Redundancy has become the norm as I wake each morning and describe the beauty of each day in the Desert.
But how else can I describe the allure when I am dwelling in a slice of paradise?
Over the years in describing my struggles with my conditions, I have also been guilty of redundancy. Yet when the same battles occur over and over again, redundancy becomes the normal.
This also can lead to a certain monotony and tedium.
On this glorious Saturday in the Desert, I once more wake to an awe inspiring morning as the sun creeps over the mountains and rays highlight the clouds and the sky.
The mercury reading is mild at 84 degrees and a real feel of 82. The humidity, which I can feel the pressure, is at 29%. Earlier it was 34%.
The wonder of the valley below cut from the mountains as the Colorado River wound its way from the north toward the sea is breathtaking. The “purple mountains majesty” gives one pause that truly “there must be a God somewhere” as the old hymn proclaims.
While I sip my coffee on the patio, as Chooey scampers and explores the yard, I breathe it all in and exhale my wonderment of the creation I see.
Inside My Mind, the dark clouds swirl and threaten another storm. I push back. I know soon a new battle will ensue.
So it is this last Saturday in September, 2015 at Mark’s Den.
My mind, my body, my senses all seem to be on overload this last Friday in September. That is not in a good way.
My mind has thoughts of the dire and the dark running through it. My body is wracked in pain and agony as my conditions attack. My senses are reacting and picking up the most nuanced sentiment, touch, feeling.
I look to the heavens. I seek for an answer. I ask for a miracle.
I look toward the hills, the mountains, from whence comes my help and I wait. That help has yet to appear.
Less than a week remains. Less than 120 hours remain until the answer I seek must arrive. The answer may not be the one I wish, but an answer will arrive I am certain.
This Friday, though another day in paradise, I am feeling as if I cam adrift upon the sea of life. I am floundering in waves that would pull me under.
I must hold on. I must not quit. The battle must wage.
That’s the way it is for me in Mark’s Den on this Friday in the Desert.
Often when I pray the answer seems to either never come or takes forever to be delivered. We have all been there. Most of us realizes when an answer does not come the answer is no or not at this time.
Those are easy to understand, though perhaps difficult to accept at times. It is the delayed answers which can be most frustrating.
So it is on this Thursday, I wait and wait and wait some more for an answer to a prayer request which I submitted months ago. I know there is an answer coming. I have that feeling. It is not the straight out no answer, but a nuanced answer which I will have to parse and ponder.
The cluster headaches are putting extra pressure on my internal ignore this wonderful day in the Desert. The pain is excruciating at times.
I have yet to climb out of the sea of despair and depression which surround me. The undertow is doing its best to pull me under. I fight back. I struggle.
Thus it is this last Thursday in September in Mark’s Den.
And how is your Thursday going?
Looking back over the years for #ThrowBackThursday:
Rose this morning to the horror of 61% humidity. For most people this is of no consequence. For someone like me the impact on my breathing ability was more than noticeable.
The reading was on par with humidity back in the Cornfield. Yet, shockingly, I was not experiencing the difficulty I thought I would have with the percentage above the fiftieth percentile.
The mercury was at a mild 86 degrees. A slight breeze blew through the patio. The sky is overcast with the threat of rain throughout the day.
What is slightly irritating is that the DirecTv signal is lost at the moment. Apparently the clouds are blocking the satellite signal. That means no listening and watching CNN this morning.
At least the internet provider is providing to allow me to gather the headlines and current events to write Kernels From the Cornfield later today.
September will soon be gone. But October and payday are still too far away for my liking. You do what you have to do.
My conditions continue to plague me. I did not want anyone to think I have been healed and no longer suffering. I am pressing my internal ignore on a daily basis. The most troubling at this point in time is the depression which bombards my system constantly.
That’s the way it is this Tuesday morning in Mark’s Den.
Summer, 2015, has come and gone. Autumn is now here. The leaves are changing and the mercury has dropped in the Cornfield. Here in the Desert, humidity is up and the temperature is nowhere near the highs of the summer.
Nope, none I see in the Desert yet. Yet, as I wrote a week or so ago, there is that feel of fall in the air.
This is also the start of another week. A week that will be more of the same. A week where I am holding out for my miracle. A week where life will be up and down as is every week.
Trying to keep a lid on the depression, but it keeps boiling over like a pot on the stove. Forget about a pressure cooker with its pop-off valve. That would turn into an explosion as my system turned into a raging, spewing volcano.
Guess my ignore will get overtime.
That’s the way it is this first day of the new week in Mark’s Den.
This serene, quiet Sunday as the sun is peeking over the mountains it is not difficult to understand the inspiration for those lyrics talking about “as easy as a Sunday morning.” That is truly how it is in my paradise in the Desert at this hour.
Whether that easiness remains as the day wears on remains to be seen. For the moment, it is definitely “easy as a Sunday morning”. I truly need this “peaceful, easy feeling” after last weekend and the doubts, the concerns, the unease that has been plaguing me.
At the same time, the other classic is also running through my mind. “There’s something about a Sunday, makes a body feel alone.” And so it is as well on this gloriously beautiful Lord’s Day.
Speaking of gloriously beautiful, granddaughter #2, Alaina, is three years old today. Happy Birthday, Alaina! Hugs and kisses from the Desert coming your way in the Cornfield.
Check out this collage that Mommy, Anna, made:
Isn’t she just a doll?
What does the day have in store?
Will the miracle for which I have been praying be realized?
Each of us as we travel down the road of life come to various crossroads and y’s. We are then met with having to make a decision to continue onward on the path we have been traveling or choose to go left or right. We must opt for the y to one side or the other.
Those decisions are not easy and have an impact on the rest of our lives. I believe that our choices alter what is predestined for each of us.
Yes, I believe in predestination, but what is predestine is altered by our free will to choice the variety of y’s and crossroads as we make our journey from birth to the grave. Thus it is that this Saturday morning and for over a week now,
I have been at a crossroad. I have yet to make the choice of which way to go. I have been in a quandary about my life. So much to consider. So many factors to weigh.
I am sure many of you reading have been or will be in similar positions where you must decide on the best route.
Perhaps the best way to decide is to allow fate to make the choice. Close our eyes, throw the dart and let it hit where it hits.
That’s the way it is this weekend morning in Mark’s Den.