When I purchased the new camera, I had set an intention to take it out for Friday walks, but then the weather turned wonky or my schedule was weird. Friday walks just didn’t happen for a few weeks. Last Friday, between meetings, I pulled my stocking cap down over my ears and zipped up my coat. I grabbed my camera and I stepped outside to walk. The effect of just stepping outside with that camera and the intention to use that camera was almost a manic feeling. I shifted from blase depression to elation in a blink of an eye. My face nearly broke with joy as I made my way up to the Nelson. Really, Kansas City is at its peak gorgeousness right now. The weather is not supposed to get cold until later this week, but the leaves have all turned. I can’t go a block without coming across what has to be the most beautiful tree I’ve ever seen. Then I walk a few steps down the block and there’s a new contender for the most beautiful tree I’ve ever seen.

Once I reached the sculpture park of the Nelson, I was pleased to find it mostly deserted. I had the park all to myself and at one point I was laying on the ground to get a particular shot and I thought “this is going to be a wonderful picture.” Even if the final picture wasn’t wonderful, at the moment of taking it, I felt really good. I felt like I was really doing something. I felt good about my craft and my art and these feelings stayed with me throughout my walk. By the time I made it back to my desk, I was a little sweaty and a lot glowy. The first thing I did was connect the camera to my phone for downloading and minor editing. That picture may not be the best picture I’ve ever taken but I still feel really good about it. Even if the final image had turned out like complete crap, I would have been happy with it because the whole action of taking the picture shifted something around in my insides.

In a good way.

A few years ago, I found my unathletic self agreeing to play softball for the corporate challenge. They made me the catcher mostly because I could hang out in a squat for long periods of time thanks to all of that yoga I do. It definitely was not because I was good at catching a ball. Just before our first game, our pitcher was warming up and he threw me a test pitch. The ball bounced up out of my glove into my face. I immediately stood up and started poking my front teeth to make sure they were still intact. Everyone ran to my side and someone said something about it would be okay if I sat this one out. I determined that I still had teeth, spit the blood out of my mouth and said “No. Let’s play this game.” My top lip swelled up and turned purple. Later, when I got home, Michael told me that it upset him to look at me. I can still feel a faint scar on the inside of my upper lip, probably because I needed stitches.

I was thinking about this recently because it feels like a good example of my life in general. I get hit hard, but I always manage to get up, spit the blood from my mouth and keep going. I feel like I have been taking some minor hits lately what with the scooter and the couch. My knee. My health in general. All of those little hits had started to pile up and I was beginning to feel a whole lot defeated. I needed something more than to just keep going. Friday evening, while sitting on that uncomfortable couch drinking too much wine, I told Heather and Michael that I wanted to go to the Vespa dealership and I was going to order exactly what I wanted. I said “this weekend we find a new couch and next weekend I’m getting a new scooter because I’m a grown ass woman with my own money and I’m going to get what I want!” I don’t know how much of that confident statement came from the wine or from my walk that day, but I like to think the walk played a significant role.

We had plans to go couch shopping on Saturday after getting our hairs cut. While I was waiting for our hairdresser to finish up with Michael, the people we ordered the couch from called me. They said our couch was in Chicago, which was exactly where they said it was in July, and would be delivered to our house this week. I finalized the delivery date and hung up the phone. Then I looked at Michael and said “Our couch is going to be delivered on Friday. Can we go to the Vespa dealer?” He agreed heartily after I bribed him with lunch at a BBQ place and by the end of the day, I had picked out my new scooter. Velma is a mint green (Verde Relaxed) Primavera 150 with front and back folding racks. Hopefully. There’s still a question of if the dealer has this scooter in stock, but with any luck I will have a new scooter just in time for my birthday. (Update: scooter has been ordered for real.)

The getting up and keep going part is not self care. I was doing those things on autopilot, moving through my days like a zombie. It was the act of getting out into the Fall sunlight and overloading my senses with color that changed things. It was the practice of picking up my camera and actively taking photos that took my off of autopilot. That is my self care and hopefully by writing this here, I’ll remember that for the next time I need a shift in focus.