For the past few months, my right knee has been increasingly swollen. It wasn’t painful and I had full range of motion, so I didn’t think it was a big deal. I tried typical self-remedies like ice and elevation, but the swelling only continued to increase.
By the end of February, it was looking pretty bad, and the swelling was starting to interfere with my range of motion. Enough people I respect made me sufficiently nervous about it that I finally went to a doctor.
The doctor took one look at the knee and said he would have to drain it.
I didn’t flinch when the doctor stuck the needle into my knee. But then he told me that I would have to keep my knee immobilized for 2 weeks in order to give my knee a chance to fully heal, and I felt the tears well up.
The news was like a dagger to my soul.
This situation has reminded me of 3 important lessons that I teach often.
Lesson 1: Honor the Grief
The doctor’s instruction to immobilize my knee triggered an immediate wave of grief.
Movement and exercise isn’t just something I do; it’s a cornerstone of my identity.
I live by the philosophy that movement is medicine — not just for the body, but for the mind.
My daily workouts help my brain plug in so I can focus. I incorporate movement throughout my day.
The CrossFit Open, which was starting the next day, was off the table.
The list of movements I do that require me to bend my knee started running through my head. Squats. Lunges. Deadlifts. Child’s pose.
Even innocuous movements like laying on my back with my feet planted on the floor.
Beyond the Physical Pain
The knee hadn’t hurt me for months, but suddenly I was in pain. The pain wasn’t physical. It was emotional and mental.
I left the doctor’s office in tears, and spent the afternoon unable to focus as I navigated the stages of grief.
When the CrossFit Open workout was announced, I found myself contemplating how I could possibly do a workout of burpees, dumbbell hang cleans, and lunges, without bending my knee.
Honoring that grief was an important step to my healing.
Lesson 2: Everything is a Matter of Perspective
By the time I showed up to teach yoga that evening, I had cycled through the stages of grief and zoomed out to a wider perspective.
The knee is only one joint. And while it certainly impacts a lot of movements, the rest of my body is still capable of moving — and needs to move.
With my knee immobilized, I have the opportunity to work on foundational foot and ankle strength that I often find “too boring.” I have another leg to keep strong. And it’s a prime opportunity to strengthen my upper body.
I’m also going to finally befriend — and perhaps conquer — my great machine nemesis: the ski erg.
Of course, there’s also wisdom in embracing a little more rest and rethinking the flow of my days.
Lesson 3: The Law of Impermanence
The Law of Impermanence reminds us that everything is temporary. Markets rise and fall. Sports teams have winning streaks and losing streaks. Political regimes come into and out of power. Movements take root and then disappear.
People come into your life and leave. We move to new locations. We change jobs and careers.
In the language of astrology, everything is “just a transit.” Even Pluto, which spends decades in a sign of the zodiac, eventually moves forward to the next sign.
Having my knee immobilized is certainly not comfortable. It’s challenging to get into and out of the car, to sit and walk.
In the here-and-now, two weeks of immobilization feels like an eternity.
But in the bigger picture of a life, it’s a blip on the timeline. It hardly even registers.
No matter what you are going through in your life right now, or what we are experiencing on the collective level — whether you think it’s the best situation ever or the most painful — it’s temporary.
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