A few days ago after I finished reading the book Grandma Gatewood's Walk, I perused my bookshelves for my next trail book.
I found A Walk in the Woods, Appalachian Trail Thru-hikers' Companion 2012 (Thru-hiker Companions are published each year), and The Appalachian Trail.
I pulled the third one from its shelf.
~~~
The book is hardbound with a slightly-tattered book cover with a photograph of two backpackers hiking along the trail. A woman in front and a man in the distance.
Below the photo two separate names and an organization are listed. In all caps. In small print.
BY RONALD M. FISHER
PHOTOGRAPHED BY DICK DURRANCE II
NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC SOCIETY
I open the book and flip the slightly-yellowed pages with my left thumb. The pages are sprinkled with slightly-yellowed photographs.
This looks like fun.
Didn't Denise give me this book? I think she did.
I ponder.
This is the book! I thought she'd given me Grandma Gatewood. I'll have to let her know.
I chuckle.
I read the front inside flap of the book cover. It identifies the names of the two backpackers, Jill Durrance and Ron Fisher.
I flip through the first few pages and land on the Copyright page.
1972. Hm. Intriguing.
I read a paragraph captured under an elderly man's photograph.
The photograph is of then-93-year-old Benton MacKaye who is attributed as the founder of the Appalachian Trail.
The paragraph contains a quote by MacKaye, "The ultimate purpose of the Appalachian Trail? To walk. To see. And to see what you see."
I like that. Being present.
I smile.
The Foreward is written by MacKaye.
The book is a firsthand account of the journey of three backpackers along the trail; the author, the photographer, and the photographer's wife.
~~~
Today, I began reading the chapters.
In the Prologue as I read the author's overview of their journey, at the end of a one-sentence paragraph that follows a longer paragraph relaying snippets about Tennessee and Virginia and West Virginia and Pennsylvania and New Hampshire and Maine and that the trio passed through 14 states and 8 national forests and 2 national parks and several state preserves...
At the end of that descriptive paragraph, sits that one-sentence paragraph:
"In six months we sampled a long, thin strip of America."
I read the sentence and added, And they didn't have a cell phone.
My added words almost appeared on the slightly-yellowed page before my eyes.
The words did appear on the page in my mind.
And they didn't have a cell phone.
Ironically, my iPhone 5 got stuck on "Searching..." last Thursday in the wee morning hours. I spent through the following Monday morning endeavoring to fix it. Internet searches. A local AT&T store. The local Apple Store. Two different Apple technicians via phone. All were very helpful and I learned a lot. But it appears that that iPhone 5 will be forever "Searching..."
"Forever searching." Reminds me of X-Files.
Lucky for me, I found my old iPhone 4. It is now resurrected. My only monetary cost was $15 for a new power cord.
May 20, 2015
May 13, 2015
Trails and trials
Occupational Therapy was great today.
I have someone rooting for me...in the present; face to face; hand to hand.
I feel hopeful...today. Hopeful is good, even if it may be false hope. Hope helps me to continue to put one foot in front of the other.
My full-time job is self-care and to keep my limbs working and maybe even to get some muscle tone back. But, if that isn't possible at this point, perhaps I can forego more atrophy.
I cannot hike the Appalachian Trail in my current condition. But if I could, my full-time job would be to put one foot in front of the other. My current journey is not a trail through physical woods; it is a trail through physical trials. Any trial is more than physical.
Soul trials. Soul trails.
Every trail has its trials - lonely, arduous, taxing miles. Every trail has its triumphs - sun ray kisses, zephyr whispers, wildflower scents, aroma of cedar, discovering one's self.
I can draw on trail memories I have forged and apply them to my current trial.
Will this current trial ever end?
"End." What an odd thought. Perhaps it will never end until my last breath. And damn it, I'll die trying. ("You damn straight!" says my self to my self.)
This morning I opened and read an email that in its signature stated:
“You are not a drop in the ocean. You are the entire ocean, in a drop. ~Rumi”
Later this morning I continued my reading of the book Grandma Gatewood's Walk.
In 1968 when Grandma Emma Gatewood was around 81 years old her ex-husband, P.C. Gatewood, was on his death bed. P.C. physically beat Emma for decades. She divorced him in 1941, after 35 years of abuse. This morning I read on page number 244:
"According to [P.C. and Emma's son] Nelson, [P.C.] made one dying request in his final days. He wanted to see Emma. He wanted her to come stand in his doorway just for a moment.
Upon reading that last sentence I enthusiastically hooted, Good on you Grandma!! Go Emma!!
And then, I pondered.....
I have someone rooting for me...in the present; face to face; hand to hand.
I feel hopeful...today. Hopeful is good, even if it may be false hope. Hope helps me to continue to put one foot in front of the other.
My full-time job is self-care and to keep my limbs working and maybe even to get some muscle tone back. But, if that isn't possible at this point, perhaps I can forego more atrophy.
I cannot hike the Appalachian Trail in my current condition. But if I could, my full-time job would be to put one foot in front of the other. My current journey is not a trail through physical woods; it is a trail through physical trials. Any trial is more than physical.
Soul trials. Soul trails.
Every trail has its trials - lonely, arduous, taxing miles. Every trail has its triumphs - sun ray kisses, zephyr whispers, wildflower scents, aroma of cedar, discovering one's self.
I can draw on trail memories I have forged and apply them to my current trial.
Will this current trial ever end?
"End." What an odd thought. Perhaps it will never end until my last breath. And damn it, I'll die trying. ("You damn straight!" says my self to my self.)
This morning I opened and read an email that in its signature stated:
“You are not a drop in the ocean. You are the entire ocean, in a drop. ~Rumi”
Later this morning I continued my reading of the book Grandma Gatewood's Walk.
In 1968 when Grandma Emma Gatewood was around 81 years old her ex-husband, P.C. Gatewood, was on his death bed. P.C. physically beat Emma for decades. She divorced him in 1941, after 35 years of abuse. This morning I read on page number 244:
"According to [P.C. and Emma's son] Nelson, [P.C.] made one dying request in his final days. He wanted to see Emma. He wanted her to come stand in his doorway just for a moment.
The woman who had walked more that ten thousand miles since she left him refused to take those steps."
Upon reading that last sentence I enthusiastically hooted, Good on you Grandma!! Go Emma!!
And then, I pondered.....
May 11, 2015
Online. Offline. Freedom. Limbs. Red Rocks and the South Rim...
Online
Offline
Inline
Outside the lines
I have become weary of online life.
Sometime sixish months ago I thought along the lines of (there's another "line" phrase!), "Social media feels like the new rat race. I want off the track."
I'm sure the so-called "rat race" exists in all sorts of environments, from religious retreats to Wall Street. The word "race" indicates competition. Competition gets tiring. Life is competition enough. But then being a rat is life, to a rat.
Oh my, I'm wandering and could go into a full ramble (regarding life, competition, rat race, human race, culture). But then I might miss getting out of my noggin what it is I was thinking about blogging.
My recent online weariness mixed with my health challenges, has put me on a side path, on the sidelines of (another "lines" word!) social media. And my blogs as well are on back burners.
Some months back I changed the settings on my public blogs to "not visible to search engines." In that same time period, I deleted my personal Twitter account. I've pondered whether or not to delete my personal Facebook account. For now, I'm keeping it. But I'm not checking on it as often, and I'm commenting on a limited basis.
Facebook can overwhelm me and I often feel tired (and not a good tired) when I log off after visiting Facebook.
And it's not just Facebook. Conversing in text has become wearisome for me.
I sometimes wonder if all this text communication has taken away some of my joy of writing. Maybe not, but I think it has had some effect. I do tire of looking at a screen...unless I'm watching XFiles, my current series kick.
And now I think of all my friends that communicate on Facebook and elsewhere via text, "What about the news in their lives? Don't I care?"
I do care. Maybe too much. And all that news overwhelms me; I simply don't have the energy to process it and respond how I would want to if the news came more slowly. I know I'm not alone in that feeling.
My focus these days is to keep my limbs mobile. I don't share that on Facebook because I don't want to get into a discussion about it. A long online discussion is not where I want to (or need to) put my energy.
In light of all that, I don't know how long my blogging sabbatical this time around will last. Nice thing is, I have the freedom to choose how much and if I want to engage and share online, or offline for that matter.
Freedom of choices. "Choices," plural. That causes me a big smile. There were decades in my life I felt I didn't have that kind of freedom. Choices were limited to, dictated by, "What does the Word say? Will this give glory to God?"
I've about finished reading the book Grandma Gatewood's Walk: The Inspiring Story of the Woman Who Saved the Appalachian Trail by Ben Montgomery. Grandma (Emma) Gatewood was the first woman to thru-hike the Appalachian Trail. The year was 1955; she was 67 at the time.
As I read the first paragraphs relaying the beginning of Emma's trail journey, at the end of each paragraph my noggin added the sentence, "And she didn't have a cell phone." Which led me to remembering life before cell phones, before computers, before voice mail, before answering machines. (Oh my, another ramble could tumble if I let it....)
On my health front:
Along the line of injections, Hubby and I went to Arizona for a week in April. It was during Week 3 post-injection. (My best post-injection weeks are typically Weeks 3 and 4.)
I've been thinking about writing a blog post or six about our trip, but I don't know if that will happen. Below are a few pictures. I'm still in process of getting the pictures on my computer and all labeled and in order.
Our time among the Red Rocks and at the Grand Canyon were magical. By the end of the week, those Red Rocks felt like home.
Offline
Inline
Outside the lines
I have become weary of online life.
Sometime sixish months ago I thought along the lines of (there's another "line" phrase!), "Social media feels like the new rat race. I want off the track."
I'm sure the so-called "rat race" exists in all sorts of environments, from religious retreats to Wall Street. The word "race" indicates competition. Competition gets tiring. Life is competition enough. But then being a rat is life, to a rat.
Oh my, I'm wandering and could go into a full ramble (regarding life, competition, rat race, human race, culture). But then I might miss getting out of my noggin what it is I was thinking about blogging.
My recent online weariness mixed with my health challenges, has put me on a side path, on the sidelines of (another "lines" word!) social media. And my blogs as well are on back burners.
Some months back I changed the settings on my public blogs to "not visible to search engines." In that same time period, I deleted my personal Twitter account. I've pondered whether or not to delete my personal Facebook account. For now, I'm keeping it. But I'm not checking on it as often, and I'm commenting on a limited basis.
Facebook can overwhelm me and I often feel tired (and not a good tired) when I log off after visiting Facebook.
And it's not just Facebook. Conversing in text has become wearisome for me.
I sometimes wonder if all this text communication has taken away some of my joy of writing. Maybe not, but I think it has had some effect. I do tire of looking at a screen...unless I'm watching XFiles, my current series kick.
And now I think of all my friends that communicate on Facebook and elsewhere via text, "What about the news in their lives? Don't I care?"
I do care. Maybe too much. And all that news overwhelms me; I simply don't have the energy to process it and respond how I would want to if the news came more slowly. I know I'm not alone in that feeling.
My focus these days is to keep my limbs mobile. I don't share that on Facebook because I don't want to get into a discussion about it. A long online discussion is not where I want to (or need to) put my energy.
In light of all that, I don't know how long my blogging sabbatical this time around will last. Nice thing is, I have the freedom to choose how much and if I want to engage and share online, or offline for that matter.
Freedom of choices. "Choices," plural. That causes me a big smile. There were decades in my life I felt I didn't have that kind of freedom. Choices were limited to, dictated by, "What does the Word say? Will this give glory to God?"
I've about finished reading the book Grandma Gatewood's Walk: The Inspiring Story of the Woman Who Saved the Appalachian Trail by Ben Montgomery. Grandma (Emma) Gatewood was the first woman to thru-hike the Appalachian Trail. The year was 1955; she was 67 at the time.
As I read the first paragraphs relaying the beginning of Emma's trail journey, at the end of each paragraph my noggin added the sentence, "And she didn't have a cell phone." Which led me to remembering life before cell phones, before computers, before voice mail, before answering machines. (Oh my, another ramble could tumble if I let it....)
On my health front:
- I received my spinal injections on March 30.
- The relief was sweet, though my arms didn't fare as well as they have in the past, especially my right arm. I'm training my left arm and hand to do tasks they are not oriented toward; my left is my less dominant.
- I am now entering the more challenging weeks until my next round of injections in seven weeks on June 29. I have to wait 13 weeks this round; my doctor is on vacation during Week 12.
- I began Physical Therapy and Occupational Therapy last week.
- In all activities/tasks involving movement of my body, I estimate that I'm one-and-one-half to three times slower than I was pre-polyradiculitis. It takes me 35 minutes to walk 1-1/4 miles on level ground. I'm very conscious of my limb movements.
- On 4/24, I discovered a lump on my back at the base of my neck. I saw the neurologist on 4/30. On 5/01 I got a CAT scan and gave blood for lab work. All is good, which I figured it would be. The lump (which is smaller now), is probably just more fatty-like cysts that come and go with this condition. Or it might be the beginning of a "buffalo hump" which is another wonderful side effect of steroids, along with "moonface." I thought I could change my name to "buffalo moonface" and don a wide brim leather hat with feathers. ;)
- My current focus is to keep my limbs mobile, my back straight, my head and eyes up, my heart happy; to laugh and move and sing every day.
Along the line of injections, Hubby and I went to Arizona for a week in April. It was during Week 3 post-injection. (My best post-injection weeks are typically Weeks 3 and 4.)
I've been thinking about writing a blog post or six about our trip, but I don't know if that will happen. Below are a few pictures. I'm still in process of getting the pictures on my computer and all labeled and in order.
Our time among the Red Rocks and at the Grand Canyon were magical. By the end of the week, those Red Rocks felt like home.
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| View from Fay Canyon Trail. Sedona, AZ. "Ruby City" (my term) in the distance. |
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| View from Kaibab Trail (I think it's Kaibab). Grand Canyon South Rim. |
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| Bicycling the top of the world on rental bike, Ruby. Grand Canyon, South Rim. |