Archives for the month of: November, 2024

It’s a quiet morning. I’m sitting with my thoughts before my walk, and before the sun rises. I’m drinking coffee and thinking about how far I’ve come and what a strange journey life is.

About 14 years ago, my Traveling Partner nagged at me for being “so negative”. I worked hard to change my approach, and was pretty successful (especially after I got help through therapy). I found out much later he was intending to be critical only of the way I used language, not my attitude towards life! For example, my most common response to being asked how I was doing would have been, then, “not bad”, instead of “fine”, or “good”, or however I was actually doing. This was the specific thing he didn’t care for, and purely a matter of style. What I worked to change was my actual, legit fundamental negativity toward my experience of life, the lens through which I perceived all my experiences. I succeeded in making profound changes to the way I view and experience life. I’m glad I did, but I was puzzled and more than a little annoyed that what my partner had been criticizing was a matter of communication style, nothing more.

Hilariously (in a funny/not funny sort of way), I now find deeply negative people – people whose outlook on life is chronically pessimistic, or always anticipating some shitty outcome – super irritating to have to be around for long periods of time. People who respond to circumstances with sarcasm and bitter disappointment before anything actually goes wrong vex me. I just don’t want to be around that all the fucking time. It’s exhausting. Doesn’t matter that I used to be one of those people, I’m generally not anymore, and I don’t really want to waste precious mortal hours being annoyed with life – nor with the people who are themselves annoyed with life. I have other shit to do.

I sigh to myself, stretching and working to ease my physical pain, before my walk on a chilly foggy autumn morning. It’ll be beautiful along the marsh trail. The quiet is lovely. Daybreak reveals the gray of the fog obscuring the view. The park gate groans and screeches as it opens, then clangs in place. I think to myself that I haven’t walked the river trail in a while, and change my plan. Change is. I smile to myself. We can’t know in advance what the outcome of a change may be. We can’t be assured that anyone else will appreciate a change we’ve made, however much it suits us. We can only do our best, walk our own path, and over time find out where that leads us. I’m content with being a more positive person day-to-day, inclined toward general optimism and joy, and leaning away from bitterness and disappointment. Life will surely dish out enough of that shit without me seeking it out or making a practice of it!

Untitled, 7″ x 9″ pastel on Pastelmat, 2024

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I contemplate the time I’ve spent painting since I switched to pastels. It’s fulfilling and healing time. Artistically, I’m in a good place as a human being. I’m enjoying the medium and the work I’ve been doing. I learn more every time I sit down to paint. I “feel heard” (at least by the woman in the mirror) every time I look at these new paintings. It’s a good feeling, satisfying and nurturing. Self-care comes in many forms. So does communication.

This mortal life is too short for negativity and bullshit. There’s so much to see and enjoy. I lace up my boots and grab my cane. I silently dare my pain to keep up with me. It’s time to begin again.

This path won’t walk itself!

Sharing that important opinion? Don’t bother. I mean, okay, your opinion matters to you. It feels good, maybe even important, to “be heard”, and social media gives that sensation a tremendous immediacy, as though you can actually share your relevant (seeming) opinion with the important (seeming) people you perceive as capable of making changes, or needing to be informed of your (“obviously”) critical thoughts and perspective. Only… mostly? No one is actually listening, and generally no one gives a damn about the random commonplace utterly ordinary (often ill-informed) opinions of the average Everyperson on social media. Maybe you go viral because what you said is sufficiently amusing or poignant or well-stated – but mostly you won’t, and mostly no one is listening, and generally no one gives a shit. Hilariously, we’ve mostly (as a society) given up on snail mail, though it sometimes carries real weight. Even that, though, often just amounts to more “screaming into the void”, and trust me, most of what you feel most inclined to say with such urgency isn’t even novel or noteworthy or of any great import. It’s been said by someone somewhere already. Most likely. Human primates tend to be fairly conformist thinkers with limited imagination (in my opinion).

Posts on social media often just sound like someone shouting at their television. It’s pretty pointless and not even very gratifying. lol This? Right here? It’s an example of that; it’s my opinion. I didn’t do any actual research. I don’t actually “know more” than someone else does. It’s just my own impression, based on my own experience. Is it worth sharing? I’m willing to be sufficiently honest with myself to admit that I don’t know that it really is worth sharing; it’s just my opinion, and I’m choosing to share it without any certainty that it matters at all. Hell, it probably doesn’t, and it’s likely that very few people will read this, and fewer still will care.

I write because I write, it’s really that simple (for me). I’d be writing anyway, and this I do know for a fact based on my lived experience over many years. It’s too easy to get caught up in the bullshit drama and artificially inflated sense of importance on social media – so I left social media. I still talk back to thumbnail titles and news headlines, because so often the content isn’t worth actually watching or reading; everything I need to know is in the bullshit click-bait title, right there up front trying to get my attention, and seeking my engagement. I “engage”, more often than not, by commenting aloud whatever my personal bullshit opinion is, and I move on to the next item. This amuses me without inflaming anyone else, and it’s every bit as likely to “move the needle” on some issue (which is to say, not at all). Less time wasted of these precious limited mortal hours.

I’m feeling a tad cynical, I guess. I need to paint, and walk trails with my solitary thoughts, and distance myself from the many disappointments of humanity – and oh good g’damn there are so so many. Humanity kind of sucks, and our best efforts to do better are not nearly enough. Please keep trying though; the effort does matter. I silently remind myself to do my best, and that the journey is the destination. It’s not about what anyone else wants or needs from me. It’s about what I want and need from myself; to be the person I most want to be, the “best version” of myself that I can become over time.

I sigh quietly, looking out into the morning fog. It’s a chilly autumn morning, and this morning I am waiting for the sun. It’s Saturday, and there is no hurry. The morning is mine.

I sit with my thoughts and my coffee. Later, I’ll begin again. It’s my path, and I’ll walk it my way.

“Stay on the path.” It’s an excellent suggestion. Do your best. Practice healthy practices that nurture you and help you be (and become) your best self. It’s not “easy”, and there’s work involved in the journey – a lot of verbs, a lot of choices, and frequent realignment of actions and intentions. Do your best. When you fail, begin again.

It’s a quiet Friday morning, before a long weekend. I’m eager to paint. I’m eager to walk this trail before work. My back aches. I don’t care about that. My head aches. I ignore that, too. I enjoy the living metaphor of walking this path and head down the trail contentedly, until I reach a favorite spot to sit a minute and write and watch the sun begin to rise beyond the highway.

Nothing fancy, just a sunrise.

I’m grateful for every sunrise I am fortunate to see. Some of them are crazy beautiful, amazing bold colors displayed across the sky. Others can barely be called a “sunrise” at all, particularly those persistently gray rainy Pacific Northwest mornings so common in autumn. Doesn’t matter; I’m grateful just to wake up to a new day and a new chance to walk my path, wherever it may lead me. Even on the worst days, being here is better than the currently available alternatives. lol

Watching, waiting, practicing, being.

Pretty sunrise this morning, though. I sit watching it evolve for awhile. Soon enough, I’ll head back to the car and on to the office. Soon, I’ll begin again. This path isn’t going to walk itself.

Breathe, exhale, relax.

In spite of an upsetting (for many) election, I am giving thanks, feeling grateful, and preparing to celebrate. The holiday season is approaching. In my house that kicks off with Thanksgiving, which isn’t about pilgrims, indigenous people, or genocide – it’s about feasting and gratitude. It’s an opportunity to sit down as a family, enjoy a great meal, and appreciate how fortunate we are to have all that we do. Then…on to Giftmas (and my Traveling Partner’s birthday in between).

The wintry weather I’ve come to expect this time of year is beginning to settle in. This morning was just at the freezing point, and there was frost on the ground and a thin layer of ice on my windshield. I wore a heavy sweater and a fleece, and wrapped a scarf around my neck before setting off down the trail in the pre-dawn darkness, a circle of light bobbing ahead of me as I walked. I don’t prefer to walk with a headlamp, but I wouldn’t be walking in the darkness without it, and I’m grateful to have it. The morning is cold and quiet. I laugh at myself; I bet I could have slept in this morning.

It took months to pick out a birthday present for my Traveling Partner this year, and it won’t be a surprise. Machinery for the shop can’t generally be a surprise, it’s specialized and he’s the one who understands what he really wants and needs. It arrives today – I’m excited about it (so is he). Neither of us find it awkward or problematic that it is arriving weeks ahead of his actual birthday. lol The timing doesn’t feel particularly relevant. I like the idea that he may actually be in the shop using it on his birthday. His recovery finally seems to be progressing in a way that is apparent and visible. As I think about that a tremendous wave of gratitude and relief washes over me. I’ve been consumed with worry and dread for much of the year. If I get nothing for Giftmas but the certainty that he’s “going to be okay”, it would be enough, and feel like a lavish holiday.

I’ve got a long weekend ahead, then a couple weeks later (the weekend before Thanksgiving) a short getaway to the coast to paint, then the long Thanksgiving weekend, which my employer gives us as a holiday. It’s nice. It’s been a good year for getting enough time off (although much of it was spent on caregiving, quite a lot was healthy restful downtime). I breathe, exhale, and relax. I briefly wonder what next year might hold before I let that go. No point becoming invested in some future outcome that is not yet.

I walk the trail thinking about life, love, and art. It’s a season for celebration and gratitude, sure, but also for getting things done that have lingered too long on my to do list. I think about the garden, abandoned in the summer as my partner needed more and more caregiving support and time in a day became insufficient to do everything; it would benefit from a quick clean up and preparation for the Spring that isn’t even on my mind yet. The hot tub had been shut down and drained in the late Spring so that my partner could more easily sleep. It could be refilled and made ready for winter use. I walk and think about finite time and energy, and how best to make use of it.

Life and circumstances aren’t always what I want them to be, but I’m grateful for the good life I have, and the opportunities and choices my circumstances put in front of me. I walk on, and get ready to begin again.

I see daybreak on the horizon…

Disappointment and sorrow are part of the human experience. So are misogyny and poor decision making, I guess. I feel sad this morning. It’ll pass. I breathe, exhale, and relax, and take time for gratitude.

I’m fortunate. I’ve got a nice little house in a good neighborhood. I’m married to a man I adore and who loves me unreservedly with his whole heart. I’ve got a good job and my health is better than it’s been in a long time. My commute each morning is a pleasant one, and I enjoy long walks on lovely trails nearly every day. The bills are paid. The pantry is stocked. My stepson helps around the house. It’s a good life and I am fortunate. Four years feels like a long time, but it will pass, and the future is unwritten.

It isn’t generally helpful to waste time on anger that can be better spent on joy. It isn’t generally helpful to grieve horrible shit that hasn’t actually happened yet. I do my best with it, sitting here quietly before my walk, thinking my thoughts.

Another breath. I lace up my boots. It’s time to begin again.