Outstretched wings...Round #24

Entertaining visuals often visit me in my sleep dreams. Dr. Seuss-type animals, like wildebeest-wolf hybrids running in a herd at Grayson Highlands State Park in Virginia. Or tiny pink elephants running in a line up the living room wall next to the doorway in Mom and Dad's old house, the home where I grew up.

Last night I dreamt of miniature calico pigs who jumped into a pond and swam. When they got out they gave each other kisses. They were so cute! But then I learned from an animal guide at the pond that the humans were trying to teach the pigs to not kiss so much; they had developed raw spots on their chins and noses.

Last night's dream also included Hubby and I flying in the open air above a waterway as we sat straddled upon something; seems like it was a long cardboard box with stationary, cardboard wings. We were in Florida, flying north. To our right in the distance, also flying north, were a teenage-boy standing upon one of the two outstretched wings of a giant heron, and a girl-child sitting upon one of the outstretched wings of a giant seagull. I was amazed at their ability to balance upon these flying winged creatures and how easy they made it look.

Upon rising one morning sometime in the past few weeks, my first conscious thought was, What can I do today to help alleviate suffering in the world? I can't recall what I dreamt the preceding night.

The question somewhat startled me. I've asked it of myself multiple times since.

~*~

I received my 24th epidural on Monday, January 21, 2019.
I'll receive my 25th on Thursday, April 18, 2019, or thereabouts.

Trail Guide. Round #24

January 21, 2019, thru April 18, 2019

Just as others go to work at jobs, my job & work is selfcare.
Selfcare isn't selfish. With selfcare I am caring for others.
Due to only so much time & energy in a day, a job limits one's activities outside of the job.
My job is no exception. I have to go to my job.
I do not have to explain to anyone my lack of commitment to activities outside my job.

Remind myself, "Easy. Easy." Lower expectations to regulate frustrations.
Factor in some certainties, so I feel more tethered to what is important & to help keep me grounded.
At the same time remember that weather is always changing. "It's wind, man. It blows all over the place."

Remind myself, "I have intrinsic value. My experiences & knowledge count."
When I arise, ask myself, "What can I do today to help alleviate suffering?"

May I be present.
May I have ease of well being.
May I be peaceful.
May I embrace 10,000 sorrows & 10,000 joys.

Countdown:
Week 1: Completed M, 1/28/19: easy does it
Week 2: Completed M, 2/04/19
Week 3: Completed M, 2/11/19
Week 4: Completed M, 2/18/19: easy does it

Week 5: Completed M, 2/25/19: easy does it X2
Week 6: Completed Tu, 3/05/19: easy does it X3

(Neck shots.)

Week 7: Completed Tu, 3/12/19
Week 8: Completed Tu, 3/19/19

Week 9: Completed Tu, 3/26/19: easy does it
Week 10: Completed Tu, 4/02/19: easy does it X2
Week 11: Completed Tu, 4/09/19: easy does it X3
Week 12: Completed Tu, 4/16/19: easy does it X4

(Epidural #25. Th, 4/18/19)

Signed: me, ceo ~ cyclist. explorer. overcomer.~

I'll be glad when winter is over

Cross-posted from my poetry blog.
~*~

I'll be glad when winter is over.
But that could be the end of March.
Ugh.
Until then, I'll trudge along...

After all these years,
I'm still amazed at the relief cycling brings
to my brain and body and soul.
But I don't get as much soul-relief when cycling indoors
compared to cycling through woods and meadows and mountains.

Soul-relief comes when my soul is filled, satisfied.
Where do I experience that?
When is my soul lifted beyond the material?

When I solo-travel into nature,
cycling greenways and rail-trails
and driving the winding roads of the Blue Ridge Mountains
as I listen to music, which also
feeds my soul.

I am transported into the multidimensional,
a space in time where I feel connected and whole,
where Father Time seems to slow down and whisper,
"This is what you were made to do..."

Life pulsates all around-within.
The presence and witness of the trees
and ancient rocks and cliffs and the rolling river.
The presence and witness of gnomes and tree fairies,
whether or not they really exist.
The presence and witness of wildlife,
who oftentimes make themselves known.
Sometimes our eyes meet and time stands still.
Sometimes the life moves alongside or above or below me.

Upon answering my two questions,
which for me are really one,
I felt a tiny inkling of guilt.
Shouldn't my answer be when I am with friends or family or loved ones,
the people dearest to my heart?
Or when I witness another's freedom from a long-term bondage,
another's wellness and wholeness?

But if I were to choose my two shouldn't-answers,
I would be lying.

I'll be glad when winter is over.
Until then, I'll pedal mostly indoors
allowing memories to roll me along
into the multidimensional...

Working Things Out

Five days from now I will get my 24th steroid lumbar epidural.
I received my first one in December, 2013.
I'm so tired of them.
Yet, without them, I am so tired and weak, slow and shaky.

It's not unusual when an epidural is closely approaching that I'll think, Maybe I won't need one this time. Maybe I'm doing well enough that I can function well enough without it, and just get neck shots instead of the epidural.

I was thinking that last night, as I sat on the chair in our bedroom, a straight back chair that we inherited from Mom after she died. Or maybe we got it before she died. Mom died in February, 2009. I like the chair. The back is made of thinly cut wood in a woven-type pattern; it's not wood slats. The chair has wooden arms. The seat is upholstered with a fabric printed with foliage of deep greens and blues and golden and burgundies. It'd probably be three shades lighter if I ever got it cleaned.

I sat, brushing my teeth with the electric toothbrush mulling over the next day, which is now today. What do I need to do tomorrow? Okay. I need to feed myself. I need to bathe. I need to dress. I need to do my stretches. I'd like to ride my indoor bike. And I have writing workshop tomorrow night.

Then, as I've done a multitude of times, I let out a half-sigh and a "hmmpf," simultaneously thinking, What normal person thinks like that? I need to feed myself? I need to bathe? I need to dress? These are things most people do without having to calculate the effort required to do them.

This isn't the first time I've been through that thought process. That maybe I won't need my epidural and then in an instant of clarity - in that moment as I struggle to put on socks or get dressed or put on a seatbelt or whatever - the reality hits me that this isn't "normal." But it is normal for me, until I get the temporary relief that the epidural provides.

How can I ever communicate how hard it is to live with the constant calculation of tasks that would be routine if I weren't challenged by this dis-ease?

Yet, I have progressed much from where I was, even a year ago.

As I titrate down on my daily prednisone this week, come Sunday or Monday, I'll know if I feel confident enough to get neck shots instead of the epidural. It's a scary thought to me. How well would I be able to function with just the neck shots and not the epidural?

I started reading James Comey's book this week, A Higher Loyalty. It wasn't on my reading list. It was on the shelf at the used bookstore. I forget what section of the bookstore. But a section that I was interested in, as I sat on the seat of my walker perusing titles. It was $7.00, a hardback. I bought it. I prefer hardbacks.

In the last line of the Introduction Comey writes, "How on earth did I end up here?"
I don't know how many times I've asked myself that same question over the past eight or so years.
It's a long damn answer.

2059 in 2018: Rollin', rollin', rollin' ...

Cross-posted from my cycling blog.

*~*

In April, 2018, I began my cycling blog. I titled it Adventures with Olivia.

On April 19th I posted my first entry. I gave it a very creative title: First Post.

From April 19th through July 11th, I posted entries about specific rides.

On July 26th, I began posting a summary-for-the-month entry, which lists each ride for that month with links to tweets of the corresponding ride. Since then, I have not posted any entries about specific rides.

On September 11, I bought a new bike and named her Bleu, short for Black Beauty.
I then changed the title of the blog to Adventures with Olivia & Bleu.

I'm glad I began this blog and the summary entries.
The summaries are an easy way to collate my rides.
The entries with their corresponding links provide a tangible storehouse for my memories, encouraging me to continue onward, reminding me that even though I'm abled-differently, I can do.

I pedaled a total of 2058.6 miles in 2018.

Below I've listed my mileage for each month of 2018 with links to corresponding entries.

The miles represent more than just miles...

Cycling hillsides and woodlands is, dare I say, as lifegiving to me as breathing. It provides pain relief, energy, movement, mental acuity, purpose, confidence, adventure, solace, companionship, communion, hope - all of which have suffered since developing polyradiculitis.

Unlike walking, when I cycle, I do not have to carry my body weight. My bicycle supports me. I do not have to lift my legs. They push the pedals round and round which acts as leverage to move me forward. I do not have to use my arms and hands for anything except support, steering, and changing my gears.

My bicycles, Olivia and Bleu...they truly are my freedom.
Freedom because my body feels lighter on wheels - I do not have to work so hard in order to move.
Freedom from the concentration and calculations required to perform routine, daily self-care tasks - my mind has more margin.
Freedom from having to string together words in order to communicate - there is no need to explain anything to anyone.

In those moments - cycling the wind, immersed in communion with nature - words aren't necessary; sentences even less so. In those moments, the linear alphabet - strung into words, stretched into sentences - feels a primitive and archaic way to communicate. In the woods, among wildlife and trees, is where I feel most alive, most connected.

2018: Miles per month

• January: 124.5 ~Salem Lake, 1/24/18
• February: 64.6 ~American Tobacco Trail, 2/15/18
• March: 62.4 ~Mt. Airy Greenway, 3/16/18
• April: 147.1 ~April Entries
• May: 216.9 ~May Entries
• June: 187.8 ~June Entries
• July: 224 ~Memories: July Rides, 2018
• August: 227 ~Miles of Smiles: August Rides, 2018
• September: 280.7 ~Rolling Toward Autumn: September rides, 2018
• October: 227 ~October, 2018, rides: Herons & Deer & Praying Mantises
• November: 176 ~November, 2018: Pedal Carol Pedal
• December: 120.6 ~December, 2018: 0 to 21.2

Total miles: 2058.6, or 2059 rounded up.

Salem Lake. 1/24/18

Neuse River Trail. 4/19/18

New River Trail. 4/21/18.

John entering Austinville tunnel. 

Florida. 5/25/18. 

Ponce Inlet route. 

Neuse River Trail. 6/07/18. 

Bicentennial Greenway. 6/30/18,

One of the tank farms.

Railroad Grade Road. 7/28/18.

Mt. Airy Greenway. 9/05/18.

Mt. Airy Greenway. 9/19/18. 

Great heron flasher pose. 

Yes, that's what it's called. 

New River Trail. 11/19/1918. Night cycling.

Mt. Airy Greenway. 12/03/18.

"New Year" "Resolutions"

I don't make "New Year" "resolutions."
That doesn't mean I don't set "goals;" I do.
Just not as "resolutions" and not necessarily at the "New Year" which begins for most (if not all?) human societies on January 1st, every year.

I think more in terms of "focus," rather than "resolution."
Like a "goal," a "focus" can change, culminate, or be discarded depending on what life presents, on circumstances outside one's control, or on whatever.

So, I currently have three (plus three more, added later) personal "focuses" for 2019:

1) Tribe
Find myself among folks with integrity, compassion, respect, empathy. Is it possible to attract this? I don't know, but I can at least be on the lookout. (The word "tribe" in the current political polarization may have an almost inflammatory connotation. I hate when words get hijacked like that. When I chose the word "tribe," the current connotation didn't even enter my mind. Too often I feel misplaced, like I don't really have a 'tribe.')

2) Biases
Figure out what to do to allow them to loosen their grip. Be aware of the hue they paint in my filter from my perch. Endeavor to change that hue; is it distorting the view? Shift my position on my perch to gain a different perspective. If needed, change perches; at least momentarily. Seek how to forgive the unforgiveable, and whether or not that is a worthwhile pursuit. All this applies especially in regard to my "hold-out" against the psychopathic personality.

3) Flash-feelings
Don't ignore and dismiss them when they glimpse themselves momentarily and immediately go back into hiding, especially the often-recurring ones. Recall, observe, identify, and examine to find out why they glimpse-and-ghost.

Rereading those, they sound like "goals."
And maybe they are.
But, I'm still gonna call them "focuses."
And maybe they will evolve into "resolutions."

*~*

1/15/19, added note
A few days after I posted this blog piece, as I thought over "goals" and "focuses" and "themes," it dawned on me that, maybe more importantly than the 3 "focuses" listed above are three underlying "focuses."

1) Gratitude
To have lived almost 60 years and never have gone without food except by choice; that alone is cause for gratitude.

2) Service
Before my disability, I sought to serve. Now, I hold back. I have to. If I overextend, the price is too detrimental. Then I end up needing someone to serve me. So, if I first serve myself in the sense of self-care, recognizing and accepting my current limitations, that is serving others. Consider how my choices affect others. Ask myself, "What can I do to help alleviate suffering in the world?" Recognize that begins at home.

3) Humility
This ties in with "Biases" above. Thomas Carlyle's and Ralph Waldo Emerson's statements apply here, somehow even to my "hold-outs." ~"...every man is my superior in some way; in that I learn from him."

~*~

Regarding January 1st as the "New Year," I recently wrote in a poem:

Man devised a calendar numbering the days.
I think Nature's New Year would be the moment after Winter Solstice,
when Sun begins to shine longer in the day-sky,
starting the cycle anew, again.

Each year would have two different New Years,
one in the North and one in the South.
If a body had the means to live in each hemisphere,
they could begin a New Year every six months.