Poetry has left me during this pandemic. When the world and others are deemed as not safe, this HSP has become HYPER vigilant, resulting in poor sleep and increasing bad habits.
I know I have so many privileges. I know that, but as the saying goes, nothing is ever truly forgotten.
So I had my spring plants/ flowers daily watch, and it was wonderful. Crocus, scylla, trilium, May apples, Virginia bluebells and more. I took some online classes. I tutor and continue to tutor.
And perhaps poetry will come back. During this pandemic, I cannot say that poetry has saved me, for the trauma is primitive and only after some relief from trauma can I return to art, to poetry. If poetry never returns, there is life, love, nature, beauty. Poetry in their own way.
Recently, my husband and I spent nearly a week in the great Rocky Mountains, at elevations of 8,000-11,000 feet. I had not been in the mountains for nearly 26 years (The Blue Ridge Mountains) and before that, it was 1969 (The Smoky Mountains). I was young both times before, and the elevation was nowhere near that high as we stayed down in the valleys and had to drive up to be in the mountains.
When were were driving on the breathtaking Blue Ridge Parkway, I remember begging my husband to “Get me the ____ off of this road!” The height was simply staggering to me.
This time, we stayed in a camp that came with warnings about altitude sickness. During my time there, while I was so in love with the fresh air, the lack of mosquitoes, and those breathtaking views, I also was traveling for the first time with a chronic health condition.
Some of the things I learned:
I am weak, the mountains are mighty. What a cliche’, but how true. As I gasped for breath while hiking, this truth became very apparent. The mountains were just there, strong, hulking, huge boulders ready to fall, while I was slowly walking, stopping often for air.
It’s okay to realize your physical limits. I am not a young athlete. I’ve spent nearly all my life reading, writing, researching. I’m not an athlete.
It’s okay to ask for help. I was in contact with my doctor four times (poor guy!) while gone, and he assured me each time that yes, this altitude could make my chronic condition worse and might for up to a month after I got back down–but he hoped I could enjoy the vacation anyway since I had talked about it every time I saw him. He gave me some tips.
I don’t have to do everything the others did, and in fact, I could not. I felt sad one night while others were out at a barbecue, and I was back in my room reading and trying to recover some energy. The next day I was able to hike and go up 11,000 feet on an aerial mountain tram.
Chronic medical conditions do not just leave because I was on vacation; they don’t care, they are not going away just because I paid for a vacation I saved for for a long time. That’s romantic thinking, and not realistic.
I didn’t write as much poetry as I thought I would, although the natural beauty would have normally sent me to typing away! I was dealing with my health. That’s okay as well. I can write when my body is accustomed to being back to a normal elevation.
At my age? I conquered an immense fear of flying and somewhat of heights in general–perhaps because I was so diverted by managing my health symptoms? I just didn’t have time to focus on my fear of heights!
I am forever grateful for my husband, who did not complain or in any way appear annoyed or disappointed I was not more agile, hardy, or strong. As I clutched his hand during some turbulence in flight, all I could think of was how blessed I was to know him for nearly 42 years.
I missed my maples, elms, willows, ashes, beeches, birches… I missed my deciduous trees, while being thankful to see and smell so many wonderful pines. I missed my trees!
I was not wrong; sometimes at home I would imagine the immense clouds of summer looked like mountains.
Those beautiful images are starting to seep into me now, and I feel poetry coming.
I am glad to be back where there is 45% more oxygen. Just because.
Coffee at 9,000 feet was WONDERFUL. So was the apple tart.
I was so proud of myself for doing something others find simple; I did not.
I cannot imagine how roads are built through such massive, imposing things such as MOUNTAINS.