When I first learned that I had arthritis in my hips, I invoked healing mantras and pointed visualizations to flood my joints with curative power. Then, when I fully accepted that the deterioration of my hips was a one-way street—i.e., nothing I could do would repair them to a healthy state—I began to focus on calming and stabilizing their energy of pain.

Aa of a few weeks ago, my conversations with my hip joints have become even more specific: With surgery in the near future, I am starting to say goodbye to the ball and socket with which I was born. I feel weepy upon writing this, as if the wear-and-tear of my highly physical life is something I need to apologize for, or acknowledge as a misguided path through life. And upon writing that, I recognize that I have done nothing wrong; rather, I made full, exuberant use of my original hips. They have served me well and continue to support me, despite their weakened, rickety state.

So now it is my turn to support them. Throughout each day, I applaud and thank them. Come morn, pre-dawn, upon first wake, I lay my hands on them and pray sweet gratitude into them as I bid a loving adieu. I am mourning their loss, marveling at their past bounty, and preparing the ground for their replacement. Out of their loss will come a fresh start, one that I will heed with newfound wisdom and awe. 

Cheers to what was, and what will be.

’Til tomorrow…

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