I didn’t bend over right away to tie my laces.

I finished unloading my basket and quickly tried to calculate the damages, i.e., my bill. I started making the cash or credit decision and handed the bagger my reusable tote bag, keen to not use another unnecessary petroleum product or kill another tree. What route would I take walking home? My brain kept on humming with the next, and then the next, and then the next decision I anticipated having to make.

Why didn’t I just tie my shoe? Did I want to avoid holding up the line? Was I embarrassed by the thought of making other people wait for me? Was I too lazy to bend over? Was I just plain annoyed that my safety needs were inconvenient?

I may have felt the shoe lace on my left shoe loosening up a little around aisle three, but I spend so little time really noticing how my body feels at any given time, any impression this sensation may have made lost my attention pretty quickly. How do my clothes feel right now? Tight, scratchy, soothing, warm? The chair I’m sitting on — do I feel supported? Are my feet touching the ground? How often do I ask myself, “What can I do right now to be more comfortable – in my body?”

After I paid for my groceries, sure to stay a few steps clear of the exit, I placed my bag down and tied both my shoes.

There’s a part of me, like most people I suspect, that needs to be forced into action. I also have over fifty years experience of living in my head and not thinking about my body much (except for those undeniably in-the-body events: great sex, a big meal, sunburn).

I want to feel that my mind and body are more fully integrated. Standing safe and sure in the world can help me feel similarly about how I make decisions. Tying my shoes is no small thing.