coordination | Pujakins

Dead Branches and reflections 2

Growing up I was somewhat clumsy and awkward. I was always tall for my age—I stopped growing at the age of twelve and was even taller than most of the boys in my class, who soon outgrew me. My parents also thought I was careless. I wasn’t really, just lacking in experience. I also had poor proprioception. That word defines an actual sense: awareness of where one is in space and how much effort is being put out. I once embarrassed myself dreadfully when my best friend’s mother asked me to help her set the table, by pulling it completely out of the sideboard and dumping its contents on the floor.

While I outgrew the awkwardness and with the aid of yoga even became quite graceful, I still struggle with the proprioception. However I found that mindfulness helps greatly with that. Centering myself, slowing down, and practicing deliberate awareness when I am moving around or even pouring water from a pitcher into a glass, is a must. Over the years I have tried to make this a habit, like washing my hands with frequency, especially lately.

The flu season has made it vital to remember to wash my hands each time I return home, especially when I’ve been touching things like Grocery cart handles, restroom doorknobs and even counters or tabletops. The other day in a restaurant a woman near us was coughing with frequency into her hand as well as into the air around her. We are told that washing hands well is more effective than using sanitizers and better for our health.

I learned this the hard way. Last week I picked up a germ that invaded my sinuses and hit my right eye causing me great pain and rendering me unable to read for any length of time. As a result I have strongly resolved to wash my hands carefully not only when using any restroom but especially immediately upon arriving home. I hope to avoid not only the flu, but any other germs.

Resolutions are better kept when we have a reminder to do so, and a deliberate intention is well bolstered by any negative experience that happens when we haven’t. Hand washing is now an imperative for me, and while I regret the suffering and pain of my illness, I am grateful for the positive reinforcement of my intentions. Powerful reminders are not always pleasant, however they certainly are useful. Making lists helps too. Without a list my intentions, let alone whatever I have resolved to do may be forgotten.

Getting older has its good and its bad aspects. Becoming wiser by virtue of experience is helpful. Becoming more mindful as a result of that experience helps greatly also. On the other hand, becoming forgetful is a nuisance. However, my lists do help considerably. The trick is to remember to write things down and then also to look at the list. When I was a young parent in order to stay on top of things I had to outwit my children. Now instead in order to stay awake and aware I have to outwit myself.

I’m not sure why I was so uncoordinated as a child. Perhaps it was because I was tall for my age and my physical development had run ahead of my ability to manage it. I was fine riding a tricycle. Then came a two wheeled bike. Over and over again I fell off. It didn’t help that my bicycle seat was loose and kept wobbling, and that the sidewalks where I had to ride were bumpy. Once on the way to a friend’s I fell off and hurt my knee. A kind person stopped his car and brought me home. My parents thanked him, then after he left they scolded me for accepting a ride from a stranger. Perhaps they were right to do so, however I thought the man seemed nice, and I was scraped up and bloody and my knee was painful.

Even as an adult I had problems riding a bike. I’ve never known why it was so difficult for me when most people seem to have no problem doing that. I rode it to keep my children company until I finally twisted my front wheel, making my bike inoperable. I was secretly relieved. Skating too was difficult. I wanted to be able to glide over the ice, yet I had to be content with a few simple turns around the rink before my ankles became to painful to continue.

There are other things I always wanted to be able to do and never could, like run fast, or hit a tennis ball with accuracy. I had tennis lessons to no avail. The sailing lessons I took one year were a disaster. No one wanted me to crew with them because I kept getting my directions mixed up. School sports were a torment because I was so uncoordinated. It was difficult always being chosen last for any team regardless of the game being played. The people who were good at sports were always the popular one. In some respects my childhood was one long “wish I could.”

My hand-eye coordination seems lacking. Drawing presents another obstacle. I can draw what I might be looking at, and I enjoy sketching, but drawing from my imagination presents a problem. No matter how hard I try I can’t seem to transfer what I might envision to paper just the way I see it. And then when I manage to come up with something I like, try as I may I cannot reproduce what I have drawn so that it looks even remotely the same.

Do I sound like I am complaining? Perhaps I am. However, it is also true that there has been compensation for what I have I lacked. In my solitary childhood I read avidly and thus developed a large vocabulary. My vivid imagination helped me to write stories and poems and still does. Spending time outdoors by myself I learned to love nature and nature comforted me. Perhaps most important of all I developed compassion for those who are limited or unable to do as they wish. There are still things I wish I could do, however I recognize that they are not nearly as important as the things I can do, and for these I am grateful.