A liquefied knee
As already mentioned, we are used to respond to signals about being upset, tired, hungry, fed up, cold or warm. But there are signals that are way more subtle. Lets give you an example. This is the story about the breakdown, that was mentioned in the chapter about my way to the INNATE method.
It was spring. A merry day with friends. We were exploring a place for a potential community. While starting out for a tour on the fields a slight pain struck me in the right knee. I was not used to this kind of obstacles and certainly was not pleased at all. Silently I told my knee to shut up and tried to forget about it. Foraging the area I did a good job hiding that my right leg was dragging behind.
As the summer passed, I got used to the pain. It became a faithful companion so to speak. Only obscured by the cover of the dark winter, I was able to hide my disabled walk. But as the light turned and the dirty snow was overdue, the pain was imminent.
One fatal afternoon I had to visit the post office. I was convinced my body had to obey me regardless. Thus I climbed my bike and drove along; pedalling with one leg, and the other screaming loud for each revolution. I did manage the 8 kilometres. Yes, I did come back too; but that was about it. Upon returning I crept on three limbs into my bed. Exhausted I tried to find rest, but now the pain just grew and grew. Within some few hours I was unable to lie still, unable to move without a paralysing, all penetrating pain.
For a whole week I hardly moved. Outside temperatures fell to minus 20 degrees Celsius during night times. Drinking water was kept fluid under the duvet.
Well into the next week the pain decreased below unbelievable heights, and I was able to get upright got short moments.
But alas! I could not walk!! It was as if the content of my knee had dissolved, vanished. As if the content of the knee had liquefied!
Oh, sure, the bones met somewhere inside the knee, no doubt about it, but they did it randomly and without any control on my behalf. Hence I found myself taking one step with the left leg and then with full concentration lifting the right leg as a lump of dead flesh hanging as a drifting anchor. Then with outermost care I would place it back on the ground one short step further. By the slightest inattention the movement came to a sudden halt with the bones of the knee locked in a 10 to 15 degrees position and me screaming in agony. I literally had to learn walking from zero.
But hey, it only lasted some few months, and with the coming summer hope grew that I would some time in the future be able to walk like in old days. Oh yes, I had feared the worst: never to be able to move free again; lame and disabled.
Actually the day came, where I could walk to the shed with the intension to pull out the yellow recumbent low rider bicycle. See picture 56.
Well, it did not come so far. Before I could even grasp the doorknob, I heard a loud and intense yelling:
No, not that yellow bike!
I was baffled. There was nobody around for sure! Who said that?
Silence. Alright, a strange incident, but apparently I just fooled myself. Again I approached the doorknob in order to fulfil my intention. But again this yelling voice and, if possible, this time it was even louder:
No, not the yellow bike!!!
Once again I was baffled, but this time I was able to localize the voice: It came from within me! My body spoke with me!
No, wrong! There was no resembling of “speaking with”. My body yelled at me, commanding me to stay off my newest acquisition!
With the painful weeks of immobility fresh in mind I hesitated. I realized, that this voice was neither to be silenced, nor overheard. I understood, that if I wanted to get the slightest possibility to get on that bike, I had to proceed with utmost care and sensibility. I switched to the best diplomatic tone within my capacity and started negotiating. It turned out, that my person, my body or who ever I was dealing with, was not outside reach, but the terms were clear!
I was forced to realize, that the way I had treated him/it/my body throughout the years was no longer acceptable, was not liveable, was not to be tolerated any more. I heard words like ignorance and abuse! Well, I had no choice but realizing, that some of my habits were far from charming.
I understood that I had to elaborate on it. You see, when I, on a good day, got sun and wind speeding me and my bike up from behind, I might reach a very exiting cruising speed, and I felt the joy throughout my body! Me and my body! We came together in the perfect unity, the expression of power and speed with this beautiful machine!
But now to the downside. The habit, which turned out to be so devastating, was, that in this ecstatic moment of unity and bliss, I would find myself calculating: With this speed, how far could I drive in one hour? Or in one day? No, in a week!!! London, Paris, Moscow!!?
Pang! All of a sudden the magic of the moment was gone. Along with it all traces of joy. My companion – the body – turned totally acid.
The rest of the trip back home was nothing but a pain in the as. Over and over I destroyed the beautiful harmony with this stupidity, and eventually the shit had to hit the fan. And it did, so hard I will never forget it.
So now I had to negotiate a ceasefire, so to speak. And I was in no position to dictate the terms. The harsh conditions were declared to me: There would be no more adventures with this body without both parts enjoying the ride fully and equally. The thriving joy was the absolute minimum. Take it or leave it!
Of course it had been whispering for years, then speaking words of concern for a long time, before it became necessary to block my knee and start yelling at me.
Me! Being well aware that I am it´s master and lord. To my body, I am the only one, the beloved. It obeys my every wish and order. It loves me to the point that it is willing to die for me; and many bodies die every day; tragic deaths caused by people, who are unaware, unwilling or unable to take the moment and listen.
With this story I wanted to direct your attention to the voice of your body, so that you may pay attention to it, before things get really bad. But if they already did, do not become scared. It is never too late to pay attention. It is never too late to give up on the stubbornness and start cocreating with your body. It is never too late to start loving yourself.
Well no, the person on the next picture – picture 561 – is not me. However, this is the lowrider, and this is the way I have been riding.
This is from a race! It is a picture from the final sprint at the Germain recumbent competition 2015, showing the European master Ralf Golanowsky.
Alright, this picture is exaggerated, yes indeed. This is far worse than me! I never took part in a race. I am far too lazy to drive like that. And by the way, far too many of the participants loose every time.
I really dislike such terms. When I ride alone, I mostly win the race. Because I only compete with me. That is fair, isn´t it?