I Shall Always Love a Purple Iris: On Persistence and Care

Tuesday, September 27–Autumn Invitations: A 21-Day Daily Writing Journey — Day 6

I am participating in a 21-Day Daily Writing Journey. You can learn more and join in at anytime here:

Today, my PT and I were talking about the morning routines we engaged in during the lockdown time of the pandemic.

She told me how she and her fiance made a big greasy breakfast each morning, that even though their fried eggs and onions stunk up the place, it was the one thing that motivated them to get out of bed despite the world being awful.

I told her how I walked forty minutes each morning to the local cafe and back, and then when I came home, I did an hour yoga before I started my day. I was reflecting on how, when COVID first came into our consciousness and lockdown was imminent, I realized that my mental health was going to be challenged, and so I committed to moving, breathing, and meditating as much as I could. Oddly enough, despite the enormous amount of stress I was under, my body felt better than ever — I had no hip pain for the first time in my life.

I’ve previously written about how, when we returned to “normal” last year, I wasn’t able to stay with this routine — in fact, most physical activity lost priority — and my body started to revolt. Last year was my back and left hip — this year it’s my right knee. Are they related? We’ll never know (or at least, that’s what my orthopedic specialist and PT say.)

From an energetic perspective, my body is clearly talking to me, reminding me that a) daily moving, breathing, and meditating are non-negotiables and b) that I need to be kind to myself and perhaps rest a bit more. This is first chakra work — the element of earth, the feet and legs, the pelvis, lower back and lower spine; this is the work of foundation, grounding, and strength; this is the work of finding safety and courage, of letting go of fear.

Last week, during a craniosacral session led by my dear friend, I felt this wave of relief/ release move from my shoulders through my sternum down through my torso and my legs. It was, simply put, a crazy feeling — it was like I became aware of the extra responsibilities and pressures I’ve been carrying on my shoulders — and her gentle touch and care gave my permission to release it all, even if for a moment.

It felt so good.

I was also sharing with my PT today that I am terribly afraid of injuring my knee again. When I walk, I feel like Bambi (except I don’t have the gift of youth to prop me back up quite so easily.) My muscles are weak, my range of motion limited and painful if I push too hard, my knee constantly feels like it’s going to buckle. It’s hard to fathom that just over a year ago t I was feeling stronger than ever, and it’s even more difficult to imagine that I’ll ever get to a similar place again.

This is a long road that I’m on now, but persistence — and patience — is my only choice.

Since the week after my surgery last month, I have committed to a new morning routine, one that I hope to keep even after I am done with this particular road.

After I wake up and get out of bed (slowly and carefully), I make my way to the living room, where I open the curtains and meditate for about ten minutes — I use this time to stretch and breathe and sit silently. After I say good morning to the cat, I prepare my little breakfast of toast and coconut water, and while I eat I read a chapter of a book, usually one that is focused on psychology, philosophy, or spirituality. (Currently, I am reading Dr. Nicole LaPera’s How to Do the Work, which I HIGHLY recommend.)

Then the cat and I adjourn to her room, where I do my hip and knee exercises on the bed. This takes about 20–30 minutes, and then I return to the living room where I track the state of my body/mind/spirit in the beautiful Cycles Journal. I also pull a tarot card and journal about it there, too.

After all of this, I turn my attention to my planner, and I start to think about the tasks of the day. It’s only at this point that I finally turn on my phone.

(This has been a complete game changer. I used to have the habit of going straight to my phone first thing — now I don’t even touch it for more than an hour after opening my eyes.)

The routine might vary here and there depending on the day, but because I’ve been taking the time to ground myself in my body before engaging with the larger world, I find that I can receive the complications/ stressors/ good or bad news/ etc. with much more presence and grace.

The rest of my days have been spent continuing to work on my knee — PT sessions, walks with breaks, more exercises, resting from the movement, icing, etc. Soon, my medical leave will be over, and I’ll be back at work, and I won’t have the opportunity to spend this time paying close attention to my body.

But the care itself must remain a non-negotiable — the morning routine, the gentle exercises throughout the day, the walks (I do believe I’ll get back to my walks), AND the breaks — they have to happen.

I know this now.

According to this student guide that offers a psychological definition of persistence:

Persistence, as used in psychology, refers to a personality trait that causes a person to persevere in a task despite obstacles or frustrations rather than simply giving up. This trait, often associated with stubbornness and perfectionism, is a prime ingredient in success in many pursuits such as athletics, academics, business, etc. One common example of this is seen in sports where a player continues to play the game despite injuries, rather than abandon the game and their teammates.

I hate the second part of this definition.

I most certainly do not want to lean into the stubbornness or perfectionism — heaven knows, I’m over that kind of life energy and have been for a long time.

Nor do I want to continue to play the game despite injuries.

Not at all. Been there, done that. Thank you very much.

When we were in Cambria last summer, I saw these words etched into a wooden bench: “I SHALL ALWAYS LOVE A PURPLE IRIS.”

I love the persistence of this — the insistence and unwavering dedication to love — balanced by the gentility of the flower itself.

This is how I want my persistence to be.

Like a gentle proclamation permanently etched into an oceanside bench.

A little about me:

M.A. English// M.S. Kinesiology, Integrative Wellness. Contemplative teacher & writer. Chronic pain yields chronic hope.

Read more (thank you!):

Contemplative Practices Integrative Wellness Holistic Education There Are Seasons in L.A.

Let’s connect:

IG, YouTube, or at katherinekottaras.com

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