I read poetry every morning. It's Tibetan, written hundreds of years ago. The translation gets rough in places, but today's came through clear.
It compared us to trees. A living, growing tree is soft and flexible. A dying tree goes hard and brittle. Just like us, when we're young, we bend and are spry. As we age, we stiffen.
The poem says we can stay soft and flexible far longer than we think, if we practice soft and flexible things. Move, and the body stays supple. Stop moving, and it turns static, then hard, then brittle.
So that was the message this morning. Stretch more, swim more, walk more, move however your body lets you. The tree that bends is the tree that's still alive.
