The Peace of Wild Things

Thanks to Denise for sharing the following poem.

~*~

The Peace of Wild Things

When despair for the world grows in me

and I wake in the night at the least sound

in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be,

I go and lie down where the wood drake

rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.

I come into the peace of wild things

who do not tax their lives with forethought

of grief. I come into the presence of still water.

And I feel above me the day-blind stars

waiting with their light. For a time

I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.

Wendell Berry, “The Peace of Wild Things” from The Selected Poems of Wendell Berry. Copyright © 1998.

~*~

My response is, "me too..."

~*~

Trailwalker - 37,700 miles

I've had the past few days off from work, a much needed break.

The mountains were calling, so I had to go.

~*~

On Wednesday, I was able to bike 26.8 miles on the New River Trail in Virginia. It's a 57-mile long rail trail and state park. I only have a 5.5-mile leg to go (which equals 11 miles because I have to ride both directions), and I'll have biked the whole trail (plus an extra leg), both ways.

As I drove the 1.5 hours to get to the parking area of the section I was going to bike, I thought, I wonder if I'll meet anyone interesting today?

I arrived at my destination located in the middle of nowhere, between two little unincorporated areas -- Allisonia, Virginia, and Hiwasee, Virginia, both in Pulaski County. I parked Edward the Explorer in the gravel lot; no other vehicles or people were anywhere to be seen. I got out, retrieved a small manila registration envelope from a yellow metal box, filled in my information on the designated lines on the outside of the envelope, put in a $5 bill to cover the $4 Virginia state park visitor's fee, tore off my tab along the perforation to hang on Edward's rear view mirror, sealed the envelope, and dropped it through a slot into the metal payment box. I unloaded my bike, Olivia,  from the back of Edward. I then retrieved my little cooler and another tote bag with food and sat at a lone, covered picnic table. As I was finishing my lunch, a blue pickup truck arrived and parked in the gravel lot. Out stepped a lean, elderly man. I figured he was at least 80 years old.

He was the "interesting anyone" I'd wondered about.

~*~

"Hello," I greeted the elderly gentleman with a smile. He responded in kind.

"Are you from around here?" I asked.

"Sure am. And you?" he responded.

"I'm from Winston-Salem. I have a goal to bike the whole trail this summer, in sections. Planning to go to Pulaski and back today. Then I'll have almost the whole thing done.  Do you walk here often?"

"Sure do," he replied. "In fact, I'm just 300 miles short of walking 38,000."

"Oh my gosh! You're kidding!" I responded with excitement. "Wow! How many years?"

"Fifteen," he answered with a smile. "I would be closer to 40,000 but I had to get a pacemaker and that set me back." He tapped his chest where his pacemaker was. "The good Lord was telling me to slow down."

"Wow. Well you sure are doing great!" I was smiling ear to ear, thrilled to have this chance meeting with this man of 37,700 miles.

"Thank you. People come from all over the world to bike or walk this trail. I've met people from 28 other countries and 42 states. All right here, in Pulaski County."

More "wows" from me. We chit chatted, and exchanged names and more chit chat, sprinkled in between with this amazing story of almost 38,000 miles.

"I meet lots of people and collect names and dates and places where folks are from. I collect them in note pads. Would you like to sign my note pad?"

"Sure!" I answered.

He pulled one of those small, top-spiral bound, ruled-paper, notepads from his shirt pocket, along with a pen. He flipped through the pad finding the spot for the next name. As the pages flipped by, I glimpsed the handwritten names, all of them in different script. I signed my name and the town where I reside. He said, "And the date. Put the date too." So I did.

I noticed his walking stick. It was wooden. The lower end was wrapped with black vinyl tape covering about ten inches. A few inches down from the top a rainbow array of hair bands decorated the stick for about six inches.

"This stick has been with me for 28,000 of those miles. It broke last week, so I had to tape it. I find stuff along the trail, like these hair bands. I sometimes find cell phones. I turn stuff like that into the park office. "

"Are you gonna put a book together? This is just amazing. Someone needs to put this in print."

He shook his head no to the book. But he said that two articles had been written about him.

"When I was little, I road the train that used to be on this trail. There was a building right over there. It was the local depot. I'd take the train 4 miles north to Draper."

"So you used to ride the train that was on the trail that you now walk. Wow."

"I'm on my 35th pair of shoes."

Toward the end of our conversation he gave me two business-size cards with scripture phrases and his name on them. I wrote the distances and numbers he'd shared with me on one of the cards. He proceeded to witness his version of Jesus and the Bible to me. His main mission in life is to tell people about salvation through Jesus which he does as he walks the trail. His witnessing to me didn't bother me too much, but I much preferred the conversation we were having previously...about walking and nature and a bit of local history.

After about 15 or so minutes, I was donned with helmet and ready to go. Thankful to have met this inspiring man.

"They call me Trailwalker." He smiled.

I responded, "Trailwalker. I like that. My son named me Molasses and Turtle, as trail names."

We chuckled.

We shook hands, and said good-byes.

He began to walk in the same direction I was headed on my bike. As I slowly passed him, he said, "Hey...look at my license plate as you ride by my truck."

I read it as I rode by. The letters were an abbreviation for Trail-to-Trail.

I smiled and gave him a big thumbs-up.

With a nod, he smiled, as I rode by.

I wonder how many miles he walked that day?

~*~

So that was Wednesday.

On Thursday and Friday I visited Mt. Mitchell, North Carolina. East of the Mississippi River, Mt. Mitchell is the highest point in North America. It's part of the Black Mountain range, so named for the deep green spruce trees that cause a black hue from a distance.

I spent the night in the back of my Explorer at Crabtree Falls Campground, on the Parkway about 15 miles north of Mt. Mitchell. There I met Dax, who is biking 1400 miles which includes the Blue Ridge Parkway and Skyline Drive both directions. Not to mention his ride from Winston-Salem to Fancy Gap, which really made my mouth drop!

It's his fourth time riding the Parkway both directions in one long-distance trip. He's also ridden it just one direction one time from north to south. That makes nine times! I can't recall now which year he started.

Friday, in addition to Mt. Mitchell, I visited Linville Falls.

Saturday was spent with hubby on the Parkway in Virginia. The sunset from The Saddle was worth the trip. Plus I got to ride 11.6 miles of the Parkway on my bike, from Groundhog Mountain to Meadows of Dan.

From the summit, Mt. Mitchell. 7/15/16. Approximately 8:30 AM.

From the summit, Mt. Mitchell. Big and Little Bald in the distance. 7/15/16. Approximately 8:30 AM.

Sunset. The Saddle. 7/16/16.

Sunset. The Saddle. 7/16/16.

Yeah, I'm scared...

I was gonna wait to post a blog about the news. Wait until I had more details.

But I want to go ahead and write about it and maybe post it. And then I'm sure I'll edit it over the coming days. Seems I always edit as I reread and figure out a seemingly better way to say what I was thinking.

The news?

Barring unforeseen circumstances, I'm going to have revision hip replacement surgery either in latter August/beginning of September or in November. I should know the date by the end of July after my MRI on July 20 and my next appointment with the surgeon on July 22. I have to schedule the surgery 3 to 4 weeks after an epidural because those are my strongest weeks in regard to the nerve damage.

I had hip replacement surgery in August, 2008. Around October, 2010, I received a phone call from the surgeon informing me that my hip had been recalled. I recall that I responded to the surgeon stunned, "What?" And he repeated the information.

We kept an eye on my hip through 2012. Since I hadn't noticed hip-specific symptoms (up until earlier this year), and since my cobalt and chromium levels as of 2012 were "normal" (on the low side of "moderate" actually), I thought I was in the clear. But, it looks like that's not the case.

I had my cobalt and chromium levels checked on June 10, 2016. One has gone up over 65%, the other over 90%, which indicates my hip may be leeching metals. (Where else would the rise come from?) The levels I have are typically not high enough to cause the widespread nerve damage I've had since 2011. Usually folks with widespread nerve damage have levels about 10x higher than mine. But still, it's not good that they are on the rise. And they may be a bigger factor than we realize with the nerve damage...or at least me being able to heal.

Regardless, the hip is coming out. By me, the sooner the better, unless some sort of unforeseen circumstance is discovered.

Needless to say, I'm scared.

The first hip surgery was no walk in the park. (Though I could walk a great deal better after I recovered! Well, up until the nerve damage which started Spring, 2011.)

Recovery was rough first time around without nerve damage. Now I'll have to manage the nerve damage.

I'm scared. Oh yeah, I already said that. :/

I know I'll have to manage one day at a time, but I've been thinking that I'll have to put my focus on 3 weeks out after the surgery. Once I successfully hit three weeks, then I should be able to make it on through the following months.

Good thing is, my legs and arms and hands and feet are much improved since I added the Charlotte's Web Hemp Extract on June 10, 2015. And I no longer have the severe, earth-sucking heaviness. I don't know if I could have managed a surgery without that improvement.

Also, I'm smaller than the first time around. I used to have thunder thighs. Due to the nerve damage, I've lost over 30 pounds and my thighs are less meaty and less muscly. but maybe muscly enough since I'm biking. I hit over 1000 miles yesterday, for 2016. :)

As the news regarding my hip has sunk in, I've thought of my visit to Grandfather Fir on June 1. Maybe this news is another piece of the puzzle. Perhaps I'll go see him again this upcoming week while I'm taking some days away from work.

~*~

June 10 has become a significant date for me.

• June 10, 2010: I received the Knapp email which was the linchpin for the cascade that followed, an experience I never imagined would happen. It had a severe and traumatizing blow on my psyche.
• June 10, 2015: I added Charlotte's Web Hemp Extract to my regimen in my continued search for answers regarding my ongoing and spreading nerve damage that began in Spring, 2011. I've had significant improvement since then.
• June 10, 2016: I had the appointment with the hip surgeon, which led to the discovery of the increased metals in my system, which may be a factor in my nerve damage.

Maybe on June 10, 2017, I'll be able to hike to Thomas Knob Shelter at Grayson Highlands. I've not hiked it since May, 2014, because I haven't been able to walk that far since.

Thomas Knob is where I had a chance encounter with Rising Tide on that last hike in May, 2014. Rising Tide is the trail name of an AT thru-hiker who recovered from quadriplegia and was thru-hiking the Appalachian Trail, 2180ish miles, in 2014. Amazing story. And one I have recalled countless times, which has kept me going time and again in my ongoing search for answers regarding my current disability.

~*~

If I make it through this and actually get well, I think I'll resort to "witch doctors" for any future ailments.

Mercury toxicity, which probably came from the since-removed amalgam fillings in my teeth, was a key factor in my decades-long battle with asthma and immune dysfunction. Once I got the mercury out and my level down, asthma (and later allergies) have been nonexistent for the most part.

Pseudomonas-contaminated alubuterol which I was inhaling through my nebulizer for months in the mid '90s as I struggled to breathe and overcome multiple bouts of pneumonia. Pseudomonas can cause pneumonia. Hundreds of people died. I was lucky.

Hip replacement surgery due to hip degeneration probably caused by the abundance of steroids consumed for  almost two decades to keep me breathing. That hip ended up a recall and may slowly be poisoning me.

The drug terbinafine (generic oral Lamisil) precipitated the current widespread nerve damage I live with.

Not to mention a corrupt licensed mental health therapist.

How could witch-doctory be much worse?

~*~

"What is Truth?"

This morning I read the question, "What is Truth?" The author posing the question then answers the question by quoting something that Jesus allegedly said, that God's Word is truth.

I thought about the question, leaving Jesus aside.
Carol, what is Truth?
Truth is the opposite of a lie. Lies are fables. 
Truth then must be reality, life as it is including events that really happen(ed), and not fables. 

Both fables and reality claim facts and circumstances and motives. The difference is that one story really happened or happens; the other didn't or doesn't. One is true; the other, false.

So I was left pondering reality as truth.

~*~

The author continues, "Truth is not relative."

I agree. Truth [reality] is not relative. Nothing trumps reality. Reality is. In a sense, it is the ultimate power and judge.

I believe that nature must be the closest example we have of reality [truth]. She plays no favorites. Nature is. We see her raw power on display, though the forces themselves may be invisible to the naked eye.

Human actions do have an effect on nature and her forces, and thus on reality. But ultimately we have to surrender to reality, facing consequences or blessings.

~*~

The author continues, "God expresses His will to us with words so that we can understand Him."

That sentence stopped me in my reading tracks.
Really?! God relegates the vastness and multi-layered aspects of truth [reality] to mere words on a page? That is how I can understand a universal creator? By reading words on a page?

My past Way-brain instantaneously reminded me that's really not what I learned or believed as a Way believer.

God's Word involves more than words on a page; it includes oral words and the Word in the flesh, Jesus. And God first wrote His Word not on a page, but rather in the stars, telling the story of redemption in the zodiac and beyond. Much of the meaning though is contained within the names of those stars which were all passed along orally until God later had to have his certain chosen prophets pen that revelation to have a document, a standard, because as the earth became/becomes more and more filled with people and as the adversary (the devil) worked/works more and more to deceive, humans need a written standard that they can always go back to as a touchstone. 

To make things even more constraining and complicated, the author then states, "It [the Word] can be rightly-divided by studying to show ourselves approved unto God, or used to purport the adversary's ideas. It can be understood and believed because it interprets itself in the verse, its context, or how it has been spoken of previously! Truth does not contradict itself from Genesis 1:1 to Revelation 22:21."

So now in order to understand a universal creator, who is God my Father, I have this written standard that I have to figure out? But I have to be diligent because it can be distorted into whatever way the devil wants in order to purport his lies?

And the whole spiel about the Word interpreting itself in the verse, in the context, and used before sounds like gobblygook. On the other hand, if one thinks about it, that is how written language works, along with definitions and multiple aspects that grammarians and linguists and sociologists and other "ists"  have studied.

Should I do the same with my kids? Give them my written standard and tell them to read it in order to know me and understand me, but be sure to interpret it properly because there's a devil who'll twist it? So my kids ask, "How do we know when he's twisting it?" I answer, "My motive is always love. So if it contradicts love, it's wrong. Just keep reading. And remember, it all has to fit with no contradictions."

All this feels like a straitjacket trying to squeeze the life right out of life.

~*~

As I continued to read the rest of the author's epistle on "What is Truth," I got to thinking (yet again) about myth and belief.
I guess from the time humans tried to start answering the question "Why?" they have surmised and calculated and invented "answers" to help cope through the hardships and turmoil and heartbreak and evil that life can pound. These answers form beliefs that, in addition to explaining the evil, give more meaning to the magic of life, the inexplicable happenstances, the beauty, the power of nature and the cosmos.

So it's about survival. Trying to cope with and explain life.
And we cling to that which resonates for us -- our beliefs.
That resonance is different for different people.
Beliefs can be good, as long as those beliefs aren't used to manipulate and harm, which is sadly too often the case.

~*~

I often wonder, What do I really believe?

I believe there are forces, unseen and still undiscovered, that can cause circumstances to appear as if they are supernatural. I do not believe these yet undiscovered forces or their resulting impacts are any more supernatural than the current discoverable forces of nature, which are beyond incredible. Humans have not yet even conceived of measuring tools to illuminate these yet undiscovered currents or forces. And once we invent those tools, there'll probably still be a multitude of yet undiscovered layers.

I wonder if we'll ever stop trying to peer beyond?

I wonder if we'll come up with a belief measuring tool?
That's a scary thought.

Do I believe there is a benevolent creator behind those discovered-and-undiscovered forces?
I want to, but I still can't say for sure.
But I want to believe there is "something" and that I'll be delightfully surprised in the hereafter. 

Perhaps, nature is my "god" now.
I certainly hold her in great awe.
And I've taken up praying to trees.
I swear they hear me.

God's Acre, Bethabara