Back to Normal

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I tweaked my back the other day. This happens to me every so often, and usually while doing the most mundane things: in this case, putting on a pair of shorts. As soon as I felt that familiar sharp stab, I dropped to the floor and began mourning what my life was about to become for the next four or five days. Until the contracted muscles around my spine relaxed, the simplest actions from now on, whether sitting, standing, walking, or putting on some socks, would require my complete attention. Move a little too fast, turn a little too sharply, and I’d be reminded in the most direct terms that my life has not returned to normal.

I don’t mind giving something my complete attention; in fact, I’m happiest while doing just that. To write, for instance, is to give a story my complete attention. I prefer, however, to choose what I pay attention to. Except when I’m exercising, my body, as much as I like and appreciate it, is normally the vessel for my attention, not the subject of it. All of which means I must contend not just with pain and stiffness, but my own impatience and irritation.

Fortunately, the body is a great and reliable communicator. I must remember that what I call pain isn’t punishment or some capricious obstacle to my wellbeing, but actually a call for my attention. All that happened was a I moved without awareness, and my body reminded me. Of course, that’s easy for me to say here on the page days after the fact; not so easy when I just want to get on with my normal day, and my body says, “Not yet.” I want to argue with it; scold it, even. The body is immune to such criticism.

I simply have to slow down. This, by the way, is the advice I give my clients and students when they’re struggling with a particularly tricky section of their story. It’s great when you can cruise along and the words and ideas are rushing through you; but there will be plenty of times when you don’t know the way forward, when nothing is coming to you. As a writer, you have to be as interested in those moments, as curious and invested in them, as when you are happily in Flow.

In fact, as a writer, you must be more interested in these moments than any other. Something new is being asked of you, and if you proceed too quickly, behaving as if you’re in Flow without actually being in it, you will know only the pain of resistance and forced action. Just as I had to bring my complete attention to each step I took, I must bring my careful attention to each word I choose, until I meet no resistance, and the Flow that was always there feels normal again.

If you like the ideas and perspectives expressed here, feel free to contact me about individual coaching and group workshops.