a limp, squinted eyes, bowed head, hunched or twisted spine. We may adopt supports such as a cane, glasses, a shoe-lift, various kinds of strapped-on joint or back braces, or pain relievers. Or, we may carry on without these extra appendages, simply allowing our body-mobile to re-imagine its new best asymmetrical balance-point. I discarded the bulkier knee brace long ago, and I was never able to tolerate a shoe-lift, or even specialized springy shoes, because I feel compelled to walk barefoot so much of the time. I don’t wear any kind of glasses yet, because I prefer to let my eyes learn to adjust to their changes, for as long as I can maintain the functionality for what I need to do.

Still, I am grateful for cutting-edge medical science and engineering which can enable us to participate more fully in life, for longer. Without the knee surgery I had at age 18 (however archaic the technique is by today’s surgical standards), I would have been truly crippled for the rest of my life. And now at age 61, facing bone-on-bone osteoarthritis in my compensating hip, I am grateful for the option of a highly advanced joint replacement surgery, with minimal recovery time. I have not yet decided whether, or when, I will avail myself of this support, but I am grateful for the reasonable option.

Perhaps, with a new “gold-standard” hip joint, the rest of my body will have a much easier time staying fit and comfortably active. And, perhaps there is still time and potential to strengthen all the tissues surrounding the natural joint in such way that the joint I was born with bears less strain and impact from my daily activities, and can still serve me longer.

At first, when I viewed the x-ray image and listened to the surgeon’s strong advice to replace the hip right away, I felt shocked and discouraged. With a little time and space, I remembered that it’s all in my perception - I can choose how to respond to this situation, and I can choose from a stance of grounded presence - when I am fully ready. As a close friend said to me, only I know where the ‘end of my rope’ is, and what I am willing to trade for what I want. I’ve been learning to shift my relationship to that proverbial rope, and to make significant, self-nurturing adjustments long before I find myself strung out all the way at the very frayed end of that life-line rope.

I want health and vitality. I want to stay active and fit. I want to play and hike outdoors with my children and grandchildren. I want to maintain my independent, mobile lifestyle. I want to minimize my pain and suffering, in the healthiest ways I can access. I want maximum freedom of movement in my unique body.

I am willing to continue to work hard to regain and maintain this quality in my life. And, I have been painfully bumping up against some harsher limits recently. Draining health issues 23 years ago showed me the way to a rejuvenating raw vegan diet, and I have no doubt this dramatic change has given me many extra years with my knee. Now, I am ready again to change course in some significant way to give me liberating overall mobility for decades more.

That might mean surgery or other medical or therapeutic intervention. It definitely means consciously slowing down and simplifying things (even more), and deeply honoring my feelings and experience. I will keep adjusting until I find the new sweet spot in which my nervous system feels safe and happy, and my body releases more layers of the tension it carries. Sometimes, this kind of release brings with it healing miracles.

For me, to “walk with Grace” conjures up Thich Nhat Hanh’s beautiful words that I’ve often carried in barefoot meditation walks: “With every step, arrive.” With every step, whether literally moving our feet forward, or choosing our micro and macro life-responses, we can choose to feel ourselves connecting and grounding, re-connecting and re-grounding, and observing the beautiful flow of life with gratitude and wonder. This is how we will learn to walk with Grace.

Grace is spacious awareness. Grace is conscious observation. Grace is lived through stillness, acceptance, quiet presence, gratitude, surrender and letting go. Grace is realizing our healthy boundaries, and doing our best. Grace is trusting our intuitive inner guidance, and the higher hand that leads us. Grace is remembering that our natural state is Love.

Walking with Grace is a state of inner BEing, rather than any particular expression of outer form. We can learn and choose to walk with Grace no matter what circumstance we may find ourselves in. My self-limiting identification with my body shifted when I realized that I could walk with Grace, even from a wheelchair….and when I knew that though I prefer to walk, run and play in a strong, fit, able body for the rest of my days, my deepest fulfillment in life comes from connecting with Spirit, and living every single day in Love and gratitude. Knowing this, I do what I can to provide my body with the best conditions for health and vitality, and I surrender the outcome of my efforts.

It’s been one my hardest and deepest lessons, the transformation of frustration around my physical limitations and pain into a fruitful path of spiritual growth and deepening inner fulfillment. I would still prefer greater ease of movement - and I may choose a hip replacement surgery to regain that - yet I cherish who I am becoming as I continue to disengage, layer by layer, from the battleground of reaction, resistance, and attachment. Walking with Grace requires some sacrifices of the ego, and ultimately offers profound relief, reconnection, emotional poise, and a relaxing, healing ease and flow to my daily experience of living in a human form. Grace is a most cherished companion, and simply knowing and remembering this is my most sacred protection.