I feel as though I am at the end of a chapter. Bits and pieces have been woven together and packaged. I have written about learning to live in the moment, finding emotional health, overcoming grief, seeking out balance, creating a home, belonging, admitting limitations, renewing creativity, and having the courage to find joy and acceptance. I have written on these topics, not just on this blog, but also in my journals, and most recently in a article I submitted to the North Dakota Humanities Council for their magazine publication, On Second Thought.
As I share these experiences with readers, there is another chapter in progress. Perhaps it is the change of seasons bringing it forth.
Or a change in perspective. I can’t entirely describe it yet.
It has to do with all these things I’ve written to date, but from the perspective of physical health.
I am no expert, I don’t claim to be. But I have my story of experience to share.
I have the experience of my emotional healing becoming such a holistic process that I can identify the effects of stress and trauma has had on my body.
I have the understanding of what simple breath and relaxation can do. I have knowledge of human and mammalian osteology and anatomy.
I have a fascination with how the world works within our own physical beings.
I first created Pages of Paradigm with the intention of one day writing a book. I may have shared that before, that I wanted to write a memoir on the experience of redefining success. But I have not shared that there is another book in mind. A book about learning about ourselves, the living, through those now gone. I have learned much from the dead. I have many stories about my experiences cleaning animal skeletons for a museum collection. The first of which was an African Lion. Just a few weeks into that semester, my grandfather passed away. At his funeral, people I had never met before came up to me and said, “You’re the one with the lion! Your grandfather told us all about you and your work.” He had a love for gaining a greater understanding of the world. A few months after the funeral, I had a dream about walking with him to his final resting place. In my hands was a beautiful bouquet that consisted of clovers, little white flowers, and the long bones of a squirrel. Maybe strange, yes. But I thought it was beautiful. I treasure the memory of that dream to this day.
Pages of Paradigm 