Suffering is Strength

I am truly blessed. If you had suffered the past year with me, you’d be saying WTF? But at the end of the day, the people who matter most were with me and laughing. That makes all the pain and suffering worth it. I’ll be honest, I nearly died twice this year from medical issues. Deal with that. At the lows, well, if you have to ask, you have never come close to death. Tasting the possibility as a solution.

In the last year I nearly died, wrote a novel, created amazing poems that maybe two people have read, healed the pain of an animal, sustained the life of plants that should have died, and created visual pleasure with my landscaping. I rocked hitting bottom.

Why? Because each and every step kept me alive and moving forward. Most every one I came in contact with either accepted the idiosyncrasies, or shrugged their shoulders and moved on. You can do this too.

Rock hitting bottom. Accept that life hits you below the belt. Do your best work when the world says you are finished. Accept that you are doing your best even at your worst.

Surround yourself with people who will lift you up and protect you—or just go out in a blaze of glory.

Whatever you do, don’t sit still, accept mediocrity, or just give up. Let go, but don’t give up. The entirety of the world is waiting for someone like you to grab a hold and not let go. Are you the one?

Where’s My Flocking Coffee?

I was sitting on my couch, looking out into the woods across the street enjoying the snow flocked view and contemplating the bottom of my mug and the need to refill it, but Kali was curled up next to me with her head and paw on my lap. I really didn’t need another cup of coffee and decided that I would give up caffeine once again. Eventually I start anew because of a long trip or what else would you order while writing in a Starbucks while on the road?

Eventually, I forced the leaden pooch off my lap and back to the floor so I could rise up and fill my mug one last time and start my chores. After fifteen minutes of staging materials for retiling the upstairs shower/tub, I thought, where did I leave my coffee? I wandered through the house searching everywhere I’d been, but no cup. Of course, it was in the microwave and I had ignored the multiple reminder beeps. About a month ago I found two mugs in my office microwave. It sits lower than my line of sight, so the first went unnoticed when I placed the second one in days later.

This happens because I make a primitive form of espresso using a French press, then add cold water to make an Americano. If I do not stand in front of the microwave for the minute it takes to warm the mixture, there is a good chance I’ll end up playing the game “Where’s My Coffee?” in about ten or fifteen minutes.

It isn’t so much that I am absent minded, but rather in the moment most of my day. Laying something down and moving on to the next thing is an invitation to forget about the object because it is no longer useful for what I am doing—now, be it a physical chore or writing the next chapter of my novel.

Clarity of mind and purpose can be enhanced by coffee, but I don’t need it to get there, so I might as well let it go. Again. For now.