Sooooo . . . yesterday, staying home, not being outside for my usual vigorous 3-4 mile walk, drove me nuts. Even the snow shoveling didn’t do it. (I do wonder how Colin, my paralyzed, nerve-damaged son, does it, day after day in the same bed, inside; he and I have much the same nervous system. Obviously, he’s far ahead of me in learning how to stay present, no matter what. See my near-daily posts on his long, excruciating journey.)
Sooooo . . . today I thought I’d go to the post office and mail those two packages that I mentioned in yesterday’s post; at most a half-mile walk; with unknown snow conditions. Or at least I’d try to do it.
Puppy Scampi started out with me; but, once again, soon turned back, insistent. Okay. And actually, good! His little nervous self that continuously darts about, pulling me this way and that way would definitely destabilize me on this perilous journey. Best to go alone, backpack holding the packages.
Son Colin, of course, doesn’t want me to go outside at all, given that he figures, one fall, and I’d break my 82 year old hip.
Probably true! But his fear wasn’t going to stop me. Okay, yes, it’s dangerous, but so is going up and down steep indoor stairs to the basement, which I do many times each week.
So I took Scampi back home and began again. Figuring, if all went well, it would probably take about an hour.
I learned: to stay extremely focused on what’s right in front of me. To get and remain focused, in a Virgo-esque way, checking conditions, analyzing current threats, etc., in order to remain aloft. I learned: the best way to walk over treacherous snow and ice is to stomp, slowly, inch by inch if necessary; and especially, to not walk (stomp) on downhill, or even uphill, streets. Instead, plough through the sidelines, in deep snow, until the bottom (or top) is reached. (This is a hilly town.)
I learned: to see my journey as an expedition, like Everest, I thought, fancifully. Changing conditions always: obviously slick (walk next to the icy parts, not on them); not obviously slick (most treacherous, usually snow on top); steep snow and ice hills (where ploughs had been); places where nothing has been done since the storm, so that it was like trudging on beach dunes, each footfall an effort. And so on. You get the picture. I was fully engaged, in the moment, and DID NOT FALL. Though I did slide three or four times, just a few inches, before quickly catching myself (thank you yoga, chikung, taichi!).
On arrival at the post office I felt triumphant. One clerk in front, one out back; no customer but me. (And actually, on my entire adventure, I only saw one other person out walking, a young man.)
I felt so triumphant indeed, that I decided to see if I wanted to go get groceries too; to start walking (slowly stomping, Virgo-esque) in that direction. And the farther I went, the better I felt internally. This expedition was really getting my juices going! Ended up getting lots of root veggies at Fresh Thyme, and a quart of organic yogurt at Aldi, plus a few other heavy items.
So, on my way home, my backpack was both full and heavy. Probably 20 pounds. I noticed that the deeper the weight, the more it stabilized me; so grateful that I had decided to go shopping; both for that fact, and for the fact that I had decided to dare myself to go in the first place, and, in the second place, to then go much further than I had expected to. Ended up stomping carefully, slowly, about two miles on a two-hour journey.
Called, triumphant, to tell my son Colin went I arrived home. He, predictably, was furious. “MOM! One fall, and you break your hip, and you’re done!”
Oh well. I need to follow my own internal guidance.
He did convince me to order some
