It paid to obey the chiropractor: ice, heat, the yoga positions where the body resembles furniture folded for storage. Also paid to visit the doctor and acquire chemical assistance of modern medicine. The sciatica appears to have changed its mind, although I hesitate to announce it too loudly in case it hears me. Like most lessons involving the body it is embarrassingly obvious. I keep the exercises. I watch incredible musicians age and somehow disconnect from the thing that once made them magnificent. Something unattended. Perhaps imagination has muscles too. Perhaps whatever made one dangerous at thirty requires maintenance at sixty. Perhaps curiosity needs stretching. You cannot live forever on the flexibility you once possessed, whether it belongs to your spine or your music.