Poor posture

   I have been experiencing a pinched nerve for the past couple of months, and although it symptoms of numbness and tingling rather than pain, it also causes me to worry; that it will become worse and eventually damage the nerve irreparably. It doesn't take me to cause me to worry in any case.
   After being diagnosed with this condition by my primary doctor, I saw a physical therapist, who assessed me and gave me a number of exercises to do to help relieve the condition. I continued to see this therapist seven or eight times, and one of the things that we often speak about is my posture. She often reiterated that maintaining the optimum body alignment is key to my recovery, and to keeping the condition from worsening or recurring in the future.
   I quickly realized how much my posture has been tied to my emotional state, and more specifically how I feel about myself, which in turn influences how I position my body. I believe that a person who feels strong and upright in their place in the world probably hold themselves in that way, and one who doesn't, well, you get the picture.
   I remember that when I was in my early twenties a friend of my father noted how hunched over my shoulders appeared, and although I recall that it was rude and out of place that he had said this, I realized also that he was probably right, and it made me feel bad. I didn't really connect it in the same way that I 'm able to now, but I sensed it enough that it hurt, and then I never really thought about it again consciously.
   Now that I've been in some form of analysis/psychotherapy for quite a few years, I tend to put things together quite a bit better, and hopefully retain some of what I discover as well. I also believe that my age and genuine desire to be happier in life has contributed too, but some things take longer than others to really connect in a deeply emotional way.
   So as the way I feel about myself has affected my body, which has in turn caused symptoms which impact my emotional state, it is clear that things have come full circle. There's an old Christian hymn called "Will The Circle Be Unbroken"; I hope that it can.

Wasting away

   When I am in nature, more so than when I am not, I take pleasure in looking closely at things, especially things that are small, delicate, or in some way unique or unusual to me. I find that there is a great deal to see when I take the time to slow down, and these small discoveries tend to make me happy, often staying with me for some time. Once I have seen something, it becomes easier to see again, and this blog entry is about something that I've managed to see numerous times, allowing me to witness the changes that has occurred over time to it.
   I first saw this small bundle of thin sticks about six or seven days ago during my morning walk, and interestingly, I found it in almost the identical where where I discovered a turtle shell some months ago (and also wrote about in a different blog, picturesthoughts.blogspot.com). For the first three to four days it appeared relatively unchanged, a sort of thin hourglass shape with a denser amount of branches forming both ends, of which one end is still somewhat visible in the photograph below. Each time I would arrive for my morning walk and come upon it I fully expected it to be completely disintegrated due to its fragile appearance and location so near a heavily used footpath, but was daily surprised that it had managed to stay somewhat intact for so long.
   A couple of days ago I noticed that it had begun to alter in shape; one end of the hourglass had become dislodged, and the small branches in the middle had thinned. The day after that, it had begun to show its delicate nature, and more of it had been swept or trampled back into the park where it emanated from. Yesterday,when I took the photograph, it's state had further changed, yet in its dilapidation I can still clearly see the shape of it from that first day. There is something beautiful to me about this, like a kernel of an idea which has altereded, and perhaps grown a little more open over time.
   Today, at a different location, I saw an object which reminded of this bundle, but half-sized, with just one side of the hourglass shape. It looked like some very dried twigs or grass that had been pulled from the earth, and it occurred to me that this may what the object I originally saw was, yet somehow joined at the ends. I thought for a moment that this idea somehow diminished what I had originally imagined this thing to be, but my mind turned quickly, and surprisingly, back to wonder.

Hanging in there

   I saw this small branch in Golden Gate Park a few weeks ago during a morning walk, and was drawn to it. I was especially impressed by the small, firm flower-like form at the tip of it, amazed that it had remained intact on the road before I found it. I passed it once before returning to the spot where it lay, and where I decided to pick it up, fifteen minutes or so later. I carried it to my car as I finished my walk, and placed it on the left side of my car's dashboard, as you can see in the picture below.
   It stayed on the dashboard for a week or so, sometimes having to be readjusted by me as it would slide if I made a sharp turn, but was pretty good at not moving too much, A week or so later, I decided to have my car washed, and placed it gently in the trunk to protect it. I thought I had been quite thoughtful in how I placed it there, but when I went to retrieve it, some seltzer water bottles that I stored near it had toppled, and a significant part of the stem and end had broken off.
   I was saddened and a bit annoyed annoyed at myself for allowing this to happen, but I placed the damaged remainder back on the dashboard, and there it has remained for the past four three to four weeks. It has been in direct sunlight and heat on occasion, but doesn't seem to be any the worse for it, and appears generally unchanged since the car trunk incident.
   When I am approaching my car from the front, I am proud to see it there on the dash, and once in the car, my wife and I marvel at the fact that it still is in one piece. It is a little treasure to me.
   I become hopeful and inspired when I see things that are small and delicate flourish; it helps to instill in me the belief that I, delicate feeling as I do, also have a place that's safe in the world.

Wild animals

   I am writing this blog entry while away on a weekend retreat to the Point Reyes National Seashore area of Northern California, staying in a lovely hotel in nearby Inverness. During the day, my wife and I have done a variety of activities, including hiking, driving around to explore the sights, and drinking espresso drinks in a nearby coffee bar, but the late afternoon and dusk hours have been devoted to seeing wild animals. On both nights, we have gotten into our car and taken the thirty minute or so ride to an area called the Tule Elk Preserve to see what animals we could spot.
   Seeing animals in the wild is a special treat to me, a feeling similar to the one that I get when I'm walking on the beach and find a unique piece of beach glass; it gives me a bit of extra strength in the present and a belief in good things that may possibly come.
   Growing up in New York City, having a feeling of connection to the life of animals was not apparent to me, save for some pets and cockroaches. Animals seemed to exist in a world that I didn't exist in (My ship seemed to pass theirs on a foggy night, unaware of their presence), but through the years my curiosity has grown, and my wife and I (who was also raised in a large city) have fueled each others interest in this regard. When we take vacations or weekend trips, the pursuit of seeing animals in the wild is often part of the planning process.
   This weekend, after seeing so many rabbits, mice, quail and surprisingly a badger, I still feel like me and wild animals live in a kind of alternate universe, but the worlds seem to intersect on occasion, and their world seems so much fuller and real than I ever imagined it to be, no longer appearing to be something that exists only when I see it.
 

A picture of a badger that I took this weekend; 

the picture quality was the only poor part of the experience.

The rustling of leaves

   Ever since I can remember I have enjoyed the sound of leaves blowing in the wind. In the warmer weather, the sound signifies to me that a breeze is nearby to cool me. In the fall, it tells me that it's time to adjust my jacket or scarf against my neck for warmth, but assures me that's it's still not so cold that it's uncomfortable to be outside amongst the trees. Here in San Francisco, there are still leaves on many trees in the winter, but when I was growing up in New York City, winter meant no leaves, so no rustling sound was to be had in the sometimes too frigid weather (luckily for me, the quiet of snowfall provided me with another relaxing sound).
   For many years, I have slept to the quiet hum of a sound machine, making me both sleepy and relaxed, perfect for drowning out some of the noise of the street, but also helping to deaden the noise inside of my head. The rustling of leaves feels similar, but is able to ease some of the sounds and movement that can sometimes make me to feel nervous when I'm out in the world.
   The wind as an invisible force, except as it impacts other things, such as leaves, helps me to see the unseen good in the world, no matter how hard I try to believe that it doesn't exist.

An unusually docile day for these leaves