Yesterday, I came back from taking the proctors to dinner. I wasn’t really thinking, but just started up the stairs to my apartment. On the third or fourth step, the stairway gave way beneath me. There was a tremendous clatter, and the treads of the stairs rushed up to meet me. Something banged into my knee, and I slid face-downwards about three or four stairs. A sharp object grazed against my right pinky finger.
It took me a few moments to get my bearings. I’d fallen. My downstairs neighbor had returned a broiling pan. She’d figured I’d see it when I came into the apartment and went up the stairs. Of course, seeing the broiling pan would have required me to turn on the light in the stairwell, which I hadn’t done.
The astonishing thing was how solidly and how thoroughly planted my left foot was on the ‘stair’. Every part of my body registered that I was going upstairs as easily and normally as possible. Yet this step onto a slippery, unbalanced broiling pan registered as a true step, but wasn’t.
Some Reiki and some stretching this morning, along with some tai chi, seems to be taking care of any lingered stiffness and soreness. Right when it happened, I was terrified that I’d broken something. This morning, all seems to be well. It’s a testament to the the ability of our bodies to heal and recover. Yet it’s also a reminder that our senses can be downright wrong.