I’ve been stretching lately. Literally stretching. A few weeks ago I hurt my back pretty bad and have been in a good amount of pain that wasn’t going away. Even more frustrating is that I don’t know exactly how it happened and nothing seemed to be helping. Through my career in construction I’ve been injured countless times. That’s just par for the course. But chronic pain eats away at you like nothing else.
What was even more frustrating was the x-rays come back clear and tests show nothing and yet the pain persists. So my personal trainer wife and my brilliant doc both started to suspect that perhaps it wasn’t the injury itself anymore but the stiffness and inflexibility the injury left behind. And they were right. So I’ve been stretching myself like I haven’t done in quite a while and almost miraculously the pain began to abate.
I’ve recently learned about a pair of muscles in the pelvis called the piriformis that I honestly knew nothing about. They are buried deep in your hip. You can’t massage them or even reach them and they’re just a few inches long, but the special thing about these little guys is that the sciatic nerve runs right under them before it heads down your leg. And if they become too tight, they can pinch that nerve and simulate all the painfully chronic symptoms of a bad back, without you actually having a bad back. You can’t massage them, but you can stretch them. So I did, I am, everyday, and today I’m sitting here in this chair pain-free.
Ok, yes I’m going to make a metaphor out of it all. The older I get the harder it is to remain flexible—both in my body and in my soul. By the time you’re my age you’ve seen your share of emotional injuries. They are unavoidable. But not unlike my “bad back,” it’s almost never the injury itself which does the most harm. In the act of self-preservation its how we recoil and stiffen against the hurt that we often don’t recover from.
Maybe it’s because every day we’re bombarded in the news with one example after another of how polarized our culture is. Maybe it’s all the hate crimes and the mass shootings and political cowardice to do anything substantive about them. Maybe it’s because I know we are all wrestling with and resisting, in one way or another, the unavoidable changes that have to be made in order for us all to move forward. Or maybe it’s just my own desire to remain present and relevant and useful and to resist this thing in me that wants to stop growing, stop stretching, and bake the clay of my heart into a hardened brittle lump. Maybe it’s all of these things, but if I had one prayer for all of us right now it would be for everyone to keep stretching.
You know, the old saying is wrong, you CAN teach an old dog new tricks. It’s just easier not to. Stretching burns. Stretching is uncomfortable. Stretching hurts. That’s why we don’t want to do it. But the pain of a good stretch, the pain of real growth, is nothing compared to the pain of being locked up and immovable.
Don’t want to stretch or grow? Alright, you mean old bastard, stay that way. Just know this, you’re not helping. And I have a hunch that if we all began to embrace the pain of being stretched, just a little, day by day, beyond our old comfort zones, that a whole lot of other pain would disappear.
Who knows? If I stretch a little more, and you stretch a little more, we might even eventually be able to reach each other and connect. And if that happened, we could even entertain the idea of working together to build ourselves a beautiful life.