Hope is a Long Road

The Long Road by WVS

I was on a walk a couple days ago when I met up with The Scoutmaster. About five years ago, this seasoned outdoors man taught my family how to do a 50-mile hike through the mountains and make it fun.

We’ve been hiking ever since.

He showed us how to pack our backpacks and trained along with us so we could endure.

Even though he tried to prepare us,  one of the things that we had to discover for ourselves was that a hike is as much a  mental task as it is physical.

My pack weighs about 40 pounds. I remember being about halfway up a mountain slope, when I stopped, cursed and yelled, “I quit!”

Of course, I felt pretty stupid when the echo of my voice came back to me because the only way to get off the mountainside was to keep putting one foot in front of the other.

Even though I’ve done lots of short and long hikes since then, I’m still amazed at how far a person can  go when they  simply keep walking.  Our progress shouldn’t be surprising because there are so many examples around us. A jagged rock will smooth into a boulder under the constant drip of water.  A solid stone wall will become an arch with the drilling of unending gusts of wind.   To keep moving forward will allow us to finally reach our destination.

It seems that the same truth applies to life. If you keep pounding away at problems, you’ll get past them. Sure there’s blisters, and dry spells, and maybe even some yelling, but the biggest battle is the mental stamina to keep pushing on.

Hope is a long road. It’s not always straight, but thank the Lord, He put folks in our path to help along the way.

Thanks to all of you who’ve helped me along the path. And thank  you wise Scoutmaster for showing that the journey can be fun.

The Art of Lashing…Now We Be Ready To Sail

I know I promised  you all the adventure of driving somewhere unfamiliar and shopping in a store that had labels in another language. It still sounds like a good exercise to fight Brain Drain and help me sleep.  (By the way, I’m not having those work-all-night dreams anymore,  but I still wake long before sunrise.)

I began my groggy day by building a stupendous Powerpoint presentation using only my left hand on the mouse (like I promised).  Well….maybe it’s not so fantastic-looking because  I’m convinced there is no connection between my brain and the fingers on my left hand. It was taking  ten to twenty minutes to custom build each slide when it should have only taken 3-5 minutes. I believe those new synapses must have been trying to drill through cement in in my gray matter.

So you can understand that when Scout stuck his head in the door and shouted, “We need your help hauling  poles!”  I ran away from the computer like a woman escaping a diet farm.

That’s how I ended up learning how to build a 30 foot flag pole this afternoon. I learned clove hitches and how lash a tripod.  I’m a bit insulted that Scout declared my frapping too loose.  (Think of rows of rope woven and coiled around the tops of 3 logs. I was supposed to haul on each wrap with my full body weight–but I was a slacker).  Scout made me take it apart and do it again along with the  Tenderfoots.

I grumbled. The rope had already abraded my fingertips until they were smooth and grooveless.  I threw my body into the next attempt. Feet against the poles, I heaved until the wood screamed. They tested my couplings by having a Chuck-Norris-type-guy  thump, kick and hang off my tripod.  I passed.

I’m not sure if learning to frap and lash stimulated my brain as much as the wicked left-handed mouse, but I figure that if I’m ever a cast away with Tom Hanks on an island, I’ll be able to do my share.  And if the mast on your sailing vessel breaks…give me a call;  I can lash it, if you can hold it together.

The guys proclaimed my skills were sufficient enough to work on their trebuchet next, but I can’t…I’ve got a free Salsa class tomorrow.

Night time Brain Drain

Thanks to the Medem Medical Library

For the last two nights,  I’ve fallen asleep quickly, but then I find I’m working in my sleep. I’m aware of this in my dreams and tell myself to stop.  I’ve  even gotten up, had a bowl of cereal, hoping the intermission will change my thought pathways. But when I went back to bed and fell into a light snooze, I wrote a Powerpoint presentation on the history of Scouting.

Good grief. (It’s not due for another 3 weeks.)  I organized slides and wrote script, and let me tell you, it was BRILLIANT!

Of course, I can’t remember a bit of it in my waking hours. I’m tired, and feeling as though I’ve worked all night.

Brain experts tell us that 2 things are guaranteed to vacuum the brain of creativity and spark:

1. stress. This nasty little noodler of brain cells makes us focus on sidepaths rather than our goals and leaves us without energy to work on what’s truly important. (Okay, I knew that, but it’s not fair that it’s at work in my sleep.) And…
2. A repetitive and routine-driven life sucks the life out of your mental processes.

AAAwk!  Like Pigpen in the “Peanuts” comic strip, chaos fumes around me  in funky clouds. That’s why I strive for routine. I look for “uncrowded”, “unnoticed” paths for every project. Repetitive and routine would be wonderful, if only I could achieve it. CowboyFan says it’s because my definition of “Routine” is not the same as a sane person’s definition.

Well….who can accept the word of a man who thinks black-walnut ice cream is a huge anomaly?

So this week (much to CowboyFan’s horror), I’m adding one new experience to each day.

Why not join me for at least a day?  We’ll see if creating a new snyapse truly does help our sleep.

Do something different. It can be easy: (eat with your left hand; wear your watch on your opposite arm; wear you shirt inside out {which I’ve done by accident, then tried to convince folks that I meant to do it…ego is a sad thing, yes?])

Or Challenge yourself: learn a new skill: sharpen a mower blade; interview for a job; dye your hair pink.

I’ll report on my progress through the week. Let me know what new activity you’re doing for your brain.

Today…I’m going to make soup— blindfolded.

P.S. If I don’t post on the blog tomorrow, it’s because I’m in the hospital.

See…one new experience leads to another.

Dogs Waiting With Cats

Even in the midst of crummy news, there are things to smile about.

Miss Kitty has a growth on the side of her mouth. It doesn’t seem to bother her a bit. She still presents mice at the back door step and is rolly-polly fat.

We hauled Miss Kitty to the vet this afternoon. I was in a pouty mood because my dentist had just told me that I needed a crown on a tooth, yet he can’t get it done before my insurance runs out. It seems he’s fully booked.

“Busier than I’ve been in several months,” he declared. It’s because of all the people laid off of work, trying to get dental work done before their insurance runs out.”  (Yeah, tell me about it.)

So our  family made it an outing to take Miss Kitty to the vet. I sat in  the cramped waiting room stewing  about  how to get a new crown, CowboyFan is sitting next to me wondering how much we actually need this cat (who never liked him). Scout is holding the cat which has lodged its head in Scout’s armpit, thus believing it’s hidden.

The door opens and a dog as big as a Shetland pony enters. It’s a Great Dane/ elephant mix.

The little poodle, who had been showing off by prancing circles on her hind legs, huddles between its owner’s legs.  A cat scuddles to the back corner of its carrier. Miss Kitty lets out a low moan (although she couldn’t see or smell the G.Dane—remember her head is rooted in Scout’s armpit which should stun both her optical and olfactory senses for at least a week).

The Dane’s name is Daisy. She’s orangey brown and looks like someone slung a black paintbrush at her, creating a brindle effect. Her owners couldn’t afford her anymore, so they’d dropped her off at animal rescue. The couple who adopted her brought her to the vet  for a check up.

Daisy  is a good-hearted doofus. She  lays when her new owner tells her, “Down.” Then she crawls like a marine across the floor on her doggy elbows to sniff the poodle cowering against the wall.She tries to make friends with a poster of a dog. Within minutes the waiting room is laughing at her Jim Carey antics.

CowboyFan is chuckling and starting a community conversation about pets. I am laughing and thoughts of my dental work fade away. Miss Kitty is so relaxed that someone asks if she’s alive since there’s the body of a cat splayed over Scout’s lap (her head is still in his armpit, so she may have  passed out).

Miss Kitty will have surgery.  We will take care of her and be reminded of what a gift pets are to us. They jog our focus that there are beings outside of ourselves. They teach us about  love, companionship, and an honesty about life. They remind us to hope. They remind us to laugh.

Hope is Chuck Norris

Okay,

It’s time for a smile or two. I recently conducted a survey among my Scout Troop, asking the boys the following question:

In a fight between Jack Bauer and Walker, Texas Ranger who would win?

99% went with Chuck.

Impressive that the younger generation thinks a good roundhouse kick will beat all of Jack’s  techno widgety-whatchits.

Since this blog is about HOPE, My hope is that Chuck will return to Oklahoma, his birthplace, and forget all that Texas flapdoodle.

Until then, here’s a few things to make you smile during the dark hours of the night.

• Chuck Norris does not sleep; he waits.
• When the Boogey man goes to sleep everynight, he checks his closet for Chuck Norris
• China once bordered the U.S. until Chuck Norris rounhouse kicked it through the earth
• When Chuck Norris had surgery, the anesthesia was applied to the doctors
• Chuck Norris got a perfect score on his SAT by writing “Chuck Norris” for every answer.
• Chuck Norris sleeps with a night light, not because he’s afraid of the dark; because the dark is afraid of Chuck Norris
• If Chuck Norris had carried the RING to Mordor, then instead of saying “friend” to open the door to the Mines or Moria, Gandalf could have just said, “Chuck Norris.”

Why You Should Look for Lights

One adventursome day, my son and I packed our backpacks and decided that we’d hike the 40 miles around Mt. Hood. We pitched our tents the first night at a beautiful place, Paradise Park, on the shin of the mountain,

The Starseed Lure

When night fell it was even more astounding.  Absolute blackness except for the stars.

We hiked up an adjoining hill and from the peak, we could see the lights of small towns in the distance.  The problem came when we tried to hike back down. We’d bushwhacked our way to the top; there weren’t any trails, and as we worked our way down, the camp wasn’t where we thought it should be.

Fortunately we’d left one small alpine candle lit and hanging at camp. That tiny pinprick of light (which seemed like a beacon to us) guided us back to our tents.

Since then, I always look for lights, and I always try to leave a light burning.

It’s All in Your Perspective

May this be a visual reminder each time you adjust your mirrors. This day is gonna turn out better than you think.