In some ways, Parkinson’s has been a blessing. It may sound a little awkward to try to articulate but in many respects its true. Had it not been for my disease, it is unlikely that I would have taken the time to see the breathtaking colors of a sunset in Sedona, the majesty of the Sierra Nevada Mountains, or now the creativity the Garden of the Gods. This past weekend was just a not-so-subtle reminder that there is a Creator that spoke all of these into existence and I am not Him. Who does He think that He needs to impress anyway? He did it to impress stubborn and forgetful people like me. Recently, I had to admit to myself that I live with a degenerative condition, or better said, that my disease is degenerative. I have known that it was for some time, seven years to be specific, only recently did I begin to feel like I do. Parkinson’s is like that; it is more like moving between plateaus than following it through a linear progression. The battle is, and will continue to be, a to fight to get back the ground that is slipping away.

Rest is Best

Walking through the Garden of the Gods, watching those more adventurous than I scale the vertical faces of the rocks served as a reminder that not every day do we get to have a mountaintop experience; and where there is a mountain, there is a valley. There are days that we have to work a little harder to do what we did yesterday with less effort. It doesn’t mean that we have to quit fighting, it just means that we need to expect to have a little less energy at the end of the day to do the things that we love to do, and in those valleys, we can find rest.

I used to think of rest as just another four-letter word, defined by the elites, and the movers and shakers as spending countless hours in a Lazy-boy, downing a bottle of Crown Royal and a bag of Dorito’s, glued to reruns of the Simpsons. Only recently did I embrace the notion that rest is necessary for the journey that lies ahead, to provide us with enough energy to get back on the side of the hill and continue with the climb.

The View

There is a mountaintop experience that awaits. It just might mean that we can finally donate that Lazy-boy to U of M’s coaching staff and the leave the Doritos for their egocentric mascot; which bears a striking resemblance to an overweight gopher in need of a manicure. As for the Crown Royal, glass bottles don’t travel well, so we might want to invest in a flask. I suspect that there will be a celebration in our future on top of that mountain and it will come in handy.

If I offended any of the three remaining Shirley MacClaine fans, I sincerely apologize. I am sure that her dominion will last as long as a blip on the Weather Channel’s Doppler radar; the one that is tracking the wind storm about to extinguish a Burning Man. If she is lucky, she can hand off her megaphone to the next celebrity needing to breathe life into a dying career. Mr. Depp, the beach is all yours.

Thanks for reading, liking, and sharing,

Ivy and I need to run to the pet store. She wants me to find her a flask that will fit in her service apron.

Al and his faithful, but well-hydrated sidekick, Ivy the wonder pup.

I can’t answer that question right now, Ivy. I’m not sure how you will get the top off. Usually, you wait to get a drink until someone leaves the seat up!