Yesterday in class, about a third of the way through, my teacher leaned over and whispered in my ear: you're a miracle.
I knew that she didn't mean that literally. But in her class I was finally moving like myself. Twisting, bending, balancing. Extending, sweeping, fully present in the flow. I did every plank/up dog/down dog. Bird of paradise with my leg extended. Bound extended angle. Half moon, not touching the floor. Eagle into warrior 3 into leg extended straight out holding my big toe into dancer's pose. Headstands away from the wall. Side planks holding my toe, leg stretched up to the ceiling.
I was drenched in sweat. Crazy dizzy at moments. I got home and was toast for the rest of the night.
But, this is 5 weeks post surgery. When I take a step back it is amazing, how a body can heal so well from such a shocking and invasive experience. I've been tentative all this time, worried I couldn't handle or I'd hurt myself or take on to much. Recovery is walking a very fine line between getting back to where you were and respecting where you are.
Today I drove for the first time, at least more than moving the car to the other side of the street. We took the dogs for a long walk by the river. And I'm exhausted. But that's ok.
After alternate side I have a meeting about a possible film project. And then, I'm crashing. For as long as I need to. I am so grateful to have the time and space to find my way back to where I was. Or to somewhere new. I'll see how it goes.