IMPRESSED

Bold expressions. Overt undertones. Contrasting canvasses. An arresting awareness of things optically, orally and aromatically atypical. An absorption of, immersion and participation in, the manifold encounters of cultural consonance and dissonance.

I’m pressed to consider the new
I’m pressed to adopt the unfamiliar
I’m pressed to adjust periphery
I’m pressed to admire
I’m pressed to accept and embrace
I’m pressed to understand
I’m pressed to listen astutely
I’m pressed to look deeper
I’m pressed to learn richly
I’m pressed to laugh
I’m pressed to enjoy immeasurably
I’m pressed to adapt
I’m pressed to respond
I’m pressed to challenge preconceptions and prejudices
I’m pressed to be patient
I’m pressed to weep
I’m pressed to tailor expectations
I’m pressed to soak in the spectacular
I’m pressed to absorb the awesome
I’m pressed to reflect and consider
I’m pressed to give thanks
I’m pressed.

Impressions that sculpt, craft, blend, meld. Impressions etching, altering, stretching and illuminating. Impressions merging experience, anchoring memories. Impressions solidifying the ephemeral, captured eternal. Im-pressed.

Two Little Vowels

 

Trail and trial. Five exact same letters. Try saying them quickly multiple times over with a few additional words for a good tongue twister. A mere reversal of two vowels changes the entire context of expression, nuance of the communication or implication of the active out- workings of each noun.

Def. Trail: a beaten path through rough country such as a forest. A route planned or followed for a particular purpose.
Def. Trial: a test of the performance, qualities, or suitability of someone or something.

Two modest words. Intrinsically different in connotation, yet veritably intertwined. Each intimating a longstanding, subterranean, symbiotic acquaintance and familiarity with the other. A ‘beaten path through rough country’, a ‘test of performance or quality’, on no account mutually exclusive. Old friends.

The reality of this truth, lies on the trail. Embedded in each footstep. Ingrained in attitude. Eight months ago, the trail was slow. One physical step at a time; with walking aides. The trial seemed to overshadow the trail. Directions unclear, a tangential pathway built on the smallest of increments. Test of performance through rough country all encompassing, engulfing.

Leaning into the trail, each footstep imparts another message, imprints direction, embeds a truth of the present and betimes a hint of tomorrow. Mapped through varying terrain of cross country and well paved paths, the trial alters the vantage point, pushes the comfort zone, skews direction of the trail and often crosses with unwanted visitors, (aka bears!).

Walking forward, the shadow of the trail past forms, testifying progress, mapping hope for the trial ahead. The demand for a trust in the valley and the comfort of a rod in the darkness. Through uncertainty and vulnerability a reliance on, “Christ with me, Christ before me, Christ behind me, Christ in me”.  An acceptance of collective experience. A trail walked before. A trial rarely traversed in isolation. For the steepest of inclines a Sherpa stands ready. Willing to shoulder the load, share the road, provide encouragement. The mirage on the horizon ever present, ever pressing, ever beckoning.

Amidst this trial, the trail is formed. Footprints of despair, anguish and disillusionment.  Footprints of determination, diligence, perseverance. Footprints of courage, growth. A trail loaded with memories, learnings, appreciation. A trial that fades and forms a new trail.

Epilogue:

The evolution of my trails:

• Bathroom to Bed
• Bed to Kitchen
• Kitchen to Couch
• Couch to Car
• House to letterbox
• Car and beyond chauffeured
• Car and beyond unchauffeured
• Local micro walks
• Local small trails
• Local longer trails

Transition to long holiday trails

• Colorado trails:
  • Arches trails
  • Petroglyph trail
  • Flatiron/Boulder trails
  • Gorge trails
  • Grand Monument trails
  • Glenwood springs trails
  • Black Canyon of the Gunnison trails
• Toronto Trails
  • Arrowhead itchy trails
  • City trails
• Catskill trails
  • Waterfall trails
  • Great ledge trails

 “The journey of a thousand miles begins with one step.” Lao Tzu

Thank you to my trusty husband who has been the steady navigator of trails, the sherpa of loads and the best trail partner one could ever wish for.

 

Whistle While You Work

I’ve taken to whistling.

“Just whistle while you work
And cheerfully together we can tidy up the place
So hum a merry tune
It won’t take long when there’s a song to help you set the pace

And as you sweep the room
Imagine that the broom is someone that you love
And soon you’ll find you’re dancing to the tune
When hearts are high the time will fly
So whistle while you work.”  (Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs)

“Cheerfully tidying up the place”, “Hum a merry tune”, “Hearts are high”. Mock and jest if you wish, but I’m singing and I’m whistling. I’m loving the broom, the washing machine, the clothes line, the dishes; time is flying and my heart is high. Liberation through domestication. Domestic bliss! Who, ever would have thought? The mundane transformed to victory, to progress, to satisfaction! Pass me some stain remover!

It is indeed true that absence makes the heart grow fonder. A phrase I never would have formally attributed to domestic chores. For three and a half months I have watched my family complete the household tasks with “domestic envy”. (Well if I’m honest I may only have become envious after one month of not being able to do them!) Yet in the winning back of mobility, I embrace the victory of the mundane. Thankfulness builds in the sock basket, the dishwasher, the washing machine. It builds in correlation with movement and flexibility. Energy directs to outcomes and productivity once more. Steps are taken. Steps earned with pain. Steps solidified with tears. Steps with a story. Steps embodying achievement. Past steps shaping the new destination. One foot and then the other. Slowly, safely, excitedly. Overwhelming satisfaction.

Visualise: an out of control laundry, a messy kitchen, a child’s bedroom upturned. Reframe to: Opportunity for victory, joy in the mundane, satisfaction in the obscure.

Love your broom, your clothesline, your dish mop. Embrace your “inner house-keeper”. Thank you Snow White. “When you arise in the morning, think of what a precious privilege it is to be alive – to breathe, to think, to enjoy, to love”.  Marcus Aurelius  (Thanks Olwen!) 

Sweet Oblivious Antidote

Macbeth: How does your patient, doctor?
Doctor: Not so sick, my lord, as she is troubled with thick-coming fancies that keep her from rest.
Macbeth: Cure her of that! Canst thou not minister to a mind diseased, pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow, raze out the written troubles of the brain, and with some sweet oblivious antidote cleanse the stuffed bosom of that perilous stuff which weighs upon her heart.
Doctor: Therein the patient must minister to himself.
                                                                                       William Shakespeare

It would be unrealistic not to acknowledge that amongst all the gratitude, the reality of brokenness and struggle are underpinning themes of injury recovery. Healing of fractures is about as speedy as a 16^th Century pavan.

Bystander:“How does your patient, doctor?”
Doctor: ”Not so sick as she is troubled with the magnanimity of the task of recovery. Not so sick as she is troubled with the disappointment of unrealized current and future opportunities. Not so sick as she is troubled with frustration bourne out of dependence on others. Not so sick as she is ……”
Bystander: Cure her of that! Canst thou not minister to a mind diseased, pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow, raze out the written troubles of the brain, and with some sweet oblivious antidote cleanse the stuffed bosom of that perilous stuff which weighs upon her heart.
Doctor: Therein the patient must minister to herself.

In this physical malaise of loss and renewal, “the natural mystery of transformation” (Richard Rohr), occurs. If brokenness is indeed both loss and renewal, if “success and failure are truly the same side of the coin” (Rohr), this patient must certainly minister to herself.

Nature itself is a preacher presenting divine wisdom from the pulpit, or the doctor writing a prescription for “healing”. Firmly fixed to a stable core and fertile ground, the sunflower ministers to all who behold her. She turns with the sun, seeking energy, increasing her capacity for photosynthesis, growth and renewal. Her face is turned towards the sun. Following it, as the elixir for stability and sustainability. With each turn Apollo bathes her in sunlight, growing her, healing her; the shadows fall behind her.

There is no “sweet oblivious antidote” to “cleanse the stuffed bosom of that perilous stuff which weighs upon MY heart”. Time, determination, attitude and patience are alone the antidote.

Not unlike the slow-growing of the sunflower, each turn of her head is akin to the achievement of a milestone in recovery; providing energy and growth for the next. So, the process of healing, one milestone after the other. Starting small; getting into bed without assistance, showering independently, moving up and down steps, carrying a cereal bowl or cup of coffee. Accumulating milestones, building strength, gaining momentum, focusing on the end goal. Transforming loss into renewal; ministering to oneself.

The sun does not shine every day. Some days it rains. Some days it’s stormy. Some days the fog hangs deeply and visibility is impaired. The sunflower stands firmly in the field, buffeted by the weather, nourished by the rain waiting for the sun to return. It always does. She turns her head, the shadows fall behind her and renewal continues.