You can skip this post if my personal reflections aren’t your cup of tea. It is light on academics.
I’m back in London. I was supposed to be here end of March. That got complicated because of stuff back in the states. I promised the ICS a minimum of six weeks residency. They are very chill but I have an incredible compulsion to do what I say I will do. Hitting a full six weeks is extra challenging now that the weeks in May and June I’d marked out to be here have been further complicated by my experimental time slot. So my beloved and I sat down with the calendar Friday evening after the kids went to bed and looked week by week and found that if I flew out yesterday I’d be able to maximize my library time and meet most US based commitments both personal and professional. Secretly I believe he encouraged me to jump on a plane to improve my mood. It was a rough week in Brooklyn and I’ve been despairing of being an agent of positive change or even finding contentment in my work there. Nothing dramatic just a general sense that I lack efficacy within the system.
Love comes in many forms.
And, I think he was correct. I got so much done on the day flight more than I would have in any other location, from catching up on letters of reference for deserving students to banging out edits for a chapter for an edited volume I almost dropped out of. Then I slept 11 solid hours with good REM (I never dream except to process anxiety). I woke up with great joy to be here in a clean walk-able urban center that has touches of green even in February. Right now I’m in a public university cafeteria full of diverse faculty and students eagerly engaging in conversation with no sense of impeding doom or political collapse. The only conversations I expect to have with colleagues are about my research and theirs. Paradise.
Why am I writing. It is the photo above. I snapped it this AM. It brought me joy. Nourishing our fellow humans without question or judgement is one of my deepest ethical beliefs.
As soon as I snapped the photo and turned to continue my walk, I dramatically lost my balance. I do this a few times a year. Partly it is my neurological condition and partly it is the years of injuries to my joints from similar falls going back to early childhood. During one of the countless “special ed” assessments of my childhood, a therapist walked behind me while I was kneeling on a mat and shoved me over. She explained afterwards they had to test if I could catch myself and she was very sorry for having done that. Just one of the reasons I’m suspicious of therapists and avoidant of those who offer help. I was enrolled in gymnastics and dance as ‘fun’ O.T. , needless to say I sucked at these activities. My swim instructors quipped to my mother that they didn’t know someone could be ‘unbalanced’ ‘even in the water’.
Over a lifetime, I’ve accumulated dead bone matter in my ankles and numerous other abnormalities. People say I’m ‘careless’ or ‘clumsy’ or ‘spacy’ and I should ‘move with greater care’ or just be more ‘mindful’. I’ve given up every form of aerobic exercise above a slowish walk and the very occasional swim. I will no longer apologize for asking anyone I’m walking with to match their pace to mine. I wear shoe inserts that help some with balance and often strap on braces hidden by my boots to add an extra layer of protection. All of this has minimized debilitating injury. It has been probably 5 plus years since I’ve been in a boot or needed crutches.
Still I fall. I’m proud of this one. I let the phone go fast enough. In fact I threw it as I fell, many yards away. This let my hands be free and I was wearing a back pack over both shoulders (another safety procedure I practice). I fell so well that I broke no skin on my hands or knees. I spread my weight so completely that beside a minor ache in the wrist opposite the ankle that betrayed me, I’m fine. The crowds were huge (it was everyone eating and gathering to eat the free food), but I took a deep breath and didn’t rush to re assure them as they gathered. Pride has no place in these moments. I did a full body scan while still on the pavement assessing injuries and deciding what joints were weight bearing and slowly testing each one. As I got to my feet I smiled and assured everyone who had gathered I needed no assistance and then continued on my way even slower .
Each fall feels like a premonition of my final fall. The one that will leave me permanently disabled or dead. I’ve seen it in my minds eye for too long. I try to tell myself the research in to exoskeleton robotic tails will continue to develop and that I will be an ideal candidate for the prototypes. I will finally be a cyborg! Or maybe I’ll just get hit by bus and the end will be quick rather than indignantly slow.
Morbid I know. Anyway. All of which is to say I’m writing this because even the best fall leaves me mentally shaken and a little sore. I needed to write.
Humanity is good. And my falls keep me humble. I learn to see the goodness in those who gather to help. I celebrate these moments of generosity from confused strangers uncertain of what to do but ready to act.
May we all be ready to act to help one another.
Liv Mariah Yarrow 