Creaking noises echo through the hallways as I descend the wooden staircase in my mother's 1920s house—the sound of the old wood loud in my ears. But it's not the sighs of a beloved, aging building that I hear. No, it's the crunching, cracking, and grinding of my knees as I descend step by step, holding onto the railing. I'm only 32 years old, and it's been 14 years since I was diagnosed—incorrectly, I now suspect—with bursitis in my knees.

I have many physical ailments that I could complain about: bad hips, chronic migraines, constant pain in my shoulders. It's so easy to blame your own body when it doesn't seem to function the way you want it to. There was a time when I practiced yoga twice a day, taught classes, and lifted almost twice my body weight. I could hold a headstand on a moving paddleboard, hike through Yosemite, and hold a note for an impressively long time. But between massive setbacks from COVID-related ME/CFS (myalgic encephalomyelitis/chronic fatigue syndrome), mysterious joint problems since my youth, and the natural aging process, a lot has changed.

But all the things my body struggles with are offset by countless abilities that it still gives me. I consciously choose to focus on what I can do and to be grateful for the wonderful life my body allows me to live. Maybe if I loved it a little more, it would love me back a little too
.

Erika and I have written an ode to our physical forms together—in the hope that it will inspire you too to embrace and appreciate everything your body allows you to do, whether in motion or at rest.

I am grateful to my eyes for the gift of sight. They open up the world to me with all its wonders: a flower blooming in the first light of dawn, the vastness of the ocean, the mischievous grin of my younger sibling. Thank you for allowing me to see.

I am grateful for the gift of my voice. It allows me to express the nuances of life through words and intonation. Thank you for my voice—even when it is tired and hoarse after long days of teaching.

I don't take it for granted that I have two feet to carry me through life: they keep me balanced, cushion every step, turn me when I change direction, and adapt to uneven ground. Thank you for keeping me stable.

My hands are my tools for teaching and interacting with other people. I am grateful for the gift of touch—in teaching, in the perception of my own body, and in my interactions with others. Thank you for the ability to feel with my hands.

I marvel at the taste buds on my tongue, which trigger a mosaic of sensations with every bite: comforting sweetness, electrifying acidity, invigorating spiciness, and many other facets. Thank you for the complexity of taste.

I am grateful for the resilience of my soft tissue. As we age, the little cracking and crunching noises increase, and without the supple, elastic properties of our muscles and tendons, we would stiffen much more quickly. Thank you for allowing me to move my body consciously—and for the healing wisdom and nourishing power that Pilates and daily exercise give my tissues
.

My liver—this biological filter system fascinates me. It produces energy, regulates blood sugar, synthesizes cholesterol, detoxifies naturally, and stores essential vitamins. Honestly, what can't it do? Thank you for keeping me healthy.

Silence and breathing form a powerful "double pack" for our nervous system. I am incredibly grateful to be able to experience a few minutes of silence every day. Even short moments can change perspectives, lift your mood, reduce stress, and so much more.

"Being able to stay focused for longer than 20 minutes. Not looking at your phone. Not switching tabs. Not needing background noise. Just you and a task. It used to be normal. Today, it's a superpower. While everyone's attention is fragmented into 30-second snippets, the
future belongs to those who can think deeply for an hour. Protect your focus as if your life depended on it."
~ Scott Clary

All this is just a small glimpse of how amazing our bodies are, not only allowing us to live, but to experience life in all its facets. It is a wonderful, almost magical system—technically impressive and at the same time capable of allowing us to create art, experience relationships, and embark on adventures. So, the next time you hear yourself saying, "Stupid knees," think instead about how hard they work and all the other parts of your body that work reliably for you every day.