where is the mountain

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I see no mountain today. I see suggestion of a light blue shape behind filmy white. The black and brown of tree trunks and limbs contrast in the gray of the winter rain. I trust the mountain is still there though I can’t see it.
Saturday’s class was like that. A flashback triggered PTSD…I feet nauseous and teary and the beginnings of a migraine. I step out of class to eat a banana and to remind myself that what happened was in the past. This day I am safe. I can feel my feet on the floor. I take deep breathes.
Ron encouraged me to come back to class after a gentle hug. I finished class trusting in the process. Classes that feel the worst usually offer breakthrough. Sunday’s class was focused on two beginners. In giving I find my mountain again. It is always there.

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