I had the honor of guest blogging. Check it out at www.lifewithdystonia.com/

There are plenty of moments with this disease that leave me cold – the ‘off’ times, the exhaustion that can come unannounced, deciding on a menu item based on its protein content and/or whether I’ll need to use a knife to eat it. And then there are moments filled with warmth. The sharing and caring that took place at the Spirited Movement retreat held just such moments.

Thank you for your stories, from mountain peaks to a love of the sea. I heard such heart behind each, such hope. On days with few breaks in the rain, when I can feel the weight of the overcast sky in my body and my spirit, I can still reach up in my morning yoga routine. Beyond the clouds is that heart and hope, that warmth that reminds me that the sun is always there. Is it any surprise that it shone so brightly at the end of the retreat?

The entrance to the yoga studio is around the back. A gate leads from a narrow, dimly lit tarred walkway to a bright sculpted garden by the door. Spiky iris, feathery poppy, and the red stalks that will be peonies sprout through the soil, lovingly tended. It’s hard not to smile on my way in to class.

I pass the plot of healthy spring plants on my way back down that path. Something in the shadows catches my eye. Springing forth not from loam but from pavement, surrounded by gray, is a lone flower. It’s determination makes me smile all the way into my heart, where a haiku forms.

A blue hyacinth
Pokes through an asphalt alley
Reaching toward the light

On my next visit to the studio, I won’t hurry toward the lush, sunny garden in back any more. I ease past what is a reminder that when I feel I’ve been dealt tar and shadows with this PD, may I bloom with the same strength and grace as the blue hyacinth.