For those who might be wondering, the name of this blog comes from one of my favorite poems –
The Bright Field
by R.S. Thomas
I have seen the sun break through
to illuminate a small field
for a while, and gone my way
and forgotten it. But that was the
pearl of great price, the one field that had
treasure in it. I realise now
that I must give all that I have
to possess it. Life is not hurrying
on to a receding future, nor hankering after
an imagined past. It is the turning
aside like Moses to the miracle
of the lit bush, to a brightness
that seemed as transitory as your youth
once, but is the eternity that awaits you.
This poem has found ways to make itself present at various stages in my life, always teaching me something different. Recently it has been my encouragement to truly live in the present moment.
After the world slowed down during the Pandemic of 2020, I was more than ready to get life moving again and plug back into community. The previous five years had been devoted to taking care of high needs children – spending hours a day driving them around town, making sure their homework got done, overseeing chores, cooking them food, getting lunches packed – all the typical stay-at-home mom duties. With the Pandemic that shifted to overseeing all five kids doing online school. Not only had the world stopped but I felt that my life had stopped as well, and I was desperate to find friends and to try to reestablish my writing career. But just as I was starting to see some normalcy return to the world, my life was uprooted.
In September 2021 I had surgery to repair a loose screws from previous back surgeries that were eating away at the bones of my spine and crushing my nerves in the process. Unfortunately, I woke up from the surgery unable to move my left leg. The recovery process was long (read more about that here) and I was left with nerve damage and circulatory issues that left me disabled with mobility issues. Life as I knew it had changed and doing anything was far more complicated than it had been.
It was hard not to slip into depression as I came to terms with the new me. Activities that in the past took me a couple of hours (cleaning the kitchen, doing laundry) would now consume a full week of my time. I could no longer go on walks or stand around mingling with friends. Researching what places were accessible was daunting and paying the disability tax of ensuring I had the accessible support I needed was draining. So, I stopped going places. I stopped socializing. My life became very small. I lamented the past I had lost, and I could not see a future ahead. Not being able to walk hardly at all or have the stamina to be physically in many spaces left me wondering who this new me was. Then in the fallout of the surgery and my depression, my husband could not deal with everything and walked out on me.
It was in those moments of feeling lost that Thomas’ poem returned to me. I hated my life because I wasn’t actually living. I was hiding, afraid to face difficulty and unable to even exist in most places. I felt I was fully in that nothing space of “hurrying on to a receding future, [or] hankering after an imagined past.” Ironically, by not choosing to live fully in the present, my life had become stuck in a strange limbo of detachment and depression due to disability.
Steps to overcoming that stuckness were of course not linear or easy (or complete yet). But it started with me learning to embrace the fact that I am disabled – no amount of wishing or hurting myself with too much exercise will change that I have mobility impairments. Instead of ignoring or fighting that fact, I had to learn to live with it. That process involved obtaining mobility aids that worked for me personally (I’m tall, missing my arm, and have a fused back – not every walker or wheelchair fits me). There were/are still hurdles to overcome in using said aids (like the ability to get them in and out of my car without help), but I’m working on that.
Nevertheless, I still found myself sitting at home in fear of having to face the world and the obstacles it brings. The process of turning aside to embrace the beauty and the precious miracle of the present moment seemed to be hidden behind a barrier of uncertainty and hassle. I would do the things I had to do, usually for my kids, but was too timid to engage in life for myself.
So, I decided to start writing about it. I know me. Unless there is something pushing me to do something, I won’t do it. I need something extrinsic to my own wellbeing to push me to start living, to actually turn aside to the treasure. Hence this blog. A place to chronicle my process of turning aside. A place to post about my adventures in travel, visiting new places, and navigating the world. To let others know about the accessibility of places, the tricks of navigating those places, and the hurdles they present. I want to give information, relate my struggles and joys, and muse on what life is like with disability. It may end up helping others navigate these spaces, but I hope that it helps me start living again.
So, I welcome you to my process of turning aside to encounter the bright field.
