It was nearing the end of the fourth day of sickness. Each day held more travel and I had pushed myself through a whole lot of crazy. Exhaustion held me in its grip and I felt like my land legs had left me when we stopped our travels for a walk down to these boats. There, walking the sand, with the wind gently pushing me on, I breathed in lungfuls of ocean air made warm with dazzling sunlight. I had pushed my body so hard to get to this point, though there were times when I could not push it any further, no matter how much I wanted to.
“Listen to your body” was a much-used phrase in our house when the boys were little. I still use it sometimes, mostly directed at myself these days. Our bodies are incredibly put together. My body knows when I am under stress before my brain even registers the thought and signals to me in the way I breathe and the muscles that wrap my shoulders. If I am listening, I can be my own best friend. I can step away from the chaos and sit in silence with a cup of coffee. I can do yoga to slow down my breathing and stretch the tension out of my muscles. I can journal or talk to a friend, walk in the park or lean into meditation. I can say no to stressful situations. I can give myself a time out. I can walk barefoot through the grass, feeling life itself push against the dry, cracked skin of winter’s feet.
It’s midday now. The Sampans are docked in the sand, the fishermen have laid down their nets, the morning catch of fish is drying in the sunshine. The quiet wraps around me and I breathe it in. I listen, as my body tells me what it needs.
Photo courtesy of Adrienne Gerber Photography.