Inventory Time

Chapel at Rollins College, Winter Park, Florida 

I recently returned from a trip to Florida, visiting family and friends.  I say this often, because I am going there often.  This trip I spent time with several family members or friends who are experiencing serious illnesses - it was interesting to hear how they are reacting to the changes, in some cases very profound changes in their lives. Some are focused entirely on the loss and on what they can't do, others are focused on what they can do, options for the future and on having a little fun along the way.  

It reminded me that it is time to take inventory.  An inventory of what I have. 
1: Health - I am able to move, walk, climb a few flights of stairs, ride a bike. I can still get stronger.  Life is terminal, but nothing appears to be imminently fatal.  I am sleeping better than I have in a couple of years. 

2: Mind - my mind is intact, I can think, I can read, I can still find connections between seemingly unconnected bits of information, I can understand complex concepts, I can find logical connections and logical failures.  I am still able to learn. 

3: Relationships - My sweet bear is the light of my life, I have a small family that seems to get along.  I have a small collection of friends.  I should put more work into social connections - I am starting to understand my social interaction patterns - understanding should lead to improving.  

4: Mobility - I am able to travel. I am able to fly, or take the train.  I am able to drive and I have a comfortable, reliable car (that is paid for.)  I am building up frequent flyer miles for 2018. 

5: Work - I have work that I enjoy, find value in, and that allows me a great deal of freedom.  

6: Creative outlets - I love taking pictures, and blogging.  I occasionally paint (I should do more painting.)  I enjoy writing, and the more I write the easier it is, and I think the better my writing is.    
There are things I could do in the past, that I can't do today.  Things change, my triathlon days are behind me, I travel a little slower than I once did, and I take a little longer to recover. I am no longer trying to be the fiercest in the office.  My photography is much less technical than it once was, I can't get the angles that I once did, my days of crouching in front of the crowd are in the past. I have permanent nerve damage, and my spine hurts everyday in one way or another.  

I can focus on the changes (losses) or on the inventory of what I can do.  I think it better to focus on what I can do.