thoughts from another field

So I’m in another field again. A paddock, really, with roaming hills and the sun peaking out over them.

I’m perched on an emerald coloured rock, a pastel pink wind jacket to keep my cheeks from turning a rosy red. Despite the jacket, the wind still bites. Ferocious in its gusts. A co-worker just came up and stated I looked cold and surprisingly, I’m not. I’m just hunkered up.

I keep thinking about how my body currently isn’t up for ferocious winds. It’s aching and painful and triggered by the biting. I’ve had more pain days in the last two months of random fields than a year of office cubicles with occasional school visits. It’ll take 8 months to get into a specialist, maybe less if they open up more appointments. And I’m not sure what I want those 8 months to look like.

Ideally, less pain. Less aches. Less bites.

But between the bites, on an emerald rock, are roos bouncing in the distance. There’s wedge-tailed eagles playing on the wind. There’s gum trees that have been on this land longer than either side of family tree.

My mind is, probably, the healthiest it’s ever been. I laughed at my doctor at the suggestion of stress, for the first time because of the absence of it. I see the sun rise and sun set more than often, twinkling night skies that make me pull over and take pause.

I’ve written more in the last two months than I have in the last two years.

There’s a phrase I got tattooed onto my body about two years ago: find the strength to do both.

Here’s to finding.