Archives for category: Allegories

I had some trouble sleeping again, last night. My anxiety flared up in the background, too. I managed to get enough rest, and eventually slept the rest of the night. What’s up with me, I wonder? Could be nothing. It’s a very human sort of experience.

I sit with my thoughts. It’s early. A new day unfolds ahead of me. Stuff to do. I sigh quietly. I’m having to manage more pain with greater attention (and medication), now that fall has come. Rainy chilly days reliably mean more pain. It is… routine. My morning alarm goes off. Time for meds. Another sigh, then a big breathe and slow exhale.

My head aches. I try to ignore it and think about how lovely yesterday evening was, in spite of my fatigue. I watch the traffic rolling by from my vantage point at the parking lot by the trailhead. I’ve got time to get a short walk before work, though I’ll be on my way to the office before the sun rises.

I sigh and stretch and finish lacing up my boots. It’s enough to begin again. I’m fortunate that I have that chance.

It is raining at this trailhead. Just a sprinkle, really, and not enough to deter me this morning; I am restless and tired and I feel a need to “walk it off”. I slept poorly. My Traveling Partner was up late with the Anxious Adventurer, clearly enjoying each other’s company. I retired for the night a little later than usual, and every time I started to doze off, a bit of loud conversation or the bark of unexpected laughter would wake me. This went on until well past eleven, though I stopped checking the time at that point, resigned to the serious likelihood that I just wasn’t going to get the rest I need.

… I’m honestly still annoyed about it…

I woke sometime around 02:30, wakened again by some human sound. My Traveling Partner was awake. I felt a moment of sympathy; I wasn’t sleeping well, either. Headache-y and sound sensitive, I got up to pee, had a drink of water, and went back to bed. I woke groggy and stupid when my silent alarm reached full brightness, cross to be facing a new day already. My dreams were full of work (actual manual labor). I woke still tired, eyes scratchy, head aching, squinting at what seemed to be the overly harsh reality of another work day ahead.

…Fuck, I’m tired and irritable…

I breathe, exhale, and relax. Dinner was really good last night. The evening was pleasant and genial. Fun. Time well-spent, although listening to Tool turned up loud for the last hour of my day (sort of) didn’t do my fucking headache any favors. I almost laughed when my Traveling Partner asked me “Have you heard this one?” (Was he kidding, I wondered? I endured 14 years of Tool in the relationship prior to ours. lol. Yep. Heard that. All of that. All the time. Every day for 14 years. I even like some of it… but the anger got old and I got bored with it. I sit thinking about that; it’s a little sad when great art becomes boring. Trite? Overplayed.) I return my attention to yesterday’s pleasantness. It was a delightful day worthy of savoring for a time – so I do.

I’m sitting at the halfway point of my walk, enjoying the sprinkling of raindrops on my face in the darkness. It feels refreshing and my mood improves sitting here quietly, listening to the sound of distant traffic and a soft breeze stirring the meadow grass. My back and neck ache ferociously. There’s still an entire work day ahead. Still, I’m okay – for most values of okay. I’m just tired. I feel less cross, understanding there was no ill will in my crappy night’s lack of rest. The Anxious Adventurer lacks awareness of how his voice carries. My Traveling Partner was enjoying his son’s company. Their conversation wasn’t unpleasant or burdened with negative emotion, and perhaps on a different night I’d have slept through it easily. I let it go. There are more important things in the world to be mad about.

The rain begins to come down harder, making it difficult to write. I get to my feet and stretch, looking back down the trail in the direction I came. Yep. Another day ahead. There are verbs involved and some real effort to be made. I’m already tired. Doesn’t matter much, it’s still time to begin again.

“Are you even a good person?”

I sip my coffee, listening to the rain fall, thinking about goodness, character, doing and being good, and what any of that really means in the world we actually live in, where nations hold themselves up as righteous while committing genocide, and human beings individually lay claims to being “good people” while espousing hate, and “othering” human beings who have never harmed them at all.

Are you even a good person? If you answer “yes”, the follow-up question has to be “what does that mean to you?” How will you answer that? How do you defend your less than ideally good thoughts or behaviors? You know the ones I mean – and we’ve all got some. We’re human. Our brief mortal lives don’t lend themselves well to aspirations of goodness.

… But are you at least trying, though? Are you making the attempt to be a good human being, a good person? Putting real thought and effort into it? Working day after day to be a better version of yourself than you were yesterday?

This is on my mind this morning because of a brief interaction with strangers waiting in line ahead of me at the pharmacy yesterday evening. I was tired, and irritable. Hungry. They were making conversation to kill time in the long, slow, line (and blocking the aisle, forcing other shoppers to detour around them). They were mostly shit-talking younger generations. One of them was a woman somewhat older than I, the other about my age. The details are pretty irrelevant, aside from admitting they sounded pretty ignorant to me, and more than a little offensive. One of them caught my eye and probably picked up on a microexpression of some critical sort. She laughed somewhat uncomfortably and said, as if in protest of my judgement, “But I’m a good person!”

… Sometimes my mouth has a life of its own…

I held the stranger’s gaze and and replied rather cynically “Are you?” I said nothing more, and she turned away uncomfortably. There was a brief pause in their conversation, before they resumed, quietly, seeming more aware of other listeners. The line continued to move slowly.

Since then, I keep coming back to this idea of viewing one’s self as a “good person”, while simultaneously doing, saying, or thinking things that completely undermine any potential truth to that statement. It wants thinking about.

Are you a good person? I’m not judging or accusing you. I likely don’t know you, and even if I do, how could I truly know the content of your character sufficiently well to judge you? But… Are you, though? Are you at least trying?

Am I a “good person”? Hell, I don’t know. I want to be a good person. I value the idea of goodness. I aspire to goodness. I recognize and appreciate goodness when I see it. I seek to practice goodness as I understand it in all of my relationships. But – and it’s a big but – I am human, I am mortal, I have been traumatized, I was raised and influenced by human beings of poor moral character, and have participated in systems that could not ever be described as “good” – for nothing loftier than a fucking paycheck. At best, I guess I can say I’m generally at least trying to be a good person. My results vary. My efforts are often more aspirational than practical. I’ve still got a lot to learn and I still need an entire lifetime of practice.

I guess my point is… be humble about what a good person you are. You probably aren’t all that g’damned “good”, if you’re truly honest about actions no one observed, lies no one ever caught you out on, or thoughts you’ve never admitted to another person. Definitely keep working at it – the journey is the destination. The world has a serious shortage of goodness, and maybe nothing keeps us from the darkness besides our own will to fight for what is truly good and right. The effort to be the best version of ourselves is worth making, every day, in every interaction. We’re going to fail a lot, all of us, so let’s also be kind to each other about how difficult it is, while encouraging each other and also keeping things real when we see it all going very wrong. “See something, say something” is a useful strategy. Make corrections, not excuses – but for goodness sake, turn that critical eye toward your mirror, first, last, and often!

… Funny that this is where my thoughts are this morning, but I definitely need to reflect on these things as much as anyone…

I could do better. I’ll keep practicing.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. The rain continues to fall. I sip my coffee waiting for daybreak and wondering whether the rain will let up enough for a walk before work. I think thoughts about art, about love, and fill my heart with gratitude. I’m fortunate to live where I do, when I do. This particular “here and now” is pretty good. I can comfortably afford to spend time reflecting on whether I am a good person, instead of worrying about drones, bombs, or whether there will be food or drinking water for my family.

I sit quietly with my thoughts for awhile. What defines a “good person”? I watch the traffic roll by like the seconds hand of a strange clock. Isn’t it time to begin again?

I woke too early. I definitely would have slept longer. I got up and started my day, anyway; I was awake. At the trailhead, I sit waiting for the sun, sipping coffee and trying to recall the significant seeming thought I’d had on the drive…or was it yesterday in the evening? I no longer recall the timing or the thought.

Daybreak came while I was still reflecting on lost ideas and missed moments.

A new day.

I sit wondering if I’ll be able to see the comet this morning. Probably not until later, if at all. I saw it yesterday (I think), as I was leaving this place. I noticed the odd number of people standing around watching the sunrise (many people, very specifically staring toward the eastern horizon). I looked out that direction, wondering why there were so many more people milling around than usual, and saw the small streak, low on the horizon. I didn’t know what it was, and didn’t think to wonder. I drove on. There’s something to learn from that.

The sunrise begins.

New sunrise. New day. I think I’d rather be sleeping. lol I try to remember why the fuck I get up so damned early in the first place and promise myself a nap later.

The bold orange, peach, and apricot hues of the sunrise hold my attention while I lace up my boots. This trail isn’t going to walk itself. I mutter something to myself under my breath about early mornings and this mortal lifetime, but the thought is gone as the words are uttered, and I don’t really notice and mostly don’t care. I’m watching the colors change on the horizon. I grab my cane, stand and stretch and lock the car. I begin again.

I’m sitting quietly at the trailhead, waiting for the sun. The car parked behind me is rather annoyingly playing their radio loud. Talk radio. Super annoying. I mean, I sure don’t care that they’re passing the time listening to their radio, but for real? Turn that crap down so no one else has to listen. I’m not here for that.

I sigh quietly and think about what it takes to “find peace”. It isn’t really a “finding”, is it? It’s more of a creating, building, and sustaining. There are verbs involved, rather a lot of them. I breathe, exhale, and relax. I focus on me, and this quiet moment. I listen to the passing cars on the highway. I chuckle when I think about “instant pudding” as an analogy. The point being that it isn’t actually “instant”, at all – just pretty quick, and relatively easy. (It’s also not very good.) I sit with that thought awhile.

My thoughts wander to my Traveling Partner, and I wonder if he finally managed to get some good sleep? He’s been progressively reducing the dosage on medications he’s working on discontinuing, and the process sometimes leaves him restless, cross, or unable to rest (or all of those things together). What a shitty experience! Night after restless night… I often wake briefly when he wakes, but last night the only thing waking me was myself, when I changed positions and inadvertently wrapped my CPAP hose around myself awkwardly.

The first hint of daybreak begins to light the edge of the eastern horizon; a new day. I sigh contentedly and, grateful to move away from the noise of the parked car behind me, I drive through the now-open gate, up the hill and park there instead. Time to swap soft shoes for supportive boots, and grab my cane. My knees have been giving me grief recently, and my ankle aches with every step more often than not. I don’t risk the walk without the cane these days. I’m still walking, though, and I am grateful.

I think of the powerful lesson of my late Dear Friend’s example; walking can prove to be a regretfully “use it or lose it” sort of thing, and over time, she lost her ability to walk with any ease, which discouraged her and caused her to walk less (and shorter distances), which caused the situation to worsen. That’s an oversimplification, and surely there’s more to it than that. Aging. Injury. Illness. Nonetheless, I think of her often, and our conversations about the lasting value of “staying on my feet”, and the very real risk if I were to stop walking. I keep walking, in spite of pain.

I lace up my boots, sighing and resenting the pain I’m in, as I stare at the smudgy beginning of this morning’s sunrise. I “turn my head wrong” and my headache reminds me rather quickly how rarely it’s not there. Fuck this headache. I’m grateful that I have an appointment for some care of my neck, later this morning. I know it helps.

I think about my Traveling Partner again, and hope that he’s sleeping. No good morning ping, yet. Rare for this time of morning, recently, and it seems an encouraging sign… but it could just mean he’s awake and grumpy as fuck and just not wanting to interact at all. Maybe he’s up, but only long enough to take medication before going back to bed? I wonder, and the wondering serves as an excuse to think longer about my beloved, though I don’t really need an excuse.

I sigh and stretch and look towards the horizon. It’s definitely time to begin again.

Hello sunrise. Hello new beginning.