It's been established I am not a physical risk-taker. No sky diving, rock climbing, extreme skiing, mountain biking, or knitting (They call them needles?!? Really?!?). So when I fall down, it really is an accident -- not something anyone would have predicted.
I've fallen on occasion in my life -- slipping on icy sidewalks, stumbling over roots and rocks on hiking trails, missing a step coming down for my morning coffee, my dog jerking me too hard on the leash or cutting in front of me as we both bolted for the door for some reason, even twisting my ankle and taking a dive off a curb once while waiting for the "walk" light to come on. Each time I am stunned to find myself on the ground. Gravity is unforgiving. YOU... WILL... FALL... DOWN! There is that moment of panic: Oh god! What happened? Am I hurt? Can I move? Do I look foolish? And then the taking stock as I wriggle a bit and try to find a way to pull myself upright, still taking inventory. Finally, I am up breathing normally again, moving gingerly as sensation tells me where I've done some damage. It generally takes me awhile to get going, with some groaning and rubbing aching body parts, accompanied by slow-motion movements, and pleas for assistance and sympathy.
I watch my "grand", "Angel", and she (at 2-1/2) falls all the time. She practically bounces back to her feet, often without skipping a beat in her determination to keep moving toward her goal. Sometimes she does look a bit startled and might even pause to look to me to see if she should be concerned about herself in any way. And of course if it's a particularly dramatic spill, she might shed a tear or two and need a hug of reassurance. But for the most part, she is on her way within minutes, none the worse for it. Often, when something unplanned and a little negative happens, she has taken to saying, with a shrug of the shoulders, "It happens..." in a tone that is wise and resigned, but ultimately dismissive. In other words...No big deal; life goes on.
So on Monday I was out in the drizzle taking photos on a piece of breathtaking property where I was on a retreat with friends. I spied a lovely little wooden structure housing an old sauna, accessed by a red brick stairway. There was some sort of white sign attached to the rail at the top of the stairs, but I didn't want that in my photo, so I studiously ignored it as I held the camera to my eye, adjusting the field of vision until the sign no longer appeared in the viewfinder. I took a few shots and decided to walk closer to the top of the stairs and shoot down....
And down is where I went. I slipped off the top stair, immediately hit HARD on my tailbone, bounced down a few more stairs, dragging my right elbow on each stair as well, and landed at the bottom breathless and sore. Really, really sore. I sat there in the wet for a moment, catching my breath, realizing my friends were about 20 yards away, but no one had noticed my descent. I wondered if I should call out, but thought not and slowly rose to my feet. I brushed myself off and was delighted to see I'd protected my expensive camera from any harm and the stairs would make an even more lovely photograph from the bottom shooting up! So I started snapping pictures.
When I rejoined my friends and recounted my misadventure, I also related that I was pretty darn proud of my quick recovery and gave all credit to my Yoga practice for keeping me flexible and balanced and allowing me to fall with some measure of grace and minimum of damage. I was relieved by my "it happens" response....
Until an hour later when my left wrist swelled up and became impossible to move without considerable pain. And my lower back seized up, tailbone becoming the focal point for constant aching. Ice, pillows, Tylenol and Alleve were prescribed by my sweetly concerned companions, and while at first reluctant, I eventually took their advice and found relief in these remedies. I was pretty sore for 36 hours. But still happy that nothing was broken--the fear of the aging and scourge of oftentimes increasingly brittle bodies.
By today, I am nearly back to normal. I can't really expect to fall down on hard bricks, jarring my butt, hitting my elbow, and twisting my wrist, with no after-effects whatsoever. But I still think my Yoga practice kept the damage from being worse. Plus, I got a whole new perspective on the subject matter of my photo!
Oh, and that sign? I went back to have another look. It said, "Caution: Stairs Are Slippery". No duh! But all's well that ends well.
I've fallen on occasion in my life -- slipping on icy sidewalks, stumbling over roots and rocks on hiking trails, missing a step coming down for my morning coffee, my dog jerking me too hard on the leash or cutting in front of me as we both bolted for the door for some reason, even twisting my ankle and taking a dive off a curb once while waiting for the "walk" light to come on. Each time I am stunned to find myself on the ground. Gravity is unforgiving. YOU... WILL... FALL... DOWN! There is that moment of panic: Oh god! What happened? Am I hurt? Can I move? Do I look foolish? And then the taking stock as I wriggle a bit and try to find a way to pull myself upright, still taking inventory. Finally, I am up breathing normally again, moving gingerly as sensation tells me where I've done some damage. It generally takes me awhile to get going, with some groaning and rubbing aching body parts, accompanied by slow-motion movements, and pleas for assistance and sympathy.
I watch my "grand", "Angel", and she (at 2-1/2) falls all the time. She practically bounces back to her feet, often without skipping a beat in her determination to keep moving toward her goal. Sometimes she does look a bit startled and might even pause to look to me to see if she should be concerned about herself in any way. And of course if it's a particularly dramatic spill, she might shed a tear or two and need a hug of reassurance. But for the most part, she is on her way within minutes, none the worse for it. Often, when something unplanned and a little negative happens, she has taken to saying, with a shrug of the shoulders, "It happens..." in a tone that is wise and resigned, but ultimately dismissive. In other words...No big deal; life goes on.
So on Monday I was out in the drizzle taking photos on a piece of breathtaking property where I was on a retreat with friends. I spied a lovely little wooden structure housing an old sauna, accessed by a red brick stairway. There was some sort of white sign attached to the rail at the top of the stairs, but I didn't want that in my photo, so I studiously ignored it as I held the camera to my eye, adjusting the field of vision until the sign no longer appeared in the viewfinder. I took a few shots and decided to walk closer to the top of the stairs and shoot down....
And down is where I went. I slipped off the top stair, immediately hit HARD on my tailbone, bounced down a few more stairs, dragging my right elbow on each stair as well, and landed at the bottom breathless and sore. Really, really sore. I sat there in the wet for a moment, catching my breath, realizing my friends were about 20 yards away, but no one had noticed my descent. I wondered if I should call out, but thought not and slowly rose to my feet. I brushed myself off and was delighted to see I'd protected my expensive camera from any harm and the stairs would make an even more lovely photograph from the bottom shooting up! So I started snapping pictures.
When I rejoined my friends and recounted my misadventure, I also related that I was pretty darn proud of my quick recovery and gave all credit to my Yoga practice for keeping me flexible and balanced and allowing me to fall with some measure of grace and minimum of damage. I was relieved by my "it happens" response....
Until an hour later when my left wrist swelled up and became impossible to move without considerable pain. And my lower back seized up, tailbone becoming the focal point for constant aching. Ice, pillows, Tylenol and Alleve were prescribed by my sweetly concerned companions, and while at first reluctant, I eventually took their advice and found relief in these remedies. I was pretty sore for 36 hours. But still happy that nothing was broken--the fear of the aging and scourge of oftentimes increasingly brittle bodies.
By today, I am nearly back to normal. I can't really expect to fall down on hard bricks, jarring my butt, hitting my elbow, and twisting my wrist, with no after-effects whatsoever. But I still think my Yoga practice kept the damage from being worse. Plus, I got a whole new perspective on the subject matter of my photo!
Oh, and that sign? I went back to have another look. It said, "Caution: Stairs Are Slippery". No duh! But all's well that ends well.
At least, that's the view from here...©
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