Picking Myself Up With TCC

I decided to attend the Nebraska Teacher’s Conference and, as always, was looking forward to it. Prior to the conference, in late June, I was in my midtown Manhattan neighborhood. As I crossed West 57th Street, I saw a car making a quick left in my path, so I ran for it. I was wearing sandals with no backs and the next thing I knew, I was flat on my hands and knees in the street. Besides tar stains on my new linen pants, bad bruises on both knees and really raw palms that ached for three weeks afterwards, I congratulated myself on making it through the fall with no broken bones. There was inner chastisement that I had “allowed the heart fire to rise,” and then there was frustration when my investigation of the accident scene showed no uneven pavement to blame.

The fall continued to haunt me during the conference, but by the last day I felt free of its memory. I headed home with the intention of remaining more grounded and flexible. About two weeks after the conference I was playing tennis, and at one point I started running for an approach shot. The next thing I knew, I was on my hands and knees, but this time I felt pain in my hamstring.

The diagnosis of this fall was a bad second-degree strain; I could hardly walk. I felt like I had lost my center and was literally dragging my right leg. I began an inner dialogue about how I would get through this. Fortunately, with the help of acupuncture and physical therapy, I gently brought back my TCC practice. My personal goal was to do my daily TCC practice and eventually add Seijaku back to my life. I accomplished the goal in about seven weeks time and am practicing daily again. 

So what do my falls symbolize? I want to say that I have no idea and take the easy way out. But I suspect that I have been feeling out Justin’s words, “Our attitudes change and we become more like the bamboo rather than the oak.”

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