Slowly, I’m beginning to get into a rhythm again. I think part of what had me so at odds with myself and my surroundings for the first weeks I was here, was the complete disruption of my life, my routines and my rhythm. I felt, almost literally “at sea.” I had no anchor – no port – no berth, if you will.
First, I had to figure out what was wrong. What was causing this complete mess of emotions I couldn’t even describe to myself – anxiety was part of it. Heck, I even got physically ill.
I’m not sure I even figured it out – what worked was to sort out what I needed to do to get my equilibrium back – and that involved finding my rhythm. Routine sounds so prosaic. Who wants a routine? It’s so damn bourgeoise. But people seek routines – they feel better with them. Even the body has a rhythm of its own. When we disobey that rhythm, we don’t feel well.
I just had to get back to one I had developed over the years – one that worked for me. Certainly, it’s not the same as it was – but a close approximation. I used to laugh about what a dull person I was. My life consisted of eat, sleep, work, hike. And beyond the joke of it, it worked.
Somehow, following the wisdom of my body and some kind of instinct, I am beginning to find my way again. I certainly can’t attribute it to my intelligence – what little there is left.
I have found my work. I have found my list of things to do each day, to tick of those items and to do my daily work that includes, above all, writing. Interestingly, the writing is more satisfying that ever because I am chronicling those subjects and events that genuinely interest me and engage my passions. Very satisfying. I am also challenging myself to stretch and work hard – to delve deep. Also, immensely satisfying.
I am finding more and more places and opportunities to do my daily dog walks and to hike, including finding like-minded people to hike with.
It’s coming together. Slowly, to be sure – but perceptively enough that every day I am feeling stronger and, more importantly, fiercer than ever before.