Trauma Olympics
"To listen is to lean in, softly, with a willingness to be changed by what we hear." - Mark Nepo
In case you were wondering, the title for this post was inspired by a song from my daily discovery, naturally. All I can think about when I read it, is how much complaining we (read I) can fall into when we (I) become consumed with healing. We are (I am) constantly finding new things that are wrong, or need to be healed. It's seemingly neverending. I want to get off that racetrack.
And if the gratitude for the good we have fades, well, life can become a pretty miserable place, setting you up for even more unresolved pain and optional suffering. If you're living with someone of a similar bent, life can seemingly become less than.
Conversations become a round of "Anyway you can feel, I can feel worser! I can feel anything worser than YOU!" I know, terrible grammar, but anything lesser didn't reflect the Annie Oakley vibe I was trying to capture. So there you go.
It's exhausting when you find yourself living in a perpetual program of Trauma Olympics. I mean, the actual Olympics only last for a couple of weeks, probably for a very good reason. Trauma Olympics, if succumbed to, can last for years.
To combat this, I have been doing more things alone. Things that feed my spirit. Things that get me out of the house. Most of these things revolve around art. Art, it seems, is the true medicine for my heart.
Art is the place where I feel my heart expand and my soul flutter. Art is the place that brings me hope and gives me super big ideas. Inspiration. IN-SPIRIT-ATION, a nod to the late Dr. Wayne Dyer.
I've been fortunate this week, to be able to partake in and listen to a couple of inspiring local presentations, outside of the house, but within my availability.
The first opportunity came Thursday evening at the Weatherspoon Museum of Art, on the UNCG campus, when Thomas Sayre gave an interesting and inspiring artist's talk. He's soft spoken and a rather fragile specimen. All I can figure, is that he puts all of himself into his art.
His process is simple yet extraordinarily complex, his medium equally so. 1. Dirt and heavy equipment to move it. 2. A hole into which is inserted a precisely engineered frame of rebar and structural elements. 3. Topped off with 7000 pounds of iron oxide enhanced concrete. 4 Curing for 7ish days. 5. Dig it up and see what happened. 6. Load your new creations onto a semi, only 4 at a time. 7. Build a "cairn" on site. 8. Surround with a beautiful spiral walkway embedded with stepping stones that picture images of critters that thrive in the creek nearby... and voila! You have public art! It's incredible!
The artist's talk was presented by Downtown Greenway. I was SO moved by Thomas Sayre's story and his message that evening, I committed myself to going on a guided tour of the Downtown Greenway Saturday morning. That's the second part of this post.
But before I move onto that, I just must say, my reading of the artist, seems quite so. He's quiet, a little shy and he's a maker, not a Rock Star, but he is.
When I asked him about his journey to this place, he told me that he had never had a "real" job, but he was always entrepreneurial and when he got married and became a father, he said he just had to make it work out somehow.
I respect that, I just feel like I'm still looking for that magic formula... it's SO close. But, I digress... Trauma Olympics in play.
I didn't let myself down, like I have in the past. Saturday morning, I got up, drank my coffee, put on my sweats and tennie's and met up for the guided tour of the Downtown Greenway.
We walked the whole 4 miles. It took about 2.5 hours. I learned A LOT! So much about our city, it's history, the challenges and the history of building the Greenway. The challenges of our city. The sincere desire to unite and change things for better and good.
I learned about myself. How I have become. How I would like to adapt and change. How I want to preserve and persevere and somewhat stay the same, but not without Growth.
I once again, could better understand myself, and how struggling can help me become stronger and better. Good stuff doesn't always come easy, but when it does come, it is very much appreciated.
The leg of the Greenway where Thomas Sayre's Cairn's Course stands was dubbed the "Magical Mile", until negotiations with the railroad and contractors and COVID-19 caused setbacks for nearly 10 years. Upon completion this spring, that leg is now known as the "Miracle Mile!"
All in all it was a wonderful few days. I'm feeling inspired and hopeful and I have no reason to want to change that feeling. I have nothing to complain about, and if that means coming in last place in the Trauma Olympics, well, I can live with that!
It's much better than coming in second place to A.R. in the 100 yard dash again, and again and again... but that was a LONG time ago and once again, I digress.
Here's a poem...
BDP - 10-23-26
Here's a medal for your issues
If it makes you feel better
Trauma Olympics
Useless information
How could I forget?
Do you think of me?
God King Google
I might know a little more than you
I don't know
Quite what to do
What to make of me
All
The time
In the world
Could never clear my mind
I run out of breath
Wasting all my time
Each day
Getting
Closer
I'm overthinking
Again
Stay til the end
No one knows that time is passing
Kinda weird
You don't know me
Come
I'll show you
You're still a million miles away
Well, fuck you
Could you just act like you still love me?
If you ever loved me at all
Ah
I know it's somewhere
Deep in the earth
I'll fall straight down
Walk me off a cliff
I think they're almost here
Call me
You should have been the rainstorm.
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