I never really noticed how much of my religion is physical until I couldn’t do it anymore.
I broke my leg and possibly did some tendon/ligament damage in the knee — unknown at this point — over a week ago. On July 4th, ironically — there is no freedom in this situation. There’s a whole huge story about it, but that’s not the point here. The point is, I broke my leg, and now what I am able to do, relatively speaking, is nothing.
Every day I was pouring coffee or water for Hestia. Every day I gave Her offerings. That has ceased since the 4th.
It wasn’t much, sure, but it was the building blocks to a greater, more regular practice. It was the bones of my religious embodiment.
Now, my life consists of immobilizer, hours on end in the recliner, crutches, short jaunts to the bathroom, and not much else. Religion has been pushed from its residence in my tangible life up into my brain. I am forced to find ways of connecting, practicing, without any of my tools.
Save my mala. I grabbed it from my room on one of my jaunts out of the recliner on crutches. The Chenrezig meditation is one I definitely can do, even if I’m not sitting cross-legged. (No telling when that will even be possible again, or if.)
I hope this might be good for me. I’ve already fielded a lightbulb or two. Perhaps being stuck doing nothing physically will make me have some epiphanies mentally — and hopefully I can put them into practice when I’m able to walk again.
(Which isn’t to say I’m happy about the broken leg — I emphatically am not — but I am trying to find some small comfort, some small silver lining to what is otherwise a very shitty turn of events.)