Sometimes life throws a curve ball. Our path may take a detour we didn’t see coming. Sometimes unexpected circumstances are a big deal, with a lot of upheaval or moments of adversity and tears. Sometimes it’s just a rainy morning that makes an early walk less feasible (or at least less pleasant).
Waiting for a break in the rain.
I woke early and tried to slip away without waking my Traveling Partner. It wasn’t raining when I left the house, but it clearly had been. By the time I got to the trailhead and parked the car, it was raining pretty steadily. I sat contentedly listening to the rain fall, spattering the car, meditating and watching the dawn become day.
I managed to get a half mile in, between rain showers, then another after warming up in the car. It’s somehow very satisfying and I find myself thinking “nice morning for it”, in spite of the rain and the autumn chill. What a lovely weekend.
I think of a distant and very dear friend who is ill, and wonder if I should make the drive down to see her again, very soon? I worry. She’s going through a rough time and has COVID on top of that. 😦
The sky continues to lighten. I watch the few soggy leaves still clinging to branches flutter in the breeze. Now and then a gust of wind rocks the car. I wait for another break in the rain and think about love.
I’m awake, though I don’t mean to be. It’s quite late and the house is quiet. My Traveling Partner sleeps. The only sounds I hear are the 3D printers “singing” their happy songs in another room. The sound of the printers printing is a sound I find joyful, and it does not disturb me.
He gave me the moon and the stars.
I look around me in the dim twilight of this room, softly illuminated by various paintings and objects that glow in the dark. I feel very loved; my partner made many of these things for me. They calm me when I wake, alarmed, during the night.
I sit quietly in the dark, smiling. I won’t be awake long. I think happy thoughts of the day feeling wrapped in love.
Love everywhere.
It was a lovely day. I smile recalling the new spice racks my Traveling Partner made and installed for me. I think about love. I think about his eyes and his smile and his rude jokes. I think about his strong arms around me and the way he loves me.
The quiet persists and I am ready to sleep. Tomorrow is soon enough to begin again.
It’s a new day. A Saturday. I woke from peculiarly surreal and also vaguely sexual dreams with a sense of being “interrupted” and also having slept in quite a bit (which is a pleasant luxury, for me). I dressed and quietly let myself out of the house to watch the sun rise from a local trail. It was a lovely morning for it.
Daybreak on a favorite trail.
…I walk on…
Later, as the morning develops along the way.
I followed that with routine errands, arriving home sufficiently early to enjoy my morning coffee with my Traveling Partner while he enjoyed his. We spoke of 3D printers and projects, and things of that sort, until we’d both finished our coffee and it was time to move on with the day.
…My dream(s) still linger in my thoughts, which is a bit unusual these days. I dreamt of kissing a dark-eyed youth in a collegiate stage of early adulthood, who captivated me with his quiet confidence and led me by the hand to some less-than-ideally private place to take things further, only, that turned out to be a local business (?!) that opened quite unexpectedly, filling with customers – young women dressed only in towels, giggling as they passed us. We left, and attempted to find a happy haven “at my place” – only it wasn’t my place at all, it was… the first floor of some bizarre high-rise condo, where the current owners politely explained that they had purchased my abode, and upon breaking through the ceiling discovered 3 further floors above, lavish, luxuriously appointed, and clearly out of my price-range. They were courteously apologetic about how obviously I did not belong there. We sat at their vast kitchen counter in an expansive kitchen that was never mine, sipping deliciously well-crafted espresso (even in my dreams, there is coffee). My dream ended in contemplation of “where to go next”, when I realized I was alone where I stood. No dark-eyed youth. No giggling young women. No urbane well-spoken householders. Just me, standing on a rainy street in the twilight of my dreams. I woke, ready for a new day, simultaneously amused and puzzled by my strange dream(s). I’ve been dreaming a lot lately. Thankfully, few nightmares, just strange surreal dreams.
I’m in enough pain today to feel quite distracted and disinclined to do much, but there is much to do, and I feel creatively inspired… I may spend some portion of the day in the studio, painting, if I solve some of the puzzles involved in the two pieces I am presently working on. Individual paintings take longer these days. They are… more “involved”, and have greater depth of meaning. I think this has been an outcome of going through menopause, strangely enough. My thoughts and my emotions seem to take longer to process fully, but I get more out of them when I “get there”. Emotions have more breadth and depth – and more recognizable significance, with less chaos. Thoughts travel along more tangents and down more rabbit holes, but once every thread is pulled, and every depth explored, I find I have a greater understanding of where I was headed in the first place, and what to do with my thoughts when I get there.
…I sip my coffee and think about how useful all that would have been when I was much younger, stronger, and faster. LOL Life is weird.
My Traveling Partner interrupts my writing to ask me what I’m doing (which I guess I should expect, since I chose to be writing in the living room; a space we routinely share). I answer. Then I manage to interrupt him when he shares a thought, and he sternly tells me he’ll “try not to be annoyed” by that. I manage to refrain from pointing out the interruption to my writing that started the conversation in the first place, which for me is no doubt similarly annoying. I chuckle to myself; we both find a flow state difficult to find or maintain if the other is in the same shared space. It is evident we enjoy each other’s company greatly. I do struggle to set boundaries when I am reading or writing, though, and he rarely seems to recognize that both those activities (for me) require my full attention and focus to enjoy properly, or understand that I sometimes want the full measure of my own attention for myself. I don’t bother to say anything about it (again). Then I wonder if that’s a mistake…
I sip my coffee and move on. Letting small things stay small has real value in life and love, and I’m not inclined to “start shit” on such a lovely Saturday.
I continue to fuss about a particular “how to” challenge with a painting I keep coming back to – it is a self-portrait, so perhaps I am “too close to the subject” in some way. I find myself stalled because it really wants a different technical approach than I typically prefer, and the requirement to slow down, take my time, and work on the practical details with consideration and discipline vexes me. There are no suitable shortcuts! Shit. This one is going to be “do it right, or don’t do it at all”, and this confounds me. There’s something to learn here, and I sip my coffee grateful for the lesson. I don’t suppose learning will slow the inevitable result of being mortal, but I hear it may keep me young(er)… sounds worthwhile.
I sigh outloud and sip my coffee. Age, aging, human life, human mortality… so much more obvious as concerns these days than they were in my 20s. I look at my pillbox… double-checking that I’ve taken everything up to this point in the day that I’m expected (required to). “Fuck aging” I mutter to myself, nonetheless grateful for medical care, and the prescriptions that help me maintain my health acceptably well.
I resign myself to being distracted from my writing; if I want to write utterly without distractions, I definitely need to be alone, and in an unshared space. That’s just real. I chose this location – and I did so because I want to enjoy my partner’s company, and also write. Not sure how I thought that would work. LOL
Well, shit. There are paintings to paint, and dishes to do… I suppose it’s time to begin again.
I’m sipping my morning coffee and reflecting on recent thoughts after a lovely early morning walk. I hit the trail shortly before sunrise, in the pre-dawn twilight. It was chilly, but I knew hot coffee would be waiting for me on the other side.
The starting point of a favorite trail.
I walked, alone with my thoughts, watching the slow changes as dawn unfolded into a new day. I watched an interestingly apropos video yesterday evening, and I thought about the insights shared. Aside from the Autumn chill, it was a lovely morning for walking.
I returned home after a time, and got myself sorted out to commence the work day. My coffee was already made, and waiting for me. My Traveling Partner, awake when I got up, had returned to bed to get some more sleep. I quietly headed to the studio – my office – and set up for work, managing to do so without disturbing my partner’s rest, apparently, and I contentedly listen to him snoring softly on the other side of the wall adjacent to the bedroom. I feel contented and relaxed. No idea what the remainder of the day will hold, but this bit right here? Quite lovely and peaceful.
I sigh contentedly, sip my coffee, and start the work day.
I do like shit that’s easy. Just something about that experience; it feels like competence. Rewarding. Satisfying. Sometimes things just aren’t “easy”. Sometimes they are. I am not completely unaware that the easy wins are a bit misleading… they just also feel good, and sometimes I can use an easy win! 😀
The robot vacuum meets mixed media art supplies.
I got an annoyed ping from my Traveling Partner during the work day yesterday. The robot vacuum got a hold of some art supplies, one or two strands of which were apparently left trailing on the floor carelessly when I “cleaned up” after my day in the studio over the weekend. She choked on the strands, wound them all around all her rollers and wheels, and “yelled for help”. My irked partner took a picture, sent that my way, and included a stern “this is your mess, you fix it” sort of message. It looks bad, right?
I got home feeling almost eager to tackle this “problem”… I find most sorts of vacuum cleaner repair scenarios stupidly easy, from growing up not-quite-middle-class, and being the kid in the family most likely to have to vacuum as a chore. I’ve taken apart quite a few vacuum cleaners over the years, and fixed most of them – and I only ever smashed one! 😀 So, I got home, changed into clothes that I would not mind getting sort of gross and dusty (not knowing how bad it would be) and got to work. No, I’m not going to describe the entire process (file under “trade secrets” lol) – but I was done in minutes, and so caught up in the process that I ended up doing some basic servicing of the wheels and rollers “while I was at it” – being the long-haired family member, it only seems fair that I also take care of the hair that gets wound around the wheels of the vacuum, right?
The repair work felt easy. It got done without any swearing or frustration. It felt really good to feel skilled at such a practical thing. The whole thing tended to make just about everything else in life seem suddenly… do-able. Manageable. Achievable.
I needed that win.
It won’t always be easy…but sometimes it will. Don’t overlook the win, just because it was easy. Take it. Enjoy it. Celebrate it. It’s still a win.
Evening Light 