It’s a quiet start to the day. The morning air feels subtly autumnal. I find myself regretting that I didn’t wear my fleece hoodie. The walking warms me up though.
One perspective on the morning.
There’s a low mist clinging to the ground along the river when I begin my walk. It drifts over the meadow adjacent to the trail, becoming a thin fog. It’s very quiet this morning. I don’t hear any birds, or traffic, only my footsteps and my breathing.
It is a routine work day, possibly a busy one. There is a project to be done, later, and later still an evening meal to prepare. I sigh quietly as I walk. The to-do list is long. Having the Anxious Adventurer in the household lifts a measure of the everyday housekeeping burden, but greatly increases the “mental workload” and emotional labor landing on me day after day, on top of the increases associated with caregiving for my Traveling Partner. I’m less physically exhausted than I had been…but… I often find myself very much “over” dealing with people at all, far sooner than I typically might. It’s a struggle to get enough time alone, unbothered by what everyone else needs moment to moment, and undistracted by pings, questions, or requests for my thoughts on the various topics. I often end up feeling like a bitch just trying to get a moment alone with my thoughts.
… I’m grateful for this solitary time in the mornings (and I am pretty certain it’s keeping me sane).
I turn the last bend on the trail and sit down for a moment to think and to write. “This too will pass,” I remind myself. I breathe, exhale, and relax. It’s time to begin again… I head down the trail towards the car, and the beginning of the work day.
I have some quiet time in the middle of this lovely Saturday. It’s pleasant. The day looks likely to be a hot one, and there’s the air show… Any time now, the background experience will become so so noisy. I’m not looking forward to it. My Traveling Partner sleeps, for now. That won’t last. I sigh quietly. There’s pleasant music playing quietly in the background. Quite a lovely moment for reflection.
I think over the tasks on my list of things to get done this weekend, all of it on top of the everyday effort to be the person I most want to be, moment-by-moment. That’s sometimes like a whole extra job. LOL I give myself a moment to acknowledge that although it sometimes feels as if it’s truly an uphill climb to make progress some days, progress does get made. It’s a journey, and the journey itself is the destination. It’s about being, and it’s about becoming. There is always more to do. There is effort involved, and practice, and my results vary. I’m very human.
I breathe, exhale, and relax. This is a pleasant morning. I’ve finished most of the basic household stuff I’d planned to do. I’ve done the trip to the store, and figured out what to do, later, about dinner. Now I’ve got some time for me. Paint? Nap? I don’t know. This headache may make the decision for me, and I’ll be honest that I resent the fuck out of that. lol
…Still…perhaps it will be easier to begin again on the other side of this stupid headache, anyway…
Moods can be contagious, good or bad (though it often seems the bad moods spread farther, faster, and result in a deeper change). The words and actions we choose also create ripples through the world around us, affecting other people and events, sometimes in unanticipated ways. Think about that for a moment. How we each behave, what we say, and how we say it, creates this world we live in.
All this? This is “your fault”. Yes, it’s my fault, too. Among us, as a group, we share the blame for the bullshit fucked-up mess that is this modern world, with all its pain and sorrow and inequity and violence and misogyny and terror. Humankind. We did this. We created it. We continue to benefit from it and to maintain it. Gross. Do better, people, please – before there’s nothing at all left that is worth saving.
What are you personally doing to make the world a better place today? Are you practicing kindness? Are you gentle with your words (yes, even when you are angry, frustrated, or hurt)? Are you practicing good self-care and consideration of others? Are you doing your best? Are you making a point to use whatever privilege you may personally enjoy to lift others up? Do you take steps to recognize and acknowledge injustice and seek to right those wrongs? Do you at least care enough to do what you can in the world to ease suffering by not fucking adding to the suffering in the world?
Are you looking for opportunities to do just a little more, just a bit better than you did yesterday?
I have serious doubts that any one human being regardless of apparent influence and “reach” can truly heal this fucked up messy violent world we live in… but g’damn, people, I am pretty fucking certain every individual one of us could do just a little bit more and better than we do right now. Think for a moment what a profound change it would make in the world if we each, as an example, simply stopped being petty and spiteful. Ever. At all. How much better would the every day experience of humanity as a whole become? What about anger? If 100% of every one of us learned to manage and express our anger more gently, and using only gentle words, how much more pleasant would the world be?
… And don’t even get me started about greed…
Every act of violence is an act of will. Every harsh word is preceded by a choice to say it. Every moment of pettiness, spite, and meanness is a moment that could have been handled quite differently. We have choices. Choose wisely. Be your best self because it actually matters to you – and to the world.
Maybe it’s not enough to do our best in these ways, but damn it sure beats doing nothing at all, doesn’t it? It’s free, it’s within our control, and each small effort to be kind, and compassionate, and considerate has the power to truly change the world in some small way as it ripples across the consciousness of humanity.
Choose your words and actions with care – because it does actually matter.
You have the power to make the world a better place. Will you though?
I’m sitting at the trailhead, waiting for the sun. There’s an owl somewhere very close, and I listen to it’s calls in the pre-dawn darkness. The sky is clear and starry, with a pale small crescent moon visible. A breeze stirs the tops of the tallest meadow grasses, but it’s not enough to move the trees on the horizon in any way I can see from here. I sit quietly with my thoughts. Waiting is. I’ve become rather good at it over a lifetime.
I am thinking about time and timing and wondering how best to make time for art and for painting in such a busy period in my life… I definitely need to figure it out. I was severely grumpy yesterday evening, and only partly because I was uncomfortable from pain and annoyed by the challenges of eustachian tube dysfunction and the possible loss of perceived hearing on one side. I was also grumpy because…
I very much want to be painting. I’m itching to pick up the pastels again and feeling inspired, daily… and I can’t seem to find even a few minutes of this precious limited mortal lifetime to call my own (besides these quiet minutes in the early morning, already spent on needed self-care). I’m not bitching that there are things to be done and that I must do them. It’s more that I am irritated that the days feel so short. By the time all the things that simply must get done have been done, I am too tired for anything more than a shower and an early bedtime.
… I could do a better job of setting my priorities perhaps, or explicitly asking for help from the Anxious Adventurer…
… It’s fine. It’s temporary. I’m carrying the load for two people in so many ways right now. It’s important to note how much I really am getting done. How well I am managing it. But…yeah… I’m letting myself down in this one important way, and struggling to resolve that sometimes has me feeling really cross and also pretty fucking invisible. No one else seems to notice anything “wrong”, so long as the dishes are done, the laundry is kept caught up, and all the errands are run.
I sigh quietly with frustration, then silently acknowledge that I subtly sabotage myself on this one by enduring conditions silently (most of the time) without speaking up about my needs. Would it even matter? Oh fuck yes, it would. It does. I know this because yesterday evening I did speak up – and did it without yelling or tears or any sort of tantrum. I just said I really want to make time to paint and that I was struggling to do that because there always seems to be more expected or needed from me. My Traveling Partner made eye contact with me, looked thoughtful, and made it clear he really heard me. He suggested he might already be up to short trips out of the house, if not now, then soon..? He asked me what I need. I replied that I don’t need him to be gone. I do want to be able to set things aside and focus on art for a little while is all. He gently assured me that if I make it clear I am taking time to paint or draw or work creatively, he would not make demands on my time until I was finished. Wow. I feel heard and supported. It feels really good. And…
…Well, shit… That does leave it up to me to manage my time, set and manage expectations about what I am doing, and to follow through with and for myself. It puts my agency in my own hands… which means the choice is mine. (Maybe it has been all along?) So… Okay. Maybe tonight? After work. After dinner. I feel excited and eager. Hopeful. A little bit timid. Do I have the strength of will to choose myself over the dishes now and then? I sit in the morning darkness thinking about will and freedom and choices and responsibility. I think about agency. I think about love. It’s a nice morning for thoughts and for self-care.
… It’s important to recognize whether circumstances are holding me back… or I am. I sit with that thought until daybreak.
Here it comes, a whole new day.
It is a new day. I can choose differently. I can do more to take care of myself, and enjoy my life. I can make choices that allow me to thrive vs merely surviving while supporting hearth and home. I can invest some of my time in more of the things that matter most to me. When I get the balance wrong (and I will), I can begin again. Like today.
I smile and think about my Traveling Partner, and how much he clearly loves me. I lace up my boots, and grab my cane. It’s time to walk a mile or two and watch another sunrise. It’s time to begin, again.
I woke with the alarm this morning. It almost felt like sleeping in. I stepped out onto the trail just at daybreak. The morning air has a chilly quality and the sky was clear and starry. Nice morning for walking. I’m glad I wore a warm sweater. Feels like fall is just around the next bend.
The sunrise begins with hues of orange and a hint of lavender down low on the edge of the horizon. Pretty. I walk on, watching the sky lighten and the colors change as the sunrise continues.
There’s a lot of promise in a sunrise.
Most of any “free time” this weekend has been spent on quality of life improvements like building new bookshelves for my Traveling Partner, and running routine errands or doing chores. I wouldn’t call it restful at all, just different kinds of work than what I would be doing on a work day. With my partner still needing post-surgical recovery support, there’s not room for much else in a day besides work… and other work.
I sigh as I walk, feeling the depth of my frustration with the limitations of a 24-hour day. I’d really like to be painting. I feel inspired by my walks, and by my thoughts, and there just aren’t enough moments left over in a day by the time all the errands and housekeeping are done. Having the Anxious Adventurer on hand is no small thing and I am grateful; I’m no longer facing exhaustion moment by moment, I just don’t have time for anything but essentials, aside from a few spare minutes here and there when I can pick up the book I am reading, and read another page or three (rarely more than that before someone wants my attention). It’s not ideal, but it’s temporary and I am managing to mostly make it work.
…I stop at my halfway point to write and reflect…
I’m looking forward to a return to some kind of normalcy when I can read, paint, camp, and be – on my own terms, doing what I love, for myself. Another sigh and a big breath of fresh morning air. Being real about things, it’s probably weeks or months away, and then the busy holiday season will be here.
… Well, shit. My Traveling Partner pings me a greeting and a request to come home and make coffee. Maybe I’ll get a second walk in later today. Looks like, for now, I’ll need to begin again. I finish this sentence and head back to the car.
Evening Light 