I don’t command my heart to beat
My heaving lungs I can’t control
The strength in fingers meant to grasp
A lover’s hand or icy glass
To cool a raging thirst in me
I do not question all these things
The thinker’s mind cannot perceive
The miracle of moving thus
To place a foot in front of me
And plunge, unthinking, into life
NOTES TO MYSELF:
Reading about the Centipede’s Dilemma made me recall a lesson from Tai Chi years ago. A centipede does not have to think about how to get its many legs to move at the right time; it just moves. My teacher told me that the body is similar; it knows how to move on its own. You don’t think about how much force is needed to lift a cup, or whether the shoulder or the elbow should move first to bring the cup to your lips. All of these things are a result of years of practice that they become second nature.
This is the miracle of practice, of movement. When the body is tired, it knows when to rest. When it is rested, it knows when to wake. There is no need to complicate matters. Let them be. Flow. Be like water, as Bruce Lee said. You’ll be surprised where the flow of life takes you.