My healing comes in the way of the woods and words.
I write to heal myself, because anytime my pen hits paper, or fingers hit keyboard = I AM HEALED.
Anytime my feet (or fat tires) hit a trail and I can breathe in that fresh, unencumbered oxygen directly from the trees = I AM HEALED.
Romping through the woods often feels like I’m wrapping myself in a warm blanket..
And there I am, in pain, idly waiting, for the healing to begin….
And I’m reminded that maybe in order to maximize their effectiveness, I need to find a more appropriate dose, or the “therapeutic range” of my medications.
Truth is, I’ve been told that I’m “nuts”, “crazy”, ” maniacal”, “not human”…. constantly pushing the limits, RARELY operating within the therapeutic range.
However, I prefer to be known as “passionate”.
1. the suffering and death of Jesus
2. a barely controllable emotion
SUFFERING + BARELY CONTROLLABLE, alas, I am a passionate one.
And I credit this passion to the ~50% Italian/Sicilian blood that courses through my veins.
Because even at less than maximum dose of Italian, I am provided enough fuel for the relentless pursuit of both pleasure….
I’m constantly stoking the fire, a “controlled burn” if you will, of my many..MANY passions, in all of their various forms.
(And side note – “controlled burn” is also the name of a local kombuha, to which I’ve developed a mild addition. It contains all the spicy elements I love and crave…..Ginger/Cayenne/Turmeric..and that bubbly Majesty that makes it a kombucha.)
…and my “controlled burn” may come in the way of….
the perfect pedal..
the perfect run…….
the perfect trail….
the hard, fast breath…
the racing heart….
the pounding in my chest….
the dripping, salty sweat….
the perfect pour..
a “stinging” spice ….
the perfect “heat”…
the perfect adult libation …
the perfect look…
the perfect touch..
the perfect laugh…
the perfect thought..
the perfectly crafted words….
the perfect pooch walk/hike..
the perfect breeze…
the perfect breath of fresh air….
the perfect floppy ears head shake…
the perfect diagnosis,..
the perfect “prescription”
And since nothing is ever perfect…it keeps me coming back for MORE….because when it feels GOOD…MORE is always better….right?
But is it more PAIN or PLEASURE that I seek?
Or maybe I am just a sadist, addicted to the pain, the heart pounding, head spinning, breathlessness of life….
As Kurt Vonnegut has so eloquently stated:
Aaaaa…. Thank you Kurt, because I do believe that PAIN…. is ….EXQUISITE.
And through the sadism, starvation, and “controlled burning”, I can strip myself down to the core, and see what’s inside.
I can expose the wound,
feel the pain, let it bleed.
And now that it is bleeding,
to seek pleasure, and LIVE….all.over.again.
But must I/you/WE continue to endure pain first, before we find the pleasure?
Must it be the PAIN that defines us?
WHO am I….if i’m not constantly in pain,,?
WHO am I ……if I’m NOT starving??
Maybe I am constantly pushing the limits of physical pain because I’m just not sure I can endure the emotional pain…?
How do we find the therapeutic range??
How do we “control the burn”..???