Orchestra of Pain

**Life is not a journey to the grave with intentions of arriving safely in a pretty well-preserved body, but rather to skid in broadside, thoroughly used up, totally worn out and loudly proclaiming ... WOW! What a ride!”


**Our nature consists in motion; complete rest is death.
Blaise Pascal




These are two of my favorite quotes. The first one has a comfortable, laminated home at my desk. They both remind me to keep on going. To push through difficult situations, including pain, to a place of greatness. To the place(s) I envision in my mind. I often times feel that my life, especially over the last two years, has been an orchestra of pain both in the physical sense and emotionally as well. A perfect storm of pain laden with that magical feeling that lets us know we are alive. It is a sensation and feeling that we all live with, yet so many feel it in it’s most minor form and immediately stop and run to the doctor, medicate, or just stop what they were doing, or ignore the source within their heart that causes the emotional pain. I have come to realize that if you listen intently to your body, your heart, and your soul, you can continue forward even with pain that some would deam unmanageable. You can become the conducter of that orchestra and thus turn it all into a symphonic melody, a hormony of sensations, if you will. Now I’ll throw this disclaimer out there for those of you shaking your head – I am by no means a masochist who enjoys pain, I simply have found a way to live with that pain and listen to it..to take those sensations and continue to move forward, to dance a delicate dance between pain so intense you cannot funtion, and a world free from pain. That world exists, and I know it is out there, but to live in that world would mean that I stop doing some of the things that I love. With my broken heel I was told that my life would always be lived in some form of pain which I’d have to medicate, or adjust all other aspects of my life to play in unison with that pain. I was lead to believe that in some way the pain would lead my life and/or dominate a large portion therein.


Add to this mix the intense life altering pain of losing someone you loved so dearly and I’ll bet you can imagine the cocophony of destruction you wake with daily. The physical pain became an afterthought to the intense heartache as I watched my life drift from the comfort of the world I had come to cherish. It’s hard to describe the differences in the two pains, but eventually your heart heals much faster than your body. I will always have a place in my heart where I hold the memories and smile upon them frequently. I will always have the scars from the surgeries, and the ensuing pain to remind me that I am alive. My journey is not yet over. I feel the metal in my body as it grinds against bone. The searing pain as my feet pound the concrete feels unbearable at times, yet I cannot stop. I feel a freedome in the pain, knowing I am doing what is supposed to be impossible, or unbearable. I shoulder the burden as I climb pitch after pitch, ever increasing in diffuculty. Sometimes I think I hear God on the sidelines chearing me on…pushing me beyond what I thought possible yesterday and redefining those possibilities for tomorrow. When I am fighting and I stare across at my opponent, knowing he is there to inflict pain, knowing I WILL get hit again and again, I feel something inside me telling me to keep going. I have been hit so hard that I swear I could feel my brain shift upon its stem and smack the side of my skull. The ensuing headache and dizziness only stands to confirm this, yet I cannot stop. Each instance of pushing past the stopping point builds upon a foundation redefined over the last two years. I know my limits were nowhere near what I had previously thought.


These moments, the ability to push past the unthinkable, these have shaped me and given me a drive that I never imagined. For most of my life I have had a fairly average amount of self discipline and self belief. Years ago I met a woman who took that belief in me and fed it a continual dose of steroids. I began to believe! Not just in the impossible, but in myself. I took that encouragement and invested it, banked it if you will, in my heart. I dreamed like never before and felt a peace like I never imagined. I still have that gift and it is one that no one will ever take away from me. I still hear the voice telling me that she believes in me. Telling me to run faster, fight harder, and never stop chasing my dreams. My training partners and I run through downtown Durango. It’s a course that takes us from the door of the Dojo, around town, and back. I feel that runner’s high at times and I feel like I am floating across the asphalt, whole, unencumbered, uninjured, and free. Sometimes my little mind imagines her there pushing me on. I know now that the voice is my own, and no one will shout that encouragement the way I heard it in the past. It is all within now. All me, and I am the only one for whom I can rely on for that extra push. That is a whole new level of desire that I never imagined. Something inside can push you beyond your limits, beyond the pain, and into a place where you are floating in a vortex of adrenaline and euphoria.
In between these moments I am ravaged with pain that sometimes feels unbearable and I find myself drawing from deep inside to just get through the minutes, hours, days of agony. My shoulders burn and my foot rages in an inferno of pain. The orchestra begins as the pain migrates like birds in flight. It moves from the foot, to the knee, to the hip, and then to the back. My shoulders and neck then feel the melodic sensations of this orchestra. If I stop for long enough, it feels like my soul is feeling the acute ramifications of a life lived in constant motion. Yoga helps me to relieve most of the tension in my body and helps me to become more centered and focused along the way. Meditation allows me to look the pain in the eye and accept it as something that is there, yet just a “thing” that I “can” get through. There are still very few days where I don’t feel the pain (physical and emotional) of a life lived pushing my limits. Over the last year I have pushed harder and harder, hoping to find a place or a time where I can be free of the pain. A place where the anguish of the heart gives way to peace and forgiveness. I realize I am human and that sometimes the pain is telling me something that I need to hear. So I listen. I quiet my mind and listen to what my body and heart is telling me. Sometimes I don’t want to hear it, but I must listen.


I have recently begun to fall more and more in love with running. I love the feeling of running as the sun goes down, into the wind, along the Animas River Trail, and the soothing sound of the river as I run along its banks. I don’t want to give that up. I want to push my limits again. The pain can become intense and almost insurmountable at times. I massage my legs, my foot, my shins, and my calves, my thighs…all searing with pain from all that I do. There is something magical about the power of touch. The absolute, unequivacal ability for the touch of a hand to take it all away. It was something that she used to call “touch therapy”. It is something that I can still feel from time to time even though it too is gone, like the voice on the sidelines telling me to “go”. I have found a friend who is a massage therapist here in Durango. She isn’t your typical therapist/friend. She “believes” in the power of touch. She cultivates her understanding and training continually to help people like me who refuse to stop and let life pass us by. On her table I find a solice and peace that is unmatched by anything else I can presently do to get away from that pain for a moment. It’s as if she can sense right where the pain is and slowly, methodically, address the pain and slowly work with the pain to disipate it and help it find its way from my body. Sound weird? I thought so at first, but it keeps happening. This last week my body was wrecked with tension and pain. Par for course. Just part of my life and I wasn’t about to slow it down. So Christine spent an hour and a half giving me an Ashi/Thai massage. Go google that one! She uses her feet and hands to chase those demons from my body and to take me to a place of peacful bliss that I look forward to more and more. I spent that 1.5 hours not only relaxed mentally, and physiclly, but spiritually I feel as though my soul is as tranquil as it has ever been. I think the essence of the body is that it is like water, no matter how you shape it, twist it, try to contain it or stir it up, it always settles back to where it is supposed to be. When you won’t leave it be, it continually gets stirred around and becomes turbulant. It is possible for any of us to find that place where all is calm and in tune…settled. I find that place on the table of a friend whose hands have the power to ease the storm(s) within. Tranquility at it’s finest. After my last session I felt my kicks were infused with a little extra snap and power. My run yesterday was peaceful!!! I didn’t feel the pains and aches that I normally do.


I am sure that my cycle of pain is far from over. I refuse to stop and sit by as life passes me by. The voices telling me to stop are ever present but they can sit on the sidelines of life, not me. The meds the doctor’s dish out for pain are useless and always find their way into the trash. I can run from the pain in this life, or I can deal with it. I can embrace it and let it go. I can seek the help of someone who’s touch can set me free, if only momentarily. I will always look for ways to push my limits and I will always live close to “the edge”. I feel the view is much better there and I know that my heart beats with an urgency and freedom only when I am looking over that edge into a world that many step back from. With the spirit I feel in my heart, the voice telling me to “go”, I know I can push through the cycles of pain. Someone once told me that I was someone and that they believed in me. NO ONE can ever take that from me and no amount of pain will let me stop looking for that sensation of beating the odds. I have people in my corner who encourage me and one whose touch sets me free. As I run this evening, I look forward to the wind in my face, the sun setting on my shoulders, and the freedom to redefine what is possible. When the pain comes again, and I cannot escape, I will put that pain into the hands of one who can help it find its way from my body; one whos hands can bring light into my soul, and turn a chorus of pain into a beautiful orchestra of bliss.