Human Pinball
Hello from Oregon!
After our last post we headed out to the Olympic Peninsula and had an awesome time exploring the beaches and rainforests of Olympic National Park. It’s funny, again, how much beauty you can take for granted when you grow up with such a stunning place right in your back yard. But revisiting as an adult and experiencing it through our kids’ eyes has been such a blast. The rainforest is stunning and prehistoric; almost overwhelming in its odd and dripping beauty. My pictures absolutely don’t do it justice, but here they are anyway.
From there we headed straight down to Mt. Hood in Oregon, where we have been chilling for the past few weeks. It’s off-season here, so the campground is relatively empty. The kids have tons of space to roam, and we back up to a trail system that runs along the Salmon River, so we’re all in a bit of heaven.
As we speak, the kids are out working on their fort in a little patch of woods near our campsite. When we started out on this journey, days like this are exactly what I imagined. The reality hasn’t exactly played out that way for the most part, but today the sun is shining, everyone is outside playing happily, Brent is on a bike ride, and I’m sitting here drinking a cup of coffee and writing after doing a quick meditation; life is good.
Our Thanksgiving was about as low-key as they come. We ordered dinner from Whole Foods, so there was no cooking, just a day spent watching movies and Face-Timing with family. The one exciting part of Thanksgiving day started out innocently enough, but ended up giving me a lot to think about over the past couple of weeks.
Sometimes (maybe all the time?) my biggest lessons come in my most humble moments. In this case, it was the time I acted as a human pinball.
Let me explain…
Sam got a hoverboard for his birthday, and spends much of his indoor time zooming effortlessly around the RV. It’s crazy how easy this kid makes it look.
Brent and I have both taken turns riding it, and let’s just say we don’t operate with the same grace and ease as a 10-year-old, as evidenced here:
Have you ever seen a clown on a tightrope pretending not to know what they are doing? Wobbling frantically, hips thrusting in every direction, arms flailing, seemingly millimeters away from imminent disaster? Get a good mental picture in your head… that about sums it up.
Except for the pretending part.
As a family we’ve had a good laugh about the hapless parents and our inability to master balance on the two-wheeled death machine. Good times.
On Thanksgiving, as we were Face-Timing with my parents and the kids were regaling them with stories of my hoverboard hopelessness, my sweet children offered me up for a live demonstration. To which my Mom responded, “Yeah! Show us honey, we want to see!” (Well played, Mom).
Let’s just pause here to say that:
There were mimosas involved.
It seemed like a good idea at the time.
So up I went on the hoverboard, the good-natured clown putting on a show for her family. I performed my task well, giving everyone a good laugh, and even managing a few painfully slow and wobbly pirouettes.
It was all well and good… until I went for the dismount. I stepped my right foot forward as I reached out to the refrigerator handle for balance. At the same moment the hoverboard shot backward, launching me like a fucking jack-in-the-box as my bent left leg sprung me head first towards the refrigerator.
In slow motion, I began my descent. Please remember that the space we live in is three feet wide, so I made my way to the ground in a violent ricochet. I was a human pinball. First I hit the refrigerator, rebounding back towards the couch, frantically reaching with my right arm for some sort of hold but only managing to wrench my shoulder as I continued my downward trajectory, finally landing chin-first, sprawled on the floor.
It was glorious.
As I lay face down in some semblance of a broken Child’s Pose, my family tentatively held back their laughter as they waited to make sure I was ok.
And this was my a-ha moment.
Because I laid there for a really long time before I found myself able to respond. Everyone immediately started asking if I was ok, Brent came and knelt beside me asking where it hurt.
And I couldn’t respond.
All I could do was wave him away. Eventually my parents decided to hang up and have us call back when I was finally able to pull myself together.
And this is when I learned a critical fact about myself: In times of stress, I get quiet and assess. And I want to do it alone.
I don’t want to have to explain what I’m feeling or describe the pain, I just want to feel it. For myself and by myself.
When I’m in a stressful or painful period of my life, I tend to go off the radar. I get quiet. I do an internal assessment to figure out what is hurting and what I need in order to heal. My close friends know this about me because I can feel them gently, patiently waiting in the background. Knowing that I will come to them when I’m ready… when I need them. They already know this about me, I’m just a little slower on the uptake. Apparently it took a human ricochet for this trait to come into my conscious mind.
I now realize that I have been in a period like this for the past couple months. It has been a time of quiet assessment.
I really love writing and had expected to update this blog much more frequently on this journey, but I have found myself holding back from writing and posting on social media; it just hasn’t felt true or organic. But I feel myself coming out of it now, because during this time of assessment I have uncovered a piece of what was missing.
I am happiest in life when I am learning and growing, and even though we’re traveling and experiencing new things, I have been feeling stagnant in my own personal development. I didn’t realize what a toll that was taking until I got quiet and assessed what it was that seemed to be amiss.
Since making that discovery, I have taken a deep dive back into reading. Books have always been my happy place; I have spent untold hours losing and finding myself in the stories of others. It feels good to be back, snuggled between the pages.
The other thing I did was sign up for an online course that I’m super excited about. Before COVID hit I was in the process of starting a business doing Healing and Energy Work. I was planning to focus specifically on expanding the group and community healing sessions that I had been hosting out of my home. There was so much excitement around what I was doing, and everything was falling into place so naturally, and then BAM. It all went away.
I have been grieving that loss (as we all have been grieving losses over this year), and have been frustrated by my inability to create and express in the ways I had been before. In signing up for this course, I’m opening myself up to channel this expression in a different way than I thought possible. And all of a sudden I feel less stuck; like I’m gently tapping away at a dam, and slowly I can feel the grit and stones falling free to allow my creativity to flow again. I’m energized and excited in a way that I haven’t been for months, and I can’t wait to see what grows in this next phase.
So today I’m grateful for quiet assessment. For my ability to look within and discover the pieces of my life that need nourishment. It makes for a happier me, and a happier everyone around me.
Oh, and as for the pinball fall, I’m fine. :) The shoulder is a little tender, and my chin had a nice bruise and goose egg for a few days, but it made for a good laugh and a good story, so really, what else matters?
Love you all, stay healthy and safe. xoxo
In Joy, Truth, & Love,
~lisa
