by susan | Sep 8, 2022 | Uncategorized
a few days ago I hiked to grandeur peak, a local favorite that begins with a steep-sided upward journey alongside a shaded creek, then moves through a series of switchbacks to reach a view-dripping saddle, and ends with a twenty-minute climb graced with unending vistas, a few brief scrambles, and finally a landing on a rocky, scrubby peak. the brief “scrambles” have toe-holds and often good handholds, and if you reflect, it’s evident that most of us who utilize this route experience the same thought process, the same decisions, and the same method of getting securely up (or down) the sketchier places. my feet seek out the exact same ledges those before me have.
one such place has a tree on the right of the trail, and after I grabbed one of its old, stunted, broken-off outshoots to keep myself upright on the steep slope, I turned around and went back to take a picture of that smooth, polished-by-thousands-of-hands-over-the-years branch. if you look closely, you’ll see how the branch on the left is darker, burnished over time by me, and by people just like me; the branch has been buffed by sweaty palms, gloved and mittened hands, cool grasps of those who hike in the chilled early morning.
as I hike such a traveled trail, I realize what binds us is much greater than what sets us apart. we each love, seek to be loved, strive to plant ourselves firmly wherever we are, and reach for that which might stabilize us.
I reach for the polished branch without much thought; it’s almost instinctual to grasp what can keep us upright.
by susan | Apr 10, 2022 | Uncategorized
not that I’d rather be something else, but being human is hard. damn hard.
yesterday I wrote a bigger-than-expected check for taxes, received word that I did NOT receive a residency I’d applied for, had a client cancel last minute, and broke a tooth eating a carrot.
today has been better.
tomorrow… I have no idea.
where do we find the courage to continue?
I began this post three years ago, march of 2019, an entire life ago. and I pulled it out of my drafts folder last night when my dog peed on my new rug, my electrical outlets in my bedroom stopped working, and I found myself tearful at dinner with friends because they all seem to have better connections with their loved ones than I seem to.
it’s damn hard to be human.
in the past three years I have experienced incredible moments and times and events, felt awe and wonder and gratitude and appreciation. I’ve been gifted with love and support. I’ve received over and over again. I’ve experienced times of belief in both myself, and in my ability to create the fulfilling life I desire. and I’ve also experienced loss, grief, frustration, impotence. anger. sorrow. moments of hopelessness. times when one of my first thoughts of the day is, I can’t wait to put my pajamas back on and go bed tonight.
and yet, here I am.
hear I am. listen.
like most everyone else, I will keep moving. I will listen to myself, to my heart, and make every attempt to follow where it wishes to lead me. it doesn’t always make sense to me, but I continue to believe that one day it will. rachel botsman describes trust as an active, responsible ‘confident engagement with the unknown.’ let me, let us all, learn to truly trust.
signing off, perfectly imperfect human that I am,
and sending all the love in the world your way. may you always feel the hands and hearts of others holding you.
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