“Do not lose hope — what you seek will be found. Trust ghosts. Trust those that you have helped to help you in their turn. Trust dreams. Trust your heart, and trust your story.” ~ Neil Gaiman
Slow start, coyotes and coffee. Coyotes and coffee are my favorite way to start the day. Yeah, yeah, I know, coyotes are vicious predators, but they ain’t got much of a choice as I see it. That’s a moot point if I ever saw one. Yesterday after work I took the liberty of taking a walk of about four miles out along the west rim trail, which starts at the rest stop by the Rio Grande Gorge Bridge. I love it out there. The openness of the place is lovely, a balm to my PTSD ravaged mind, but it is the primal and ancient feel of the place that strikes me, deep and abiding, like an old friend with a really big heart. The pagan in me, who has a large say in how I see the world of today, sees the great god Pan out there, scouting the trail for signs of human life. It’s out there, he’s out there. Upon returning home I eventually came upon an online article about PTSD, a book excerpt actually, and the author hammered home a message that I should keep in my personal toolbox, along side the hammer, every friggin day, for the rest of my life, just in case I should ever need to do some hammerin’ for someone else’s benefit, or to simply remind myself to have a little self-forgiveness, self-compassion, and self-mercy. It’s like all dude s’up wit da denial stuff ain’t ya had ’bout a friggin nuff of the hurt? Listen, that inarticulate inner advocate of mine, the fella that commandeered that last sentence, has a valid point, and he said it in a way that covers a lot more ground than the words alone. I like it when that happens, don’t you? Now, I have an appointment with the pretty doctor lady, my psychiatrist, tomorrow. She’s the one who originally gave me the diagnosis of PTSD. I am forever grateful. This marks a grand conjunction for me – the article, the diagnosis, the great god Pan, and the pathetic fact that I have been denying this for far too long. Haven’t I? Yes. I live with this, for every minute of every day, and now I know that it’s mindfulness of the disorder that can help the most. Awareness is the butter on the toast. Add jam to taste. Perhaps the main thing that has underlined these troubles is the loss of the relationship that should have lasted for the remainder of my life. Big loss, huge. But that is in the past, as they say, be here now, move forward, it’s a brand new day. Whatever. Dammit. Whatever. So, why Pan? He represents the deep primal nature that is one thing that has not only escaped the ravages of PTSD, it has downright been a companion of inestimable value along the way. Valor is one thing and exhausted surrender is another. Pan knows both, and will help you with either one you happen to choose. It’s an old dance, a deep one.
Hey, I almost forgot, the fella in today’s opening photo is Garth, a ginger tabby male. We just moved him into the cattery yesterday. He’s been living in a wire cage in the Executive Director’s office. I personally carried Garth out of there. I’d like to think that I did him a favor. That aside, it’s that time again, but I have tomorrow off. The cats will get by without me, and I honestly don’t know if the staff really wants me there, like the cats do, but I choose to believe they do. I sometimes do optimism, but not always.
Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.