Leap Like You Mean It

How to keep arthritis, assholes and aging from getting the better of you…

By Kimberly Dark

The arthritis nearly took me down a few years ago.

It wasn’t just the pain, which sucks. The activity-endorphins become a really reliable remedy to life’s woes. And I went from being an active fat babe with a little grace and glide to being a middle-aged fat lady with a limp. And yes, let me report that the angry, pitying public glances, tinged with pleasure DO increase, when you’re the fat lady with a limp. (It’s not like I didn’t know, but it wasn’t my daily experience.)

“When we age, people expect less of us; it’s a social trap.” — Tweet this.

The woe-triggers add up. And suddenly the sidelines seem like a good place to have a little rest. Trouble is, Newton’s law of motion: objects at rest tend to stay at rest. Oh, if only this kind of rest were… restful. Inactivity can seep into one’s self-definition, and I’m not just referring to lack of exercise here. When we age, people expect less of us; it’s a social trap. The internalized feelings of being ‘less than’ can be reflected in physical activity, mental acuity and even the desire to contribute meaningfully to one’s community and culture. It doesn’t have to happen that way, if we can remind each other that when things seem “worse” based on the ubiquitous reward-hierarchy of bodies and abilities, actually, things are “different.” Sure, maybe not as pleasant, but “different” is a standpoint from which one can create a new story, rather than just staying out of the class or off the hiking trail because we “can’t keep up.”

When I first sat staring at the x-rays of my arthritic left foot, the doctor jokingly said, “No more leaping for you.” I guess he thought that was funny because I don’t look like a leaper.

But I was a leaper. Through my twenties and early thirties in dance-exercise classes, then still at ecstatic dance through my forties. Even my hour-plus of daily powerful yoga became a fifteen minute home practice for a while, because of the pain. And I cried a lot.

So, what was my inner leaper to do now?

The good thing is, though we don’t get to choose every story we carry, we get to invent as many more as we want. Our bodies are ever-changing. We transform, and not always in predictable ways. We can add new selves, with new practices and new habits. I’m a re-inventor from way back, and even still, I have to remind myself to do it. Keep doing it. Kundalini yoga is a good workout without ankle flexion. And my ecstatic dancing may look more like a swaying, squatting incantation for the heavens to open than it does like leaping, but it can’t be bad for the California drought.

The good thing is, though we don’t get to choose every story we carry, we get to invent as many more as we want. — Tweet this.

I’m doing okay. I work on keeping the inflammation down and I often smell like a vat of organic tiger balm for my various aches and pains, but I’m still at it. There is so much joy in my body yet to express.

Last night, at ecstatic dance, I asked my inner leaper what she wanted, then I tore of my shirt, closed my eyes and danced. Nothing keeps the assholes at bay like standing squarely in your own indecipherable, fragile, magnificent power.

Some days I can do it. Nothing’s perfect. My foot still hurts. And this story — at least this one — is excellent.

Kimberly Dark is a writer, sociologist and raconteur working to reveal the hidden architecture of everyday life, one clever story, poem and essay at a time. Learn more at www.kimberlydark.com.

Kimberly offers two wellness retreats per year in Hawaii. Yoga is for Every Body. Join her; love your body and transform your life.

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