Don't Just Do Something, Sit There!
It has been two weeks since I broke my ankle. The pain has subsided a great deal; now, I would characterize the feelings as merely ‘serious discomfort,’ but I can sense a quick dissipation of the remainder of the hurting. I am not so obsessed with my pain—well, at least my physical ailment. And so I have had some time to notice some other significant changes.
As I have focused less on the pain, as it has intruded less on my consciousness, I have begun to maneuver about the world with greater facility. Suddenly, I discover myself thinking of myself as a man on crutches, rather than as a man temporarily incapacitated by them. That is, these iron supports have become integral to my thinking: I organize my movements by my facility with the crutches; they are constantly by my side. And I am not a man who runs; I am a man who walks with crutches. But I am an active man, crutches notwithstanding.
And I have begun to learn about and to understand rest. Oh, I am still active and neurotic—it is 10:00 p.m. and I know where my children are—they are yet waiting for me to help them with their homework. I have read and commented upon student papers this evening, I have practiced my reading in Megillot Ester for Purim this week; I have thought about the books I should read and the projects I should begin. I have corrected Anna Rose’s math problems and edited Emma’s paper. I have tried to stay seated. I have called my friend Mitchell and tried to schedule another taxi ride to work tomorrow in his BMW. He is refusing to return my phone messages.
But I don’t have to wonder when I am going to run during the day; I don’t feel tired from running miles on the roads; I do not have to arise early to get in the runs before a day of meetings begins. Hell, I don’t even have to attend the meetings if they are too far to hobble. I have the time to plan other activities, like reading and writing and editing the Journal of the American Association for the Advancement of Curriculum Studies, and edit student papers, and talk on the phone with friends about personal and intellectual matters, and discover that I still have time left at the end of the day to sit here and do my blog. This forced cessation of movement has been a moment of insight and renewed activity.
I am an almost normal man on crutches.
As I have focused less on the pain, as it has intruded less on my consciousness, I have begun to maneuver about the world with greater facility. Suddenly, I discover myself thinking of myself as a man on crutches, rather than as a man temporarily incapacitated by them. That is, these iron supports have become integral to my thinking: I organize my movements by my facility with the crutches; they are constantly by my side. And I am not a man who runs; I am a man who walks with crutches. But I am an active man, crutches notwithstanding.
And I have begun to learn about and to understand rest. Oh, I am still active and neurotic—it is 10:00 p.m. and I know where my children are—they are yet waiting for me to help them with their homework. I have read and commented upon student papers this evening, I have practiced my reading in Megillot Ester for Purim this week; I have thought about the books I should read and the projects I should begin. I have corrected Anna Rose’s math problems and edited Emma’s paper. I have tried to stay seated. I have called my friend Mitchell and tried to schedule another taxi ride to work tomorrow in his BMW. He is refusing to return my phone messages.
But I don’t have to wonder when I am going to run during the day; I don’t feel tired from running miles on the roads; I do not have to arise early to get in the runs before a day of meetings begins. Hell, I don’t even have to attend the meetings if they are too far to hobble. I have the time to plan other activities, like reading and writing and editing the Journal of the American Association for the Advancement of Curriculum Studies, and edit student papers, and talk on the phone with friends about personal and intellectual matters, and discover that I still have time left at the end of the day to sit here and do my blog. This forced cessation of movement has been a moment of insight and renewed activity.
I am an almost normal man on crutches.
posted by Alan A. Block at 10:12 PM
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