I am reflecting on my “sense of self”, which I suppose is taking “self-reflection” to a very meta place. Definingly self-referential, and a bit like a funhouse mirror; I am lost in reflections and contemplating self-portraits I have done over time, most of them quite abstract. A friend – one of my dearest friends and among my most enduring friendships – reached out and asked to commission from me a self-portrait. An interesting commission, and I accepted it. I don’t know where this path will lead. Perhaps I am overdue to look at myself (and my life) through the lens of my own camera, my hand holding the brush poised over my own canvas? I am standing in a new place, seeing the world and my life through different perspective in a unique moment. I am at my most experienced, my most learned, my most positive – and my most fortunate. I am infused with love and a joy for living. This is not a place I’ve stood life for very long, ever, and here I stand – content and comfortable with myself. So. There it is.
The sky is still blue.
I sip my coffee and think thoughts of self. Who am I, now? Where is this path leading me? Who do I most want to be? How did I get here? I breathe, exhale, and relax. I think about colors, and I think about sunrises, sunsets, and the ticking of the clock. I think about my garden, and this sunny morning; I’ve planted seeds. What flowers will bloom, now? The morning sky is a delicate azure blue, again this morning. Same view, new day – new moment to be this human being. I think my thoughts awhile longer. There’s only so much time for that, and I enjoy it while it lasts. The clock is always ticking.
It’s already afternoon. The busy start to a work day of catching up became a busy morning of meetings and follow-ups, which has become afternoon, and nearing the end of the work day. I pull my head out of my… email… and sit up. Breathe. Exhale. Relax. Drink some icy cold water, some sparkling hipster brand that is more scented than flavored, but it’s cold, and it’s potable, and I was thirsty. It’s good enough.
The sun streams through the office window as if mocking my plans to paint for a few days and ending up “rained out” over and over again. The plan is not the reality. The map is not the world. The intention is not the outcome. Perspective. I enjoyed the time on my own terms, and saw some beautiful places and got the real break “from the the world” that I needed so badly. I even got out into my garden, planted some lavender with hopes of seeing more roses bloom (I’ve heard the deer definitely do not care for the strong scent of the lavender and it is rumored to keep them away). Even if that doesn’t work out, I’ll have the lavender, which I greatly enjoy for it’s own qualities.
I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.
I breathe, exhale, relax, and take this short break, looking out the window into the sunshine. I’m smiling. No hard feelings; reality does not care about my plans, my intentions, or my maps. It simply is. I’m okay with it. I take my break with intention, enjoying this moment before I get back to work. I’m not a fucking machine, and there is no reason to behave as though I am, or treat myself as though I should be. I’m a human being, being human. I smile to myself, and think of my Traveling Partner. It’ll be nice to be home again, at the end of the day, to see him and feel his love, to share my thoughts about the garden, to hear his thoughts about what he’s doing in the shop. I rummage in my handbag for a snack bar left behind after my days wandering new trails. I forgot to bring anything for lunch. I began the day completely unprepared for work, but also no longer prepared to be out on the trail somewhere. lol It’s fine. I’m enjoying the day, and that’s enough.
It’s easy to be swept away.
I sigh to myself and drink my water. I take my afternoon pain medication; I’m sore all over from a week of trail walking, but I saw so many beautful places! Worth it. I think about a waterfall and a flowing river, an interesting metaphor for life, lived. It’s time to begin again, isn’t it? The river isn’t going to stop flowing…
This morning I woke to an ordinary Saturday, with ordinary plans: an ordinary walk on a familiar trail, a typical Saturday routine of grocery shopping and some housekeeping tasks. Of course, it’s only entirely predictable (and somewhat amusing) that today there’s no rain. I smile to myself at the utter predicability of such circumstances. Plans are only plans, and the weather doesn’t take my plans into account, it just happens.
Rainy trails, rainy paths, rainy day.
Yesterday rained. It rained hard. It rained persistently. It rained sideways. The wind blew the rain under the cover of the gazebo where I had hoped to paint with a ferocity that ensured I couldn’t. I can only laugh about it. I got some great hiking in (in the rain), and pleasant time spent with my thoughts (listening to the rain fall). It was a good day. I went home early, and painted some there. It was less of what I had in mind, but it was plenty of what I needed.
I saw some beautiful places.
Sometimes “enough” has to be… enough.
I walked some challenging miles.
The cumulative effect of days hiking new trails, eager and energetic, unconcerned about the terrain, finds me aching all over this morning. My ankles ache. My back aches. My head aches. I’m stiff and my muscles are sore. I’m not really complaining, just noticing how I feel, physically. It’ll pass, mostly, and the exertion and varied movement is healthy. (Besides, I’ve been having a great time, and this pain is a small price to pay.) I managed to actually sleep in this morning, waking almost two hours later than I ordinarily might. I woke feeling rested, calm, and content.
I sit sipping my coffee and watching daybreak become the dawn of a new day. I’ll walk this familiar trail, then return home, hitting up the grocery store on my way. Housekeeping today, definitely, but maybe I’ll also paint? The future isn’t written, and this is a very good time to begin again.
Every journey begins where you are. It’s a good place to start.
Interesting day, yesterday. My travels took me up winding mountain roads to new places, new trails to walk, new spots to sit and think and listen to birdsong and breezes. I found a new forest to “lose myself” in, on miles of well-kept trails.
One trail leading to others, some narrow, some steep, some descending to creek beds, others tracing the ridgeline.
Elsewhere, high on a hill, out in the countryside far from the noise of city and suburb, I found a new place to paint with a remarkable view. Well…on some other day, perhaps, or some other moment, the view will be remarkable. lol Yesterday, the view was misty, and obscured by the low hanging clouds that had wrapped the mountainside.
A new favorite place to paint, weather permitting.
The mist didn’t stop me from painting. It’s beautiful there, exactly as it was. What stopped me from setting up and painting the lovely scene was the rain that fell steadily. There is no cover, there, and I wasn’t set up to deal with that. Water falling from the sky is no way to treat soft pastels! lol I sat listening to the rain fall contentedly, thinking about how to set up my easel in the car, such that I could comfortably paint. It’s a smallish tabletop easel, and it seems likely it might be possible. I was entertained by that thought, and satisfied to sit quietly, listening to the wind in the trees and the sound of raindrops on the roof of the car, waiting for the rain to stop. It never did.
Mist and mud.
I whiled away a good bit of time enjoying my thoughts and the moments as they ticked by. I got out into the wind and rain to explore the muddy slopes and trails that clung to the hillside, twice. Time well spent, but the park is a small one and I quickly completed the few short trails, and got soaked and chilled in the process. No complaints, I enjoyed the morning. By afternoon, my thoughts were of hearth and home and the prospect of a hot shower and warm dry clothes.
The dense fog accumulating seemed to be a hint that it was time to head home.
The mist became a dense fog, and I decided to head home rather than risk a more hazardous drive later. (Conveniently, my Traveling Partner was missing me, and eager to welcome me back.) The drive home seemed both shorter and easier than the drive to the park had been.
Damn that hot shower felt so good! A simple luxury elevated by a chilly rainy morning hiking muddy trails. Perspective.
Now, it is morning once more, and another new beginning, another day off spent (hopefully) painting in some beautiful place. I am listening to the wind and waves at a favorite bluff above the beach at Road’s End. It’s not my destination, today, but a good spot to wait for daybreak, and watch the dawn come.
A long exposure lets me capture something of the moment, although it’s barely daybreak and still quite dark.
I have this place to myself, other than the gulls already busy overhead, and quite noisy. Another beautiful place. A soft misty sort of rain covers the windshield in tiny droplets. I don’t hear rain, just the wind and the waves on the seashore. I laugh quietly to myself. Will I be “rained out” (in?) again today? It was raining quite hard when I left the house a little more than an hour ago. The forecast is rain, everywhere, all day. I’m not bothered; the moment is my own, in spite of the rain.
I wonder briefly about the affairs of the world, then let all that go; it is reliably an insane clown car tossed into a dumpster fire in this current administration and I really don’t want to hear another word about the insanity, the corruption, the cruelty, the lies, or elon-fucking-musk. 100% of all of that can wait. For the moment, my own sanity and self-care are by far more important (to me). It’s not as if anything particularly unpredictable is going to develop. I breathe, exhale, and relax. I let all that go, and pull myself back to “now”, the wind, the waves, the gulls overhead – this moment, here.
A misty gray dawn, a new day.
The dawn comes. I swap my soft shoes for my sturdy hiking boots and grab my cane. I love this beautiful place, familiar and cherished. I stop here as often as I come to the coast. This view brings to mind my Granny, who loved the sea, and my Dear Friend, although she and I never made it to this place together. I’ll walk down the steep rocky, muddy, path and walk the shoreline for some little while, before I head down the road to the place I hope to paint from, today. Whether I do or not, it’s a new day, and it is mine. I don’t know where this path leads, in any specific way (metaphorically speaking), but I know I will see some beautiful places.
… Funny… when I planned my time off, the forecast had suggested that these would be mild days, with a limited chance of some rain… I laugh at myself trying to plan around the weather. The plan is not the experience. The intention does not determine the outcome. It doesn’t really matter, my time is my own, and the clock is always ticking – I’ll just have to walk the path ahead of me as it is.
The map is not the world. The plan is not the experience. I’m chuckling to myself over my iced coffee, hastily prepared on my way out this morning. I woke at my usual time, but ahead of my alarm. I woke from a sound restful sleep that followed a deeply relaxing day of self-care and creativity.
… I woke thinking it was Monday, and that I was “running late”…
I rushed through my morning routine, quickly made coffee, and quietly left the house (very much in the usual way). I was heading to the office in dense traffic and a drenching rain before I remembered that I’m off work today (and tomorrow… and next Monday…), and that I’ve got very different plans than work. It is, however, raining quite hard, too hard for unfamiliar mountain roads in darkness, too hard for plein air painting with soft pastels, later.
…I hope the rain stops…
I head to a nearby familiar local park with a favorite trail to wait for daybreak, and (maybe) a break in the rain. I’ve got plans, sure, but I’ve also got backup plans (mostly amounting to alternate destinations). Rather than frivolously wasting fuel going all the way to one location then to another, I give myself some time to wake up properly, get my bearings, and wait for more daylight while I think things over. The whole point of this time off is to do with relaxing and indulging artistic inspiration. There’s no need to rush at all. No rules imposed on my decision making beyond being safe. No “timeliness requirements”, no “KPIs” or “SLAs”. If I wanted confirmation that I need this break from work, this morning’s somewhat panicked wake up certainly provided that!
It’s still quite early. The rain pauses long enough for a quiet walk in the pre-dawn gloom along the well-maintained partially lit trail. I gather my thoughts and consider the various locations I’d identified as being of particular interest this week. (Damn, yesterday was such a lovely day! Such a beautiful place!) I’m still inclined to head to the view points I’d selected (already a backup for my original plan, which is at high risk of snow and difficult to access under such conditions), but it’s not a route I care to drive in the dark on a rainy day. I sit with that thought awhile.
One point of view, and a pleasant recollection. Mt Hood in the distance, yesterday.
At some point, a spirit of adventure and eagerness to explore becomes a careless disregard of safety. At some point, a strict focus on safety becomes a fearful reluctance to experience something new. There’s a path between those choices. That’s the path I’m looking for, and hoping to find fulfillment, inspiration, and joy along the way. The “destination” may not actually be important to the experience. The journey is the destination.
I sip my coffee, grateful for the time I’ve taken for myself. Grateful to have recognized the need and acted upon it. Grateful for a partnership that supports and nurtures me. Grateful to see another sunrise. The sky slowly begins to lighten. Soon it will be time to begin again… I wonder where this path leads?
Evening Light 