The brain carries deep memories of the body’s movement. I used to play basketball in my dreams, experience the release and joy of running up and down the court while my body was lying dormant in the night.

When people lose their vision, they come to rely more on their other senses. Hearing, smell, sensations of the skin can become more acute.

Perhaps a gift of physical limitations is that we have the opportunity to learn about our other senses. We also have the opportunity to pay attention to inner energy, our souls--that the power of the spirit may be independent of the body, may be limitless.

This morning, I practiced shintaido in the grey foggy field. I practiced the ‘gentle’ version--’gentle’ being a bit deceptive. What you learn to do is to let go of physical control and effort. You practice softening.

There are more action-oriented, very expressive classes. The sword work, the bo, the karate. In those classes, there would be surprising experiences. And the effort could be both challenging and intensely gratifying.

I guess this class was a receptive class. You first learned in effect to listen with your whole body. You didn’t move your arms, chest, abdomen--you let go of control. As though you were a seedling responding to sun, your body opened. As though the wind or ocean waves were pushing and pulling your legs. By the time your movement became active, it often didn’t feel intentional at all. The body moved effortlessly. More like an egoless conduit of energy. You became bigger, brighter than your body.

Awareness of classmates was enhanced. Often, as in other classes, movement synchronized, or became complementary with each other.

Of course my only classmates this morning were the birds. Still, this process I learned and practice continues to offer me both softened awareness and strength. I suspect that even as we age and lose physical capacity, this process will be possible, and will offer the intense awareness of aliveness and connection. I’m appreciative.