I woke up at 4:30 this morning to the sound of birds chirping, luring me out of bed and onto the dock at our Brantingham cabin in the Adirondacks, where I witnessed the most magnificent sight.
The air, already thick with humidity, was causing the lake to steam. At least, that’s what appeared to be happening, with the mist gently but rapidly rising off the surface of the water.
It’s been a quiet few days at the cabin, after a few truly boisterous ones in which my entire family—my daughter, son-in-law, and their two kids, and my son, daughter-in-law, and their two kids—joined John and I for days of nonstop play, exploration, and togetherness.
After the exhilarating weekend we had, I stayed at the cabin to rest my spirit and my soul, to reset, and to rejuvenate. I slept on and off in two-hour increments for the first two days, with a rotation of heat and ice on my back. I caught up with a dear friend for nearly two hours on the phone. I heard from my mom, who’s dealt with so much arthritic pain, it made me realize how not alone I am in the pain my back has been causing me for months.
I’ve also been reading, meditating, journaling, hydrating… but mostly sleeping. Giving into the call my body was giving me to just rest.
It’s been simple, easy, and quiet—which has been everything I’ve needed.
Months ago, when I first started feeling the pain in my back that so generously extends straight down my leg, I shrugged it off. I traveled to the Ozarks and schlepped my (very heavy) backpack around the field. I changed nothing about my habits at home, and only realized how truly debilitating it was when I found myself using a chair while painting in West Reading.
My denial came to an end when I made the heartbreaking decision to call off my participation in the Keeseville Community Arts Festival, an event I so loved being part of last year. I’d be headed there this week, but instead I’ll be headed home to see a spine specialist.
This is not a complaint; this is acceptance. This is me seeing that my body has been asking me to slow down for months. And I’m finally listening.
Today is a new moon. We’re halfway through the year. There is still so much to explore; to experience; to begin.
When I woke up this morning to the most stunning of sunrises on the lake, I knew these last few days were exactly what my body was begging me for: A golden reset retreat. Time to tune in and listen to my body. And a chance to see that sometimes, challenges can be gifts if we’re in a position to look at them that way.