Time to Rest

I have finally become a dot net thanks to our daughter and son-in-law.  A gift from them was to pay my annual fee and our daughter set it up for me.

This spring has been extremely busy.  He and I took a trip to San Dimas to see our son, his bride and our little California Dream.  Then our daughter and and son-in-law welcomed our Yellow Rose of Texas into the world.  Dream came to Texas to meet her little cousin.  I had a grand couple of weeks!

I haven’t quite caught my breath from all the goings on over the past couple of months.  Every weekend has been packed with activity.  Evenings have been busy, too.

I have reached my step off point.  I am not feeling well at all.  Time to do some tending to me.  Tonight will be a super hot bath and a long stretching session.  Some pain reliever and an early lights out are in order as well.

Tomorrow is iffy for the 9 to 5.  If the morning starts like this one, I’m out.

But, my Physician is with me.  He will provide the healing required in His time.

Not much else to say right now.  Just figured it was past time to set words on the screen.  Especially with my new identification as rainingorchids.net.

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Lessons Learned

My trip to Maui was multi-layered.  Time with the children.  Seeing the sights.  Relaxing in the warm sunshine.

The unexpected layer was discovering myself not weak and old.  I am not beyond pushing physical limits.  I hiked two five mile trails.  One was challenging.  The other was not for the faint of heart.

The ridge hike in the rain and the mud is the one of which I am most proud.  I was slow.  But, my son was absolutely patient and encouraging.  He guided my steps and we joked along the way.  What a kind person he is!  I did the hike without incident and without excess pain and fatigue during or afterward.

I didn’t and perhaps still don’t appreciate how hard I was rolled at Big Beach.  I had some bruises I didn’t realize I had gotten until the places turned black and blue.  It took days for all the sand to come out of my ears.  I still have sand inside the lining of my swimsuit.  I will have to work on getting it out when my package arrives in the mail. (I packed up extra clothes, shoes and my souvenirs in a box and am letting the mail lady bring it to me rather than having to check a bag at the airport.) I didn’t panic when tumbling under the wave.  I just relaxed and waited for my head to come up and my feet go down.  I didn’t feel any pain.

Again, I marveled at my endurance traveling home.  I awoke especially early in the morning.  I was unable to sleep at all on the plane during the overnight flight I took late that evening.  I was up about thirty six hours.  I wasn’t really exhausted feeling.  I was sleepy by the time I had my bath of course.  That is usual for me.  But, I did not feel horrible as I expected.

Those long hikes didn’t hurt my feet.  A good pair of shoes made the difference.  My feet often hurt in the morning just from an ordinary day at work where I sit most of the day.  I do not like wearing athletic shoes.  But, I did buy two new pairs of casual work shoes last week and had a pedicure to take better care of my poorly treated appendages.  They deserve the best care as reward for taking me along marvelous paths.

I discovered I am more physically durable than I believed.  I did more and suffered effects less than I ever imagined possible.  This body, even at this moment, has a spot or two of sharp pain and a spot or two aching just it has these many years. Nevertheless, I am pleasantly recalling my adventures in the middle of the wild blue Pacific.  My body didn’t ache and my mind didn’t race.  I longed only for certain amber eyes as the days blended into each other.

How does one live on island time here at home?  How does one live physically challenging adventures here at home?  How does one overcome the compulsion to push against the waves and get rolled rather than bobbing and floating, laughing and loving through the tumultuous days?  There is a time to dive into the waves and a time to paddle along the stream.  There is also a time to drift and notice the color of life.  The color of my life is aquamarine.  What color is yours?

 

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Some Mondays

Some Mondays, I have trouble getting going writing. Like tonight.  I think tonight has been the worst so far.

So what shall I write about? I have had to make a change to improve my health.  It is a change in more than my diet.  I am a coffee lover. I drink copious amounts of coffee each day.  I buy decaf coffee so I can drink coffee late in the day if I want.  It was killing my stomach.

Last Monday, I stopped drinking all day coffee. I have had about eight ounces of coffee each morning.  But, it is a lifestyle change and a change of habit and a detox from caffeine.  I have been drinking water all day now.  My stomach was better the same day I stopped drinking all that coffee.

Till today……I cooked spaghetti for his supper. I ate some as well.  There went my stomach again.  I don’t really like spaghetti all that much, so I doubt I will miss it.  But, I am not certain if it was the tomatoes, the Italian sausage or what that upset my tummy.

Nevertheless, I was aggravated about it. I had been enjoying not having all those problems this past week.

What else do I need to give up to improve my well-being? Self-criticism.  I abuse myself the way I talk to myself.  That voice in my head is vicious.  But, I have been getting that under control, too.  That shift I mentioned last week would certainly include a gentler observer voice in my mind.

I have continued to retrain my thoughts to be compassionate with my own self. I write it all out in my journal.  I identify a thought or thought process and write the sequence.  Then, I rewrite it like a friend talking to me.  Advising me on what is true and what is assumed.  Digging into the cause of the thought, rewriting scripts to give a positive outcome.  I am not really sure how to describe the method.  Positive imagining.  Whatever it is, it has allowed me to put many dragons to death and get many more chained up.

My dragons range in size and color. Things from indecision, over-sentimentality, laziness, to severe depression and a deep sense of unworthiness, and survivor’s guilt.  I am getting better able to battle them.   Writing Raining Orchids is good medicine.

His letting me go to the deer stand and sit is also good medicine. Sitting in those woods, hours of solitude, pen and paper in hand.  I appreciate getting to spend time in that part of his world.  I appreciate his spending time, money and energy to get me in a warm, dry spot to wait and listen.  I appreciate his patience with my efforts at becoming a hunter and fisherwoman.  I appreciate him.

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More Tropical Living

For my entire memory, I have loved tropical things. Seas, jungles, birds, fish, flowers, foods. My Granny Sally made me a “ta-ta” out of a jungle print of leaves and animals backed with brown corduroy. I still have it. It is one of my treasures.
My mother used a queen sheet to cover the opening to the living room to allow the window unit to cool that room while we watched television in the evenings. It was also an African animal jungle print. It hangs in our house a few feet from where she used it.
Banana trees and elephant ears have always been among my very favorite plants. The exotic mimosas that populate my part of Texas and bloomed at my Granny Arie’s house are dear to my heart. Rich man’s grass aka pampas grass is another favorite of mine.  I am accumulating some things.
I have been working again toward a tropical garden. I am making great progress. I did not expect my dear husband to assist the way he has. He has given me generous gifts toward it.  He has encouraged me and offered real labor assistance often.  I am very grateful!
The palm tree he bought me years ago seems to have finally decided to put on some height. Its growth spurt has symbolic meaning for me. I am finally creeping out of my dormant state and into a new period of growth as well, it seems.
Before next week’s post, I will turn 49. Nearly half a century. I intend to live the next half a century being kinder to myself, truer to myself. Growing myself into the fullness of my being and growing my garden into the fullness of a jungle garden that lingers from the daydreams of my childhood.  It is my intention.