That's All I Can Stands, And I Can't Stands No More

Yeah I know, technical difficulties and blah blah blah. I'm on my lunch break and I can post from my phone app. Deal with it. 

This past year has been stressful, like that guy from that Scanners movie when his head explodes stressful. It's just one thing after another. If I had a dollar for everytime I've said I'm stressed to the max or at my limit, I'd have enough money for a decent dinner, and maybe a good beer to go with it. It's been rough. 

I was driving in to work this morning, listening to my escapist audiobook, The Oregon Trail by Rinker Buck. I'm listening to this guys amazing journey across the Oregon Trail in a period correct covered wagon and mule team. He and his brother are middle aged men, exposing themselves to similar hardship has our pioneer ancestors did in the mid nineteenth century. There is a safety net of civilization and cellphones and no cholera, but it's still a risky adventure. Anyway, they are making their way across the vastness of Wyoming when disaster strikes. They are driving the wagon across an incline when the weightin their detached supply wagon shifts and overturns. This is bad. Major things break. They are truly in the middle of nowhere Wyoming and that's saying something in a place as sparsely populated at Wyoming. They need major repairs or the whole expedition is screwed. Pioneers died in droves because of this exact type of misfourtune. 

Rinker Buck reacts in a surprising way to all this stress. He is glad for it. He knew things would go wrong as a realist, and was waiting for it. This was his trial by fire at about the halfway point of his journey. He saw this as a chance to prove to himself that he had the ingenuity and gumption to deal with adversity and carry on. They do get it settled with the help of strangers who became friends and some good old elbow grease and ingenuity. What a grand opportunity! You can prove your meddle in a life and death situation that most normal soft bellied Americans haven't experience in and century and a half. 

This brings me to a brief moment of clarity and positive thinking. If Rinker Buck can be grateful for trashing his wagon in desolate Wyoming, surely I can be grateful for my vaguely alluded to head exploding stressors. Once my trials and tribulations have passed and been dealt with in a efficient and productive manner, I'll feel like I've achieved something. I SURVIVED something. Surely I will feel vigorous in my pursuit of living life once I have walked through the valley in the shadow of stress. I might just flitter off into the sky with my newly lightened load. It's a light at the end of the tunnel and a positive spin on things as I currently ponder my predicament, face down in the mud. Soon, life will be light and joyous. I'll have bells on my toes and a song in my heart. Hang in the old boy, the goal is in sight. 

My pictured friend Popeye says "that's all I can stand, and can't stands no more". He then slams some spinach and punches the stuffing out of someone. I might eat the spinach, but I now know I can stand more. I'll go meditate for a bit and save the punching for Popeye.