On account of rain

Hello Travellers,

It stormed here last night to such a degree that I have had to call off our morning walk on the account of rain. More than likely it will be rescheduled to a later time today.

Should it stop raining.

Let’s not be discouraged together.

I also find myself struggling with any words worth saying this morning. But I promised myself and you, that I will show up and say something…Here’s what comes to mind:

I think that one of the reasons change is so hard for humans is because we all secretly hope if we make the choice to change, the stars will align, the clouds will part and the path will be revealed. And that path will be an unencumbered one. Perhaps through a field of poppies or daisies or along the beach by the ocean or down a picturesque highway leading to a horizon with a setting sun or some glorious shit like that.

That is our tiny hope inside, the little flame that we are all carrying. Secretly.

BUT don’t we all know it won’t be that way?

Because what is the equivalent visual for the struggles you will encounter on your way to changing your life?

Would you go down a path that looked like it require a machete with perhaps a side arm? Or a large amount of bug spray? Maybe you’d actually just have to swath yourself in a layer of mesh to keep all the bugs out. Like a mesh mummy. Would you travel that path if you knew everything you are seeking was at the end?

Would you go into a volcano? A slightly active volcano. Like jump into it. Could you agilely hop across the little stones in a river of hot molten lava in order to retrieve the knowledge you require?

How about a suspicious splinter filled wooden bridge suspended over a gorge?

Or shark infested waters, while nursing a massive paper cut? Two things there, the blood. AND the stinging from the salt water. AND paper cuts hurt so disproportionately to the actual injury, don’t they? Would you do it?

How about green eggs and ham, with a guy named Sam? Because let’s be honest, that’s food poisoning waiting to happen…we just didn’t know that as kids…

How uncomfortable are you willing to be? (I’ve been asking myself these things lately)

Maybe it’s a question of how much Lara Croft or Indiana Jones do you have inside yourself?

The path to a different kind of life requires so much. So much work, so much discomfort, so much sacrifice, so many new things that you do not know how to do OR how you will do them OR learn them. But we have established that nothing worth having will come easy.

Of course what is easy is up for grabs, as we are all different in what we can tolerate in terms of loss and pain and judgement and disappointment and our ability to stand with ourselves, only ourselves at times.

And can you be inventive and responsive and flexible enough to allow your plans to be somewhat nebulous? Because adaptation is a key piece of any idea or plan or travel for that matter.

Can you handle your own emotions and thoughts and remain detached enough from them to keep a clear head?

Can you not attach to the outcome and instead take in the experience for what it’s worth, on it’s own merits, will that be enough?


Is there such a thing as failure, really?

What if your life depends on this?

Mostly, since I work with actual elderly people, those who are in their 80s and above, it’s mostly the question of, are you living in a way that will make you happy when you are in your 80s and recalling your life?

Will your 80 year old self be proud of you?

If not, then here it is. Another day to take another step forward. Because it’s just one step at a time.

I gotta keep walking and so do you. I think it’s all we have in this life, forward.

And now a random pointless photo of Charlie. Because he is across from me, doing this and making me laugh about it.

AND….ONE LAST THOUGHT, and it’s a good one: Dave used to always say that I sought out books/stories about the guy/girl who climbed a mountain with a three legged dog and overcame some kind of huge obstacle against all odds. He teased me about it. And I realized somewhere in the past six months since his suicide, that I might be that girl. Because coincidentally I do in fact have a three legged creature for just such a climb. He’s right there in that photo.

Prepare yourselves for that story.

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