This week, a strained back confined me to bed for a few days where even the simple act of standing became a monumental task. As I laid there watching Netflix, I found myself envying the characters' casual movements - their ability to spring up, twist, and turn without wincing. It is silly, but I silently resented them for not appreciating what they had, the ability to move.
Confucius said: "A healthy man wants a thousand things, a sick man only wants one." When pain becomes your constant companion, it has a peculiar way of eviscerating desires that once felt so important, replaced by the singular wish to return to normalcy.
Soon enough, I'll be among the healthy again, my thoughts drifting back to my thousand wants. Part of me wishes I could bottle this moment of clarity - this acute awareness of how precious basic mobility is. But that's not how we're built. We're designed to forget, to move forward, and want more. Perhaps the best we can do is occasionally remind ourselves that what we take for granted today might be tomorrow's singular wish and be grateful for it.
