Last night as I stood up for bed after many, many, MANY hours hunched over books and my laptop I was reminded of something: muscle atrophy. The simple act of standing and stretching made my muscles sing for joy and reminded me that although I may live primarily in my head at the moment, I am in fact made of muscles, ligaments and blood.

I lie on my bed, flat on my back and made a conscious effort to reconnect with the individual pieces of my body. I started at my toes. I curled them and flexed my feet, attempting to feel each muscle as it pulled and released. Then my legs, raising them, lowering them. Knees. Thighs. Arching my back, stretching the muscles that have only recently attempted to keep me from falling over in my desk chair. For the first time in a quite a while I allowed myself to be aware of the small miracle of the body, something we take for granted every day.

I stretched and rolled and folded and squeezed and breathed deeply and it was wonderful.