Now for the moment in a kid-free zone, I need occupation. Or, inspiration to decide what would be an occupation I might like to be occupied by. Isn’t it believable and at the same time unbelievable how we discover over and over again how much we actually do not know about ourselves? That seems to be a terrible sentence for someone who has been saying for quite a long time past I must do some
creative any writing. Maybe I should say I keep discovering something I did not know about myself, even though once-upon-a-time there was all that psychoanalysis and self-discovery as a part of every day. Maybe other people don’t worry so much about noticing personal oddities.
In the last week, I have realised how much I depended on walking, just walking somewhere, to get me going and provide inspiration. A quick trot to Tesco’s or Sainsbury’s, visit to the Post Office or Bank, if in Shanghai (missing it, missing it) take the kids to school. Of course I know I miss them. Then I would come home and get on with what I wanted to do.
But, my heel hurts, I can walk, I am not doing it any harm so long as I don’t overdo it, but I can’t walk without consciousness. I had to look this up, but I think proprioception is the word for it, the way in which I know consciously or unconsciously what my own body bits are like and how I am perceiving them. So what I have discovered is that now that my usual proprioception way is out of kilter (even though its just a minor niggle) I did not know it was associated so much with happily getting on with life. Oliver Sachs wrote a great book I read ages ago, A Leg to Stand On, which was about how he adjusted psychologically to a broken leg. Think of Nadal and Djokovic playing that incredible wonderful tennis on Sunday – according to the commentator some of their magnificent performance is at the level of instinct (rather different from my level). They do not need to think about the placement of their feet, angle of arms, etc etc in order to reach, strike and return.
Somewhere when an injury occurs, the stuff we were doing before at the level of instinct is not do-able any more without thinking about it, and that upsets the other things we did not know we were doing at the same time.
So I am without inspiration.Having sat down at the computer anyone who bothers to read this is getting a long involved post.
Casting around for some trivial relief, here is a photo of my bike which now lives in front of the bookcase and books which had to be moved out of the boxroom. Goodbye to my once elegant southside sitting room. I am trying not to sound too fed up.
I have joined Write on Edge prompts to see if someone else can provide me with inspiration.
Watch this Space. The new lodger and her rather nice 6-year old for whom the boxroom had to be adjusted, arrive tomorrow. If they provide inspiration will it be OK to write about them?