Forgotten Pain

Craig and I enjoyting the sunset.

I’m in pain. It’s my own fault—I went to Yoga. My daughter, Aimee, taught the class and I wavered between feeling satisfied that the investment we made in her college tuition is paying off and wondering if she has some deep seeded animosity toward me. Come to think of it, she did have a pleasant expression on her face, a small innocent smile.

She said we had to keep our shoulders open and our hips even, on the same plane. “Like you’re pressing against a wall.” Keeping my hips even and my shoulders open is a challenge even when I’m sitting in a chair or walking through Target, but just how do you keep anything even when your legs are straddled, your toes spread, one leg bent, the other straight, looking up, bending sidewise, while breathing in and out through the nose to make the sound of “Haaaa?”

Special breathing techniques always remind me of labor. And the pain I’m feeling this evening also takes me back to those four vivid life-changing events. I’ve always thought it was interesting that while pain can be acute, once it’s over you can’t reproduce it through memory. I can recall the pain of labor. I know it was the hardest work I’ve even done and I know it hurt. But, thinking about giving birth doesn’t make the pain manifest itself here and now. Isn’t that good? Isn’t God good?

Come to think of it, every type of pain I’ve ever experienced has passed. Some emotional pain required me letting it go, offering forgiveness before the sting disappeared. Well, I never really intended for my blog to be a whining place but today it is. Guess it’s time to go and soak my sore muscles in a hot tub, “Ahaaa. . .”