In the headlights

I am in a gray state again. Nothing I've tried writing seems interesting to me.

I went for a walk last night and after five miles of wading through ankle deep slush the trail came to an open water crossing that was about a quarter of a mile wide. For some unknown reason there was a heavy current flowing and the boardwalk that normally crossed the water had washed away.

I was faced with the decision of backtracking five miles through the awful slush, taking an alternate trail which looked to be at least five miles long, or trying to brave the current. I looked through my backpack for a spare pair of socks or some water shoes, but I had unloaded those in the fall when everything had frozen. Time was ticking and I needed to be home in an hour, so I reshouldered my pack and waded into the slush filled current.

The cold was shocking and the footing icy. The current was strong but I had studs on my boots and I used my hiking poles to pick a reasonable path across. On the far side I set off at a double pace to forestall my feet freezing. Unfortunately the swift pace and soaked socks led to my feet starting to rub raw.

The indecisiveness I felt prior to entering the water is akin to my life right now. I have decisions to make and all the alternatives seem poor. I need to somehow find a path that lets me move forward. I know that no matter which way I go I'm going to feel some pain. Unfortunately, unlike my river crossing, it isn't going to be only me that is going to suffer. Fortunately time is not pressing me very hard.

Usually I can be patient and look for joy in my hiking and conversations with TB. Something in the last week or so has made it hard for me to find that joy, and I'm feeling a little hopeless about the future.

No conclusions today, just gray