These Boots Are Made For…

I was zipping up my boots today and as I carefully pressed back the fuzz of my wooly socks, I had a thought that froze me in mid-zip: “It’s nice that my brain is letting me zip up my boots.”

Recently, I had the opportunity to speak with someone who is living with Multiple Sclerosis.  Her brain doesn’t let her leg do very much of anything, which is why she walks with a cane.  She is courageous and beautiful as she waits out the progression of her disease.  “This wasn’t the deal.  We had a deal,” she said, in reference to her body.  She continued to converse with the other people sitting ’round the table and I let a few moments pass until I spoke up, speaking more to myself, I think, than to her:  “I don’t think there was a deal.”  She paused and looked at me from across the table.  “No, you’re right.  That’s the thing… there never was one.”  The truth is, our bodies don’t owe us anything.  Our brains don’t have to do what we tell it to.  There is no agreement.

I think of her and I “pray” for her.  I say “pray” in the sense of trying to send good thoughts and hope and love out there, so that somehow, somewhere that person could feel some part of it.  I recently had tea with a religious friend who smiled at me and said, “There is always someone praying for you, not just your friends and family or people who know you, but people far away, people who have never met you in their entire lives… they are thinking of you and praying for you too.”  An image immediately surfaced in my mind:  A man’s dark silhouette perched atop some distant mountain peak in the Himalayas, his eyes are closed and he is thinking of me, putting aside a bit of hope for a stranger across the sea.   I turned my back on organized religion long ago, but my spiritual soul could not help but smile at the thought.  I believe her.

Oh, and I have been informed that yes, I have indeed put my Raynaud’s affected hands in someone else’s armpits in order to benefit from the area’s exceptional resource of body heat.  I forgot.  Memory disfunction is very  common with Lupus.  Thankfully, my keepers are quick to provide the missing pieces.  And don’t worry, I don’t put them in just anyone’s armpits.  At least a decade of rapport seems to be required.

My brain let me run today too.  Gym visit #3.  And when I say “let me run,” I would have to say “barely.”

I am assuming your brain let you zip up your boots today (assuming you have boots) and so I ask you:

Isn’t that nice?

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