This body has carried me uphill, pushing with every muscle against the slope, moving slowly forward, this heart beating fast, close to bursting, and these thighs burning with the effort.
This same body has carried me, as if there were springs on the soles of these feet, flying over stones and gravel, advancing over great spans of land with the breeze cooling the moisture on this forehead.
This same body has floated in the gentle current of cool waters, these arms drifting alongside it, and this head lolling, half-submerged.
How differently I remember, in my cells, the energy of those endeavors: pushing against my limits, being lifted by my own muscles, and allowing myself to be taken at whim.
What great fortune that memory is at this moment, when I can ask myself, which am I engaging at this moment?
And what great fortune to remember that it is my choice which I engage.