It was so quiet and peaceful on the river this morning. The weather wasn’t brilliant, requiring the Swanndri for warmth and some protection from the impending rain. Even the hunter’s long pants got used as the riverbank grasses are now thigh deep; they dried quickly enough once I was back in our hut with a fire going.
One of the very rare people out this morning was a white-baiter who served as my model for the morning. He was totally unaware, and that’s perfectly fine. We all go out to find our pieces of quiet to put our minds back together again from whatever our week throws at us in an attempt to pull us apart. I left him totally at one with his world as I was with mine.
We rheumatoid arthritis warriors and Spoonies (those living with ankylosing spondylitis) talk about fatigue and how draining our challenges can be; and yes, as much as I bury my head in the sand, it’s a constant in my life too. But that’s it.
Personally, I try to rise way above that and carry on with as normal a day as I can. I found years ago that it’s easy to do so and every hour, day, week month that I extend myself, the easier it’s been to keep that extension going. When really young, I developed an ability to shut down pain and have since used the same technique to not only ignore fatigue but use it as a motivator.
In my employment, I usually work the longest hours with the least amount of breaks. I still feel pain and get fatigued but that’s in the background; before and after work I manage (sometimes force myself) to hunt down a few images, light permitting. At weekends, I’m up at the same time as during the week. The days are even longer to get what I need done for myself, my wife, and the property we live on.
That’s it for now. I look out the north window – the black chooks await attention. Out to the west, I can see the Kaimai Ranges under some of my favourite clouds – black and textured with impending rain. A quail is sitting on the corner post, so I know the others are feasting down by the ramp.