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Watching the girls tumbling their way to notoriety (or not) in Rio

I can’t help thinking of my own history as a gymnast in my youth.

Uneven parallel bars, floor exercise, balance beam were my thing.

Arial walkovers, splits, handsprings.

There is a memory that muscles have from pushing the body to it’s limit

Which remains long after the event.

The heart is a muscle too, lest we forget.

Today, in my wheelchair wondering how Simone Biles’ leotard stays put on her excruciatingly hard won steely rear end

I appreciate the access I still have to

The knowledge of my own interior body.

I get a workout, I tell you;

Lifting my fatigued self up to transfer is a feat.

Similar to a push up on the exertion scale.

Accessing lengths of interior sinew and urging them to work together for a common purpose and

Keeping my heart present as opposed to defended and on guard is an olympic event in itself.

My medal, I suppose, is the peace bestowed on me for being content in the present moment; ever so full of gratitude for the ability to shift tiny muscles to open a can or forgive a past grudge because I must to save myself.


2 Responses to “Gymnastics”

  1. cyndy tanner on August 18th, 2016

    Hi Cathy, lovely to meet you this morning, if only on the radio. I was co-hosting the KSFR morning radio show with Hollis. Heart Of The Matter. I just read today’s post and marveled at the sculpture image of “bodies” arcing themselves in gymnastic positions. Thank you for your beautiful images and text. Our time with you today was too brief and we need to invite you on the show again.
    And I need to reschedule that damn dentist appointment.
    Best, Cyndy Tanner

  2. Paul on August 18th, 2016

    Pure poetry.

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