Category Archives: strength

sudden, immobilizing sadness …

is one of those emotions that catches me unawares.  When I least expect it, am most vulnerable to it, haven’t the strength to fight it; it strikes.  I don’t feel sadness everyday.  As a matter of fact, I rarely feel sad and yet …

there are moments.

Moments when it feels as though the whole of the world is upon my shoulders and my soul is stripped bare.

Then, out of the blue, a thunderstorm approaches.   I find myself on the back porch, tripod in place, waiting patiently for the the lightning; the strains of piano from my favorite music playlist, resounding through the darkness as the photographer in me readies for the beauty that seems to be displaying itself just for me ….

And then ….

much to my surprise and unexpected, heart-lifting joy …

the first lightning bugs of the season appear in their magnificent beauty.

I wonder, as I watch them flicker playfully among the trees and grass and rocks if they they know how much I have longed to see them.  How much I have missed them.

They are magical, as they blink and fade before my eyes.  I feel, at this moment, that they are here for the sole purpose to encourage me.  To give me hope and to lead me to a place that is full of light and beauty.

Do they know that I have been looking for them … waiting for them … wishing for them?

The lightning that encompasses the oncoming storm dims in importance as I find myself mesmerized by the display of mother nature’s incredible display of magnificence.

I am encouraged.

They encourage me.  I wonder if they know that … if they understand how much comfort they bring to me.

I wonder if they understand that I have been waiting for them, if they know how much they calm my overstimulated system, my aching heart, my yearning soul.

I can do this.

I can face that which paralyzes me … that which takes me back to a  desolate time when my heart shattered in my chest …. when time stood still.

We all have those things that bring us joy in the midst of sadness … friends who listen to our laments and judge us not.  We have them.

We often take for granted, at least I know I do …  take for granted that they will be there in our time of need, but we have them; and they are there, without fail, when we are vulnerable and struggling simply to breathe, to live, to move from one moment to the next …not to judge but only to hear our thoughts and fears.

No judgment.

No harshness.

No rebuke.

No unsolicited advice.

No condemnation.

Only understanding , often in silence, as we fight our demons.

I am thankful for the lightning bugs.

And I am thankful for the friends who tolerate me, even when I am intolerable.

I am blessed well beyond what I deserve.

Thank you, Lord, for the lightning bugs, for friends who understand me and for loving me even though I am, many times, unlovable.

I count my blessings and they are many.  While I am sorry that there are others who have stood in the rain, blinded by the sheer magnitude of the sorrow, they, as I have, have made it through the rain.

We are one, we are many and we are survivors in the midst of adversity, sorrow, death and pain.

We made it.

Amen.

It’s not easy …

to look over decisions that we’ve made, roads we have taken, choices we have labored over only to find that they weren’t the right decisions, were the wrong turns and were bad choices.  But it is a constant in our lives.  Not every crossroad we come to will have an outcome that is favorable.  Sometimes, the results can be downright devastating.

If the only person such things effected was ourselves, it wouldn’t, I suppose, matter, quite so much.  But our decisions, our outbursts, our tantrums, our misdirects … they, like a long, intricate line of dominoes, fall, one against another, starting a chain reaction that can last for years and through multiple lifetimes.  Purity and innocence can be taken away so quickly that it would seem as though they never existed.

I have a wealth of understanding on making mistakes and living with them; learning from them.  Some of my mistakes have hurt no one but myself, others have touched the people I love the most, causing pain that was never intended, hurt that, though time has surely layered with a cushion, can never, ever, be completely erased.

I understand pain and insecurity.  I have known joy and heartache with equal measure.  I have lain, curled in a ball while sobs wracked my body to the point that I feared my bones would break and didn’t care if they did.  I have known despair and felt the icy fingers of death claw at my mind.  I have thought long and hard about how easy it would be to simply drift away into nothingness where life could no longer kick me senseless.

It is because of these things that I have more understanding than I wish to, that I stand now, with my head up and my spirit intact.  Life did not break me.  It bent me, at times nearly beyond redemption, but it did not break me.  I look around and see others that have been bruised and bent themselves.  They weren’t broken either, but none of us came out of the fire unscathed.  None of us came away from it all whole, but full of holes that left room for the pain and suffering of others to fill.

Because of my broken road, I have found compassion, I have found empathy and I have found beauty that is so stunning that, at times, it nearly breaks my heart.  And along the path strewn with shards of brokenness, I have found others, stumbling along trying to find their way.  And through discouragement, faith and determination, I was encouraged.  We are all, in one way or another, broken and simply knowing that makes me feel less alone.

2-46

Matthew 12:20 ~ A bruised reed shall he not break, and smoking flax shall he not quench

An extra chromosome …

changed my life, as well as the lives of many, many others.  Five years ago, my youngest niece was born with Down’s Syndrome.  She was a tiny, fragile thing who looked as though she would break with the slightest touch.  Her fragility, however, was short lived.  Before we knew what hit us, Gracie was not only growing and thriving, but had managed to wrap everyone who met her around her sweet little finger.  The first time she smiled at me, tears filled my eyes.  The first time she called me Nini, I cried.  The first time she put those precious little arms around my neck and lay her head on my shoulder, I lost it completely.

tattoo_girlsEasterpics-163

The fact that Gracie has Down’s Syndrome is irrelevant to everyone who meets her.  Her charismatic personality and over-the-top laughter make it impossible to see anything but the beautiful spirit she exudes.  She laughs.  She loves.  She thrives.  She plays.  She cries.  She gets mad.  She is everything she’s supposed to be, but because of that little, bitty, extra chromosome, she is so much more.

CCPBC_creekbank-11-2

Just by being herself, she is an encourager.  It is simply not possible to be in Gracie’s presence and not feel a sense of love and acceptance.  It was evident from the start that she was one of God’s special gifts.  She is blessed in a way that makes her appear larger than life.  Her very being commands attention without ever saying a word and people migrate to her, surround her, find solace in her.  She is, without doubt or reservation, a formidable weapon against everything negative.

thegirls_easter-155

She possesses an innate ability to turn lives around with her genuineness.    She is guileless in everything she does, having no agenda or premeditation.  Her sense of self is unrivaled and her confidence unwavering;  that, in itself, is a testament to the strength and beauty that is part of what makes her who she is.  There are many things I would change in my life were I given the chance to do so.  Gracie is not one of them.

newdroid_8mp-3

March 21 is Down’s Syndrome Awareness Day and the purpose of this post is as much to help raise awareness as it is to sing the song of Gracie.    I am more than I was before she came into my life, but not nearly as much as I will be in another five years.  My life changed, for the better, the day she was born and I will never be the same.

To read Watching Gracie Grow, click on the photo below:

cabin_09252011-26

That cherished moment …

when the cloud that surrounds me, taking me perilously close to a state of chaotic madness, lunacy, insanity; call it what you will, lifts.  It is a bit like going through a thick, consuming fog bank, unable to see in front, behind or on either side, left with only the senses (which are already stretched to the breaking point), to navigate.  Then, at the moment when I have reached what I perceive to be the pinnacle of hurt and disillusionment , the fog dissipates and nothing but clear, wonderful skies, stretch into the distance.  These are the days I live for.

I am thankful for many things, but when the fog lifts and I realize I have cleared another hurdle … well, I am especially thankful for these times.  They aren’t easy, not for myself nor those who suffer along with me by simply being  close to me in one way or another.  It seems that those I trust most carry the greatest burden.  I could apologize, but I have found that apologizing for who I am is a useless and undermining endeavor.  I am who I am and other than trying to live a more Godly life, I wouldn’t change a thing.  If an apology were needed, then I would have, obviously, been confiding in the wrong people; instead, they humble me with their tolerance.

I am thankful that each day brings me closer to that which I strive to be.  I don’t know, exactly, what I will be when I grow up, but I know, whatever it is, it will be wonderful.

littlestoney_020913-161

Isaiah 40:31 ~ But they that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run, and not be weary; and they shall walk, and not faint.  Amen.

I am just as at home everywhere …

as I am in only one place.  As I look over the past several years and think of the places I’ve visited, it occurs to me that the short stay I had in those various cities and towns, in the air and on the roads simply wasn’t enough.  I needed more time.  Weeks.  Months.  Not just days.  There were things I didn’t have time to experience, time I wasn’t able to spend wandering around in and absorbing that which, although unfamiliar, was as familiar to me as my own backyard; people I didn’t get to meet and sit down with.  There was food I didn’t get to taste and sheer beauty, of which, I wasn’t able to become a part.

I suppose such words are those that only one with wanderlust can understand.  Everywhere feels like home, at least for a time.  The people are different but so similar, the air smells different, but is, again, essentially the same.  The roads all lead somewhere, the sun rises, the sun sets, the moon shines, the stars twinkle and even though I haven’t actually seen it yet, I know it is will be beautiful.  There really isn’t anywhere on earth that I can think of that I could lay my head and not, at least for a bit of time, feel at home.

Last night, I started driving for no other reason than to be somewhere other than where I was.  I was driving West.  No radio.  No sound at all except my wheels on the road and the thoughts in my head.  It was very cathartic.  After about one hundred miles, though, instead of continuing on until I came to another ocean, I turned around and headed from whence I had come.  It wasn’t my time to go; not yet.  While my family and friends are perplexed by my consuming need to go, I know in my heart that there will come a time that I will leave them.  It won’t be easy, but it will be necessary if I am to fulfill what has been predestined for me.

That sounds so mystical, but it isn’t.  I have dreamed of it my entire life.  There is nothing mystical about hoping to see a life-long dream fulfilled.  I sometimes feel selfish when I think this way, but I have to remind myself that there will be no one else to live the dreams I dream; no one but myself.  I will follow the will of my Father God where His wind takes me and I will do my very best to honor Him no matter where I lay my head.

There are so many places I want to go; some I’ve already been and want to go back again.  I don’t care, really, if I have a place, other my car, to rest when I get weary.  Where I stay is the least of my concerns; what I see, though, well, now, that’s a different story altogether.  It isn’t that I’m not content where I am, it is simply that there is still so much of creation that I want to see.  No, that isn’t right. If I only wanted to see it, then it would just be a passing thing.  I need to see it.  To feel it. To breathe it.  To taste it.  To touch it.  To stand in it; whatever “it” may be.  And need surpasses want on every level.

I consider the people of the world to be my family and friends.  I don’t think of them in colors, religions or nationalities.  They are just people.  We are not, in our hearts and dreams, dissimilar.  I suppose some of my optimism spills over into what I perceive the world to be, but at the end of the day, I need to know, to learn, to experience.  I want to see for myself and not rely on the eyes of another to mold my perceptions; not live vicariously through the stories that have been told.

There will come a time, if God wills it, that the places of my dreams will become places of my reality.  I can wait, for nothing  truly worth waiting for is time wasted.

beachday1 542

Proverbs 3:6 ~   in all your ways acknowledge Him, and He will make your paths straight.

 

Coughing, sneezing and I’m going to be sick …

seem to be the catchwords these days.  There are, at any given time, several bugs going around that are contagious, HOWEVER, due to the unusually warm weather this winter season, the bugs (and not just the flu ones) are winning the war.  It’s funny how, when someone is sick, all the lessons they learned as a child (such as covering their mouth when they cough) just fly out the window.  I have been coughed on, spit on, puked on and, as of today, hit on (though that is, unfortunately, not contagious hahaha).  I never really intended on being a nurse, but for some odd reason, I seem to have a knack for it.  I am a people person.  Had someone asked me if I were a few years ago, I would have answered with a resounding “hell, no”.  But I am.  Might as well admit it.  Through the harsh experiences in my life that God had decided I needed to face, I have been given an arsenal of ways to relate to people facing crisis.

I still wake up every morning wishing I could spend the day looking for photographs to take, but that is not the turn my life took.  I went to school and studied things that grossed me out on many, many levels and, got kicked out of the OR by a very irritated surgeon; at some point, though, was able to actually practice (mostly without gagging) what I had learned.  I hate germs, hair and skin cells.  They make me want to run for cover, so I ask myself over and over why I became a nurse.  The answer is one that doesn’t please me, but the truth is often a bitter pill to swallow; I became a nurse because I didn’t have the nerve or courage to be what, in the depths of my soul, I wanted to be.

Ironically,  there is a survey that everyone in the place I work has to fill out.  Thankfully, we don’t have to put our names on it because one of the questions is “do I get to do what I do best every day”.  The answer is no.  I don’t get to photograph nature and life and I do not, on any level, consider making a note in a patient’s chart using medical jargon and words that I am pleased to not only know the meaning to, but know how to spell (such as costochondritis, hyperemisis and macrocytosis), writing.  But even so, I don’t discount the sheer magnitude of the moment when someone who is in need says to me “you have put my mind at ease” or “I am thankful for you”.  Those times almost (not completely, but almost) make me feel guilty for not wanting to be a nurse for the rest of my life.

I have, more than once, as any of my friends can tell you, been in a position where I needed to have my own mind put at ease.  As recently as the last two days, if I am to be honest.  I find that I treat patients the way I want my parents to be treated and often spend more time than I should trying to fix an unfixable problem.  Doing so is like hitting my head against a wall again and again, but I simply don’t have the mindset to do something halfway.  All or nothing, whether I love it or not, is just the way I roll.  It is a blessing to know that, along the way, I can give back what has  been given to me; that I can relate, even in the really bad stuff, and give someone a bit of peace by letting them know that I understand.  And, too often for my own comfort, I do understand.  It is both a blessing and a curse.  A blessing because I can bring some peace to a single, solitary soul, and a curse because I often wish, without guile, that I were anywhere but where I am at the moment.

Knowing that I am relevant in peoples’ lives  doesn’t cure the wanderlust or the need to write or the need to see or the need to photograph.  Those things make me who I am and whether I am face to face with the flu bug or dodging vomit, or squinting my eyes shut as someone coughs directly in my face, it doesn’t change what I want to be.  Just because I am good at what I do to earn a paycheck doesn’t mean that I want to keep doing it.  I’ve been saying that for over twenty-five years and my reality, though sometimes skewed by moments of insanity, hasn’t changed.  In my heart, I am a photographer and writer and that will not, even if those particular desires are never fulfilled, change.  I still have my trail shoots.  I still have my blog.  I still have my dreams.  I still have my faith.  While I will continue to do what I do as long as I must do it, there is so much more I want to experience.  Being an optimist, I have no doubt that the chance will come.  Being a Sagittarius, I am just stubborn enough to wait for it.  Being a follower of Jesus, I have the faith and patience to wait.  Being a nurse, I at least know that, while I am waiting, I am accomplishing something that matters to someone.

So all of that being said, I remind everyone to wash your hands several times a day, change your clothes the minute you get home and for Heaven’s sake, don’t eat or drink after people;  that is nasty even when you are well, even when it is people you love dearly.  Remember, germs don’t care who you are, they are just glad when you are gullible enough to bring them into yourself, so protect yourself and run when necessary. Be well, be safe and follow your dreams, no matter where they may lead.  I certainly intend to.

flolicking

Hebrews 11:1 ~ Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.

When the words I dearly love mean nothing …

then I know that I am in a fix.  The words are there, the right words, but they are so jumbled and discombobulated that when they come out, they aren’t right.  They are harsh or meek or, worst case scenario,  make no sense at all to anyone but me.  I lash out at the ones I care about for no good reason at all.  I expect them, since they know me, or say they do, to understand, but it doesn’t make it fair.  It doesn’t make it right.

Right now, at this moment, it takes all of my concentration to simply string words together in a coherent sentence.  Knowing this and knowing that I have conversed with people I care about about in my current state of mind brings about something that, while I am adept, they really have no experience with.   I was told recently by a friend that they were sorry they caused me anxiety.  I don’t have anxiety, I have racing thoughts that, at times, coincide with an intense “non-emotional” state.  It isn’t sadness.  It isn’t depression.  It is simply the absence of emotion.  And the absence of emotion is never, ever a good thing.

I called my mom tonight just to hear her voice. She doesn’t try to fix me or offer advice, she just listens as I tell her how nuts I feel.  And I do feel nuts, whether I really am or not.  That still remains to be seen.  She listens to my thoughts and says to me “we’re here if you need us”.  And she means it.

When I told her I had to get out of here for a while, she didn’t question it, but only said to let her know where I was going.  I have no idea where I’m going, but the ocean is calling to me.  The ocean, it is said, has no memory.  That is what I’m looking for.  Something without a memory.  Something that will not recall the harsh words, sobbing tears or indifference that, over the past few days, I have felt.  Maybe I will make it there and maybe, by the end of the week, I will be back to myself.  Either way, I cannot stand to be here for a second more than is necessary.  And dumping on the people in my life is not the answer.  I don’t know what the answer is, but I know that doing so is not it.

After work on Friday, I will start driving.  What direction is, as yet, unknown, but I will drive until I get where I am going.  And once there, I hope I will find what eludes me at the moment.  Sanity.  Pure and true sanity with a calm mind and rational thoughts.  I will let my  mom know where I am because she asked me to; as for everyone else, there seems no real need.  I am an anomaly in their lives.  I don’t hold it against them. I am an anomaly in my own life; how can I possibly expect someone else to know what makes me tick when I’m not certain myself.  A solitary life.  For the most part, it is the perfect solution; except, of course, when I filet the people I care about because I come to a point where control is  nearly impossible.  Yes, for the most part, a solitary life would be the perfect solution.  I rely on music to get me to a point when I can, once again, speak coherent thoughts.  I am grateful for the pianists, who play the notes my mind sings, that keep me, on some level, sane.  May God bless each one of them.

pianist

John 14:27 ~ Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you: not as the world giveth, give I unto you. Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid

A woman cries ….

for a variety of reasons and, inexplicably, at times, for no reason at all.  Tears fall as though they will never end, sobbing with indelible sorrow that may not be sorrow at all.  A woman’s heart is a vast place that has many crevices and corners, turns and twists that often have no meaning, no direction.  Just because I cry doesn’t mean that I am weak.  On the contrary, each tear that falls makes me stronger, whether I understand the reason for the tears or not.  They are, after all, signs of unspeakable grief and unbounding love.  They are part of what makes us who we are.

My life has been riddled with tears for one reason or another.  Loss, sorrow, betrayal, hurt, humiliation, and then, at times, for absolutely no reason at all.  It is bad enough to cry for a good reason, but when the tears fall for no good reason, it leaves me feeling silly and empty with nothing and no one to which to throw the blame.

I have  people in my past who, at one time or another,  have purposely caused my tears.  They, at this point, are irrelevant as I have moved past them.  They no longer have any power over me and certainly don’t have the ability to bring tears to my eyes.  The tears that fall, dripping from my face, have nothing to do with them as they have proven themselves unworthy not only of my sadness, but of a single thought on their behalf.  I have stricken their names from my mind and moved on.

A hard day at work followed by stark loneliness can sometimes bring tears, but not always.  I don’t mind being alone.  As a matter of fact, I often thrive on it, so blaming tears on loneliness isn’t an option either.  I have learned to be alone and have decided that, on many occasions, I prefer my own company to that of those who have no understanding of me.  It is true.  I would rather be by myself than spending time trying to explain myself to someone who not only can’t understand me, but has no desire to.  And being by myself is not the same as being alone.  I am surrounded by my music, by words, by thoughts and dreams that keep me company.

It would be vain of anyone to assume that they caused my tears.  Who knows me better than myself?  Who knows my deepest secrets other than myself?  Well, a couple of people do, but their indifference does not make or break me.  I am who I am because of the trials I have faced to this point.  But who I am now has nothing to do with who I will be on another day.  The hardships I have faced up to this point, along with the joys on the journey, make me who I am, at the moment.  But what about tomorrow?  Or the day after that?  Or the year after that?

I am a woman and feel that therefore, I have the right to cry at will.  Am I not allowed to cry simply to make room for more emotions?  Is it shameful to cry for the things I long for, wish for, dream of, miss and long for?  I think not.  Tears are essential to my well-being.  I am one of those people who wears my heart on my sleeve.  Tears are only a word away.  It doesn’t make me less, it only makes me more in tune to the world around me.  I do cry.  It would be a lie to say otherwise.  I hurt for many reasons, but that is nobody’s business buy my own.  If I choose to share my tears, how can I be certain that those I share them with will have any understanding of their derivation.  Who can say to us that we have no reason to cry about this, that or the other thing.  Tears are personal.  They are internal.  They are telling, but only to those who have the ability to read what they say.

I won’t explain myself.  I find no need.  If one spends enough time in my life, they will understand me, my moods, my needs and the importance of tears.  They will understand that the tears that fall from my eyes can have a myriad of reasons behind them.  I cry when I pray, when I’m hurt, when I’m overwhelmed and sometimes, for no reason in particular.  When someone causes my tears, it is often because they have hurt me on a level that few have reached.  I don’t share the most intimate parts of myself with everyone, so that severely narrows the playing field.

It becomes irrelevant, really, what causes tears to fall.  I play the woman card.  The card that says that any number of things can make me cry.  I don’t even try to explain it as it would be pointless.  I am who I am, which is the same person I have always been.  My tears mean something to me, but are often lost on the ones who are are partly responsible for causing them.  In the end, if they fall from my eyes, I am responsible.  I choose who I allow into my life, into my heart, into my dreams; therefore, the tears are of my own making.  I have no one, but myself, to blame.  It would be easy to cast blame, but what purpose would that serve.  Often, people who have no intention to do so, hurt me deeply.  Other times, I bring the hurt upon myself.  Who is to say, when all is said and done, what causes a woman’s tears?  Do we really need a valid reason to cry?  I don’t.  Sometimes I cry simply because I am so happy that tears are the closest thing to joy that I can achieve.

Tears do not have to stand for sadness … and nowhere is it written that only women cry … Men, too, have the burden 0f tears and, like my own, they can represent joy, relief, praise, worship and happiness.  Not all tears are ones of sorrow or regret.  But unless you know me, personally and on an intimate basis, my tears will mean nothing to you.  That is the way of life.  Our family and friends learn as they go; we learn as we go and life unfolds as it is meant and tears fall when they feel like it.  It is, in the grand scheme of things, a very simple equation.  The tears I cry tonight?  Well, they are born of many things and will hopefully, end with the sunrise.  At the end of the day, sometimes it is the tears which set me free.

fierysunset

Sunday evening …

is one of the perfect pieces in the time puzzle that serves a dual purpose; retrospection and contemplation.  It is at the cusp of the end of one week and the beginning of another.  A time to look back on the past few days, to see strengths and weakness, to view insecurities and inadequacies to come face to face with failures.  I don’t want, and doubt anyone else wants, to admit to insecurities, inadequacies or failures; we have them, though.  In spades. How, otherwise, would we know our strengths if it weren’t for the ability to isolate our weaknesses?

I cherish these moments where I am alone with my thoughts and my thoughts have purpose.  A time when I can reflect on how I handled myself in difficult situations  A time to review my circumstances… my interactions.  How I could have avoided meltdowns, hurt feelings and unnecessary  chaos.  Don’t get me wrong; there are times when I thrive in chaos, but not when it is permeated with negativity.  Coming into full, thought-jamming contact with the negative is like two trains colliding.  My positive brain pan tries to adjust, to defend and to avoid such an event so that my rational mind can do what it does … rationalize.  Those rare but damaging collisions, however, nearly always end up causing an overload.  Meltdown mode usually commences soon thereafter

When I can look back and see the catalysts to these events, it provides me with knowledge and knowledge, as everyone knows, is power.  I have the information and the sense to use it to see the warning signs and avoid a potentially volatile situation which has me coming home from work and throwing porcelain cups against the wall just to hear them shatter.  I don’t like feeling that way and while I am usually able to keep it self-contained, there are times when it explodes to cover my family and friends in the same sticky rottenness that I have allowed to get beneath my skin.  This is humiliating for me as well as perplexing and hurtful to them; unfair to them on every conceivable level.

Knowing that I can step boldly into the week ahead with a new piece of know-how and take each day as it comes, with compassion, patience and grace (or even one of the three) gives me hope for the coming days.  It is egotistical to believe that it will be perfect.  This is life, remember.  There are no certainties, no infallibility clause, no precision.  It is simply knowing when I go in that I am going to be the best person I can be even in the midst of those who are  having a moment which proves that there are no certainties.  If I, however, forget what I know simply because something happened to upset the apple cart, then I didn’t learn anything useful after all and it’s back to the drawing board.

On this night, my introspection is accompanied by the brilliance of fellow Sagittarian, Paul Desmond.  Music.  There is a certainty, pure and beautiful, after all.

accordian

I thought I was prepared …

for the sheer depth of joy that would come with the total immersion of mind, body and spirit into the wilderness.  I wasn’t even close.  In three short months, I had forgotten the thrill of knowing the exhilaration of finding that there is nothing between me and nature except the air I breathe and my Pentax.   I had forgotten how awe-inspiring creation is when I can see it up close and personal.  I had forgotten just how alluring the smells of the earth in winter could be.

Today, however, I was reminded.   The sights, sounds and smells took me from my present self and put me in an altered state of mind.  One that thrives on finding out where the trail leads, then, when the trail has run its course, the adrenaline punching adventure of veering off to become one with the hills and valleys, the streams and creeks of my mountain; for today, it was on my mountain that I wandered.  My mind was peaceful, my thoughts were clear and my body strong as it responded to the challenges and physical demands of making my way through thickets and briar-laden brambles on steep, rocky hillsides.

The mind-numbing exhaustion of the past few weeks dissipated like fog under a summer sunrise.  With every step, I felt my energy level rise and my stress level fade into oblivion and it didn’t escape me that I can find myself in this same state of mind over and over; that nothing can happen to me in a week’s time that I can’t undo with a hike into places both known and unknown.  My mind is already full with thoughts of where I will go next week. I am blessed beyond measure by the simple things in life that God knows I have a need of.

Even now, I feel as though the energy inside me will simply burst forth, creating a display of light and shadow all around me.  I suppose, since there happens to be no other, more enjoyable outlet, I will expend that energy on laundry.  Pity.

underwater

Psalms 96: 11-12 ~ Let the heavens rejoice, and let the earth be glad; let the sea roar, and the fulness thereof. Let the field be joyful, and all that is therein: then shall all the trees of the wood rejoice.