The “little piggies,” digits at the front end of my feet, go unnoticed aside from nail trimming, washing and drying. Depending on the weather and time of year I clothe them in socks and footwear, but otherwise leave them alone to work side-by-side doing their job of providing traction and balance. Umpires working baseball games get high grades when they don’t bring attention to themselves. I expect the same from my toes.
The other morning while getting dressed and “in my head,” I stubbed my left big toe on the base of a dresser. After the initial “ouch” and appropriate stream of expletives, I limped to the nearest chair. I’d survive, so too the white carpet—no coffee spills–but my nondescript toe was already swelling, turning pink, and a rhythmic throbbing had begun.
It’s bad parenting to say that children should be seen and not heard. Toes, however, are performing best when they are seen and not heard. One of my ten lower digits was screaming at me, demanding my attention as well as some ministration. I wanted it to return to the job for which it was intended—balance and traction, but most of all I wanted my left big toe to be the “umpire” who goes unnoticed.
It’s just a toe, I thought as I tossed about during the night after the morning’s accident, attempting to find a pain-free position in which to get deserved sleep. Tylenol didn’t or couldn’t do the job. I thought of getting up, watching television, reading another chapter in the compelling mystery on my nightstand, raiding the refrigerator, or coloring in my adult coloring book.
Though it’s been awhile, a thought occurred to me: some weed, even medical marijuana? But I don’t smoke, and a wounded toe doesn’t justify a prescription for painkillers. Too bad, I thought.
I lay on my back, carefully placed my left foot on top of my right, and began a mindful meditative practice. Breathe in, breathe out. I acknowledged the random thoughts that occurred to me as the rhythm of my breathing captured my attention. I free-associated and followed my meandering and distracting thoughts hoping that doing so would lessen the effects of the morning’s clumsiness.
While I enjoyed this “meandering buzz” my toe continued to speak to me with the pain/swelling waxing and waning.
I thought about the nine good toes, the ones like me, that were trying to rest but were tethered “in spirit” to their damaged “kin,” an “all for one and one for all” state.
I realized next that I spend more time kvetching than I do in gratitude. For every one aspect of my life that ails me there are at least nine for which I could and should be grateful, feel peace about, experience contentment, and bathe in a legitimate state of satisfaction. I concentrate, too readily, on the miscues, wrongs done by myself and others, a sort of thought of internal gossiping. I often revel in my own righteousness rather than embracing the diverse thoughts of others. I take loved ones and friends for granted, and do likewise with a rewarding and challenging profession. I frequently lose touch with the passions that stir my soul. I tend to discount physical, mental, and spiritual faculties [bent but unbroken], that remain sound as I age. I’m grateful for an inquiring mind and a searching soul, but often limit their meanderings.
Eventually I fell asleep, but before doing so a book I’d recently enjoyed came to mind: The Boys in the Boat by Daniel James Brown. It is the story of the University of Washington’s eight-oar crew that won the gold medal in Berlin at the 1936 Olympics. It is an inspiring story about a coxswain, eight oarsmen, and their coaches who practice and practice until they perfect a harmony, balance, and rhythm that leads to an unexpected victory in burgeoning Nazi Germany.
When I find harmony, balance, and rhythm in the midst of the rough waters and tough patches that life brings, I attain contentment and gratitude. It’s not easy, and demands practice. My big left toe will cease reminding me of my miscue, and instead give me yet one more lesson about finding peace amid the clumsiness of life.
by 
Nicely stated. We humans seem to need periodic reminders of the good aspects of life. As we age, it becomes easier to notice our losses. I practice celebrating what I can every day, despite aging… Celebrating nine toes that are healthy while one is hurting can be challenging, I know…
Hi Margie,
Yes we do, and often if it isn’t broken we don’t pay attention–thanks for reading and commenting, and I like your thought about gratitude “despite aging”–yes!
Roger
Having broken the little toe on both feet, I can relate to the unexpected discomfort – but only you could turn it into a meditation on gratitude – nice job.
Giny,
Ouch! Thanks for reading and commenting. Though significantly smaller and less prominent the pain of the broken little ones is equal in measure to that of the big toe. Roger
Great job Doc. good reminder for all of us Gary
HI Gary,
Thanks for reading and commenting. You and I have seen and worked with umpires like my bruised big toe. Let’s hope we can do the work of being in the world, doing “good,” while not causing undue attention. See you soon,
Roger
Nice reminder that in pain, one can often find the blessing. The correlation with The Boys in the Boat was beautifully rendered.
Mary,
Thank you for reading and commenting on this post. I agree, but boy do I have to look for those blessings (sometimes)! Their story was inspiring for many reasons not the least of which was finding purpose and meaning, on and off the water, as they moved through pain.
Roger
I am presently getting a pedicure and had the time to give to your post. How timely. Though a pedicure sounds like luxury it is indeed the attention my aging feet require. Rather than tolerate the discomfort of the callouses that have plague me since high school, I will give them the treatment they deserve. In my workouts I am told that all body works start from the feet up. We practice toe bends and flexing. I once read a yogi was able to do bends he has not done for many years because he kept his mind flexible. What I am reminded of from your post is that we are body mind and spirit from the toes up.
I also just retread Boys in The Boat. Their commitment is so inspiring. We work in group at my gym. The other day my trainer was introducing a rather difficult crawl. My first thought was, I can’t do that. Then I thought, I don’t know if I can do that. Guess what. I did it to the praise of the guys I work out with. Not bad for an old lady. The boys inspired me to keep trying. Thank you for your post and for where my mind went with it.
Carmen,
I’m impressed that you can multitask this way–pedicure and read–something I’d be challenged to do. Too focused on one or the other, or wondering do “real men” get pedicures?” Yup, I suspect they do–on my bucket list. Your comment about mind-body connection, being flexible, bending, and adapting has such poignant meaning that often escapes me/us. Aren’t we all broken and bent in one way or the other? Glad you enjoyed the book and their inspirational story for the second time–does inspiration ever get old?
Roger
No, inspiration never gets old as I keep my eyes and mind wide open for painting ideas.
Thank you Carmen-I agree. We age but inspiration doesn’t unless we put it “to bed.” Keep being open and painting what your eyes and mind see…Wonderful, and thank you for commenting!
Roger
Hi Roger,
I would agree with you that we often focus on the pains of life more often than we express gratitude for all that is going well. I’ve started a gratitude practice for that reason, and now that it’s humming along nicely, I notice when others talk about, in an attempt to share or connect with another, what is not going right in their world. It’s gotten to where I can commiserate for just so long, and then I want to change the conversation, and the energy, as it were, to something positive. Because in the end, it helps to kvetch for just 2-3 minutes, after which point, there are diminishing returns. I enjoy your posts! Thanks again for reaching out.
Hi Lydia,
Thank you for reading and commenting on this piece. I’m glad that your practice of gratitude is “humming” along. It does take practice–at least for me it does–because kvetching comes easily while being grateful takes some work. Two to three minutes reciting my own travails is enough even in the privacy of my own soul.
Roger
I love it when folks come together and share views, great blog, keep it up.