G’damn life feels too busy. Appointments. Meetings. Calls to make. Errands. Laundry. Household upkeep. Caregiving. Working for a living. Self-care. Sometimes doing the needful feels like an unreasonable amount of work, and this year I’ve rarely found myself able to make time for painting, gardening, reading, or writing (aside from this one sliver of my day early in the morning, when I can indulge myself in solitude and write these few words). I’m exhausted at the end of most days, barely able to stand by the time I take those last steps down the hall to bed.
… I feel like I’m working three or four full-time jobs…
Each morning I get up and do it again. Each day, I get my ass to work. Each day I tackle the errands on my list. Each day I give as much of myself as I can to caregiving tasks, and housekeeping chores. Each day I compromise on some detail of my self-care – because I just can’t do everything, and something has to be put aside for another day. I’m grateful to enjoy the life I do. I’m grateful to have such a strong and loving partnership. I’m annoyed with myself for griping about how much work life is, when I’ve got it so good, generally speaking. For sure there are people who have it far worse and would happily trade places with me.
I’m tired, I guess. I’ve sustained this for too long. I do make attempts to treat myself a bit better than I often do, but it’s not uncommon to return from a camping trip, or a day spent in solitary meditation, to a whole new list of errands to run, or chores that need doing. I almost immediately use up any reserves I may have built. It seems neverending… because it mostly is. It’s life, and there’s a lot to do.
… It’s only Tuesday…
I sigh quietly to myself, sitting at the halfway point on my morning trek around a favorite local trail. It’s still dark. I don’t mind. Is it my preference to walk in the dark? No. It’s the time I have, though, so it is the time I walk. I feel fortunate to still have my legs under me, and that I can still walk these trails on my own. That’s something worth a moment of appreciation and gratitude; it wasn’t a given that things would turn out so well after I broke my back in the early 80’s. There was a real chance I’d never walk again, at all. I’m deeply grateful my surgeries turned out so well. I keep walking.
I sit with my thoughts awhile. I can remember how difficult it was to understand how fortunate I really am. Understanding my relative privilege and general good fortune in life was hard – complicated by a deeply subjective perspective on life that focused on the trauma, the chaos and damage, the lifetime of hurt and anger. For a long time I was “trapped in the mire“. Resetting my own expectations was a complicated journey of its own. I keep working at it. It’s too easy to resent how much fucking work life requires for that to be “the right answer” (or even a right answer). I breathe, exhale, and relax. I’m grateful for this simple practice (meditation) that does so much to give me the calm and resilience to just keep at it, day after day after day. It’s not “everything”, and life still needs a lot of real work to “run smoothly”, but… it’s something, and mostly it’s enough.
The sky has lightened a bit. It is a deep charcoal gray, barely lighter than the darkness of night, but now I see the treeline silhouetted, where moments ago was only darkness. Meditation and self-reflection work that way for me; slowly illuminating my way, over time. Worthwhile, reliably restorative practices that bring a sense of balance and perspective are few – and worth the effort to cultivate them.
I sit watching the horizon. Daybreak soon. It’s almost time to begin again.
We have a hot tub. It came with the house when we bought it. It’s a make and model from sometime in the 90s, as I recall, so, “older”. It wasn’t in great shape when we moved in, and my Traveling Partner put a ton of work into repairing the leaking plumbing and replacing the skirting with beautiful cedar skirting he made in a wood shop that was only just being built, itself, in large part due to the tools needed to rebuild the hot tub.
That was back in 2020. Seems almost a lifetime ago, already.
A practical sort of luxury, a beautiful spot to linger on a sunny day.
It was wonderful having the hot tub, and I used it quite a lot the first couple years, even on snowy winter days, and in the rain. It did a lot to relieve my arthritis pain, and still does when I use it now. But… it’s pretty noisy when the pump is running, which is problematic for good sleep if the stupid thing cycles during the night (which it does, nightly), which is a real problem in a household of people with sleep challenges.
It’s not just the noise. Realistically, there’s quite a bit of maintenance involved in keeping it in good working order and the chemistry properly balanced, and I don’t have the capacity, the reliable skills, or the will to undertake the work required. I’m made of human, and I have limits. After my Traveling Partner got hurt, at the end of 2023, we drained the hot tub, and shut it down. It didn’t get refilled and turned on again until late in the following summer, after the Anxious Adventurer moved in. It was nice having it back… but the noisiness seemed more problematic, and now it leaks (again).
Sometimes the verbs outweigh the value.
My Traveling Partner isn’t quite up to the work of rebuilding it, now, and can’t easily use it, either. On top of that, the deck itself needs some repair work that is difficult to do with the hot tub standing there (and not gonna lie, we’d install it differently if we were doing it all over again). I use it less often, myself, now…about half the time I go to use it, the chemistry is wrong, or the water level too low. Other times, I think I may want to soak, but I don’t take action because I incorrectly remember whether it is running or not. Still other days, although I may want to soak, I’m less physically able to safely climb into or out of the hot tub without help than I was 5 years ago. It’s no longer habitual, after the long period that it wasn’t available, followed by the even longer period during which I was frankly so exhausted from full-time employment on top of full-time caregiving I couldn’t drag myself out there. Well, shit. All of that adds up to “we aren’t using it enough to make it worth the bother”.
Sometimes however much we enjoy something and value it, we may have to choose to let it go for practical reasons. Not just luxuries like hot tubs, either. This is true of a lot of things in life. We are often called upon to change, and sometimes that means letting something go that we once cherished – and maybe still do.
As much as I loved my aquarium(s), there just weren’t any good spots for them in the new house. I had to let them go.
It is a Monday morning. A work day, but also a federal holiday. When I was a child, it was undisputably Columbus Day. There was nothing especially controversial about that, that I can recall. As I reached adulthood, though, there were more conversations around the negative consequences of colonialism, and very specifically the terrible results of “the discovery” of the new world for so many indigenous peoples, and also the horror of slavery in the US, and the lasting negative outcomes for generations of descendents of slaves, or slaughtered tribes whose land was (let’s be frank here) stolen from them. More and more people seemed more and more inclined not to celebrate Columbus Day, choosing to reframe the day as Indigenous Peoples’ Day. I can recall, initially, thinking that was sort of… weird and dumb… but the more I thought about it, myself, the more I understood the real healing power of making that change, and letting go of idolizing Columbus. He may have been “good for” business, for global expansion of trade, and for people in power seeking profit and glory…but he wasn’t good for the people who already lived in those places he reached in an era when riches were built on exploitation. So… yeah. I’m at work today, and it’s a routine work day. I let go of Columbus Day a long time ago.
I’ve let go of relationships that were causing me harm. I’ve let go of friendships that undermined my wellness, my values, or which put me at personal risk in some way. I’ve let go of “values” that turned out to be problematic and more likely to deliver harm to others than to improve the world in some small way. I’ve let go of lost items that I never found but which had sentimental value. I’ve let go of jobs that I could not ethically continue to do, even for a really good paycheck. There are a lot of reasons to let something go, and a lot of things we may be inclined to cling to long past the real value they once provided. Clinging to something is easier, and change is harder – but there is no growth in resisting change.
When my Traveling Partner first put forth the idea of draining the hot tub and shutting it off for the winter (and probably permanently), I resisted. I admit it; I don’t like change, generally. I enjoy stability. I definitely enjoy the luxury of the hot tub! But my Traveling Partner is right; this decades-old hot tub is noisy, and it does leak, and the maintenance required is much… and the deck needs repair. It all adds up to “time to let it go”. The fear, of course, is that letting it go will somehow leave us “worse off” than before – and that’s an illusion. That’s the emotional cling wrap talking. If we don’t let it go, that thing we’re holding on to will continue to worsen over time, in all the ways it is identifiably not ideal right now. Just worse, and progressively more so.
I breathe, exhale, and relax. So it’s time to let the hot tub go. I guess I’m okay with that – it doesn’t harm me to be without it, and there’s nothing to stop us replacing it later on, after the deck is repaired, with something more energy efficient, more modern, and quieter. Yes, it’ll come at a cost – but doesn’t everything worth having come at a cost? I think about that, and sip my coffee. I think about my Traveling Partner’s shared plan for rebuilding the deck quite differently, more suited to our lifestyle and future needs, with a hot tub standing firmly on a foundation on the ground, recessed in the deck such that it is easier for a couple of middle-aged lovers with mobility issues to get in and out of it, to enjoy it less constrained by our individual difficulties. I smile to myself, feeling loved and understood, and cared for; my partner didn’t push back hard on my clinging while I clung to the luxury of having a hot tub right now. He let me work through it in my own time, patiently emphasizing how having the noisy thing was affecting our sleep, each time it clearly did. We got there. I let go.
It’s not always easy to let go, even when we must. There are verbs involved, and choices, and a willingness to face change and to grow, and to practice non-attachment. It’s worth it though; it’s harder to walk my path if I’m wrapped in cling wrap. 😀
I glance at the time. Yep. It’s a Monday. My calendar is pretty full, and it’s time to begin again.
Freedom is a funny thing. It only works when everyone has it – and by “everyone” I mean actual people, not corporations or PACs, or governments. But… that freedom doesn’t shield anyone from the consequences of their own dishonesty, or cruelty, or foolishness. It’s a safeguard against oppression, not a permission slip to be a jackass. You’re expected to pay for your own ticket on that ride.
I’m proud of the actors, creatives, and professionals taking a stand in favor of freedom of speech alongside Jane Fonda, as she relaunches the Committee for the First Amendment . I’m proud to share that commitment. Freedom of speech is one of our most important freedoms as individuals. Seeing it being broadly attacked, even to the point of soldiers deployed to US cities is horrific.
I strongly object to the government deploying troops against our own citizens (especially knowing it’s solely due to our current president’s petty hurt feelings over people not liking him, and disapproval of his terrible policies).
You know what else I object to? Genocide, and our government’s refusal to acknowledge it or make any effective move to stop it when it is committed by a nation viewed as an ally.
I also object to policy-making that undermines access to affordable healthcare, and the inequities in healthcare for women.
I object to unqualified cronies being elevated to leadership roles in government agencies, and I object to loyalty tests as criteria for employment.
I object to allowing billionaires to make decisions about government agencies that also happen to control the purse strings on contracts that benefit said billionaires. Ethical conflicts of interest are a known problem, and I object to the crassness of our government looking the other way while the already-rich funnel taxpayer funds into their personal piggybanks.
Freedom of speech means I can share my opinion, right here, “out loud”, anytime. Freedom of speech means that the government, specifically, can’t silence me.
Speak truth to power. It matters. Um, yeah… but also? Maybe don’t go carelessly into cities being patrolled by armed troops ill-qualified for the job of keeping peace? Take care of yourself. It’s no mistake that this administration has rebranded the DoD as the Department of War, and has been aggressively seeking to drive out any service members of any rank that may be inclined to question obscene violence and acts of oppression against citizens. These are scary times. Stay safe – but not silent.
It was dark this morning, when I reached the trailhead. Foggy, too. A dense mist filled the parking lot and created a spooky scene.
Starting down the path before daybreak.
I quickly passed through the oaks on the illuminated stretch of paved trail, into the darkness. I walked with my thoughts, until I reached my halfway point. I sat and wrote, dark words, for dark times. I remember when the Berlin Wall came down… that feeling of hope, the feeling of a new world, of the end of the cold war. I’m disappointed, now., and sometimes frightened by where we appear to be heading.
Daybreak arrives shyly. The foggy morning keeps things dim, and gloomy looking. I try not to let it soak into my mood. It’s a work day. On the other side, a weekend. I inhale deeply, tasting the scents of autumn. Tuna casserole tonight? I smile at the thought of such a simple meal, wholesome, comfortable, familiar…easy. I breathe, exhale, and relax. I inhale, recollecting small moments of joy. I exhale, and let go of bullshit I can’t change. I relax, and bring myself back to this moment, surrounded by shadows and the blue gray of the fog as a new day dawns.
It’s a good time to take a stand for the things you believe in. It’s a good time to begin again.
Yesterday was a beautiful and fulfilling excursion into a single prolonged moment of self-reflection and wonder. Meaning to say, it was a lovely day spent mostly in my own head.
What enlightenment looks like.
I walked miles of beach at low tide, close to the water’s edge where the sand is most firm and walkable. I ventured across slipping loose sand to explore rocks piled at the foot of steep erosion prone cliffs. I peered into tide pools ankle deep in waves as the tide turned. I walked, and wondered as I wandered.
I saw empty limpet and crab shells on the beach, and pebbles tumbled smooth by ocean waves. I saw anemones and starfish clinging to the rocks exposed at low tide. I saw a variety of sea plants uprooted and tossed along the beach, and even corals torn from wherever they had been, and carried to the chilly Oregon beach on which I spent the morning. Name it? Nah. Go find your own. lol The adventure and satisfaction are not about the specific location, they are more to do with how I spent the time and where I turned my attention; inward.
What you see is often a matter of where you look. This is a picture of a starfish.
I enjoyed the day. I feel more rested than I have in a long while. I sit now, alongside the local trail I’ve been walking most mornings lately, enjoying a few minutes of quiet reflection as the sun rises. Today is an ordinary work day. I feel easy in my skin and comfortable with myself. I’m in a ferocious amount of pain, which is neither surprising nor particularly consequential. It’s just a “feature” of this mortal life.
I breathe, exhale, and relax. This morning, the world’s stress and chaos, the violence, the bullshit, and the jockeying for power by the already powerful is nothing to do with me, directly. I’m here, now, in this moment, in this local place. My heart feels light. It’s enough.
I look down the trail, as the eastern horizon turns a bold orange. A new day begins. I smile and get to my feet. It’s time for me to begin, again, too.
I managed to sleep a little later this morning. I arrived at the trailhead at daybreak, a smudgy dirty looking faint orange streak along the horizon hints at sunrise coming soon. No point waiting. I trade shoes for boots, and grab my cane and my headlamp and step onto the trail.
The shallow bowl of the marshy meadow lowlands is filled with a dense mist. When I reach it, the mist envelopes me. Peculiarly, the mist is only about 4 feet deep, and I can’t see the ground I am walking in any detail. My headlamp is worse than useless, and I turn it off, letting it hang from my neck like some sort of awkward ornament. I keep walking, watching the sky lighten, listening to the quiet sounds of the meadow and marsh around me. I hear traffic on the nearby highway. The Tualatin river flows through here, forming one boundary of the park. I don’t hear it flowing by, deep and murky. The air is still and a bit chilly. I’m grateful to be wearing my fleece this morning.
I eventually reach my halfway point and stop for a bit, to meditate and write and reflect on life and the world.
Halfway on a misty morning.
I sit thinking about freedom. I’m not sure why it’s on my mind. Perhaps because, for the first time in my own lifetime, the United States is being lead by someone who appears to think freedom of speech is somehow defined by what he wants to hear, personally. So much to find distasteful and disturbing by the very idea. It’s a good time to buy books on subjects this administration finds objectionable – and to read them – we are realistically at risk of seeing them pulled from bookstores and libraries “for our own good”, “for the children”, or because they have been deemed unacceptable for some reason, by some narrow special interest group. I’m not kidding. No exaggeration, I am deeply concerned about our intellectual freedom.
…When the cold war ended, I felt so hopeful about the world…
I’d love to see truth become more popular. I dislike the media hype machine, and the pursuit of likes, clicks, and views produces some awful results, not the least of which is poor quality writing and reporting that may lack any factual basis. Maybe the move to undermine free speech will result in legislation that requires truth in reporting? That would be hilarious – and might serve us well, in the long run.
I sigh quietly by myself watching the mist spread slowly, obscuring the view. I reflect on the mist as a metaphor, dense, obscuring my view, hiding obstacles on my path, clammy and chilly and clinging to me as I move through it, but lacking real substance, and incapable of impeding my movement. It has no power that I don’t give it. That’s important to understand.
I’m just saying, read the books you see being restricted, withheld from libraries and institutions, or hear those in power seeking to dismiss or “cancel”. Those books wouldn’t be a big deal, if they didn’t say something worth hearing.
“Woke” isn’t an insult. It’s a term used to indicate that a person recognizes institutional and systemic injustices, most commonly those with a racial basis, but also gender (misogyny is still a real problem), and disability. Commandeering the term to use as an insult dilutes and undermines its value – but only if we allow that.
“DEI”… When did we decide that being a melting pot of cultures and ideas is a bad thing? That’s diversity. Can you explain how “equity” is a problem? Don’t you, yourself, want equitable treatment in the workplace, and in the world? “Inclusion” seems an unlikely villain – do you not want your children to be included by their peers, in games, in events, in life? Where is the problem?
“Woke” people, seeing the injustices and inequity in our institutions and systems of power and governance, moved to make changes – and DEI as a movement was born. The greatest impact was likely felt in the workplace, initially. Codes of conduct changed to be more fair, more focused on consistent and equitable treatment in hiring. People who had been prevented from advancing, in spite of their qualifications, began to get ahead in life. These changes for the better began to spread. Life began to get better for so many people!
… We’ve lost momentum because a handful of vocal shitheads are mad that they can no longer rest on their privilege (whether that’s to do with being male, white, Christian, affluent, or connected is irrelevant), and now have to put in a bit more work to get ahead. Now, here we are…
How are those “guaranteed” freedoms working out for you?
I sigh to myself. Human primates can be so g’damned stupid – and greedy. That’s likely what most of this is actually about. Greed – and power. So gross. The worst.
A rose blooming in my garden.
I breathe, exhale, and relax. I let all of the bitterness and disappointment go. I can only do so much. I speak my mind fearlessly. I vote. I served my country ethically and with honor (at least as I understood it at that time).
…I remind myself to reach out to former comrades at arms, some of them are no doubt struggling with this bullshit much as I am, and there is solace in sharing and a feeling of safe haven in community…
The sunrise has come and it is a new day filled with promise. I’m hoping to spend it enjoying my Traveling Partner’s good company. It was a very busy week at work, and he has missed me. I’m planning to try a new recipe, later, and maybe fit in some “me time” later this weekend. Long weekend – I’ve taken Monday off for the equinox. Maybe I’ll take my camera or my pastels up the Nestucca River Byway and enjoy some solitary creative time?
The meadow is still covered in mist, as though someone rolled out cotton batting over the whole thing. I smile to myself, grateful for the lovely moment of solitude and rest from the busy week behind me. Sunlight illuminates the tops of the oaks. It’s already time to begin again.
Evening Light 