Change happens. We are up at the lake and the water is way down. There hasn't been much rain this summer and it shows. We had a rainy spring and the evidence of that is clear, too. The beaver lodge along the shore used to be huge, but the spring floods washed way the top layer of the den and the neatly trimmed pieces of wood that were crisscrossed over it are strewn through the woods along the new water line that was formed as the water come upp on shore. There's more muck along the water's edge and the dog's feet get all gunky after he comes out of the lake from a swim. The pickerel weed is almost gone, drowned by the high waters and so the lake looks a bit wider, and that's nice. Our path to the lake is overgrown because the trees the beavers chewed have died, and the canopy of leaves is gone. So now instead of a soft forest floor of mulch, the weeds are enjoying the new sunshine and they are growing in new places. Every year it looks a bit different, but always beautiful.
The changes at the lake seem dramatic because we aren't here all the time to see the slow transformation or even experience the big events, like the flood. We're up here one time and it's one way, and the next time it's noticably different. I like that change happens and that we can witness the transformation nature creates. Changes in the woods aren't good or bad because nature has a plan for every felled tree, for every new plant and for each animal because they plays a specific role in creating a robust system. The changes here are a metaphor for the changes that I go through as a result of my health issues. Some of the changes are dramatic, I wake up one day and there they are, but many other changes are more gradual and I don't notice their impact until they have been around for a while. I try to make note of improvements, but it takes a while to be able to say, for example, I'm not getting migraines the way I used to, or my pain level is much better. There has been slow but steady progress with many of my symptoms so now when they do appear, it feels out of the ordinary, more like a thunderstorm than the steady rains of springtime.
It is important to be self aware with my health struggles and improvements, but I have to take notice without being overly involved with every ache and pain. I have to live my life with a focus on what I love and what I need as well as what I can do for others. If I focus primarily on my symptoms, my world gets very small very quickly – I am so much more than my symptoms. Sometimes I have to be patient and wait for changes to happen. Then, over time, improvement occurs and then it becomes clear that I've made real progress. The beavers living in their lodge, had to wait out the flood and as soon as the water receded, they got right down to business fixing things up. That's the way I like to live my life with fibro and fatigue. I will hunker down when things are rough, but as soon as my symptoms recede I am back to my life and I go at at full tilt. I have to make the most of every good day. And just in nature, it's my responsibility to focus on keeping my system healthy and in balance.
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