I’m taking a few minutes, having a mid-morning, post-waffles, cup of tea (Smith’s No.120 Jasmine Nectar, which has a lovely delicate fragrance). The tea is quite good. The moment is… meh. It’s okay. Not great. Not terrible. Just a moment, and it’ll pass and I’ll move on to the next one. I’m in a ferocious amount of pain this morning, which colors every experience in spite of knowing how pointless and unhelpful it is for that to be a thing. I keep having to make a point of not allowing it to seep into every crevice of my awareness and experience. My results vary.
…The waffles were good, though…
I don’t feel inclined to finger-point, lay blame, or even “troubleshoot” this moment (or any previous, this morning), it’s not even about that. We’re each having our own experience. I’m pretty sure my Traveling Partner is in every bit as much pain as I am in, maybe more. That likely colors his experience, too. Probably best to simply acknowledge our individual and mutual discomfort and not take any of that at all personally. I sigh. Breathe. Exhale. Relax. (Fuck I wish I weren’t in so much pain, though… but at least the waffles were good…)
I think about the dishes that need doing. The laundry. Tidying up my office space in preparation for working from this location, generally. It didn’t sound like much to tackle when I woke up this morning. It seems almost too much, now. Nothing has changed but the amount of pain I’m in, and my perspective on the day (that is probably a lot to do with the pain I’m in). I’m glad it’s a long weekend… tomorrow may be better, but regardless, it’s at least another day to work on these “getting back to the day-to-day” sorts of details. I’ll be ready by the time the work week begins. I sure feel tired now.
I think about the wildflowers out on the coast and the ones on along the trail this morning. It’s interesting what a different assortment they are. I look for pictures, and only just now realize I didn’t take any this morning. I sort of just rather purposefully walked down the trail to “there”, and then back. It wasn’t a grim trudge, but it wasn’t notably joyful. I was just… existing. Doing a thing. I was already in pain.
I hear my Traveling Partner laughing in the other room. That brings a smile to my face, even though he’s been a bit cross this morning. He enjoyed the waffles, though – those were good, this morning. It was lovely to share that experience with him. Good waffles. 😀
…The waffles are gone. They were delicious. The moments pass. One by one they go from a moment of being to nothing more than a recollection. Impermanent. A small piece of a larger whole. Any given moment, however good, however difficult, is another chance to begin again. It’s something. It’s enough.
Tomorrow is for sure my last work day in this lovely office space. I’m not changing jobs; we’re leaving this space. Feels… strange. It’s okay. Not a sorrowful moment, just a moment. I sit quietly, looking out these windows at this view, and wondering what my day-to-day experience will be like after I return from my camping trip to a new, different, routine? Probably still pretty routine; that’s how I tend to live, mostly. lol
…I didn’t have to commute to this place to do the work I could as easily have been doing at home. I embraced the commute, and this space, as an opportunity, and I’ve enjoyed it for these past 8 months or so. Change is. I’m okay with that. I’m also okay with giving up the cost of fuel for the commute, and parking in the city, and all the vexing details that go along with all of that…
Traffic.
I’m counting down the days until my camping trip. My Traveling Partner was frank last evening that he’ll miss me, that it’s hard to do everything for himself when I’m away right now (while he recovers from an injury), and that he’s also a bit jealous to be stuck at home while I am camping. That’s real. I feel for him – and I feel fortunate to be so loved as to be missed when I’m gone. That’s beautiful. We both get something out of missing each other now and then, and I know I’ll miss him too. I also yearn for this time away, which I will spend in a solitary way, quietly among the trees, on the trail, or by the campfire. I need this solo time much the same way he needs the joyful camaraderie of our union as lovers and traveling companions on life’s journey – we do our best to strike a healthy balance, so we each thrive individually and together. He probably gets more time alone than he needs (I often find myself a bit jealous of that), and I don’t always get the solitary time I need – but we know the needs are there (his for steady, close companionship, mine for interludes of aloneness), and we work together to meet them (all). Funny how much love makes that matter – and how hard love can make it to achieve. It’s a peculiar puzzle.
“Life Sparkles (with the love we feel)” 11″ x 14″ acrylic on canvas w/glow and glitter 2018
I think about the here and now, and contrast it with daydreams of other places, other lived experiences, over the course of this one lifetime. There are so many experiences that I will likely never have, that I’ve often considered, or even yearned for. We make choices, and follow the path our choices take us down. Some choices take a few items “off the menu”, and some choices open grand vistas of new opportunities to consider. There’s a lot of variety in the human experience. I sit with my coffee, considering my choices, and where they have lead me. I couldn’t always say so, but it is very true today; I am walking my own path. That feels pretty good. I’m okay with where I am standing in life, presently. It’s a good place to be, although the world often feels like a pretty seriously fucked up mess on a terrifying order of magnitude (when I zoom out to consider that)… up close, this one life, this moment here, is pretty good. I’m okay… contented. Even “happy”. Deeply in love with my partner. Working a job I find satisfying, alongside people I respect and enjoy as both people and as colleagues. Living fairly simply in a little home I can call my own. I’ve got a veggie garden, beautiful roses, a small library of books I love. I’m fortunate. I can’t attribute all of my good fortune to my exceptional decision-making… because frankly, that’s not been the case for me. I’ve bungled a ton of shit, and made so many awful choices in life… but… I’m here, now, and this is a good place to be. I’ve gotten lucky, a lot, and I’m grateful for the circumstances and friendships that have paved this path, and continue to light my way.
Like a potted rose slaking its thirst on a gentle rain; I’m grateful.
I sigh contentedly. Be here, now. Good suggestion, if you like where you’re standing. If that’s not the case, it’s time to begin again, perhaps, and choose differently? So many choices. They aren’t all easy – and mistakes will be made. Results will vary. Verbs will be involved. The best plans still require attentive follow-through, care, and action. Sometimes adulting is hard. Sometimes life is filled with sorrow. We fail, we fall, we hurt, we struggle… and then we begin again. No do-overs, really, but we can pick ourselves up, brush the dirt off our knees and the tears off our cheeks, and walk on. Mostly it’s enough. The journey is the destination. We become what we practice.
…What are you practicing?…
I chuckle when I notice how filled with aphorisms and purpose-built slogans this particular bit of writing happens to be. I’m okay with that, too. “Repetition is learning.” I heard that first from a monster, many years ago, under circumstances I don’t care to repeat (or share in any detail). The source of useful information has nothing much to do with the usefulness of the information, itself. Another good lesson learned.
Change is. Choose wisely.
I look fondly out the windows to the park below. It’s a lovely view and I’ll miss it, but it’s time for change – and time to begin again.
My coffee is hot this morning, after weeks of taking it iced first thing in the morning. It’s just that I woke so very early that there was no coffee to be had on the route to work, and honestly it just didn’t really matter. I’ve been growing less dependent on having it with any “first thing in the morning” urgency, which is a nice bit of freedom. I brewed a cup of coffee when I got to the office, after a very relaxed drive (no traffic at all), and made myself a breakfast salad of fresh greens with a handful of cashews, and some lovely plump blueberries quite cold from the fridge. The combination of timing and circumstances has started the morning quite well. I heard from my Traveling Partner on my way into the city; he’s up early too, looks like.
The weekend was a lovely one. I got quite a lot done. My Traveling Partner and I shared an unfortunate bit of stress on Saturday, late in the morning; I’d managed to overlook taking medication that does affect my emotional volatility (or potential for it) if I don’t take it, and there we were dealing with my bullshit unexpectedly. I feel fortunate that I did notice relatively quickly, and grateful that he understood. He gets it. We successfully moved on from that moment, and the weekend was otherwise quite nice.
I got a few things done in preparation for my camping trip… just 5 days away now (okay, 6 if I count today). I do worry just a bit about how easily my partner can handle things and take care of himself while I’m gone. He’s recovering from his injury, and that’s been a slow process. He manages most stuff pretty well without much difficulty, but still appreciates help with a lot of things. I sip my coffee and think over ways I can “be there for him” while I’m gone. Things like making sure the bathroom is stocked with fresh towels, the linens on the bed are fresh, there’s plenty of iced tea made, and providing easy to prepare food options that don’t require a bunch of complex kitchen work or standing around, all seem like pretty standard things I can do… but… is it enough? Is there more, or other things, that I can do to make the experience a good one for him? The one inescapable challenge is that he’d definitely rather be with me than without me, even for a few days. At some point, I have to be okay with that, accepting, understanding, and grateful to be so loved. The away time is good for me, and I for sure need the rest and the solo time for meditation and self-reflection – I just want to also make sure it’s not a hardship for my beloved, as much as I can.
I didn’t see the aurora borealis over the weekend, though it was apparently visible in my community; too many of my neighbors have aggressively bright outdoor lighting on their homes and decks and the light pollution made it impossible to see the colors in the night sky from my home. The warm weather we’ve had (that may or may not be associated with the ongoing solar storm) certainly did splendid things in the garden! The salad greens are a dense and tasty assortment, ripe for harvest, the radishes are plump and spicy, and there are peas on the vines nearly ready to be picked. The roses – those mature enough to flower – have plump buds ready to bloom, and it looks like a good year for roses (if only the deer will please stop eating the tips of the new canes off!). “Baby Love”, a rose my Traveling Partner gave me after we moved in together back in 2010, is already blooming like crazy, and is nearly always first to bloom (and last to stop).
“Baby Love” in bloom.
One of the tasks on my list for the weekend had originally been to drain, clean, and refill the hot tub for the season. After the planning conversation with my Traveling Partner late last week, though, we decided to “decommission” the hot tub in favor of having it removed, repairing the deck (much easier without a 6 person hot tub standing on it!), and then replacing the hot tub with something more modern, quieter, and more energy efficient. I do love having the hot tub, and for just a moment I worried a bit that we might not ever get to that “replace the hot tub” place… it’s a costly sort of luxury, and resources are finite. That’s just real. I let myself think it over with greater care over the weekend days, and found myself comfortably acknowledging that I’m in a different place in life, in a more results-focused (and successful) partnership, with a human being who shares most of my values and goals. We both want this, and we planned the project together. Doesn’t seem likely to “just fail”, unless we change what we want to do, or what our priorities are. So. I drained the hot tub. It wasn’t a particularly poignant moment, just a bit of a chore that needed to be done to move on to the next step (which is to get it gone, ideally without destroying the lawn on the way out).
Change is.
“Benchmark-wise”, on my Ozempic journey, things seem… fine. It’s time to get a refill on the Rx. I’m still seeing steady (slow) progress, with no obvious side effects aside from mild acid reflux now and then (most often when I take other prescriptions on an empty stomach). I feel fortunate that this is turning out to be a “good fit” for me, as a treatment choice. I don’t yet see anything much in the mirror that looks any different, but my jeans are fitting a bit more comfortably, which is a win, and I’m not expecting to wake up a size 6 tomorrow with the blood pressure of a 21-year-old athlete, and the A1C of someone who’s never been at risk of diabetes at all. Incremental change over time is something I understand. 😀
…Another day, another sun rise. Another opportunity to become the woman I most want to be (with some practice). Another chance to begin again…
I had a peculiar thought about mortality the other day. Something along the lines of “you can’t take it with you”… but reconsidered. We also “can’t leave it behind” in a very particular sense; our memories and our experiences are ours alone. No one else has an identical experience of life to the one we each live, ourselves. Our memories – the record of those experiences, our perspectives, our thoughts and understandings – live in our own heads. There’s no real way to leave that behind for anyone else to enjoy once we’re gone. Sure, they have their memories of us, of shared experiences, of who they understood us to be, and what they recall of what we’ve said or done…but… this singular human experience that is mine? That is our own individual journey? That’s ours. Ours to keep. Ours to enjoy. Ours to attempt to share or communicate… but, ultimately, ours alone. Even for those prone to autobiographical endeavors, what’s left behind in those words on a page is filtered through edits, consideration of other points of view, and simply the limitations of seeking to share that are so difficult to overcome. Artists create art; the viewer sees it through the lens of their own experience. At some point, the artist’s own perspective is entirely lost. There’s so much of who we are that we can’t actually leave behind. What I’m saying is… enjoy your life. Do you. Be the person you most want to be. Keep practicing; the journey is the destination. You are here, now. It’s what you’ve got to work with – don’t let the moment pass, expecting your legacy to be something worth leaving behind. Maybe it will be. Maybe it won’t be. You won’t be here to know – or to share. Share while you can. Use your words. Connect. Love. Care. Choose your words and actions as though they will be what you are remembered by (because, mostly that’s what will remain; the thought of you, in the memories of someone else).
I sigh out loud and sip my coffee. I think of my Dear Friend, and other dear friends distant or who have passed. Time is short. The clock is ticking. Do your best to be the person you most want to be. Let go of petty resentments and bullshit and anger and hate – do you really have time for that crap? Love. Love because you can, and because it feels good. Care because it really matters. Make choices that improve your life, the lives of those you care about, and your community, your society, and the world. We’re all in this together, and this ball of rock hurtling through space is surprisingly tiny to support so many. Play nicely. Be a good neighbor. Apologize freely. Accept (and offer) help graciously. Do your best. Be kind.
…Keep practicing…
I think of far away friends and ticking clocks and how best to be the woman I most want to be. I watch the sun rise. I’ve no way of knowing how many sunrises I may have ahead of me. It’s time to begin again.
I’m taking a minute or two after finishing my walk, to sit with my thoughts awhile before moving on with the day. It’s Mother’s Day. I am thinking about my father, and trying to remember how old he was when he died… wasn’t that in 2003? 2002? I’m not certain, and it vexes me. He wasn’t “old”; he passed in his 60s. I didn’t find out when it happened, only after. Quite a bit after, actually. I wasn’t very close with my family at that time (even now, actually). I have a David Bowie song in my head… I don’t know why these are related, but I feel as if there’s some connection.
The sun rose orange, this morning. I stayed quite local, not that what trail I walk has much to do with anything. It’s just a detail.
Mt Hood in the distance.
Mother’s Day is a weird sort of holiday. Certainly mothers deserve to be celebrated, and supported, and also given some fucking help with things, and an occasional fucking day off. No question about any of that… but… if a woman with a child (or children) isn’t getting these things from her partner, family, community, or society, does a “Hallmark holiday” make up for that at all? Mother’s Day is bit like the “carbon offset credit” of holidays. A “get out of jail free” pass for not paying due regard to mothers and the difficulty of that work in the first place. Still, I’m not intending to piss in anyone’s punch bowl; enjoy it, Moms, you’re overdue for more and better. It’s tough exhausting work.
…Funny that I’m thinking of my Dad, though, and can’t remember any Mother’s Days, from my youth…
I’m 100% okay with not being a mother, myself, and don’t feel any loss over not being part of this “holiday”. Choices. I am glad I made the choices I made. They led me here.
Looks like another sunny summer-y day ahead. My Traveling Partner turned the outside water back on for the season, in spite of being injured still. I can’t quite reach the valve, myself. I think about the day ahead, and my list of things to do. Some of the stuff on my list is routine housekeeping, and gardening, and with my camping trip only 7 days away now, a few things to do with that are making it to the list, too. I’m excited about that. I’m hopeful that I’ll have no cause to leave the house after I return from my walk; it’ll be utter chaos “out there”, being Mother’s Day. Looks like a lovely Spring Sunday ahead…
…60 doesn’t “feel old” to me and I sit with that thought for awhile, remembering my Granny at 60… my Mom… my Dear Friend… My perspective on age and aging has changed a lot over the years, as I’ve aged, myself. I was in my 20s when my Granny was 60. I was 40 when my Mother was 60. By the time my Dear Friend was 60, I was not quite 50. Time is catching up with me. lol 60 hasn’t really changed much…but my understanding of it sure has.
I’ll be 61 this year. I haven’t given it much thought. I have most of what I need in life, and a handful of pleasant luxuries besides. It’s a good life, and I am in a good place, and have to put real thought into it to come up with something to want “for my birthday”. Mostly I want my Traveling Partner to be sufficiently recovered to go out for a meal together, and maybe a drive in the countryside – perhaps a picnic lunch at a favorite spot, and some romance… something simple and ordinary. Modest wholesome experiences of life and intimacy and a wee outing together would feel pretty lavish right now. Fuck, that actually sounds quite delightful! I surely won’t hold it against him if he’s not yet up for it. Sucks to deal with an unexpected injury and the time it takes to recover, but it can’t be rushed, and it’s something most people eventually deal with. We’re in it together and that matters so much more than any birthday gift could.
My camping trip feels like a birthday present to myself. It’s planned for a bit longer than I might typically go, and I’ll be geared up for “glamping” thanks to my Traveling Partner. I’m super excited about it.
What love looks like to me.
I sit smiling, thinking about love. The other day I came home from a manicure appointment with glittery aqua-blue nails. My partner commented that they were cute but didn’t go with anything else I generally wear. I laughed that off and pointed out the sweater I’d been wearing as close enough. Hardly an hour later he had 3D printed me a super cute pair of earrings that were an amazing color match for my nails. I feel so loved. Earrings are the only jewelry I wear, generally. He knows and cares, and loves making me smile. I’ve pretty much been wearing them ever since. lol It feels good to be so loved.
The moments tick by as the sun rises. It’s already time to begin again.
This morning the sun is shining in my eyes, though I’ve lowered the window shades to cut the glare. The season continues to evolve, Spring towards summer, and here I am with the sun in my eyes on a lovely Spring morning. I’m grateful. I don’t even mind the sun in my eyes. 😀
Small wins can make big differences. My appointment yesterday had a pleasant outcome; I don’t need surgery for a thing that seemed quite a big deal (to be something so small)… and as it turns out, it’s not something I need be worried about (at least for now, and maybe not at all). Win. I’ll take it. 😀 I sip my coffee with the sun shining in my eyes, feeling grateful. No surgery looming over me. Nice. I even had a very good experience with the medical care, and the physician, generally – I’m making a point to pause to appreciate that, because it hasn’t always been the case, at all, and I’m still dragging around some baggage over that.
I sigh and smile to myself. Feels like a good morning. It’s Friday, and it’s a short work day. I’ve got a manicure appointment at noon, and then home to start the weekend. Feels good. I sit with the good feelings awhile – there’s definitely value in staying with the good feelings for a little while. I think most of us don’t even notice the way we linger in our shittiest moments, reviving them for further scrutiny over and over again (as if that’s at all helpful), then just glossing over our moments of joy and contentment as though these fleeting moments somehow have less value than the shitty ones. (Maybe don’t do that, eh?) When I finally did learn how much value there is in lingering over my small joys and simple moments of contentment or delight, and learned to savor what is good in my life, the way my life felt overall changed a lot. Instead of a fairly miserable experience of existence pocked with occasional relief that felt both too-brief, and also likely to be “a trap” setting me up for future worse misery, my life became characterized by calm and contentment, with occasional experiences of sorrow, grief, frustration, or anger. Disappointment became… a moment. Anger became… transitory. Life began to feel pretty good, generally. I still have to make a point to practice “taking in the good” and savoring the best moments my experience has to offer. I don’t avoid or dodge life’s challenges, or pretend I can “manifest” them away from being what they are – but I can cope, because I know they are temporary. Incremental change over time – becoming what I practice – has meant that my life is, day-to-day, pretty good these days. It’s nice. (10 out of 10; do recommend. lol)
How does a person even begin to make this transformation? I think it starts simply enough; anger does not easily compete with gratitude. When I find myself beginning to feel angry, I deliberately pause and consider what I’m grateful for in the situation I find myself in or with regards to the person I am angry with. It helps “turn down the heat” in that moment, and gives me a chance to regain perspective. Similarly, with sorrow, with disappointment… gratitude is a great way to balance perspective. It’s not about “faking it”; there are often legitimate details in a challenging circumstance that we may feel grateful for, if we just take a moment to consider it from that perspective. Anxiety and fear work a little differently (for me), instead of gratitude, I reach for my curiosity, and my desire to know more and understand more deeply. The point, really, is to spin the difficulty such that I’m not mired in what is most difficult, so much as viewing it through the lens of other aspects of that experience – or making a point to deliberately consider something else altogether different, that brings other emotions into play, “unsticking me” from my hurt, my anger, or other similarly painful, harder to manage, emotional experiences.
…And “being emotional” is not an insult. The hidden win is to develop “emotional intelligence” and reliably good skill at appropriate emotional regulation (which can be developed… it takes practice).
I smile and sip my coffee. I take a moment to enjoy my breakfast salad (how did this so easily become “a thing”? Why haven’t I always done this? I feel so good in the mornings these days…). Another weekend already here… and that means another shot (Ozempic), another weigh-in, another opportunity to reflect on progress and become aware of slow steady change. I’m counting down the days to my camping trip, too… that’d be 9 days to go, now. 😀
What defines a luxury?
I make time for early morning conversation with my Traveling Partner. We talk about the deck (needs repairs) and the hot tub (older and super noisy), and the discussion quickly becomes the sort of productive strategy and planning conversation that really brings a new project to life… we decide to shut down the hot tub “permanently” (this one, at least), in favor of removing it and replacing it after the deck is repaired (rebuilt) with improved quality of life features in mind. These are things we’d talked about when we bought the house (4 years ago), but other things (reasonably) had to come first (like the roof). Homeownership has so many qualities I love over renting – “a place of my own” being top of my personal list there – and I do love the flexibility to change things as we’d like, but … damn… so much adulting required, and effort, and commitment, and time, and money… and… I’m okay with all of it. It’s exciting and satisfying, as each project begins and finishes. My Traveling Partner has great ideas and the skills needed to bring this to life. I’m eager to help, and see how things turn out. I’m definitely a fan of replacing the hot tub with a more energy efficient, quieter model. (I’ll bet the neighbors will be too; this old thing is super noisy!) Having a hot tub feels almost non-negotiable for me at this point, though… I get so much value out of it (pain relief, improvement mobility), now we’ve just got to sort out the details…
My thoughts wander from the here and now to a future I can see but can’t touch (yet). I feel hopeful – for a lot of reasons – and grateful. It’s a good feeling. I feel wrapped in love, and fortunate to have a really good partnership that enhances my life. I’m ready to begin again. 😀
Evening Light 