I often think of my emotional life as an ocean. Sometimes calm, but more often churning, stirring, storming. Waves grow, crash, come in sets, lap at the shore.
With all that is happening in the world: Covid-10, Black Lives Matter, wildfires, the death of RBG and a presidential election, along with personal transitions, I have lately been feeling overwhelmed by the wave sets. Unable to keep my grounding among shifting sands.
The world feels unjust and frightening lately. And even stepping out of the front door can feel like a challenge.
But when I do, when I get to a trail or a mountain or even to my front porch with trees surrounding me, I can find a small sense of okay-ness. A little reminder that I can breathe, that I can move, that I can connect.
This past weekend, I found my footing in Los Padres National Forest and the Desolation Wilderness.
Although the runs were blissful, the air was clear, and I got to spend time with my partner, I also felt a heaviness weigh on me throughout the weekend. It was Yom Kippur- the Jewish holiday of atonement, promises for the new year, and most of all, connectedness. But I feel lost in the ocean, alone, and long for solid ground or a buoy of safety.
I feel I am ignoring something. Another wave set coming. More shifting sands. An election, a new school quarter, a new clinical rotation. In sum: uncertainty.
And all we can ever do in the face of so much fear and uncertainty is take the path ahead. Keep moving along, as slow or fast or uncertain as we feel, one step at time.
Flights of a hummingbird 