Crossing the Rubicon

I really don't know how some surmount challenges more easily than others. I'm not that kind of person. At least I don't think I am. Others often tell me that I have surmounted many challenges in my life, that I'm tough, that I enjoy thinking through solutions to perceived barriers, that I like to solve puzzles.

I was feeling rather hopeless yesterday, all the more so because the weather was glorious and there were scads of people out around the lake that I overlook. A gorgeous spot with peeks at the ocean from the walkway around it. Sunlight sparkling on the water, the ducks doing that water-skiing thing, skimming over the water. Especially those dazzling males. Dear blog, I drove down to the parking lot nearest the doggie park and I sat and watched the dogs and I cried. Like a fool. I couldn't stop. Ansa and I had walked around that lake so many times and I'd bring her into the doggie park and she'd make a few ventures out to the other dogs, half-heartedly play-bow and then come back to me, content to sit and watch the other dogs. A Mummy's girl as other dog owners often commented, some quite enviously. The loss of her overwhelmed me for a while. I tried to bite it all down but that made it worse.

So today, I drove down there again, 11c (52F) out. Seriously, we've had this freakish warm winter, very little snow. And I took my stick and walked. And yes it hurt, it's supposed to, but I managed 1,500 steps. And I felt part of and not distant from all the activity around me. And there was so much: dogs, elders, babies, wheelchairs, everybody smiling and greeting and revelling in this glorious sunshine. And so very many dogs, one woman had 5, all beautifully trained. And I didn't cry once.

I still don't know what got me out there, to be part of this mobile human race, it was like, maybe being fanciful, the spirit of Ansa nudging me, pushing me. I was ready to give up on these legs. On myself. Overwhelmed doesn't quite capture it.

And Blog, it wasn't as bad as I thought. I stopped twice to give the legs a bit of a nap and then moved on. And I had the thought: I can increase this, not by much, not so I feel defeated and hopeless, but even an extra 50 steps a day?

Yeah, that's manageable.

How do you surmount perceived barriers or challenges?

The Spike

This railroad spike I picked up is my souvenir of the great adventure.

I was at a mini-conference yesterday. About 16 of us. Discussions, a couple of meals, I don't know about you but I just love breaking bread with a crowd around a table. The host's house was big enough to seat all of us together at a huge table. I love when people you don't know very well shine the light on themselves and share their passions.

There was a mid-afternoon break and an older friend and I decided to go for a walk together. Others did the same, little mini-groups breaking up into conversational units and toddling off. The day was glorious and we had about 45 minutes to kill before the next discussion.

Friend and I explored an old railway bed trail and hit one of those moments - does this trail go round in a circle and then, like a fool, immediately answer the question for yourself - of course it does!

The trail went on and on and on. No turnoff, no circling. One continuous long straight line. My chief concern was Ansa, the wonder-dog, who is aging and arthritic. My next concern was we did not bring our cellphones or money or water or even phone numbers of people who were at the event or the host herself. On and on we trudged.

Finally we hit a side-road off the trail, a steep winding hill. By that point we were knackered. Yes, we're each of us training for the Tely 10 but did NOT expect to be plunged into Iron Women status in week 1 of training with 8 more weeks to go.

At long last we hit the main road, puffing after the long climb. I calculated we were about 5 miles from the house. Ansa had slowed dramatically. Admiring something off in the distance, Friend tripped and fell. Planked herself on the shoulder of the road would be more like it. We've no sidewalks in Newfoundland - did I tell you that already? Tough people don't need 'em. NOT!

So I pick her up, dust her off, give her my sweaty bandana as a bandage for her bleeding hand and we stumble on. Finally we see a man checking underneath his jeep on the shoulder ahead of us. We explain the situation and he immediately herds us into his vehicle, all consideration for elder-dog, he even offers to lift her in.

Turns out he's an engineer in from Calgary for a short term contract and between all of us we find the house where a search party had just been formed and were all lined up on the driveway, ready to scatter in several directions. Some started to cry when they saw us, they were so upset and figured we'd had a dreadful catastrophe befall us. They had called our mobiles and noticed our purses, left on the floor of the hall, ringing back at them in merriment. Panic then ensued. We were missing nearly 3 hours and husband of Friend calculated we had covered 10 miles of rough, rugged terrain.

All of us agreed it was one mighty story for the grandchildren.

I was the after dinner speaker and I spoke on the metaphorical nature of our walk - no side-roads, no twists and turns. The ocean on one side of us, brush and forest on the other. To leave the trail would have been rushing into unknown madness.

We had to persist. Right to the end. Much like when we nurture a dream, a vision, a goal.

And the spike?

It symbolises the strength and survival residing in all of us.

Rebirth

As we come up to Winter Solstice , I am struck by the fact that for the first December in eons I'm not complaining about the short days. I'm working my life around them, early to bed, early to rise. Masses of Vitamin D.

I was in the midst of my jog-walk today,(picture above taken from my android)and thinking I'd never felt more alive. Normally, in December I'm a bit of a horrible wretch, longing for Spring, renewal, colours. But not these days. I'm feeling very present, enjoying the chill in the air, my woolly cap on my newly shorn head, my thinsulate glovvies on my fingers, my layers of many colours underneath the running jacket. Elder dog seems to be in the same mode as me. Bounding joyfully along the side of the road in front. As you can see.

My December motto: Grab each day as it arrives and French kiss it to the ground.

Mwah!

Surprises

A wise old shaman said to me one time:

"There's a surprise in every day, you just have to look for it."

I concur. But sometimes life itself gets in the way of spotting them when I'm cranky, irritable or have too much on my plate.

The longer I live the more I look for them though. This year I deliberately cast aside the distractions of my day and I just get out in the air and find new pathways, new byways, new trails. And surprises.

Today Ansa and I walked on an old road, long abandoned. If you look carefully, said a very old resident, you'll find the faintest trace of wagon wheels for this was a coach run back in the day. I didn't see the trace of wagon wheels but I did see what I thought were the faint imprint of long dead horse hooves. It was only afterwards I thought: moose prints, of course. It's a haunted old road alright. Daughter had explored it last year and had the eerie sensation of being watched and hurried on out. High trees on each side, that wonderful indescribable smell of forest, and creaking old tree trunks chattering along beside me into the almost tangible silence. I must bring the camera there to try and capture the other- worldliness of it.

Then I went to my mailbox and inside was a large package from a beloved Toronto friend. I literally gasped when I saw what was inside. I had told her recently of my upcoming debut as a seanchai and she had thought to send me a debut outfit. I was staggered both at its beauty and its me-ness. She sure knows me and my style. A black top and skirt with multi-coloured lace ribbons dancing all over it, even from the hem and sleeves. A French designer label. Something I could never, ever afford or even venture into the shops that would carry such luxury.

And for the first time in years I thought: you know what would look good with this? Sparkling high heels. Maybe pink, maybe red. High heels. Sheer stockings. You need to honour these gorgeous clothes.

And there will be pictures. Promise.

I just love surprises but my favourite of all is when I surprise myself.

My very own world

Around the man made lake, Lake Aquitane,
The dog and me. Me and the dog.
Her head down, snarfling a thousand smells.
My head up drinking the night sky of a thousand stars.
Both of us sprinkled in snow dust.

The worst of the winter-cold behind us now.
Maybe.
The worst of the winter of emotions
Faded to grey. For to-now.
Maybe.

We scamper around the lake.
The dog and me. Me and the dog.
Houses huddled in the distance. People huddled inside.
Captured in the blue light.
Captivated. Entranced by
Anna Nicole Smith and Britney bare-head.

We meet not another soul out there.
The dog and me. Me and the dog.
And that is perfection itself.
In my very own world.