Friday, May 22, 2015
Today was one of those days that easily inspires appreciation of the state of Minnesota. Late May must be one of the most beautiful times of year to live here. The world is fully alive. Flowers, grasses and the green canopy of trees long ago replaced the monochromatic browns and whites of winter. And the sunshine this time of year is amazing. The sun is so bright and the days are so long it's virtually impossible to not experience at least one moment in which the beauty of sunlight falling upon this vibrant world proves so incredibly vivid that you simply have to pause and marvel at it all. I found myself doing that today.
My eyes capture quite a bit these days. I am still adjusting to how they seem to function in a qualitatively different way. And strange as it may seem my vision seems to continue to sharpen. How this is possible I do not know. I sometimes have this strange feeling that I simply did not exercise my eyesight as much as any typical kid does in the course of a normal, healthy childhood. It seems to me that sufficiently severe trauma can so overwhelm a person that the normal developmental course you might expect a child to take gets somehow detoured...or at least distorted. It's almost as if my eyes came to be a significant repository of the impact of the trauma I experienced.
I believe that unattended grief can also keep us from fully witnessing and participating in the world around us. When grief consumes us much like a powerful undertow consumes a reckless swimmer we can become so intensely preoccupied by it that the world outside our very skin seems to fall away. How can we appreciate the beauty of sunlight falling on beautiful flowers or the cheerful sounds of children laughing when a deep pain gnaws away at us? Pain is a normal part of being a human being. But if we consistently ignore our own pain we may wake up one day and wonder what has become of us. In clearing out the pain inside ourselves we can really begin to appreciate the world outside our very selves.
I feel buoyed by a deeper feeling of hopefulness lately. I had my annual physical exam yesterday. All the results were encouraging. My blood pressure was in a healthy range. My cholesterol had decreased by fourteen points compared to this time last year. And I am now on my way to completely titrating off my last major medication. It took me nearly two years to reach this point. But here I am.
The fruits of diligence can be immense. And I believe this is just the beginning!
Today was one of those days that easily inspires appreciation of the state of Minnesota. Late May must be one of the most beautiful times of year to live here. The world is fully alive. Flowers, grasses and the green canopy of trees long ago replaced the monochromatic browns and whites of winter. And the sunshine this time of year is amazing. The sun is so bright and the days are so long it's virtually impossible to not experience at least one moment in which the beauty of sunlight falling upon this vibrant world proves so incredibly vivid that you simply have to pause and marvel at it all. I found myself doing that today.
My eyes capture quite a bit these days. I am still adjusting to how they seem to function in a qualitatively different way. And strange as it may seem my vision seems to continue to sharpen. How this is possible I do not know. I sometimes have this strange feeling that I simply did not exercise my eyesight as much as any typical kid does in the course of a normal, healthy childhood. It seems to me that sufficiently severe trauma can so overwhelm a person that the normal developmental course you might expect a child to take gets somehow detoured...or at least distorted. It's almost as if my eyes came to be a significant repository of the impact of the trauma I experienced.
I believe that unattended grief can also keep us from fully witnessing and participating in the world around us. When grief consumes us much like a powerful undertow consumes a reckless swimmer we can become so intensely preoccupied by it that the world outside our very skin seems to fall away. How can we appreciate the beauty of sunlight falling on beautiful flowers or the cheerful sounds of children laughing when a deep pain gnaws away at us? Pain is a normal part of being a human being. But if we consistently ignore our own pain we may wake up one day and wonder what has become of us. In clearing out the pain inside ourselves we can really begin to appreciate the world outside our very selves.
I feel buoyed by a deeper feeling of hopefulness lately. I had my annual physical exam yesterday. All the results were encouraging. My blood pressure was in a healthy range. My cholesterol had decreased by fourteen points compared to this time last year. And I am now on my way to completely titrating off my last major medication. It took me nearly two years to reach this point. But here I am.
The fruits of diligence can be immense. And I believe this is just the beginning!
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I invite you to accompany me as I document my own journey of healing. My blog is designed to offer inspiration and solace to others. If you find it of value I welcome you to share it with others. Aloha!