So much happening, so little brain power

The rollercoaster of life has been running at full pelt recently and, in truth, I've been running on empty just to keep up. It's truly wonderful to have such a full and fulfilling life - and even better to be able to have space to pause and catch my breath in the midst of it all.

I've experienced many sorts of exhaustion over the years but this past week has produced a new version entirely. It's been a version which has meant although I can function at some levels there have been chunks of time when my brain simply hasn't worked. I've pressed the metaphorical "go" button and had a response that simply said "That function is currently not available". Which has been really bizarre. I thought I'd got to know my tiredness warning signals but this one's a new one entirely - and for a thinker like me, a rather stark one!

But even in exhaustion, I get to enjoy self-discovery. It's been an intensive year so far and doesn't look to be slowing down. Not that I'd wish it to - but it's challenging me to be even more aware of myself, my needs, and my warning signals! All of which are things I know I've improved on over the years but, as with pretty much all of life, there's room for improvement.

So welcome to day 2 of Tigger-finally-stops-to-catch-much-needed-breath.

Day 1 was spent in and around Morecambe but most notably involved a mesmerising gig by Beccy Owen. She is an artist with a phenomenal voice, who writes beautiful and haunting melodies and has provided somewhat of a soundtrack to various moments in my life for a good few years now. An old friend gave me her second album (The Singer Kicks) many many moons ago and since then it's resurfaced on many occasions at just the right time. Yesterday's gig was literally round the corner from Chez Tigs in Morecambe at a wonderful music venue called More Music and my decision to go only coalesced on Friday. And oh, how glad I am that it did! A wonderful treat to see her perform live, I've walked away with 2 more of her albums (and the stories of each of the tracks on her latest, Imago, to accompany me listening to it) and having had the opportunity to say hello to this fabulous lady. I suspect the gig will be a very welcome ear-worm for me for the next good while. Huzzah.

And now day 2 finds me at my spa of choice up in Cumbria. Well, it did until I decided it was time to move out into the sunshine for an absolutely glorious day. Just down the road from said spa of choice is Wray Castle, a National Trust property I came to about 4 years ago with a friend who was visiting. At that point there will still plans afoot to turn it into a luxury hotel but, for whatever reason, those plans got kaiboshed and the NT is now plotting what to do with it. In the mean time they've opened it up and on a day like today it provides a wonderful setting for enjoying the sun, having a little sleep, picnicking, reading and generally feeling like I'm on holiday. Which I've decided I am - a one day holiday which will go on for as long as feels right. And may well involve a curry en route home.

I had pondered exploring some of the local footpaths (accompanied, of course, by an OS Leisure map of the area) but got drawn down to the lakeside and am now listening to the lake lap against an outcrop of rock I'm currently inhabiting. I've had motor boats, the passenger ferry, sailing boats and a kayak pass by variously but mainly I've just been drinking in space, time and gorgeousness. Which is altogether rather marvellous.

And, in moments of consciousness and, I suspect, trundling along in my unconscious, pondering the rest of the year. What's already planned, what I might want to fit in, what will happen unforeseeably and regardless of my plottings. But the reflection that has yet to be included in this particular bit of writing is about the tiredness with which I started.

I had a day off last Saturday. A day when I did very little and yet didn't leave me feeling much recharged or particularly refreshed - I just knew I'd avoided depleting my energy reserves even further. This two day period is incredibly different - primarily because I can rest psychologically. Last Saturday's rest came after 4 days in the office, a long day teaching (which was fabulous but, fundamentally, incredibly energy intensive) and preceded the first of four modules of one of our annual training programmes. I am very much one part of a larger team at said training programme but it's my responsibility to make sure all the course materials are prepped, get them there and unload - and on that particular first day of the first module of the year I had additional responsibilities too. So I may have had a day off (a luxury in itself, I acknowledge) but my brain knew there was no chance of relaxing - I was scared that by switching off "too much" I might miss something and create havoc as yet unknown.

This sense of psychological tension also reminds me that although my year thus far may not have involved huge amounts of physical exertion it has certainly had a high dose of psychological work.

Planning. Fitting in. Looking after. Dealing with. Being aware. Making decisions. Living with decisions. Offering support. Seeking support.

Finding balance is, perhaps, the greatest challenge. Life has dealt me a hand in which I am balanced and supported on many of Maslow's needs but as I reach the upper echelons of that infamous pyramid the challenge to find balance is all the greater. Perfection is certainly not what I strive for and the balance I have carved out is something of which I am proud and pleased with - and makes the moments of imbalance all the more pronounced. Life being the ever-changing beast that it is means this process of finding balance is one I know I will continue to dance anon but discovering this new side, this new recognition of psychological weariness has been momentous and exciting. Long may living continue.

Today I climbed a Hill

Some would call it a Mountain. Others, a Fell. But I feel like calling it a Hill as the purist in me feels like I cheated somewhat by getting to the high car park so missing a big chunk of the climb. That said, it was a memorable day despite this "cheating"...

The fabulous samba band I play with, Batala, have a habit of doing a slightly off-piste gig / event at least once a year. Last year it was the amazing gig in the Thornton Force at Ingleton. This year there are plans afoot (boom boom...the pun will become apparent imminently) to do the three peaks (Ben Nevis, Scafell & Snowdon) in 24 hours finishing with a gig a-top Snowdon. And with this in mind a couple of our members have been organising training walks. I made it to the first (and made acquaintance with my new favourite local-ish spa, at the Langdale Hotel, who do an awesome dual-entry day pass for less than a tenner. Win) but had missed out on the past couple due to other commitments. Not so today.

With indications of sunny weather I set off nice and early to get in a chunk of time pre-walk at the spa...but fundamentally the weather wasn't looking too clever. Ah well, a bit of a grey stomp in the hills isn't too bad, thinks me. We were about 5 minutes out of the car park when a kindly gentleman asked if we were heading for the top - only to advise us there was sheet ice up there. Hmm. On we strode. We didn't find any sheet ice, but we certainly found plenty of snow:

On the way up...

Visibility had been pretty abysmal most of the way (catching glimpses of tarns that were less than 50m away emerging from the mists) but having been well trained in my youth my drive to get to the top was simple: word had it there was a trig point and everyone knows that climbing to the top of a hill, regardless of conditions, is always worthwhile if there's a trig point to jump on top of. The truth was true and there was, indeed, a trig point.

I admit. This could be anyone. Anywhere. Well, anywhere there's a trig point. Or trig-point-looking-thing-to-stand-on. But it is me, on top of the Old Man of Coniston trig point, earlier today. Promise.

Having got to the top it seemed like a good place to pause for some lunch. Aside from the snow, wind and rain. But, you know, having brought a packed lunch it seemed rude not to eat it on top of the object of our efforts. That said, I wasn't feeling particularly hungry and, having stopped moving, was beginning to feel a bit cold. Which is where things got mildly interesting. When I'd been getting ready at the crack o' dawn I, in my infinite wisdom, put on one of my Batala T-shirts. Further, while climbing aforementioned hill I ended up taking my jumpers off as I was rather warm.

And so it was that I found myself at the top of the Old Man of Coniston, getting a bit cold, knowing there was only one layer between me and a Batala T-shirt, a trig point that I'd already proven to myself I could get on top of and not get blown off and some time on my hands while others were munching. Only one option, really.

Slightly more recognisable as me. Certainly recognisable as sans jacket. And a bit bonkers.

Sadly my camera phone isn't the high tech gadget required to render this moment in even great technicolor but you get the idea.

We set off again but, unfortunately, the wind got stronger and the rain heavier. Hmm. Didn't realise quite how wet & cold I'd got until, on reaching the car park, I realised I was struggling to press the button on my car key to unlock it. And it was a good few minutes before driving was a sensible option. And it took a good while in the gorgeously warm jacuzzi at the Langdale before any semblance of normal body temperature came about. But it did. And I've lived to tell the tale. This time!

All that said, it was a good tromp out with an excellent set of people (and a brilliant reason to revisit the Langdale) and has reminded me of trig-point-joy. Huzzah!