Trough
~ Judy Brown ~

There is a trough in waves,
A low spot
Where horizon disappears
And only sky
And water
Are our company.

And there we lose our way
Unless
We rest, knowing the wave will bring us
To its crest again.

There we may drown
If we let fear
Hold us within its grip and shake us
Side to side,
And leave us flailing, torn, disoriented.

But if we rest there
In the trough,
Are silent,
Being with
The low part of the wave
Keeping
Our energy and
Noticing the shape of things,
The flow,
Then time alone
Will bring us to another
Place
Where we can see
Horizon, see the land again,
Regain our sense
Of where
We are,
And where we need to swim.

I read this today at inspirare.wordpress.com. I thought of all the times I’ve fallen down, failed, drowned, disappointed myself and others, mostly myself.  I can find so many low spots, especially when, after working hard and trying, trying, trying my best, I don’t get the result that I am reaching for.  Today, a few small and insurmountable things (and yes, I am feeling a wee bit sorry for myself): I have not put together a solid respite team for this fall.  Every fall, because of June graduations, new jobs, new course load, etc., I have to reconstruct a respite team to take care of Julia when I need to go to meetings, do workshops and/or have a bit of adult fun.  I started looking for new recruits in July after we returned from Italy.  I interviewed and paperwork was completed for three new people with the promise of one more, who “would be perfect,” but all three fizzled.  Grad school overwhelm, health concerns and life complications intervened.  And the ‘perfect one’ has been too busy to even look at the paper work.  I don’t blame any of them, but now I am looking at an October with many empty dates.  Arg!  Had I not advertised and spread the word and found people and got them through the paperwork, it would have been avoidable stress.  As it is, what is this?  . . . Best laid plans?  Or just stress.

Next, my leg hurts!  Yeah.  So, last spring I thought I pulled a muscle pulling out the stump of bush in the back garden.  I nursed the soreness with hot baths, moderate exercise, some over the counter relief, etc.  The pain abated but didn’t disappear. I was too busy with travel prep to really notice.  Midway through Italy, the pain resurfaced as a daily companion.  Not so good in the morning but worked out after walking.  This continued when we got home, getting out of bed, rising from sitting, sitting down became challenging.  Big pain, not of the muscle variety, shot through my hip and radiated down my leg.  I was too busy with summer and with Julia to do more than dose myself with more over the counter relief.  School began and I went to see my acupuncturist but I couldn’t go back to yoga and I avoided the garden.  A bit more rest, I reasoned, but just in case I made a doc appointment.  It wasn’t an emergency so it was scheduled for 6 weeks out.  Had I called today, I would have asked for sooner.  No, not dying but uncomfortable, I’ve started thinking about the numerical pain range, I’ve gained weight because I am not exercising.  Hell, I am not bending down if I can help it.  I retrieve things from the floor in that hop scotch position holding the painful leg up.  I ask Julia to do any go and fetch chore that I can adequately describe to her.  Last week, during Japanese Crane, it hurt to bend over.  Bend over!  I’ve started looking forward to the doc appointment as if the pain will stop that day.

Oh, I am feeling sorry for myself.  I am so used to a healthy body for which I am grateful.  Perhaps an out of shape body, but healthy.  If there are ways to mend, I will do it.  If there are exercises to help, I will do them too.  Anything!  Well, almost.  No, I’m getting closer and  closer to anything.

Finally, the Mindful Circle workshop starting this afternoon is under rolled. Again, I prepared.  I did the prep work, spread the word further than I’ve ever done and put up lots of flyers.  Teaching is teaching but . . . oh, just not the perfect outcome.

And so there is a trough, a low spot.  I am working at being gracious, at allowing the rest and holding the knowledge that “the wave will bring [me] to its crest again.”

But I’m still bitchy.  I want it now.