The discomfort of change

A few times recently, I've woken in the middle of the night with phantom pains. The pains recall an incident when I sprained my knee as a teenager.

The pain isn't severe but the feeling of dread, of having been damaged, comes back strongly. While the pain centres on the knee, it also comes with a more general feeling of unwellness. Strikingly, the muscle and tendon damage from decades ago is highlighted, so that I lie in the dark with a very precise picture in my mind of which parts of me were affected. This picture extends away from the knee both downwards into the calf muscles and upwards into the thigh muscles, the lower back, and the lower ribs. The image is a delicate tracery of fine lines going through me, showing exactly what was damaged that day.

While this kind of thing can be unsettling, I take it as a good sign. Something in my body-mind practice has reopened a part of me that had been shut in since the injury. That part is rediscovering it belongs to a whole, and is reconnecting with the rest of me. Those phantom pains are part of the process.

I've learned, in the years that I have practiced the Feldenkrais Method, to expect such bodily flashbacks. They presage a new range of movement in some part of myself.

This time, even though it was my knee that suffered most damage, it is my lower ribs that are relearning to move. The ribs must have held tight after the knee injury, to provide a sense of stability when the knee couldn't perform. But some ribs got stuck in that habit, and continued to hold, unnoticed, even after the knee had recovered.

So what's coming to light is a particular spot in my lower ribs which has just rediscovered mobility than it hasn't known in decades. As a result, my balance is better and my back doesn't get as sore. And, yes, I also have some unaccustomed muscle soreness in my leg - not surprising if I have changed how my lower ribs function. Everything has to adjust.

It can be tiring to go through this kind of change. There's discomfort, distraction, and the memory of pain. But it's also a positive and energy-giving experience. Something deep inside knows that this process will lead to greater balance and freedom. Once a part of me discovers new freedom it is almost impossible to go back to my old way of moving, even if the new way is unfamiliar at first and causes muscle pain for a while until my system adjusts. And the embodied knowledge that I am changing in a tangible way is in itself exhilarating.

Change is a process. It's not like we flip a switch and suddenly have a new ability, or let go an old injury all at once. It takes time. If we pay attention and notice ourself, we are reminded that we are not fixed beings. We can be better tomorrow than we are today.

How do you experience change in yourself? Please leave a comment.