November and old old trees

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I was able to sneak a day off work Friday so I did what I almost always do when my head and heart are as disordered as they are this week, and I headed for a trail into the mountains.

The day mostly looked convincingly of November, the sky stubbornly flat and colorless, the ground covered in the pale husks of summer’s grasses and flowers. A biting wind swirled about the tops, thwarting my several attempts to hunker down in the lee of some fine rocks to contemplate the view, outward and inward. So I ate my lunch quickly, smugly appreciated my hot tea, and kept moving.

Which was fine, I didn’t need ideal conditions or to think deep thoughts. I needed to feel the ache in my lungs and the effort in my legs as I climbed up a mountain. I needed to be distracted by distant peaks and the vast sea, to be reassured by the sway of old, old trees. I needed some quiet.

I have been a tangle of feelings and thoughts since the election, and frankly, the last few weeks before. I feel betrayed. I feel disappointed and scared and very unsettled. I feel vulnerable, and also keenly aware of my privilege.

I feel completely inadequate and yet determined to speak up, to stand up, to do something. Starting by sharing a little honesty from this corner.

 

3 thoughts on “November and old old trees

    1. Yes, and spending time with kindreds has been one of the few true lifts this week. Hope you’re getting some of that, too.

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