Back in the canyon now and back to work. The physical and psychological strain of hitting the ground running and becoming intensely active after a long hard and sedentary winter has derailed my current writing streak, which is fine. It happens with enough regularity now that I know I can pick things back up when I recover. Plenty to cover that I left off with previously; that’ll come.
At present a storm front approaches and the wind is passing
in waves through the forest: that oscillating shuddering that happens in a
transition season, in this case as cold passes into warm. I’ve described it
before: you can hear the hissing and gathering motion of the wind at a distance, and then
it passes through as a roar and the trees are dancing and then everything is
set at ease again as the wave moves on.
Concurrently I’m having a particularly bad long covid flareup. Like the wind, it moves through the body as circulating nutrient and waste flows call the various productive systems into action, and the movement briefly reveals the damage as the activity passes through. In my case it starts with digestion: 20 minutes or so after eating the nausea and dizziness comes; inflammation mounts and the body aches; the heart gets going and the breathing gets strained; the thoughts get foggy. The body becomes set against itself as it works and is set against the mind in turn, after which the metabolic processes wind down and the turbulence wanes and then it is relatively calm again, albeit with that lingering feeling of being beat up and run down: persistent headache, joint pain, fatigue and windedness, brain fog, and the like.
The bulk of the writing queued up will have to wait. Plenty to say in time; as it goes.
