Life with altered body sense echoes a hilarious metaphor that Paul (the sometimes-irascible apostle) lobbed at a dysfunctional faith-based group in the ancient city of Corinth:

“If the foot should say, ‘…I do not belong to the body,’ it would not for that reason cease to be a part of the body.” (I Corinthians 12:15)

My “dinged” cerebellum sometimes acts as if the foot had posted a message to that effect, especially when I sit still.

My eyes tell me otherwise: “It’s still there, Dennis.”

I must then remind the foot that the body, of which it remains a supportive part, is about to travel, and that break time is over.

A simple “Hello” usually does the job, but I’m still obliged to mind my steps if I want to get where I’m going.

When the Corinthians screwed up a second time, Paul urged them to “…Walk by faith, not by sight.” (II Corinthians 5:7)

Yes, I get it, but I still have to watch my steps.

Author Philip Simmons lived with Lou Gehrig’s disease far longer than his doctors told him he could.

“…I did some thinking about the expression … ‘mind your step,’ he wrote in his book Learning to Fall: The Blessings of an Imperfect Life.

“I thought about the Buddhist practice of walking meditation in which one becomes fully mindful of each step placed upon the earth. One of the blessings of my current stumbling condition is that I must practice this meditation continually, becoming mindful where I once was heedless.

“To walk upright upon the earth – what a blessing!”

An occasional fall stands in for my spiritual guide, like a Zen master who whacks students now and then to call them to mindfulness.

“Pay attention!”

Each footfall tells me I am paying attention.

“Walk by sight!”