Looking for the Good

Living in a Body

1×

0:00

-11:13

Looking for the Good

Episode 59 -- Late May in Ohio

Hal Walker

May 27, 2023

Hi. Welcome to “Living in a Body.” Please click the PLAY button above to experience the podcast version of this episode with original music. (11 min.)

Looking for the Good

It's the end of May and the fringe tree is in full bloom. Her official name is Chionanthus Virginicus but we just call her Vergie. Her drooping clusters of fringe-like, creamy white petals hang delicately from her young sturdy branches. Her spear shaped leaves are fresh and new. I watched those leaves being born just three weeks ago. She loves to soak in the morning sun that shines through the tall trees that hang over the garage. I planted Virgie last year at this time and I've been looking forward to this moment ever since, the second Spring of her awakening. Her bloom won't last forever though, so I go out there every day to soak in the beauty of late May in Ohio. This fringe tree that I planted last year right behind the peach tree is one of the good things in my life. Today, I'm looking for the good. I hope you'll join me.

The weather's been beautiful here in Ohio lately. It's been 70 degrees and mostly sunny. I'm grateful to have just enough wellness to ride into town on my three wheel electric scooter to roam among the living. People in town regularly comment on how good I look and how glad they are to see me out and about. Little do they know the invisible challenges of living in a body with ME/CFS. I actually snapped at someone the other day who generously commented that they were glad to see me doing so much better. Even though I am doing better, I was blunt and I made it clear that this is an invisible illness and you have no way to tell whether I'm doing better or not. Dear friend, if you're reading this, I apologize for my impatience. I apologize for my bluntness. I was having a rough moment. But that's for another episode. Today, I'm looking for the good.

My scooter's name is Melba. (The Excalibur) She's quiet and fast. On a fairly regular basis, she attracts comments from passers-by. They say, "Damn, that's a cool bike." I don't usually correct them, but just to be clear, Melba's a trike -- three glorious wheels of battery powered mobility. I haven't actually timed her, but on a downhill slope, I think she could easily reach about 30 miles an hour. It may be a little bit dangerous to ride that fast, but I'm living with moderately severe chronic illness and I deserve a little thrill in life. Besides, I always wear a helmet. Except for the energy it requires to sit upright on the seat, riding this scooter is almost effortless. Melba glides along in smooth silence and she never complains. I'm so grateful for the mobility. Melba was one of the best purchases I've ever made. She's definitely one of the good things in my life.

On Saturday mornings, after a short visit to the Haymaker Farmer's Market, I almost always scoot over to the Kent Natural Foods Co-op. Even when I don't really need anything, I like to make it one of my stops. I go there to be among familiar people. I go there for the comforting natural food store smell. I go there in search of healthy stalks of organic celery for my morning habit of juicing. I go there to see my cousin, Amie. On Saturdays, she's usually working behind the counter. That's just the way it is at the Kent Natural Foods store. Everybody's somebody's cousin. It's like a big extended natural foods family. The KNF is another one of the good things in my life.

A couple weeks ago, I asked Amie if she had listened to my Substack yet. Her response gave me pause to think. She said, "No. Not yet. Is this another sad one?" I can't quote her exactly, but the point was well taken. A significant percentage of my posts have been sad. Some of my favorite episodes have had titles like "I Love Crying," "Devastated" and "A Puddle of Sadness." Upon first telling, there's no argument. It's a sad story. A sweet guy named Hal, who was having the best years of his life gets brought down by a devastating illness that's hard to pronounce, myalgic ensephalo-fuckin'-myelitis. It turns out there's no known cause and no known treatment and the illness is barely even recognized by the medical community. But, I digress. Today, I'm in search of the treasure that lies beneath the surface of things. Today, I'm looking for the good.

Thanks to this illness. I have become a practicing and prolific writer. If I hadn't been housebound and bed-based, there's no way that I would've had the patience and the persistence to write this publication. I never would've come up with the title or found the material for the writing. I never would have spent hundreds of hours in bed writing online with the London Writer’s Salon. Out of the pain and the struggle, something beautiful was born -- fifty-nine heart felt episodes of “Living in a Body.”

Just for today, I'm looking for the good. All day long, in every moment, around every corner, my eyes are wide open. My thoughts lean into the underlying beauty of all that exists. My heart beats in tune with each delight and my spirit swells with each sensation. With a smile on my lips and a spring in my step, I refuse the path of despair. Instead, I seek the most precious gem, the gem of this moment with all it’s complexity. Today, I take actions of gratitude and I say, "Thank you." My only job is to be grateful.

My friend Joshua offers a unique perspective that's been helpful to me. Our phone conversations remind me that I can choose to see the circumstances of my life as my curriculum. Whether I like it or not, these challenges are my course of study. The illness is a radical opportunity to learn and to grow. As I write this today, my own poetry inspires me to embrace the challenge of this journey, but the grueling reality of chronic illness pulls me in a different direction. Day after day, I face the isolation, the limitations and the dis-ease of living in this body. My thoughts are easily swayed toward self-pity, loneliness and despair. I mean, couldn't a nice guy like me have been given a softer path. I never would have chosen this crash course in pacing, personal essay, radical acceptance and basic survival. Without the illness, I never would've become the man that I am today... or the man that I'm yet to be.

Several months ago, I invited a few men over for a Wednesday night session of presence-ing. We did 30 minutes of speaking our experience of the present moment and then we went around the circle to share honestly about our lives. It was so enjoyable that we've been meeting every Wednesday for months now. These Wednesday night presence-ing sessions are the highlight of my week. On Wednesday nights, I’m not alone and I don't feel lonely. The connection is palpable. Week after week, we recognize that the work we're doing is profound. We often comment about how this might be the purpose of life - this connecting, this sharing, this being present with each other. This Wednesday night experiment with these few men has been so powerful and so meaningful to me that I'm conjuring up ways to expand to include more men. I wouldn't mind doing this two or three nights a week. It's been the greatest antidote to the loneliness and the isolation of being a man and living with chronic illness. This Wednesday night group of guys is definitely one of the good things in my life.

Today, I’m looking for the good. Won’t you join me? What would it be like to spend a whole day in gratitude. What if the good is everywhere and all we have to do is to open to that possibility? It sure doesn’t come naturally to me. I’ve got to work real hard at it. It’s easy for me to write it down, but to live it is a whole different story. I guess today’s another day to practice. Enjoy.

Thank you so much for reading. Thank you listening. I really appreciate you. As always, have a beautiful Saturday… or whatever day it is. And enjoy living in that body of yours. It’s not gonna be around forever. Take advantage of it now and I’ll try to do the same. Sending love. ❤️ Hal