Facing pain
16/06/16 05:23
A few days ago I was loading a canoe onto the roof of my car. It is something that I have done over and over and over again. My canoes aren’t the heaviest, but they aren’t the lightest canoes made, either. When we lived in Idaho, our church camp had fiberglass canoes that had been repaired several times and they were a good ten to fifteen pounds heavier than the heaviest canoe that I own. No worries. heavy canoes are often very stable in the water and while they are a bit harder to paddle, there’s plenty of potential for fun in nearly any canoe. And those fiberglass canoes were tough. We’d take them, with three kids per canoe, down a short stretch of the north fork of the Payette river where it ran smooth and shallow and they’d get dragged across rocks and bumped and banged and be ready for the next adventure. I learned, in those days, to squat down, grab the center thwart of a canoe, lift it until one gunwale was up in the air and the other resting on my bent knees and then, in one smooth motion, swing the canoe upside down over my head as I stood up with the thwart across my shoulders and the canoe ready to be carried to wherever it needed to go. I could then find the balance point of the canoe and, by thrusting my arms, lift it as high as I could reach to place it on a trailer or rooftop for transport. It is a process that I’ve been doing for years. Most of the time it is actually easier for me to lift a canoe and put it where I want it by myself than to have help from someone who doesn’t know how to handle a boat.
Anyway, I have noticed, lately, that when I extend my arms to lift the canoe higher than shoulder height, I don’t seem to have the strength that I once had. Sometimes I struggle to keep the canoe balanced. Sometimes my right arm doesn’t push quite as hard as my left. I’ve had a bit of an ache in a shoulder for sometime and I think that I favor that arm because I don’t want to feel the pain.
Part of me wants an easy solution to the problem. There must be some exercise or physical therapy that will help me regain the strength in that shoulder. I’ve been rowing more this year in an effort to build up those muscles. Rowing is great exercise for arms and shoulders and it has very little impact or risk of injury.
In the back of my mind, however, I know that I should not expect to have the strength of a twenty-year-old. As I age, I will need to learn to accept some limitations.
Loading a canoe onto the roof of a car is a task that I’ll be doing for many years to come. After all, I also have lightweight canoes that I can lift without strain. I can always paddle a smaller boat. It does, however, remind me of something that I was taught in an “introduction to yoga” session many years ago. I have never studied or practiced yoga formally, but I have participated in a few simple exercises. In this particular class after some breathing and stretching exercises, we were invited to move our bodies into a slightly uncomfortable position and hold the position for a few seconds. The instructor invited us to feel our discomfort and embrace it rather than immediately shifting away from it. As I understood it at the time, one can learn to deal with the inevitable pain of life by practicing endurance with minor discomfort. Again, I’m no expert at yoga, but I think there is merit in that concept. On the few occasions when I’ve experienced a bit of pain, such as when I was burned a few years ago, I discovered that trying to make all of the pain quit was less meaningful than simply allowing myself to feel a bit of pain. For me, less pain medication and more quiet meditation was more effective than trying to make myself free from pain an accepting the grogginess of the medication.
I know that for me grief is one of those pains that seems to be easier to bear when confronted directly. When I admit to myself that I am grieving and allow myself to feel the sadness and loss I am able to move on to the next part of my life with more ease and grace then when I try to hide my grief.
I wonder if we, as a society, as a nation, have learned any of this bit of wisdom. Have we learned to face our pain and admit our grief or are we continually hiding from them? I have plenty of messages from growing up in this society that I have since discovered to be misleading. In the community where I grew up, boys especially were taught to hide their pain. “Don’t cry,” was the message I often heard. I learned at a very early age that it was far more socially acceptable to get angry than to express pain. I learned this lesson so well that it is not uncommon for people to think that I am angry when what I’m feeling is hurt.
As a country we’re reeling from the pain and grief and loss of yet another horrible mass killing. I’ve read plenty of words that express anger. I’ve read how people have called the shooter, Omar Mateen evil. I’ve hear the angry rhetoric about who should have or could have done something to prevent this incredible crime. The politicians are all trying to gain power through their rhetoric at the moment. I just wonder if all of this bluster isn’t yet another form of running away from the pain.
Can we, for a moment, simply acknowledge that this is a tragedy? Scores of families are left in deep grief. We have lost some brilliant people who were loved by their friends and family. It hurts to live in a country where such senseless violence is becoming so common.
I don’t have a solution to the problem. But I do know that it won’t help for us to let this moment pass without facing our pain.
One thing for sure. It makes a stiff shoulder seem minor indeed by comparison.
Anyway, I have noticed, lately, that when I extend my arms to lift the canoe higher than shoulder height, I don’t seem to have the strength that I once had. Sometimes I struggle to keep the canoe balanced. Sometimes my right arm doesn’t push quite as hard as my left. I’ve had a bit of an ache in a shoulder for sometime and I think that I favor that arm because I don’t want to feel the pain.
Part of me wants an easy solution to the problem. There must be some exercise or physical therapy that will help me regain the strength in that shoulder. I’ve been rowing more this year in an effort to build up those muscles. Rowing is great exercise for arms and shoulders and it has very little impact or risk of injury.
In the back of my mind, however, I know that I should not expect to have the strength of a twenty-year-old. As I age, I will need to learn to accept some limitations.
Loading a canoe onto the roof of a car is a task that I’ll be doing for many years to come. After all, I also have lightweight canoes that I can lift without strain. I can always paddle a smaller boat. It does, however, remind me of something that I was taught in an “introduction to yoga” session many years ago. I have never studied or practiced yoga formally, but I have participated in a few simple exercises. In this particular class after some breathing and stretching exercises, we were invited to move our bodies into a slightly uncomfortable position and hold the position for a few seconds. The instructor invited us to feel our discomfort and embrace it rather than immediately shifting away from it. As I understood it at the time, one can learn to deal with the inevitable pain of life by practicing endurance with minor discomfort. Again, I’m no expert at yoga, but I think there is merit in that concept. On the few occasions when I’ve experienced a bit of pain, such as when I was burned a few years ago, I discovered that trying to make all of the pain quit was less meaningful than simply allowing myself to feel a bit of pain. For me, less pain medication and more quiet meditation was more effective than trying to make myself free from pain an accepting the grogginess of the medication.
I know that for me grief is one of those pains that seems to be easier to bear when confronted directly. When I admit to myself that I am grieving and allow myself to feel the sadness and loss I am able to move on to the next part of my life with more ease and grace then when I try to hide my grief.
I wonder if we, as a society, as a nation, have learned any of this bit of wisdom. Have we learned to face our pain and admit our grief or are we continually hiding from them? I have plenty of messages from growing up in this society that I have since discovered to be misleading. In the community where I grew up, boys especially were taught to hide their pain. “Don’t cry,” was the message I often heard. I learned at a very early age that it was far more socially acceptable to get angry than to express pain. I learned this lesson so well that it is not uncommon for people to think that I am angry when what I’m feeling is hurt.
As a country we’re reeling from the pain and grief and loss of yet another horrible mass killing. I’ve read plenty of words that express anger. I’ve read how people have called the shooter, Omar Mateen evil. I’ve hear the angry rhetoric about who should have or could have done something to prevent this incredible crime. The politicians are all trying to gain power through their rhetoric at the moment. I just wonder if all of this bluster isn’t yet another form of running away from the pain.
Can we, for a moment, simply acknowledge that this is a tragedy? Scores of families are left in deep grief. We have lost some brilliant people who were loved by their friends and family. It hurts to live in a country where such senseless violence is becoming so common.
I don’t have a solution to the problem. But I do know that it won’t help for us to let this moment pass without facing our pain.
One thing for sure. It makes a stiff shoulder seem minor indeed by comparison.