A week like no other

Purple heather behind me

I just reread my post from last Sunday and looked carefully at the picture at the beginning, of me a decade ago in front of Coleman Glacier. Although I don't look all that different today, I can feel the last decade in many ways, like the increase in aches and pains and my inability to do hard hikes any more. But I can still hike. My friend Steve took this picture while on our usual Saturday walk, and I notice that I'm wearing the same shirt and vest that I wore in last week's picture. Nobody can say I don't get plenty of wear out of my clothing.

Last Thursday I decided to join the Trailblazers for a favorite hike in the High Country, Church Mountain. It's not long, but it's grueling, in that it climbs almost 3,000 feet of elevation to the meadows, which was where we were headed. It was cool and rainy when the ten of us started out, and I was very happy to realize that I was going to make it without any difficulty. We were traveling pretty slowly, but one of our number was having real problems trying to catch his breath. He kept asking us to slow down or stop to allow him to rest. We got about halfway to the meadows when our leader, Owen, decided it was best for us to turn around and return to the cars. It does happen, not often, and although I was disappointed in not going any farther, I was also happy that once we started downhill, the person's breathing returned to normal. I was secretly glad that it wasn't me who couldn't handle the elevation and steepness of the trail. 

We will, I suspect, make another attempt later in the season, but for now I feel quite pleased that I didn't have to take any medications and didn't feel any residual soreness. Usually (when we make it to the meadows) I am stiff and sore for a day or two afterwards, but it was different this time, although we went up more than a thousand feet and almost two miles up the trail.

After I wrote a post last Sunday morning, we watched our President, Joe Biden, in the afternoon tell the world that he decided to step down from running for another term, partly because of his advanced age, which was catching up with him, but also because he saw the handwriting on the wall that if he didn't leave the race, the Democrats would lose. He passed the baton to his Vice President, Kamala Harris, and in what seemed like record time, the entire Democratic Party has rallied around her. I have already contributed as much as I can afford to the election effort.

When I woke up Monday morning, the day after, I felt such relief and joy that maybe the election was not already lost. Of course, it's really late to be launching an effort like this, and there is no guarantee that we can come from behind and actually win this thing, but now we do have a chance. You know I don't often bring up politics on my blog, but it's really all that has been on my mind since last week, so I figure I can make an exception and bring it up here. If you are offended, I hope you will not make any angry or derogatory comments, but if you do, I will remove them.

Our country, and indeed the entire world, is at an inflection point. Democracy is in peril in many places, and climate change is altering the environment in ways that have been predicted for decades. But now it's here: we just experienced the two hottest days on the planet since humans have been recording such things. People around the world are dying from heat-related causes, and it's only going to get worse. I feel very fortunate to live in the Pacific Northwest, where our summers are still comfortable and manageable. I don't think I will be alive by the time that the climate situation will reach this area, but there are many other climate events that I might have to endure, like earthquakes or floods.

The only way to make sense out of change is to plunge into it, move with it, and join the dance. —Alan Watts

And here I am on a summer Sunday morning, thinking of the future of the world, of our country, and of the circumstances in my own little neighborhood. My own little corner of the world, with a task at hand: write this post and publish it. The amazing difference in my internal attitude between this time last week and today is that I have hope that the world will now have a chance to be more loving, that we can end the war in Gaza, and that we will turn a corner with climate change and begin to take it seriously. That was all there last week, but I didn't believe it, and now I do.

When you are old, your way of looking at the world becomes more expansive. My days may be numbered (they always were), but what I might be able to accomplish in my own little world is not diminished. There is so much happening around me today that I feel a sense of optimism and possibility. I will join my friend John for our usual Sunday morning breakfast and give thanks for our ability to continue this small but important activity for at least the coming season. When I write here next week, we will be more than halfway through summer and soon we might begin to feel the first inklings of my favorite season, fall. We have had a few days this summer when it got hot, but nothing like the sizzling temperatures in a place like, say, Phoenix. Or Tehran.

When I stop to count my blessings, several items rise to the top, like my ability to continue to see well enough to write in here, and maybe keeping enough sight that I will not ever have to find another activity to begin my week. Like Alan Watts says, it's time to enjoy the dance and plunge into change. I've got my virtual bathing suit ready for the plunge!

My dear partner still sleeps next to me, breathing gently in and out as I listen, and the birds have just begun their morning stretches, and the sun rise will come in just a few minutes from now. My Sunday looks to be a good one, and I'll walk outdoors in the sunshine before the day is over, happy to be alive, grateful for all my many blessings. You, my friend, are one of them, and never forget that you can choose to have a good day, no matter what. I am talking to myself here, of course, and you will be bathed in light and happiness along with me. Until we meet again next week, I wish you all good things. Be well.