There are so many things we do throughout the day that we never give a second thought. We don't listen to the inner workings of our shell and all the parts than need to collaboratively work to achieve one simple motion. My fingers while I type, my hands while they draw, my feet as they take a step, my fingers to scratch my nose, my neck that supports my head as I hold it up to look at the screen OR my body when it wants to go on a bike ride on this most, most beautiful sunny day.
We search for these "big" things. These miraculous entities beyond us--the galaxies we want to explore that pull in our attention, the miracles we desire to see, the pondering of philosophy and culture.
Curiosity for all these mentioned are necessary, but I wonder if we take notice of the closest thing to us that is beyond miraculous. It is inside us. Something every one of us on earth share and have in common. The complexity of the body. The complexity of mobility. The complexity of memory. All of it. It is amazing in its seeming simplicity, and yet its simplicity slips away from me.
It takes 26 muscles to smile, 62 muscles to frown, 34 muscles to move my finger, 200 muscles to take a step.
As I travel through this, I learn, adapt and in a way my body morphs into something new, and successfully makes it to the next round.
But this doesn't mean I don't miss what I have lost. I miss bike riding. I miss the feeling of the wind in my face while I pedal my feet. I miss running so very much. I sometimes try to recapture the memory of it, but every year it becomes more and more of a foreign concept. It runs further from me. When I watch people riding a bike it baffles me. It has been so long since I have rode a bike and as time passes the concept of riding one is something I can't even realize.
My body does not work this way. It has been reprogrammed. It seems like I should be able to hop on a bike, just like I should be able to lift my leg to ascend a single step, but my body is a road block the size of a rhinoceros.
I am taken back to my childhood. I literally remember the day when I learned how to ride a bike without training wheels.
I remember practicing in the driveway all day, and when my dad thought it was safe enough to leave me alone he went into the house, because he had already been at it for hours. But, I stayed outside. I wanted to keep up my momentum and do better. I circled that driveway trying to stay on my bike for a few consecutive minutes. The sun was setting. The gentle breeze on my face. The neighborhood was quiet, and it was just me and my bike. I remember that bike vividly.
It was banana seat bike, of course, with colored streamers hanging from the handlebars. Orange reflectors that at one time I had broke, so I lied and blamed a random fictitious stranger and said he came from the street, slapped two bricks on my bike, broke them and then ran away.
I was a creative liar, as all kids are.
I practiced and practiced until my body memorized the steps. It required balance, it required careful thought, pedaling, steering until the point where I no longer had to give it another thought. I was doing it. I was riding my bike and I felt accomplished. I was hooked, and the next morning I couldn't wait to run out so I could revel in my new found "skill". But before achieving this, I remember how confusing riding a bike seemed was. And, I am taken a back -- to that time as a child, because as a 31 year old adult I am now confused again. \Riding a bike now is beyond my capacity to think of, but still fresh enough in my memory that I miss it so. I suppose in years to come this will be how I feel about walking.
I mean, I miss walking "normally" now, but I can still experience a step, step, step. Running is the same for me. I can't even imagine the whole process of running. After all, my body used to do that for me, but now it has failed me. The body is something that is never reliable, so "you" have to be the reliable for yourself. It is these simple pleasures that I miss and the continuing loss of these simple pleasures that steal from me.
I've realized I am attracted to people who really use their body, or really, those that use their potential and passion.
It is important. We think it (mobility) is a right when merely it is a pleasure...a gift...a fleeting one. Use what you can, and not out of fear of the loss of it or out of pity for those that can't, but because it really is wonderful. It really is a wonder to move. Inspiration is one thing, but action is a whole different level. If you feel inspired do until "it's like riding a bike". It is good to feel inspired, but fleeting inspiration is just a desert. If you never exercise inspiration into change, then it just withers and wastes, like the muscles inside of my body.