Poad’s Road

I ran into the Tararua mountains yesterday.

In late Autumn afternoon, the light was perfect - the forrest damp and gorgeous. There were moments that I had to stand still to take in the indescribable beauty - of water running over rock into dark pools - of a crystalline river at the bottom of a landslide. I was the observer, the trail runner - the short visiting consciousness to see the rest of the conscious world looking back on itself.

Pure pleasure and delight and I skipped over rock, moss and tree - copping a few falls, where delightfully on my face, hands and knees - a perfect enforced cat/cow stretch then up and back into the run.

Running is a pleasure for me - not a chore. It brings me calm, solace and at this time, great joy. To be tired out perfectly, not aching but heaving, and hot for an hour afterwards. This is what I need at least once in my week. And my mental state moved from grief and despondence to aliveness, to self care. My mind matters.

Whatever things are lovely, whatever things are good, whatever things are of a good report, if there be any virtue and if there be any praise - think on these things.

And so I did - think of all the good and praise worthy things in my life - the bush, my healthy body, a woman who loves me, a business that sustains me - my children, living, being alive - it is too easy to forget the good and ruminate on that which is not perfect.

And so I begin my gratitude journalling again at days end - three things I’m grateful for, and three things I’m looking forward to. I start there - as I start here - again, anew, on this morning - ever grateful, ever full.