Archives for category: Allegories

I woke feeling much better this morning, to the sound of the very irritating alarm that reminds me to take my morning medication, which goes off a couple hours after I am usually up. I groaned quietly and silenced it quickly, hoping not to wake anyone. I got up, dressed, and made coffee for my Traveling Partner to enjoy when he wakes, appreciative of the heated mug that makes that possible.

I headed out happily, eager to be on the trail, aware that my rare sleeping in and late start this morning means I’ll be walking the trail at dawn, enjoying the sunrise. It’ll be weeks more before that’s a regular experience. The bitter cold hit my face and filled my lungs before I even got to the car. It’s another cold one.

A sliver of moon, a winter morning.

When I got to the trailhead, I wasted no time putting on my boots, and wrapping up in my scarf, hat, fleece, and gloves, and grabbing my cane. I started down the trail with nothing else on my mind but the trail ahead and the dawn on the horizon.

My footsteps crunched along the frozen path. The frosty marsh grasses sparkled as I passed. The marsh ponds were frozen along the edges, the smallest of them frozen all the way across. The sky was streaked with abalone pink, and the air was quite still. Even the flocks of geese passing overhead were silent.

Further along the path, oaks stand watch.

I walked the trail without much on my mind this morning. Breathing the cold winter air, grateful for the solitude. Some mornings I walk with my thoughts, this morning I just walked, watching the dawn become a new day. It was too cold to take many pictures, and it was lovely to simply walk and be, focused on the moment, present in the marsh around me, without preoccupation or concern. The world can wait. These moments were mine.

I walked on, cherishing the familiar miles. Grateful for this beautiful place to walk. Content and joyful, and satisfied with my life as it is, and feeling a little foolish to ever doubt or feel discontented when I am so fortunate. I breathed the winter air, and exhaled my warm breath as a fog. I relaxed as I walked on, present in the moment I was living and feeling pretty good in spite of the humdrum reality of physical pain. The joyous moment seemed quite sufficient and then some.

I returned to the car, ready to begin again. Grateful for the lovely morning, the beautiful sunrise, and the life I am so fortunate to live. It isn’t “perfect”, but it’s definitely enough.

… Later I go get my hearing aids…

I woke from a restless slumber to a note from my Traveling Partner letting me know he hadn’t been sleeping well, himself. Sometimes that’s how it is. He doesn’t need me to rush back from breakfast with The Author, nor bring him an interesting bite of brunch from a favorite local restaurant. Maybe just make him some scrambled eggs later, he suggests. Easy enough.

I dress for another cold morning. 25°F this morning, definitely a winter morning. It’s clear and icy and I drive to the trailhead still thinking about my dreams. The evening went later than it typically does (for me), and although my sleep was restless, it was filled with dreams and I slept past my usual waking time. I’m not complaining; my dreams were more thought provoking than distressing, and I clearly needed the sleep. My dreams seemed filled with personal significance and reminders of important things, but now they are slipping away, leaving behind only colorful surreal remnants, and an incoherent recollection. I breathe, exhale, and relax. I let them go. They’re only dreams.

I lace up my boots for my walk down the frosty path. I’ve got my cane, and my headlamp. I open my gear tote in the back of the Mazda, and pull out my hat, scarf, and gloves. My writing will be done before I walk and after I return, from the warmth of the car. It is too cold for sitting at the midway point writing in the darkness of the morning. The cold path beckons me, and I go…

… I stepped along the path briskly in the cold. The frost sparkled everywhere that my light hit it. So beautiful! So cold. My thoughts stayed quite practical, fixed upon the moment of cold quiet darkness. The path was icy in spots. I walked with care but didn’t slow my pace any more than necessary for safety. I was ready to be done with it before I reached my halfway point, and considered turning back again and again, until turning back had finally become likely to be further than any sort of shortcut. Then, I simply pressed on with determination, ready to be done with it.

I think thoughts about the delightful time I am spending with The Author. Making it an annual thing is discussed. It sounds like a great plan. I grin, thinking about our visit to Powell’s yesterday, and their rare book room. Wonderful! I feel the warmth of my friend’s affection all over again remembering his gift – a book I am wanting to read, in an unusual edition. I’m moved, and grateful. I’m fortunate to have the friends I do. This friendship is special, indeed.

When the path finally turns me back to head towards the eastern horizon, I see an ever so faint hint of pale orange painted across the sky, clinging the the ground and silhouetting the distant trees. The sky began to lighten, a new day becoming more real each moment.

By the time I reached the car, I’m quite grateful to be at the end of my brief journey. Soon enough, coffee and a bite of breakfast with an old friend. We make good conversation and have not yet exhausted the many things we’d hoped to catch up on. I hope we find breakfast worth lingering over, and something to do to occupy us sufficiently long to let my beloved sleep awhile more. I sigh and warm my hands.

…A good time to begin again…

What a delightful day yesterday was. I was in a ridiculous amount of pain, but it didn’t halt the shared good time of visiting with an old friend. My Traveling Partner wasn’t in a great place, lacking the rest he needed, and apparently having developed a nasty sinus infection, but neither of those things threw off the great vibe. The Anxious Adventurer was welcomed and accepted and it seemed we all had a great time together, talking, laughing, listening to music, and sharing the moment. I made a delicious pasta dinner, and the Bolognese sauce was perhaps my best ever. Good times.

It’s a new day. New opportunities for connection, for adventure, for sharing the journey. My beloved Traveling Partner is getting some rest. The Author and I will head to the city to explore and talk and catch up. Making memories and looking for interesting books and having breakfast and the sorts of things we enjoy and simply can’t do, generally, due to geographical distance. Fun. I’m eager to begin. I love going out to breakfast, too, and rarely do it. It’s one of my favorite things.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. A whole day with a good friend? Sign me up! There will be time for stillness and solitude later.

I smile to myself. Short walk this morning. An icy cold and wintry walk down a frosted path sparkling under artificial light. Almost magical, but g’damned cold. Definitely time to begin again – with a bite of breakfast, a hot coffee, and conversation with a friend.

This morning is cold and foggy. I slept in (for some values of “sleeping in”), and still arrived at my selected trailhead well before dawn. This trail is lit for much of the distance I walk, but beyond the vineyard, near the river, I still needed my headlamp. I’ve been, and returned, and it is still quite dark, though there is a hint of daybreak on the horizon. It’s not yet visible from the lit area of the trail, or the parking lot. The new artificial lights are much too bright.

A walk through winter fog.

The morning is foggier than I expected, and somewhat warmer (still quite cold, near freezing). The fog makes everything seem quieter and more mysterious in the darkness. I see the headlights of workers arriving to a nearby construction sight, filtered through the fog, before I hear the sounds of their pick-up trucks. I’m okay with that. The dance of the lights over irregular pavement is fascinating, and I don’t care for the noise at all. I walked and watched with wonder, alone with my thoughts.

The Author arrives later this morning. 10:30 or so, though I’m not certain whether that means to the house or at the airport. I didn’t ask for clarification – I guess I’ll know soon enough. lol I’m excited about this visit from a dear long-time friend. It happens too rarely. I think of other far away friends and wonder whether to plan a trip to see some of them in the summer? I wonder whether my Traveling Partner will be up to being without me for a week…or in shape to go with me?

I sit quietly with my thoughts. The sky is beginning to be a hue of deep gray-blue, visibly no longer “night”. A new day. There are things to do, and a visit with a friend to look forward to. I consider getting a coffee somewhere nearby, but I am just as content to sit here, watching the sky slowly lighten as dawn unfolds. G’damn, sometimes I am such a simple and easily satisfied creature. I chuckle quietly to myself. I’m okay with it.

A new day begins.

… It’s time to begin again.

I’m sipping my coffee reflecting on love, life, and how incredibly fortunate I feel, how grateful I am, for the partnership I share with my beloved Traveling Partner. Fuck, this has been a hard year (and then some) since his injury back in – was it November? December? – of 2023. Learning to be a caregiver, not just a partner, friend, and lover, definitely showed off some of my unpreparedness in the vast world of adulting skillfully. I had (have) a lot to learn. I’m glad things are improving (every day) now. I feel relieved. Did I say already? I feel grateful. Fortunate. G’damn it could have been so much worse.

We become what we practice. Once we are adults, our quality of life is largely in our own hands. Not entirely, to be sure, because we don’t all face the same circumstances, and just keeping it real – “the playing field” is not level. No one is in this alone, but we’re each having our own experience, and there is no question that some people are dealt a far more valuable hand of cards in the game than others. So…yeah. There’s that. Beyond that, though, we each have (and make) choices. Those choices really matter. Giving up on that is an unfortunately common mistake, but it’s an easy one to make. I think about that, and times that I’ve abdicated my responsibility to myself, yielded to cynicism, bitterness, or feelings of futility, and made things so much worse than they could have been, if I had chosen differently. Worth reflecting on, but as with so many such things – the lessons we learn after-the-fact can’t help us in the moment. I breathe, exhale, and relax. Sip my coffee. Listen to the woosh of the ventilation in the office – and feel grateful. Love has made a huge difference in how I make choices, and what matters most. I would not be the woman I am without the love I share with my Traveling Partner. Grateful barely describes my feelings.

“Communion” 2010

I feel so loved. My Traveling Partner can (and does) come to me openly and talk about his feelings and his worries. I can go to him when I am feeling feelings, and share my experience and feel supported and heard. Do we have challenges? Sure. We’re human beings, being human. This love, though… g’damn, am I wrapped in love. I woke this morning feeling loved. I’ll work through the day feeling it, too. It’s reciprocal. I love this man with a love that I don’t even know how to contain. Is it reasonable, practical, or even “sane”? Hell if I know – I don’t even care about that. I just love him. He loves me back. That’s worth something in this fairly scary world of chaos, violence, and human suffering. It’s something to “come home to”. I sip my coffee thinking of the moments we shared last night, talking and connecting, and loving each other. I hope every time I’m ever annoyed or angry over something trivial or stupid that my memory will carry me back to last night, and remind me that I am loved, and that love matters most. I hope the same for him – I can be damned frustrating to deal with sometimes – I hope he always feels loved, in spite of that. I sigh quietly and smile.

Is love a journey or a destination? Or… is love a verb?

…To experience an uncompromising, enduring love for so very long is a rare thing. For me, there’s only been this one, and all other relationships and moments of affection are dim lights compared to this roaring blaze. Love is always uniquely special, as feelings go, and I can only say again how fortunate I feel, and how grateful, to experience this one. This moment, here, now, wrapped in love – and all the others that my Traveling Partner and I have shared. I hope the journey goes on “forever” (or some close approximation of that idea), it’s been a journey worth sharing with this singular human being who loves me so…

“Cherry Blossoms” 14″ x 20″ acrylic on canvas. 2011

I sit quietly, smiling. Nothing else, really, just sipping my coffee and thinking about love. Work can wait on lovers, surely…?

So much of life is about love and loving.

My Traveling Partner is more than my spouse – so much more – he is my best friend. My muse. The inspiration behind so much of my artistic work over the past 15 years. The maker of so many delightful moments, and thoughtful things I use every day. I’d be pretty fucking lost without him – and very alone.

An alternate spelling of “I love you”.

I think about writing my beloved a love note, and realize as I sit here that I sort of already have. It never feels like enough; the love we share is so huge in the experience of a single moment. lol Filled with quiet joy, and wrapped in love, I begin again.