The blog nudged me, though — it’s been feeling a little neglected. So here I am.

deep memory drifts
forming into manuscript —
new life evolving

My Thursday morning delight walk was curtailed — after a very slow two blocks I turned back, and my stick and I made our weary way home.

A little later that morning, Leona came to give me Reiki — bless her. First, we sat in the autumnal sun on the balcony sipping tea, eating the banana cake I’d made a couple of days earlier, chatting about the mundane and the profound. The Reiki session was peaceful, beautiful. I slept deeply and peacefully that night.

Yesterday, when I woke, I found my walking much stronger. No need for the walking stick at home, nor on my delight walk which is exactly 2 kilometres long. I equalled my personal best post-stroke time, and still had energy to do the washing, and to write 500 words of my memoir. Extraordinary! And wonderful.

This morning, my walking is still stable. It’s been raining all night and there’s a cold wind whipping the glistening treetops outside my windows. A perfect cosy indoors day.

So — how to explain such significant overnight improvement? It seems to me to be part of the great mystery of life, and logically inexplicable. I’m happy to call it a little miracle, for how else can it be described?

I also understand that there have been and will continue to be rises and falls, ebbs and flows in my energy levels and capabilities. But I’m profoundly grateful for the miracle I’m living with today.

vivid green treetops
dancing in the rain — and
one liquid amber glows

I started with exercises (in the form of cute games) produced by a company called Lumosity and, towards the end of last year, added exercises developed by Brain HQ. Now, at the anniversary of my engagement with Lumosity, I’ve decided to focus on working solely with Brain HQ as I find the exercises more rigorous and therefore, I hope, more helpful.

Brain plasticity is a relatively new and exciting science that explores the capacity of the brain to change itself throughout life, even into old age. As we age, natural changes can exhibit as slowing down, memory loss, muddled thinking and so on. Sometimes, life throws a curved ball like a stroke or other significant brain injury or illness that destroys or damages entire areas of the brain.

The great news is that there is now lots of evidence to show that our amazing brains have the capacity, if we encourage them, to compensate by building new neural pathways or overhauling old ones. As with any exercise, the more we practise, the better the results are likely to be.

In recent months, I’ve been struggling physically — a gentle, supportive therapy turned out to be too much for my damaged system, and slowed me down a lot; there have been minor life events that I would previously have taken in my stride but which have also depleted my energy; I’ve had more (delightful) visitors than usual; and in the last few days, I’ve been dealing with a dental emergency and the antibiotics I’m taking to help treat it.

Phew!

Being exhausted all the time can mean it’s difficult to remember or apply principles and practices we know well and hold dear.

Every stroke is unique, as is the recovery pathway, and there’s only so much therapists can do to help and guide. Beyond the early intervention treatment, doctors can do very little really, other than be supportive, and monitor any medications. In the end, as is true with meeting most life challenges, it’s up to the individual to choose how to navigate and walk the path.

At the conclusion of my Reiki treatment last Tuesday, my friend Leona bravely and gently mentioned a possible underlying issue she thought I might consider: ‘fear of surviving’. I knew by my prickly reaction that she was onto something deep, profound — and it resonated with the weariness I feel when weighed down by the relentless physical struggle. How do severely disabled people cope, every day? I’ve pondered that question a lot, understanding that I am in relatively good shape and have so much to be grateful for.

On Friday, walking very slowly with the support of my trusty walking stick, I stopped to speak with a woman I’ve met during my regular walks. ‘What makes you get up and get going every day?’ she asked, witnessing my weariness and, perhaps, reflecting her own struggles with a difficult life.

I thought for a moment, and said, ‘My spirit!’ — and a lightbulb flickered on.

On Saturday, I spoke on the phone with friend and fellow stroke survivor, Colin Fox, a gifted musician who is working hard at retraining his guitar-playing hand. As always, I hung up feeling deeply inspired. We spoke at length about spirit and creativity, choosing optimism over despair, and working with what we have and what we love, to create new, rich post-stroke lives.

There are so many teachers along the way, and so many tools at our disposal, if only we are able to notice and hear.

In my journal writings early this morning, the flickering lightbulb finally blazed clear and strong. It’s my spirit — my essence, my life force — that inspires creative expression which, for me, occurs primarily through writing. When I choose to focus my attention on my ever-so-slowly improving cognitive ability (thank you, Brain HQ!) and apply that, a little every day, to my writing, I feel happy and fulfilled, despite the physical exhaustion.

At the moment, walking, standing and everything else I do physically, involves some struggle — but I’ve decided (again) not to let the wearying experience of that take priority. Rather, inspired by the many teachers I’ve encountered throughout my life and in the past few days, I’m focusing on taking delight in writing. I have a renewed urge to gather my blog posts into a slim volume; to write introductory and concluding material, and a chapter or so describing the early post-stroke months.

It will take time — lots of time — but I have plenty of that. And it will be deeply rewarding to see a little manuscript taking shape and growing.

exquisite brain — mind
fingers senses creating
brilliant new pathways

Many of us have such a fear of the darkness, both physically and in others ways — emotionally, spiritually, metaphysically. Perhaps being in darkness taps our primal fear of the unknown and of death. Yet without darkness, we would have less appreciation and understanding of the light. And there is always light, whether we’re able to see it or not. Within the vastness of the most cloud-obscured night sky there are millions of stars, our silvery moon and just hours away, like an eternal promise, our life-giving radiant sun.

In recent weeks, feeling less connected than usual to creative life force energy, I’ve been blessed to receive Reiki from a dear friend and gifted counsellor, Leona Dawson.

Reiki is a gift from the Great Mystery – a gentle, hands-on therapy, working with the invisible and the mystical. To learn it and to teach it requires a suspension of logical reasoning, a leap of faith, an acceptance of the capacity of invisible mystical symbols to help access and focus pure life force energy — ‘the light’. For seven years, while my children were growing up, teaching and practising Reiki was my primary work and during that time, I witnessed wondrous healing: spiritual, mental, emotional and physical.

Sometimes, people turn to this kind of healing modality when all else has failed or when there is nothing left to lose. While that’s not my situation, I’m in a state where my body and brain have been compromised and there is no medical treatment that can ‘fix’ me. I need to keep my gaze fixed on the light in order to fully enjoy all that this quiet, different life has to offer.

Returning just now from a delightful walk in cool air and glorious warm sunshine, I’m so grateful to Leona, and to Reiki, for helping strengthen my connection with the precious source energy that flows through all creation.

when lost in the dark
breathe quietly — move towards
the glimmer of light

And, dear regular readers, you might have noticed my writing has also trailed off.

Slowly, I’ve come to realise all over again the complexity of interconnectedness: my best writing flows from ‘the dream’ — from a non-mind state of connection with my surroundings that allows me to feel and experience joy in the simplest things. In this state, life force flows unimpeded, fuelling and inspiring creative expression.

This morning dawned clear, crisp and beautiful, reflecting my determination to walk my delightful streets. For the first time, I needed my walking stick to help me; how grateful I am for this simple aid that lets me go out into the world.

loyal walking stick
trusted friend — liberating
my housebound spirit