Day in, day out: a similar mindset---devoid of future happy thoughts, stock full of frustration, sadness, hopelessness and a seemingly impenetrable obstruction in guiding our destinies.
It may not be THAT bad, but, still, regardless of where or how we live, many folks will agree that, in the past six months, they have felt or do feel some or all of the above.
Heck, I'll bet that even my cousin Rich, who posted this link overnight, might agree, even though he is living an adventure, with his truck and travel trailer, driving around the United States.
Must be some reason he shared the link on Facebook.
Even though we, here in God's Country, often express our gratitude for the relatively safe and free lifestyle we have lived here during the Pandemic, I could still identify with several layers of this piece.
It not only describes the phenomenon of what seems a never-ending, sometimes all-encompassing sense of loss, but, happily, the author also offers some solutions for emotional survival.
It may not be THAT bad, but, still, regardless of where or how we live, many folks will agree that, in the past six months, they have felt or do feel some or all of the above.
Heck, I'll bet that even my cousin Rich, who posted this link overnight, might agree, even though he is living an adventure, with his truck and travel trailer, driving around the United States.
Must be some reason he shared the link on Facebook.
Even though we, here in God's Country, often express our gratitude for the relatively safe and free lifestyle we have lived here during the Pandemic, I could still identify with several layers of this piece.
It not only describes the phenomenon of what seems a never-ending, sometimes all-encompassing sense of loss, but, happily, the author also offers some solutions for emotional survival.
https://elemental.medium.com/your-surge-capacity-is-depleted-it-s-why-you-feel-awful-de285d542f4c
After reading this article this morning, I thought about a choice made yesterday.
Though I have some pressing writing work to do, I also knew there was time: time to let the work sit and to go see something new in the outdoors that I'd never seen before.
Bill and I drove to Trestle Creek, where we turned off and headed north along the creek where Kokanee will or soon will be spawning and then we proceeded on up into the mountains.
Most of the way, a thick layer of dust covered colorful and abundant bushes of mountain ash as well as every other roadside shrub or tree.
It's obvious that we could use a good, cleansing rain.
We proceeded down into the Lightning Creek drainage and turned off on the Wellington Creek Road.
After Bill had learned last week that the road had undergone some intense improvement, he mentioned the desire to drive up to Auxer Basin.
Knowing that route was a place in the mountains that this ol' Forest Service seasonal worker had never seen, the possibility sounded enchanting.
And, so, just after noon, the work stayed behind, and we headed for those mountains above majestic Lake Pend Oreille.
Wellington Road was improved greatly during a major project last year; granted, it is a bit bumpy in some spots but that's to be expected when going up, up, up.
Reaching the saddle, where we saw a hunting camp off to one side AND no dust, we wasted no time pulling out our trekking poles and first took off down one trail leading down the mountain to Wellington Creek.
Climbing on rocky mounds alongside the trail offered some stunning views of the lake and two islands near Hope.
Walking was tricky because of all the rocks, so we opted to go back and walk the 120 trail, which by trail standards that I've experienced this summer is almost like a boulevard, even with occasional stretches of rocks.
It's wider than most trails, which means a little less concentration on every single footstep.
Plump huckleberries abound on each side of the trail as does colorful, clean foliage and the views of mountaintops to the east and the lake and mountains below.
It was 6 p.m. when we reached a spot offering a great vista of the Scotchmans and the tall peaks of the Cabinets in Montana.
With the rocky sections of trail and another half mile to go to the top of Round Top, that's where we turned around, agreeing we'd come back sometime this fall, only earlier in the day.
The choice made for yesterday afternoon served as an exhilarating change of routine and an exciting new perspective of the endless beauty in summertime North Idaho.
My work sits in front of me as I type, and today, with a mind enriched by yesterday's experiences, I'm ready to return to this ongoing "to do" as well as other daily stuff around here.
If we've learned one thing from these months of Pandemic, maybe it's embracing a new sense of flexibility and to tip the scale more toward "living in the moment" rather than in our dreams of the future.
Even with the necessity of putting those dreams on hold, we can still experience a different kind of richness in this new uncertain life.
Enjoy the photos. And, do read that story; wherever you happen to be in these times, you might find it both meaningful and helpful.
Happy Tuesday.
After reading this article this morning, I thought about a choice made yesterday.
Though I have some pressing writing work to do, I also knew there was time: time to let the work sit and to go see something new in the outdoors that I'd never seen before.
Bill and I drove to Trestle Creek, where we turned off and headed north along the creek where Kokanee will or soon will be spawning and then we proceeded on up into the mountains.
Most of the way, a thick layer of dust covered colorful and abundant bushes of mountain ash as well as every other roadside shrub or tree.
It's obvious that we could use a good, cleansing rain.
We proceeded down into the Lightning Creek drainage and turned off on the Wellington Creek Road.
After Bill had learned last week that the road had undergone some intense improvement, he mentioned the desire to drive up to Auxer Basin.
Knowing that route was a place in the mountains that this ol' Forest Service seasonal worker had never seen, the possibility sounded enchanting.
And, so, just after noon, the work stayed behind, and we headed for those mountains above majestic Lake Pend Oreille.
Wellington Road was improved greatly during a major project last year; granted, it is a bit bumpy in some spots but that's to be expected when going up, up, up.
Reaching the saddle, where we saw a hunting camp off to one side AND no dust, we wasted no time pulling out our trekking poles and first took off down one trail leading down the mountain to Wellington Creek.
Climbing on rocky mounds alongside the trail offered some stunning views of the lake and two islands near Hope.
Walking was tricky because of all the rocks, so we opted to go back and walk the 120 trail, which by trail standards that I've experienced this summer is almost like a boulevard, even with occasional stretches of rocks.
It's wider than most trails, which means a little less concentration on every single footstep.
Plump huckleberries abound on each side of the trail as does colorful, clean foliage and the views of mountaintops to the east and the lake and mountains below.
It was 6 p.m. when we reached a spot offering a great vista of the Scotchmans and the tall peaks of the Cabinets in Montana.
With the rocky sections of trail and another half mile to go to the top of Round Top, that's where we turned around, agreeing we'd come back sometime this fall, only earlier in the day.
The choice made for yesterday afternoon served as an exhilarating change of routine and an exciting new perspective of the endless beauty in summertime North Idaho.
My work sits in front of me as I type, and today, with a mind enriched by yesterday's experiences, I'm ready to return to this ongoing "to do" as well as other daily stuff around here.
If we've learned one thing from these months of Pandemic, maybe it's embracing a new sense of flexibility and to tip the scale more toward "living in the moment" rather than in our dreams of the future.
Even with the necessity of putting those dreams on hold, we can still experience a different kind of richness in this new uncertain life.
Enjoy the photos. And, do read that story; wherever you happen to be in these times, you might find it both meaningful and helpful.
Happy Tuesday.
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