Personal Story: The lens of playfulness, rather than struggle

This morning, like many mornings these days, I wake up, get going, and head out for my walk. Once again, I find myself in a body offering reminders of its aging. There’s a kind of achiness in my ribs. My right foot carries its usual morning discomforts. I’m not particularly energetic, but so far, it’s been a good morning with myself. I’m not speaking in negative terms.

I’m careful with my movement, but I’m not making myself bad or wrong for what I feel. I’m not adding struggle to the sensations in my body. Instead, as is my practice these days, I approach it all with kindness and curiosity. I look inward and say, Oh, you again. I like you. How would you like to play today?

This body—this remarkable body—has done a great job for many years. It gets me through my days, does wonderful things for others, and every night, it cares for itself while I sleep. There’s so much caretaking to do, so much repair work happening overnight, that sometimes it wakes up feeling a bit exhausted from all its efforts.

So, I say thank you.

It’s a beautiful morning, which lifts my spirits. I’m dressed well for the weather, which adds to my comfort. I breathe, and my breathing feels fine.

Because I’d like to feel a little more liveliness in my body, I shorten my steps and pick up the tempo slightly. Over the years, I’ve learned that gradually quickening my pace—without pushing the range of motion—helps build a sense of aliveness throughout my body. Focusing on a bouncy, up-and-down quality as I walk reminds me of times when I felt joyful and light. I am reminded of the little children who bounce, wiggle, and squeal with delight as they play, climb trees, and run through fields. They find joy in discovering the new powers and possibilities in their bodies.

And once again, I let my inner child play in the jungle gym of my current body.

I’ve just turned 74. As I take these quick, bouncy steps today, I feel much younger. That delights me. Physiologically, the quicker steps are doing good work too. They pump a neurochemistry of joy, pleasure, and curiosity through me, helping my tissues flow more easily, coordinate more smoothly.

And perhaps most importantly, this helps my nervous system experience the moment through the lens of playfulness, rather than struggle.