Light at the End of the Tunnel

 Steve and I had a wonderful camping trip this year, we stayed in Ohiopyle, Pennsylvania for 4 days and Hocking Hills, Ohio for 3 days.  We had several adventures in hiking, biking and white water rafting, however the one I would like to share today was our day biking on the Great Allegheny Passage (GAP) rail trail.  Our white water rafting guide had recommended driving to the next town up the trail (Confluence) and from there biking about 6 miles up to the Pinkerton train tunnel.  He said that it would be a pretty ride with several trestle bridges to cross over, and the Pinkerton tunnel was a local landmark and unique experience.  We thought a 12 mile round trip sounded doable for two people who haven't biked all summer.  

We packed a lunch to eat when we got back to Confluence and snacks, extra water in a camelback, first aid kit etc. for the ride.  We though we were probably overpacking for a 12 mile bike, but not knowing the trail and how far we might be from help we tend to overpack and prepare.  

We were very fortunate that most of the trail was wooded and shady, it also followed the river with several gorgeous overlooks.  

What we did not anticipate was the constant uphill climb.  There were a few downhills headed east to the tunnel, but mostly my quads were burning with the consistent pedaling needed to make our way.  Then, at the 7 mile mark, we realized it may be farther than the guide's estimate of 6 miles.  We decided to stop, rest, and re-evaluate the distance by using the interactive map we had downloaded for the trip.  Stopping was harder than we'd thought; with tired legs, Steve's usual dismount did not work as well, and he ended up scrapping his knee up on the gravel path.  Guess we did need that first aid kit!

Consulting the map, we saw that we were more than halfway there and maybe it would be another couple miles to the tunnel. This we felt was doable, especially if the way back was going to be a steady downhill.  We continued on, and eventually got to the tunnel just shy of 10 miles. Our 12 mile bike had turned into a 20 mile bike!  But we made it, and the overlook was gorgeous!  And the tunnel, well, that was an experience.  

The Pinkerton tunnel is 849 ft of unlit tunnel.  You can clearly see the other side, however, after the first few feet, the blackness is total and you can see nothing around you.  I had several minutes of anxiously steering straight towards the light at the end, with hands I couldn't see, on a path I couldn't see, and praying that there were no obstacles for me to run into!  It had not occurred to us to pack lights.  The cold of the tunnel chilled the sweat on my back, and all I heard was the gravel crunching beneath my tires and my breath echoing back to me from the tunnel walls, which added to the general fear factor.  I was very relieved to make it unscathed to the other side.  The way back I was a little easier about it since I had made it through once and knew what to expect, but it was still very unnerving riding through such total darkness.  I had some time to think about the symbolism, how often we are going through dark times that scare us and where we can't see what obstacles or dangers might be ahead, and we just have to trust that we will make it to the light on the other side.  To get through the scary times, hold steady and steer towards the light.

The way back to Confluence was a much easier ride with a constant downgrade that let us coast a lot.  I was very grateful for that!

Resting on the way back, we found a couple benches that were engraved with sayings that fit the trip perfectly.  As Steve feels I am the loveliest flower in the garden.  And for some reason, this trip between hiking Laurel Highlands and Hocking Hills involved a lot of climbing.  Steve would turn to me and ask, "Say it,"  and I would reply: "Yes, Ray, we are still going up".  

The Many Scarred Tree

 One of the tools that I use to help with anxiety has been to practice meditation and mindfulness.  This does not mean sitting for hours staring at my belly button and trying to think of nothing.  Rather it is about no matter if I am sitting, walking or performing some chore or task,  I am also practicing keeping my focus on noticing the world around me. Not distracting myself with music or audiobooks, or letting my brain endlessly spiral around upcoming tasks etc.  It is taking some time to really notice the little things around you that normally are just background, that we might not even really see as we walk by.

A few weeks ago I happened to have a little over an hour of time between work and a writing class I am taking, so I stopped by a small park and explored a new to me nature trail.  It happened to be a low energy day so I knew it would be a slow meander and just took my time at a pace that didn't have me stopping to catch my breath.  It happened to be a very old boardwalk, covered with moss, and with many uneven boards.  It even had some areas under construction with missing boards and new off to the side ready to replace them.  Going slow was probably the wisest way to take with the somewhat treacherous path.  There were several lollipop branches with one overlooking a river that I chose to rest at, and meditate and watch the river for a bit.  Watching the river, with no people about, it was still a busy place.  Reflections of sunlight off the water danced on the underside or tree branches overhanging the river in a mesmerizing pattern.  Huge red dragonflies patrolled and circled across and around, across and around, with occasional dives at the insects skimming the water.   A large fish jumped, startling me with its sudden huge splash.  Shortly after a huge raptor (I am not skilled enough in bird identifying to know the exact type) bright white and brown speckled body dove down towards the water.  It seemed to be coming right at me as its claws reached for the surface and missed its prey.  It circled twice before flying off further down the river.  I tried to focus on my breathing and simply take it all in, and marveled at just how busy the world is with no people around.  How much life is going on in the world that we often do not take the time to notice.  

I continued on my way, wanting to give myself enough time to get back to the start of the trail, and eventually I came upon a tree that was so torn and scarred that I was amazed that it still lived. Something in the tree's past had tried to take it out and been unsuccessful. Here it stood, scarred but very much alive. Standing straight and tall with a bright green canopy overhead.  A silent reminder that damaged does not mean broken.  Sometimes we make it out of the trauma heavily scarred and survive and thrive nonetheless.  

Lost in thoughts of the tree and what it meant or symbolized for me (not a mindful moment!),  I was startled by someone coming up behind me.  The first person I had seen out there, she said something like, "behind you", and I jumped probably a foot to the side as she speed walked past me.  She had headphones in and seemed to be going faster than was safe for this boardwalk.  I think she barely noticed me as she went by.  I wondered if she had noticed the scarred tree?  Or had taken a moment to watch the river?  I suddenly felt sad for her, and by that same token for my past self.  How many trails did I run with friends where it felt good to be out in nature but I was distracted with conversation.  Did I really see and hear and appreciate the world around me?  How many runs did I do with headphones and an audiobook or podcast running in my ear to distract me?  What did I miss by not taking some extra time to really feel and focus on all the vibrant life around me.  

This experience seemed to be a reminder that no matter how busy I am, trying to fit that workout in, I should stop and take a breath, and take the time to mindfully take it all in.

Taking a moment

 It's been a very busy week.  I have new hours and new responsibilities at work as I take on the role of Assistant Events Manager.  At home I am busy trying to clean pack and prepare our teardrop trailer for our vacation next week.  I am trying to take time to rest as I need it and it's frustrating how many times I have to go lay down until the fatigue passes.  I am past the go, go, go period of my life and strong willed part of myself really wants it back.  

 Yesterday I had a moment.  When I went to haul the bins out to the curb I bent to pick up a scrap of paper and as I did so a large dragon fly landed on the paper I was holding.  There I was, caught in a "moment".   I didn't want to move and could hardly breath as I inspected it's beautiful emerald green faceted eyes and it's iridescent wings shimmered in the early morning sun.  It seemed quite content to just sit there, the superstitious part of me wondered if it was a message.  The part of my brain that looks for meaning in the world around me wondered if it could talk what it wanted to tell me.  

For many different cultures around the world the dragonfly has many meanings. 

"Throughout many Native American nations (as well as other cultures worldwide) the dragonfly is representative of change, transformation, renewal, and self-realization, as well as speed, activity, dynamism, magic, and mystery."

A couple weeks ago I had a dragonfly "rider" while I was kayaking with my Brother and sister in law.  It stayed for over an hour sitting on top of my hat as I paddled down the Chippewa river.  My sister in law said you could watch it occasionally zip off of the hat and attack some incoming bug, then return right to the top of my head.  They wished they could have a guardian dragonfly!  

For whatever reason dragonflies have been making frequent appearance in my life lately.  Maybe to tell me it's time to trust the changes that go on in my life, embrace the transformations and growth and movement from one way of being to another.  Maybe it's OK to let go of the "Go, Go, Go" stage of my life and embrace the "active with periods of rest and contemplation stage".  In the end it would probably be healthier for me to Not try to push through my exhaustion and instead embrace the necessary times of rest. 

 

Robin Mama

 I stepped away from Facebook for a spell. It was shortly after the loss of a dear friend, and I found myself doom scrolling too much.  With many of the posts in my feed being horrible news and memes that just increased my general sadness and anxiety.  I felt bad letting go of Facebook, as it has over the years become my main way of sharing photos and upcoming events and life's happy times with friends and family.  However I just couldn't seem to stop myself from passing too many hours scrolling the feed that did nothing to improve my mental state.  I erased Facebook from my phone and though I told myself I could check in on my family and friends via my computer a couple times a week I found myself avoiding it altogether.

My only regret is a bit of narcissism that I enjoyed sharing pictures and adventures with friends and have been told by several that they enjoy my stories and shared pictures.  One sweet person in particular was part of my cancer support group and as things got more difficult for her she said she enjoyed living vicariously through me and seeing my adventures.  She passed away recently and I feel sad that I wasn't sharing these past few months.  

They say the thing people regret most at the end of their lives is when they withheld love, and that kind of feels like what has happened.  I love to share with friends. I share things that I hope will help others to find joy or appreciate the world around them.  I try to share things I feel are informative or events that other's might find interesting or inspiring or helpful.  I share because I love you all and at the core of it, I believe this world to be a good place with many good people who are just trying to do the best they can to survive it.

I will try to check in on Facebook each week, and share some of life's events, but if you don't see me on social media don't think I am avoiding you dear friends.  Give me a call to chat or plan a walk or meet me for coffee or tea ( I drink both).  Don't think that I am ignoring you or don't care if I am not online, it is because I am endeavoring to change my focus to the real world.

This morning I went out onto the porch swing and worked on my Journal and watched a Mama Robin feed her babies.  My journal question for the day was "What is making you hopeful right now?"  I used a mindfulness exercise where I went through the five senses to ground and center myself in the present and that pretty much answered perfectly what makes me hopeful:

-The smell of the damp post rain air.

- The sound of cheerful and raucous birdsong filling the trees.

-The feel of the gently rocking porch swing supporting me and the warm mug in my hands.

-The taste of the dark rich coffee that makes me think of warmer tropical places in the sun.

-The sight of a mother robin who built her nest on my front porch wreath and is busily hunting worms to feed her babies.

May you find some peace and contentment sometime today my friends.