Seventy Five Degrees, and a Pair of Chopsticks... A Healing Journey Update...

This morning in physical therapy, I raised my left arm to seventy five degrees. Six weeks ago that same arm was secured in a sling, freshly anchored back to bone, wrapped in uncertainty and humbled by limitation.

Today it lifts. Not gracefully. Not without effort. But honestly. The pain has shifted.

It no longer feels like something is wrong inside of me. It feels like muscles waking up and remembering their assignments. Even the awareness near my collarbone feels less like injury and more like construction.

There was a brief moment today, in physical therapy, where I knew I had not honored my stretches at home as faithfully as I could have. That awareness landed for a second. I felt it. Then it softened. Healing is not punishment. It is participation. I have been moving more this week without the sling, letting the arm swing naturally when I walk, reaching slowly, without always bracing, as if expecting pain. Something inside me is beginning to trust again. That trust feels sacred.

Victoria was in Arizona gathering new crystals for the center, expanding the energy of Blue Feather in the way only she can. I picked up Thai food so I could bring dinner home for our reunion. Later, sitting at the table table, I found myself eating pad thai with chopsticks in my left hand. There was a quiet smile in that moment. Six weeks ago I was relearning how to brush my teeth with my right hand. Tonight I was lifting noodles with steadiness. It did not feel dramatic. It felt earned.

When I think back to the day of surgery, I feel a swell of gratitude that still humbles me. Our dear friends... Michelle, who found out I was having the surgery, came in on her scheduled day off to make sure I had the right team and watched over me like an earth angel.

She did not have to do that. She chose to.

Matt, Michelle's husband, sat with Victoria through the procedure so she did not sit alone in that waiting room. That kind of presence changes a man. It teaches you what friendship really looks like when the body is vulnerable and the outcome is not yet known.

I bless them both for their grace and service to Victoria and myself. And to all those who held energy for us during and after, Thank you, and Bless you. I bless every nurse, technician, and steady hand that surrounded me that day. I bless the surgeon whose skill became the starting line of this rebuilding. Healing did not begin in physical therapy. It began in trust. It began in surrender. It began in the willingness to receive care.

There is something deeply spiritual about recovery. The body does not rush. It does not negotiate with ego. It simply responds to alignment.

Seventy five degrees is not just a number. It is evidence that what was once torn can be reattached. That what was once guarded can soften. That what was once restricted can begin to rise again.

Tonight, that rise looked like chopsticks in my left hand and my wife back home with new crystals ready to infuse the center with fresh energy. It felt homecoming. It felt Holy. And I am learning that sometimes those two things are one and the same... Blessings, Love and Light...