Archives for the month of: June, 2017

Are you familiar with CGP Gray? He’s got some basics laid out that chart the course to misery pretty well… so… go the other way? Do something different? At any rate, he’s right; you may already be doing the things necessary to be miserable, and if you are – the journey to less misery may be pretty well-mapped right here. I’ve spent hours, days, and years basically saying what he’s said so well and so precisely in one video. 😀

Enjoy the day. Enjoy the journey. 🙂

…Don’t forget to pause to appreciate beauty along the way. 🙂

Well… Isn’t it? Is it? Are we back to this; what is “enough”? Maybe for at least a moment. lol

I’m still sifting through my experiences of the weekend, thoughtfully. I’m still considering the moments, the thoughts, the notions, the hints of changes within reach…and wondering. Just that. It’s that sort of morning. A slow dawn is chasing twilight-blue clouds left behind from night, which seem to softly slide away as the sun rises. It’s a good moment for thinking. It’s a good moment for wonder.

…I’ll eventually find my way; I just take my time with it.

I’m thinking about “enough” – sufficiency. I’m thinking about “now”, and the way “now” becomes the foundation of the future. I’m thinking about life through a colorful kaleidoscope of recent camping memories, and hints of Rick & Morty; there are so many choices on the way to the future!

My Traveling Partner reached out from the highway last night. It was an unexpected delight to hear his voice. I find my thoughts shifting toward wondering where/how he is this morning, and whether he is still driving, and whether he is watching the sun rise, as I am. I love those odd moments of shared-experience-from-differing-vantage-points – we have a lot of those. He’ll certainly be home today, at some point, if he isn’t already… a quick check of the clock suggests that the earliest he could have completed his journey would have been about 3 am – no message from him, so he’s likely still “out there”, somewhere. My heart soars just having taken a moment to consider him.

Today will be an ordinary work day, and I’m okay with that; that too is “enough”. Will I see my Traveling Partner? Maybe. He’ll probably be worn out and needing some rest, though, and it’s far more likely I will see him tomorrow… then… our calendar suggests he’s back on the road Thursday. Busy summer. My birthday is next week-end. What will that be about? lol Conveniently, I’ll have a couple days off to find out, and my Traveling Partner has invited me to join him out there in the world for a couple days of adventure. 😀 There’s really no way of knowing, at this point, what next weekend will hold. I find that a challenge, personally, preferring to plan things in a fairly detailed way (without becoming emotionally invested in the actual outcome). It’s a good opportunity to let go a little; no planning required. (No, no – I mean, for me to let go a little, it is a requirement that there be no planning. LOL) (Seriously, though? I prefer to plan.)

The sun continues to rise. I’m enjoying this moment, right here, right now, and it is enough. 🙂

It’s already Monday, already time to get back to the routine routines, and the usual flow of activities of a busy work week. (Seriously? Already??) How is this so damned difficult? I stare into my half empty cup of not-quite-cold coffee and wonder if there is time for another.

All the windows are open to the morning chill. There’s a hot afternoon in the forecast and I am rethinking my choice of work clothes, too. Since I’ve been back from the forest, I’ve been notably less attentive to routines and habits, and existing more “casually”. It feels terrifically relaxed, but realistically may not be sustainable for me, with some of my persistent issues (memory challenges are what they are). I’ve misplaced my badge to get into the building at work… I think I may have left it in the car, which I’ve already dropped off at my Traveling Partner’s place. I grin at my oversight and shake my head. It’s a small thing, not worth becoming stressed over. (I can recall a time when even so small a thing would have sent me over the edge pretty reliably.)

My bare toes are cold, as the apartment cools down. The sweater I thought would be a good idea is still comfortable, but looking into the developing orange and hint of haze in the sky as the sun rises, the sweater is clearly in need of being reconsidered before I leave for work. Practical details. How is life so filled up with practical details and practical questions? How is there ever room left over for wonder or for mysteries? I’m astonished and amazed, and for just one moment wide-eyed with real appreciation for how much minutiae I do manage to keep track of moment-to-moment, day-to-day; life is busy.

What matters most?

I got the rest I needed this past weekend. I’m glad I took the time. This morning I look around my apartment – and my life – with “new eyes”, rested, refreshed, and open to change, and I see some things that are very much change-worthy and quite possibly overdue for it. It’s not always clear where some bit of alteration in life’s course may take things over time. Like a loose thread on a sweater, each dangling bit of something or other I might consider changing is connected with all of the details of my life; change one thing, and things are changed, generally. Pulling on that thread may have consequences as yet unconsidered. Still… change is. I can choose change, or I can allow it to be chosen for me by others, or by circumstances.

It’s an interesting journey, this life thing. I wonder where the next trail leads? The sun is up, it’s a Monday, and it’s time to begin again. 🙂

3 days, two nights, one purpose, and I return to my apartment by the park with sore feet, aching muscles, stiff joints, and a smile that  won’t quit.

3 mosquito bites, two unexplained bruises, 1 blister over 17 miles of trails, and I shot more than 100 pictures, and spotted a rainbow’s worth of different wildflowers in bloom.

I reached my campsite and set up camp well before dusk settled in, on Wednesday evening. I managed more than 4 miles of hiking that evening, just getting my gear to the hike-in camping area, and exploring the nearest trails after making camp.

A coffee well-earned, an evening of quiet.

It rained most of the night, and I laid wakefully, contentedly listening to the rain fall, more than necessarily pleased that my tent doesn’t leak.

The rain-drenched morning didn’t quench my enthusiasm for the day ahead.

I spent Thursday meditating, after morning coffee and a short hike to stretch my legs, and didn’t do much else. I brought a journal to write in, and a notebook, a sketch pad and colored pencils for drawing, my camera, my kindle… and other than my camera, I didn’t touch any of the distractions I brought along to pass the time; I didn’t need them. Time passed just fine without any help from me. 🙂

Given the necessary conditions, I bloom in my own time. It is often enough to sit quietly and allow the moment to unfold.

I spent Friday hiking, departing fairly early in the morning to walk a new path. The trail I chose was sufficiently challenging to push me, lovely enough to be utterly worth it without any other “reason” to go the whole distance, and totally within my ability. I returned to camp in the afternoon, got my boots off, put my feet up, and made coffee. Out among the trees, coffee doesn’t seem to keep me from sleeping, ever, however late I may be drinking it. I bet there’s something to be learned from that…

Where does my path lead? It’s helpful to have a map, but the map is not the world.

…Instead of learning anything about coffee, though, I learned something different. As campers arrived to fill nearby sites for the weekend, I learned that my needs were met, and that I was “done”. I learned that I didn’t really want to sit through a chilly evening overhearing loud conversations about corporate headaches, challenges with the kids’ teachers, or sports. I learned that I didn’t find value in enduring another camper’s choice to bring a generator into the forest for the weekend.

Ultimately, we each choose our own path…

I learned, this weekend, that it really is quite okay to make my choices my way, without any pressure from my own expectations, or anyone else’s; I broke camp late that afternoon, taking my time, packing up skillfully and efficiently without feeling at all rushed. I packed my gear out of the park (taking the same three trips it took to bring it down to the campsite in the first place), still smiling when the effort was completed. I let the park rangers know I was checking out, so they could release that camp site to another camper – it’s a great spot.

The beauty in the world exists whether or not I choose to observe it. My choice to observe the beauty in the world is necessary only to my own appreciation of it.

I got home before the sun set, unpacked enough gear to begin properly unpacking a bit at a time. First, a leisurely shower. A fresh salad. A hot cup of coffee. A moment to begin the upload of all the photographs. No music. No social media. No TV. Patio door open to the breezes and the sound of birdsong. A quiet evening, alone in the stillness, aside from a few minutes checking in with a friend from next door.

Roses blooming on the patio welcome me home, rain-drenched, fragrant, and lovely.

Yesterday I woke, still feeling fairly wrapped in my own purpose, and disinclined to be particularly social. I wrote a dear friend. I unpacked some things. I meditated. I gardened. It was a chilly gray day, and I enjoyed the morning with a crackling fire in the fireplace – which I might also have done if I had remained out in the trees another day. There seemed no urgency to connect to the digital world with any haste – no one was expecting me to, in any case. (Good expectation-setting for the win!) I watched the birds come and go from the feeder.

It was a lovely day of bird-watching.

Here it is, today. (Isn’t it always? 😉 ) I figured I’d sleep in… I didn’t. I woke with the dawn. I figured I’d move purposefully down a long list of things I’d like to get done… also not happening, at least not so far. I sip my coffee, smiling softly, watching the birds at the feeder with my laptop balanced on my knees, writing from a slightly different perspective – though whether that is a matter of my laptop, a chilly morning, and cold coffee on the patio, or simply that my perspective remains altered by my time out in the trees is neither known, nor relevant to the experience.

What now? Just this. Isn’t it enough? 🙂

A patio with a view.