When planning a trek, our slate of scheduling considerations always includes weather and light data. We balance calendaring an adventure against factors of precipitation, temperatures and hours of daylight. The light factor, in particular, we use to create our daily mileage projections. How far can we move across a day's anticipated terrain -- counting on no other transport than our willing feet, trek-ready in double-knotted and well-worn boots -- between the rising and setting of the sun?
The longer the days, the happier we are. So it's no surprise we revel in the Summer Solstice.
Even on the longest summer afternoons, a trail can seduce us to linger over the dramatic theater of day's decline. And though we know we'll more than likely pay for our dalliance with an in-the-dark stumble across unfamiliar terrain at the end of a bone-wrenching day, we'll happily stand together watching a sunset until we become shadows of the night. It is this surrender to the moment that presented us with breathtaking views of Vernazza from the Cinque Terre trail along the Italian Riviera, in 2014. In the moment we stood transfixed along a rocky trail high above the tiny village until the last sliver of the daylight slipped into the still, turquoise waters of the Ligurian Sea. And in the succeeding darkness? We held hands all the way down the rocky trail -- counting on one another as we always have for balance, surefooted progress and comfort.
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| Vernazza illuminated by the setting sun |
We find giddy joy in twilight movement. Even on the Unexpected Journey, where the length of trekking days are of no matter, and there were no scheduling options, we revel in the joy of light. Today, post the arrival of the Winter Solstice, the Santa Fe dawn was served up like a perfect cup of coffee with a splash of clouds, which, when stirred along the horizon created a rich and creamy swirling sky of undulating folds -- falling away to reveal the promise of a new day.
On our current path, threading our way through the days and nights of the Unexpected Journey, the Winter Solstice (in the wake of which daylight extends) had the effect of reinforcing my unshakable belief that I will, in the coming year, step off of this trail -- a little pale, a few pounds lighter, with much less hair, and much less care about the small stuff. This journey neither will last forever, nor be defined by a fading light. The solstice filled me with renewed energy and determination.
From the pages of Timothy Egan's book, A Pilgrimage to Eternity (about the author's journey along the Via Francigena from Canterbury, England to Rome), I was filled and inspired by the words of Pope Francis given in response to his secret of happiness. The pontiff advises: Slow down. Take time off. Live and let live. Work for Peace. Don't keep negative feelings bottled up. And finally, "Don't see life from afar."
Every day of this journey brings me fully into the up-close of being present. There is no "doing" cancer from afar. This horrible disease is always up in my grill, Every. Single. Day. From the physical conditions of the disease to the attention-demanding sideshow of treatment effects, there is no way to compress the journey or shorten the hours. Then I ask myself: Really, is there a healing outcome greater than presence? And I show up. Whatever the terrain, grateful to be walking.
At our house, we never miss a sunrise or a sunset. We delight in whatever shows up on our path, knowing that when the light slips below the horizon, we will join hands and carry on. We acknowledge that we will pass this way but once (as on any life journey) -- and rejoice in a path filled with opportunities for learning and growth. Our job is never to rush the passing of days but to walk aware -- eyes and minds open wide to new experiences and novel thought. And in the celebration of each new day, we live gratefully -- for we have this moment.
Progress:
- The Winter Solstice served to energize my commitment to staying strong (and getting stronger). I'm keeping the treadmill moving with longer workouts and the introduction of interval workouts. And yes, I am so tempted to run on the tread -- but I hear Chip and Cliff reminding "all things in moderation."
- Dr. Rixe dropped Avastin (my targeted therapy) from this treatment cycle to allow my body's blood clotting abilities to repair and restore pre-surgery.
- After a typically "crappy" Day Four following Treatment Seven, I steeled my mind and resolve to buck up against the tentacles of nausea and malaise in the following days. Ah, the power of the mind -- and the joys of fresh shrimp!
- We welcomed the medicine of laughter with Eddie Murphy's hosting of SNL and the creative animation of one of my darling nephews in a political spoof for the ages.
- And danced with gratitude - silly and and joyful -- to holiday tunes.
- We expanded our plant appreciation ritual with three floral arrangements, two poinsettias and a Norfolk Pine in the dining room (what did you expect, a pear tree? 😂).
Quote of the Day:
Travel is fatal to prejudice, bigotry, and narrow-mindedness, and many of our people need it sorely on these accounts. Broad, wholesome, charitable views of men and things cannot be acquired by vegetating in one little corner of the earth all one's lifetime.~Mark Twain
VIA FRANCIGENA, 2020!
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