Surviving

Feeling the warmth of the sun on a cloudy day. A glimpse into a blind billy goat's unique, ever changing perspectives.

2017 06 28 Journal Excerpt Page 42 June 28, 2017

 

Taking on a new challenge is always difficult. There’s things that can make it a little easier, such as having family, friends, folks smarter than you to guide you, advise you and pull and nudge you along. Knowing that there’s people there to help you is a gift. Not being able to see them makes things a lot different, but it allows you to build a level of trust that is quite different than the visual trust. Seeing is believing, but believing without seeing is absolutely priceless.

 

A universal receipt with a lifetime warranty.

 

Deon

 

***

 

Page 42

 

As we started the journey into another long, cold winter, another journey, another adventure of mine was coming to an end. I can’t remember exactly what time of the year it was, but it seems that I remember perhaps late fall, early winter when Mike Adams announced that he had pretty much taught me what he could, and that I should be fine with setting out on my own with my digital adventures. I was rather shocked to hear these words coming from him, for you see, I was under the impression that I would be receiving tutoring from him for the rest of my life. Or at least a close facsimile. Grin

 

Had I fooled him that badly? Did I appear to have a clue? Should I have acted dumber than usual? Would I even remotely resemble an adequately prepared user of assistive technology? Should I have started stomping my feet and sucking my thumb as he handed me a box of Kleenex?Did I still have my warranty?

 

Hearing these words from him, once again, brought forth an upwelling of anxious lava from a semi-dormant volcano of doubt, anguish, confusion and frustration. He had to know how vulnerable I felt. He just had to.

 

But it appeared that he didn’t.

 

Several times, he assured me that he was just an email away, and that I had proven to him that I was fairly capable to problem solve on my own. I guess from his perspective he must have known what he was talking about, right? I mean, he was the instructor, and I was the student.

 

Through this time in my life, I had never felt like such a student. I never felt like I needed to learn as much as I could, as fast as I could. As I learned, I studied a little more, because I knew that I had one test after another coming at me, and this classroom was one of those that locked from the outside of the room, and I was on the inside looking for a chair. It felt like I was unable to sit down though, I guess for fear that something would pass me by without me knowing, or seeing, or noticing. Before 2010 I didn’t want change, but now, then, from 2010 on, the change was taking place whether I wanted it or not.

 

My digital life had taken a sharp left, and man how the scenery had changed. The light and shapes and contrast was still there, in all it’s dulled glory, but I had begun to see things from so many different angles. The sounds, the textures, the broken toes and jammed fingers and bruised shoulders spoke to me in a way that snapped me to an attention I had never known. I wanted to find a way to sleep it off, but each time I awoke, it seemed that I was more awake than ever before.

 

Metaphors, metaphors, metaphors. I got a million of them, and they all have a place.

 

Saying good bye to my assistive technology tutoring was a scary thought, but I didn’t really have time to think about it much. When I came across an obstacle, the hidden opportunity was there for me to dig out, inspect, develop a plan of attack and set out on a mission to conquer, to understand, to build another layer on a new foundation of survival.

 

I never realized what a blessing it was to learn how to type. I remembered back to those first few emails I wrote to Leona, and how frigging frightened I was that I would never figure out how to do it.

 

I, I, I. All that I did revolved around me. Self centered? Posessive? Selfish? How else would I have grabbed hold of so many things that kept appearing in my new dark world?

 

This new life had things in store for me, and going against everything I had lived through in the past, I met every one of these things head on, as though they were all meant to be, and I had no choice. I suppose that’s exactly how it was, and as correct as it ever gets, but damn did it scare the crap out of me from time to time.I wanted to face my fears, but was

it possible to face the fears when they remained hidden behind a wall of blind?

 

To be continued…

Advertisements
 

2016 11 11 Any Other Day November 11, 2016

On any other day, would the sunrise look as nice as it did that day last month? Has the sunrise ever looked as amazing as it did a couple weeks ago? What about that sunset just the other night? Did you get a snapshot of that one?

So many days I would get home at night and look across the street, towards the mountains out west. The sunset would be shimmering as bright as bright could be, sometimes with a thin layer of clouds hovering just above the peak of Sugarloaf. What an amazing sight it was. What an incredibly picturesque moment, framed especially for me, and it was absolutely free.

I would hop out of my work truck and hurry over to the front lawn, beside our mighty maple tree, and as I got ready to take a few pictures of the view, I couldn’t seem to raise the camera to my eyes for fear that I would miss something spectacular. And oh how spectacular it was.

We live through the years and spend so much time looking at things, special things that fill our minds time and time again. Does it get old? Do we get tired or bored with the same old visions? Is it our responsibility to notice all of the amazement that the non stop flurry of days brings to us?

During my Thirty year career on the road, I came in direct contact with some incredible moments in time. The flood of 1987, the ice storm of 1998, year after year of dazzling fall beauty, the sun glistening off the rocks on the shore of the causeway in Searsport, and these days, I miss them all. I miss the blinding brilliance of the sun shimmering on the shore of the Kennebec River, just north of Bingham. I miss the view of Sugarloaf as I wound my truck around Oh My Gosh corner in Carrabasset. I miss field after field of new born corn stalks, bashfully sticking their heads up from the fresh Maine dirt. I loved to look down the rows as I drove by. I guess you could call me a linear sort of guy.

How many times have I seen the same things, over and over again, only to be caught in time, caught up in awe as once again, one day, another day, I was to gaze at the same sight, the same opportunity, the same spectacular image once again. I guess some things you just never get tired of. I remember lying on the floor in the living room one afternoon. My grandson Jack was in his little rocking seat on the floor beside me. As he slowly fell to sleep, I couldn’t take my eyes off him. The light blond wisps of hair, the delicate eye brows, his perfect pudgy nose and little chest that rose and fell with each little breath. I could have laid there and watched him for a life time and a day. He was just that perfect, and it was just that good.

There are some things that we just never get tired of, especially from a visual point of view. I remember a couple other times as I was flying to Florida. As the plane came in lower to approach the Sanford runway, I noticed only one thing. Actually I noticed a lot of one thing, hundreds and hundreds of baseball fields. From high in the air, they looked so inviting, and so lonely at the same time. I felt sad that each field didn’t have a game in progress.

I could have looked at those fields of green until the cows came home. I could smell the fresh cut grass, I could hear the infield’s chatter as a batter stepped into the box. I could remember the sweat rolling down my nose as I stared in towards the catcher.

Oh yes, there are many things that I could stare at, glance towards, watch a thousand times, and then, a thousand more. The visions of our lives never cease to amaze our wandering eyes. They never promise more than the imagination can deliver. They always know what we want, and bring us exactly what we need. They are cause for celebration, and they help to bring us their very own secrets that only we will ever understand.

As my wife and I drove to town the other day and turned a corner, the warmth of the sun quickly swept over my right shoulder and face. I imagined what the sun looked like, sitting there, all fat and happy in the sky. I imagined how yellow and bright it looked, how confident it appeared to be, how comforting it was to so many, many things. I sat and felt the sun, and as we turned another corner, the warmth moved around to both my shoulders, my chest and my full face.

As I sat, enjoying the feeling, I slowly smiled as I remembered so many times I had seen this same sun in so many different places, over so many years, on so many different days of my life.

I wondered if there was any chance of anyone ever growing bored with that.