A New Movement

I’ve had to slow down in recent weeks, due to an injured foot that is almost completely healed.  Against better judgement, I did take the ten minute walk to the subway each day (don’t tell the doctor, don’t you dare.)  But I couldn’t ride my bike or go to the farmers market or spend my weekends, as I always do, exploring by foot.  My evenings could not be spent, as they always are, running or spinning with Dominique, my tell-it-like-it-is, funny, wild-haired co-worker, gym buddy, and friend, who has recently announced what I’ve known would be coming, she’s found new work and our nightly trips to the gym will end soon, anyway, regardless of my silly, holding us both back, foot.

The walks I love to take have been replaced with staring out my writing window.  From my spot, with my legs flung over the arm of the small blue couch I held on to and lugged from my old studio apartment, I have seen the way the sun hits the silver buildings of downtown Manhattan.  I have watched the way they reflect and burn orange, then melt towards dusky pink.

The office of my day job has moved to a new floor and light pours in from windows now and if I lift up just slightly from my chair, for the first time, I can see right over the new cubicle walls. I can make out the bump of Bert’s headphones and I realize, besides Bert forcing me out of the house to drink beers on the beach with him in Coney Island or sending me off some late Saturday night to a strange warehouse or cavernous bunker to watch him DJ,  he and I have talked, every day, through the old walls, for years.  And now they are gone.
So, without the biking, tread-milling, walking, I have been sitting and reading and writing and thinking.  I have been looking out through windows and over walls and I’ve accepted that things are different.  I’ve tried to imagine my own new altar in which to stand.  I have dreamt of so many new possibilities.  In just a few days, some beautiful opportunities have been given to me, as if by magic, and as I cautiously whisper and wish for them, no matter where they lead, I feel a shift.  I have slowed down enough to see that things can change and I want to be part of a new movement of me.
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4 thoughts on “A New Movement

  1. I'm such a big fan of taking walks to brainstorm for my books, so I would hate to have to give those up, but it sounds like you've had a wonderful change in perspective with this foot injury. I hope you keep enjoying this new movement in you, even when your foot has healed.

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  2. “A new movement of me…” beautiful, Melissa, and so appropriate. Life is movement; life is a living, breathing meditation, and when we open up to it, the possibilities are endless. I just want to say: I love your blog, I love your words, and I am honored to know you and to connect through words. xo

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