My old cat, Cally injured her knee. Truthfully, I didn't even know cats had knees until this happened. She could not walk. She could not get up to eat. She made small mewing noises that sounded like pain. She lay in a "nest" of blankets on the floor until the vet could fit her in.
I sat by her, talking and petting and waiting for the vet to call back when I noticed something. She may not have been able to get up on her feet, but she stretched her front legs anyway.
She purred when I pet her.
She rested almost a whole day and for the briefest of moments, pulled herself up, stretched her back and lay back down.
Hours later, she stood again, walked two feet to her food dish (despite the one we put by her nest), ate a couple bites, limped back and lay down.
Bit by bit, Cally did what felt right. She listened to her body. She stretched in ways she could, enjoyed the company of a warm hand, and did only what she could. It was a slow process. Little bit by little bit. She healed quicker than the vet had expected.
I wondered what would it be like if we as humans listened that closely to what we needed. If we honored our pain, our limitations and had patience with ourselves to move at a mindful pace. So often we push through, full of "should" and "ought to", only to backtrack our own healing. Or we lay down, curl on our sides and claim defeat, not staying in touch with that which is still strong, still peaceful within us.
What would happen if, when life felt painful, we moved like Cally honoring, patient, listening? How long would the pain last? Might be worth a try next time.
* Cally has made a full recovery.
