Well, it has been well over a month since my last post and I feel it’s about time I write something on here. Y’know, to keep my devoted fans informed (lulz).
This Summer has been something of an interesting, albeit arduous journey for me with regard to my somewhat poor physical health. I have been dealing with autoimmune issues in the form of Celiac disease for the better part of a decade and had finally gotten comfortable(ish) with my gluten-free lifestyle, when some fun, new things started to rear their ugly heads. What began as mild hand stiffness and pain soon became fairly severe and spread to my lower back and ankles. At first I assumed the pain was the byproduct of physical exertion at my job, but as the pain progressed and new bits and pieces of me got involved in the pain-party, I knew something was up.
Several doctor’s appointments, blood tests, x-rays and specialist visits later and I’m inching closer to a diagnosis. The rheumatologist thinks I have a form of spondylitic arthritis – likely psoriatic or one related to an irritable bowel disease. I won’t know until my MRIs are completed and he’s had a chance to look over the imaging. So much fun!
In the meantime, I’m trying to make the best of a decidedly shit situation, stay somewhat positive and eat as healthily as I can. I made a massive change to my diet after doing some serious Google spelunking, and have adopted the paleo/primal diet for the time being, leaving behind an array of gluten-free foods I had grown accustomed to in the past 10-ish years.
It hasn’t been all negative, mind you. We Sundorwīcians went on a camping trip earlier this month to Algonquin Park – a place I hadn’t been to in nearly 15 years. The weather was perfect, we camped with family, I felt really well and I could feel the numinous in every nook and cranny of the place.
On our last day at the park, we went on a hike – one I had been on numerous times as a kid and loved. It’s called the Spruce Bog Trail and is basically a boardwalk built through two bogs-the Sunday Creek Bog and the Small Kettle Bog – both of which are home to some really fascinating flora and a plethora of blood-hungry insects. As is fairly standard with bogs, the water’s acid content is high, slowing the decomposition of organic matter, creating this sort of spooky, “fallen tree graveyard” vibe with the Sunday Creek Bog. The Small Kettle Bog, in contrast, had a thick carpeting of moss and other nondescript boggy plants growing over it and obscuring the water. According to the handy dandy trail brochure, these bogs were formed at the tail end of the Pleistocene (approx.11,000 years ago) when a massive glacier melted – an ancientness you could really feel while walking through the trail.
This ancient, numinous presence was so pronounced and tangible, I felt this overwhelming need to leave an impromptu propitiatory offering – something I often do when I am out in nature and floored by the inherent power of a place. I said some quick words of humble praise to the Wight/Wights of the waters and then I did something that multitudes of Germanic polytheists have done before me – I dropped my offering (two coins to be exact) into the dark, sunless waters of a bog.
The feeling of doing something like that, something that connects you in action to your ancestors and to the Gods, is profound. It left me feeling euphoric for the remainder of the day – something I feel whenever an offering goes well and feels well-received.
Anyway, that’s enough rambling for today. I am currently working on another comparative piece, so I expect that should be completed sometime in the next couple weeks, if I’m not too busy with work and doctor’s appointments, that is. Stay tuned, kids.