Change without progress

An interesting combination of symptoms (I guess you can call them that).

Things are better. The "numbness"/data corruption, that was the tip-off that something might be neurologically Not Right in my legs, seems like its fading away. I'm feeling parts of my legs that I haven't felt in years.

Other things are worse. I also have raging coldness in one of my feet, my motor control is degenerating, and I wonder if I'm knocking on the door of "too weak to walk."

Things are better. I actually have the feeling that I might be able to write music again.

Things are worse. I feel too tired to sit at the computer and write music; I'd rather be in bed, under the comforter, listening to Babylon 5 or Mighty Boosh or something else comforting. (I don't want to watch them, my eyes are changing prescriptions or something so much that I can still see things but focussing on screens is unpleasant, and/or not always productive.)

I often find solace in the tale of the Taoist farmer. It's hard to look at what's going on and shrug philosophically, "Who can say what's good or bad?"

This one's easy. It's both, at the same time.

One step forward, one step backwards. I am not "going nowhere," I'm progressing and retreating, simultaneously; very clearly improving, very clearly degrading. Hard to find a suitable metaphor; my wheels are spinning, but the road moves underneath me in the opposite direction. Lots of motion, but zero change in position.

Great. I'm on a treadmill; lots of effort, no forward motion. But, at least the theory goes, it makes your heart stronger. And after all, Nietzsche said that what does not destroy you makes you stronger.

Mother Theresa is credited with saying, "God never asks me to do anything I can't do. Sometimes I wish He did not have so much faith in me."

Amen.