Letting go… by becoming part of the bustle

My rehab doctors have asked me to walk daily. I had been diligently walking on the indoor walking track since it was too cold to walk outside. But little walking had happened since our arrival in India. Only eating. But that will be another blog post. It deserves its own respect and a lot more space.

I set off on a walk this morning… wore my sneakers, tucked the iPod headphones in my ears and headed out to the neighboring street.

When I walk in the gym, it is a targeted, goal oriented activity. My wasted muscles want to be rebuilt, my stamina wants to be developed, my strength wants to be increased. I am in my body, thinking of my body, working towards a better body – all of the 20 minutes that I am in the gym.

This morning as I walked, my senses were inundated. A sea of humanity shuffled around me. Vegetable sellers arranged their vegetables, hiding the smaller, unhealthy ones at the bottom of the pile; kids in uniforms hunched over by huge backpacks waited for school buses and rickshaws; sweeper ladies lost in a haze of dust swept the roads; drivers on two-wheeler zigzagged along with faces completely covered like bandits to guard from pollution, women with flowers in their hand walked to the temple... Everywhere I looked there was life, there was vitality, there was a wide gamut of activity.

As I carefully avoided the cloud of dust from the lady sweeping the street, admired the fresh flowers beautifully arranged in baskets, swerved to avoid a two-wheeler hurtling by, smiled at the kid with a huge backpack being dragged by his mother, watched a cobbler set up shop on the pavement, looked at a flock of pigeons in the sky, wondered if I just saw a parrot… I realized this walk would never be like the one on my walking track in the gym. The chaos and color was a sharp contrast from the homogeneity of a group of people exercising in the gym.

I took in the sights, sounds and energy of this morning bustling around me. Birds chirped, vehicles honked, vegetable sellers cried out, a flower seller tried to sell me some flowers, some senior citizens invited me into a temple, a mother shouted at her son…I took my Ipod out of my ears.

No. I was not in my body. I was not thinking of my wasted muscles. I was not making any effort to strengthen anything in particular. This walk was allowing me to step outside of my body. Each of my senses was inundated. There was life, there was chaos, there was beauty around me. No. I was not in my body. But that wasn’t a bad thing. For this bustle allowed me to let go… of my body, of my weakness, of my thoughts. I felt part of this morning confusion and bustle. No. I was not in my body. And that wasn’t a bad thing.