Tonight
I am thinking about human imagination.
Everyone
is stuck somewhere. And if you
aren't, please send help to me and the rest of humanity back here, we've got
our wagon wheels stuck in the mud and grandpa's dying of dysentery.
But
there's one thing we do have in us: the ability to imagine. This tool is
afforded to human beings. Sometimes this tool is laughed at by others or
stomped out by growing up too much. And I'm not just talking about daydreaming
here, or about thinking up the next big iPhone app. I mean true human
inventiveness. The raw ability to take shitty circumstances and find a way to
live with them. And not just live with them; live through them. Survive them
and be better afterwards. To be able to look back and see the triumphant tracks
of a slimy mud-covered human body that dragged itself through that sludge. If
you can't see a way out, you aren't imagining big enough.
Perhaps
time will make me a fool, because I know there are some things that can't be
changed in life. But I think a lot of the time we give up too early.
I
don't want to give up too early. I want to fight.
But it's hard to accept what is. I know that today is today. I know that today I can’t fully extend my arms because the muscles are so contracted, and that my lung function has decreased. I know that it is what it is. And I hate what it is. I hate that I am trapped in a body that is not mine.
I have also been fighting. I started the Livestrong program at the Y two weeks ago. Last week I went to a stretching class at the Y, and the instructor had told me previously that it was incredibly low-impact and that anyone could do it. As we went through the incredibly elementary stretches, I was keenly aware of how far away I was from my body. The body that I know, the body that is gone now. I couldn’t complete even 15 minutes of the class because my muscles were spasming and I was getting upset. I left and went to the bathroom and cried.
After expelling my almost-tears I went to the large studio next to where the class was being held. It had rubber floors and a wall-to-wall mirror. It is something completely different to look at your body up close (the way you do at home) than to observe yourself from afar. I walked into the empty studio and looked at myself from across the room. I looked hollow. My shoulders stuck out. My nose was pink from crying, and I looked a sloppy mess. I rolled up the sleeves on my t-shirt and walked toward my reflection, trying to remain calm. I started to stretch on my own, the little that I could do without causing spasms. I tried to accept myself with my limitations. It is what it is. I looked myself in the eyes. But I started crying again, because it’s not fair what happened to me. It’s not fair. And I feel like a lost cause, a body too far gone to ever make it out of this sack of bones. Full recovery seems impossible. The steps that I need to take are so miniscule that it’s embarrassing and an insult. And then I cried because I should be thankful to just be alive. But it’s not enough for me, to just survive. I want to survive and be better afterwards.
And what is this "self" that I'm trying to get back? It's also not enough for me to wake up, go to work, make money, give it to someone else, and repeat. To live just to support the way that I live. That's not living. And sometimes we feel trapped in cycles that we hate. Consumerism, the Grid, "The Man", immigration laws, an abusive relationship, addictions, mandatory obligations, whatever it is. We can't see outside our own bubble because our bubble is so goddamn full of shit. A shit bubble. I'm trying to see if there is something else, here.
I need to exercise my imagination. Expand it bigger in every direction. I need to grow to believe in this wild thing: my body better than it was before cancer. To believe there is always a way through and beyond shitty circumstances. To get out of the pain cycle, the dull life cycle, the Rat Race. No one belongs there. To cultivate an inner universe that reflects the wonder, love, compassion, forgiveness and generosity that I believe to truly exist in reality; one that uses ingenuity and resourcefulness and determination. I'm going to imagine! I'm going to work! I'm going to put in the time! I'm gonna find a way out of every mud-stuck wheel! I'm gonna scrounge, scrape, pummel, hunt, rummage and explore until I find what I'm looking for! I'm gonna stretch one pinky at a time and lift ping pong balls as weights, if that's what it takes! I'm gonna keep fighting my way through this shit bubble, and (pardon my language) I'm f**n taking you with me!
Come on, let's see what's beyond this thing!
Whoever you are, no
matter how lonely,
the world offers itself
to your imagination--
-mary oliver
