As I write this, I imagine there are women running around getting pedicures and bikini waxes and men filling candy stores in droves. And the frugal and philosophical sorts making a big deal of not celebrating. And the people in dead marriages not knowing what the hell to do with the whole red and pink extravaganza.
I am sitting home with my left knee in a brace, crutches next to me, letting a sprain heal. My peek at Louise Hay’s chart that relates a physical problem to a probable underlying cause tells me the knee is about this — “Stubborn ego and pride. Inability to bend. Fear. Inflexibility. Won’t give in.” Even the fact that it’s the left side of the body is meaningful — “Represents receptivity, taking in, feminine energy, women, the mother.”
Hay’s suggested new thought patterns with relation to both are:
~ Forgiveness. Understanding. Compassion. I bend and flow with ease, all is well.
~ My feminine energy is beautifully balanced.
Before even reading this today, I felt this happening within myself. I’ve been buoyed with love since injuring myself on Friday — one friend dropping off a prescription, another picking it up, yet another bringing DVDs to pass the time better, others calling and stopping in. It is heady to be so cared for at a time when I am in unknown territory. I was never an athlete (but, ironically, as a sports writer saw many go through it), so I find this time very scary and the control freak that lives in me is cursing up a storm.
Yet at base I am calm. Grateful. And, oh yeah, wondering why there is no lover this year. I kind of know. And I’m not in a spin about it or anguished in any way. This is a serene Valentine’s Day. I can’t leave the house. It is me and my thoughts.
What I found myself thinking this morning is how several of my friends are adamant that I get back into the online dating world. Put myself “out there” so to speak. My gut says no. You know why? It finally dawned on me today.
I put myself “out there” week in and week out. You see this post you’re reading? This is bare Nancy. My picture is on the site. Ninety five percent of my freakin’ thoughts, fears, joys, philosophies, rants and musings are “out there.” Gentlemen, really, this is one big, fat personal ad. Read it and cringe or read it and yearn for more. Your choice. Trying to keep my identity “hidden” via some clever hot user name requires more energy than I care to expend in that arena. I am very much alive and engaged in life. I’m a little bit nuts. Guys seem to dig my hair and the fact that I really listen.
This morning I woke to a “Happy Valentine’s Day” phone call from a man I love very much. We aren’t a couple and we won’t be (see roughly 8,000 previous posts for backstory). But as we spoke I felt that calm I described earlier in this post. The forgiveness, the compassion, the bending. I needed to touch base with my own humanity and talking to him was like a mirror and a direct route into that.
So it’s OK that this Valentine’s Day my leg will be spent propped up on a pillow that’s covered in a fabulous red Egyptian cotton pillow case. I’d sure rather be putting those sheets to another use, but hey, maybe next year.