I walked down the trail this morning, with my thoughts and a smile. I feel pretty good, in spite of arthritis pain, in spite of a handful of chronic conditions that do slow me down (but generally don’t stop me). I’m grateful for the changes in health science that find me, at almost 63, in the same relatively good health as my grandparents were in their forties. Progress.
[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]
I do my best to take care of myself. It’s vexing when the guidance changes over time, but that is a necessary consequence of progress. Unfortunately, it’s also an unfortunate consequence of human stupidity or corruption and greed, and it’s sometimes less than obvious where changes have come from. Right now, it’s mostly pretty obvious, because the fucking clown car of corrupt greedy assholes in our government are like cartoon villains, and pretty easy to spot.
This morning the only thing that matters, really, is this moment here, and this path I’m walking.
Where does this path lead?
It’s a lovely mild Spring morning. I think of dear friends, faraway, and remind myself to reach out. Life is precious and too short. Our best moments are in the company of our dear friends.
I think about the garden. It rained during the night. If the afternoon is warm it will be a great time to plant new starts. I remind myself to get going on that.
It’s a short work day ahead. The Anxious Adventurer is coming by a little later to complete some moving details, and help move things around after his furniture is moved out. It’s a milestone and a bittersweet moment. I’ll admit, I have mixed feelings about it; it could have gone quite differently. Ah, but here we all are with choices made and actions in progress. I’m looking forward to having my space back, and my own bathroom, and enough room to paint, and more privacy for sex with my Traveling Partner (no kidding, that’s just real).
We choose our path and walk it. I watch the full moon setting. It’s time to begin, again.
Get it while it lasts. I stepped onto the trail this morning feeling lighthearted and merry. I slept well and deeply. I woke feeling rested. I caught a glimpse of a beautiful moon setting through Spring clouds, stormy looking but only a threat of sprinkles, here.
[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]
It’s definitely Spring here, now. Things are green, all around, and each morning some flower or tree begins to bloom. There’s enough pollen in the air some days to dust my black Mazda in a fine dusting of yellow. I sneezed walking down the trail, grateful to have remembered to add an allergy remedy to my morning medication, and remembered to stuff a travel pack of tissues in my pocket. It passes. Tree pollen gets me, just a couple species, but common here. I don’t let it stop me walking, as I said, it’s not that bad. I walk on to my halfway point and stop to write and watch daybreak become dawn. Soon enough every step will be in daylight.
A sprinkle of fine misty rain dots my phone screen. I don’t do anything about that. I’m sitting quietly thinking about my garden for some little while. Funny that the thought of various laborious tasks seem less daunting in spite of knowing that the Anxious Adventurer won’t be around to help with those, very soon. It’s the emotional labor involved in working with or alongside him; it’s too much, and often undermines the value of his help. I’m not complaining, just an observation.
I needed the help while I had it, and don’t need it so much now that my Traveling Partner is so much improved. I move slower than I did at 30. I plan with greater care, and have to account for physical limitations that change as I age. Sometimes I have to do things quite differently than I once did, but I am quite capable, and using my muscles keeps them strong. I’m eager to be in the garden again.
Another new day, another step on the path.
I’m not looking at the news. I know it’s bad. War mongers war-mongering, profit-seekers seeking profits, billionaire nihilists are assuring us all that their greed and destruction are good for society, pronatalists are begging everyone to have more babies, while christian nationalists remind us they only want white babies. What a fucking mess. I don’t need to indulge in the consumption of repetitive slop about that bullshit, not because it isn’t real (it very much is) or doesn’t matter (it definitely does), not even because I’m powerless (I have the power to choose wisely and speak truth to power), it’s just that I am choosing differently now, and this moment is mine.
I breathe, exhale, and relax. The Spring air is fresh and scented with flowers. The sky is a rainy day gray. I smile contentedly, thinking about love and laughter and roses that need weeding. I glance at the time and get ready to begin again. I chose this path, and I will walk it with purpose.
Wow! I am so proud of the people of this rural county, and the surrounding communities in the area. The turn out for various local No Kings protests was amazing. This is an area that mostly voted for Trump. It’s good to see them objecting to fascism, explicitly, as well as standing proud and defiant against foreign wars. Seeing them lining the main streets of the towns of Yamhill county was an impressive and moving sight. I didn’t take pictures; I don’t want to put people at risk of retaliation.
…It gives me hope…
[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]
My Traveling Partner came home from his trip to the city a little early, yesterday. I was happy to have him back, though I was enjoying my solitude. I enjoy his company. The evening was a pleasant one. Pizza and a movie, delightfully wholesome.
I slept in this morning (for some values of “sleeping in”, and woke to find my beloved relaxing at the dining table. Instead of rushing off to catch the sunrise, I stayed for coffee and we lingered over conversation until the Anxious Adventurer was also up for the day, getting ready for a work shift. Eventually I left, and drove up the highway to the trailhead at the nature park nearby, grateful to have enjoyed that time at home; moments are fleeting and unrepeatable.
…”Each time for the first time, each moment the only moment.” Be here, now. Ichi-go ichi-e.” Life is for living…
I chuckled to myself as I drove up the highway. The gray dawn had already come, and there was no colorful sunrise, only a smattering of raindrops. I’m glad I took time for coffee with my Traveling Partner. Time well spent.
This moment, too, is worth living.
The Spring greens of the meadow and marsh are almost luminous as I step down the trail. The forecast suggests temperatures are too chilly for planting, but the plants that are growing wild disagree. The forecasted frost for this morning never came to pass, and the morning is mild and a bit drizzly. I expect I’ll be in the garden later. The thought makes me smile as I walk.
I sigh contentedly, at my halfway point, and take a seat on a fence rail. For a moment, fascists and corrupt billionaires and politicians aren’t on my mind at all. I’m watching the marsh creatures beginning the day, and tasting the Spring on the breeze. Occasional raindrops tickle my face, but it’s not really raining. The oaks are waking, and the trees in the distance have taken on a green haze. It’s all quite beautiful. No bombs, no craters, no rubble; it’s pretty shameful that we make so much effort to destroy the peace and beauty of Spring in other lands. We’re not the “good guys” we claim to be, as a nation.
I sigh again, this time with a certain tired resignation. “Resist,” I remind myself. It really does matter. Speak truth to power. Do not yield to corruption or cruelty. Live the values that lead you on the path to becoming the person you most want to be. Choose wisely. Persist. We become what we practice. I smile thinking how often I repeat such lessons and aphorisms to myself. Each represents some step on this path, and some moment of recognition and learning.
I get to my feet and tackle a side trail with a short distance that is a bit steep. I have to work for this, it tests my fitness a little, but it tests my janky ankle rather a lot. It’s worth it. The view isn’t great, but the feeling of getting there is. Few people come this way. It’s a quiet spot for meditation and writing. It’s an opportunity for a new perspective, and a chance to begin again.
… The clock is ticking, and I’m wondering if we still have time to change the world…
I’ve started including a disclaimer on new posts asserting my refusal to use available LLM tools for writing. I’m annoyed to feel that doing so is necessary, but here we are. I like writing. Why would I cheat to be faster or more frequent, or worse – to camouflage a lack of anything to say? Ridiculous. No thank you. Keep those crappy LLM “tools” away from me. I’ll just write, thanks. 😆
[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]
In all seriousness, adding that disclaimer is at least a real action I can take to express my objection to having bullshit “AI” garbage forced on me everywhere. I don’t like it. I don’t use it. I’d prefer to keep my own mind sharp, and also to take the time to learn new things myself.
Getting an early start on a new day.
Brunch with a friend, later, on the other side of this trail. I’m eager to enjoy brunch, but I’m in no great hurry, so I wait for the sun.
After a short wait dawn illuminates the trail and I set off, hands jammed into warm pockets.
Chilly morning. Cold. At just 2°C, it’s a colder morning than we’ve had in several weeks. I’m glad I didn’t rush to plant delicate vegetables more suited to milder weather. That has often been a temptation for me and in many years past, I’ve chosen poorly. This year I focused on the laborious work of cleaning up the garden beds, weeding, and pruning. I am impressed by my own good decision making and self-restraint, recalling years past and frozen seedlings that failed to thrive. I inhale the cold air of early Spring on the marsh. The surface of the marsh ponds are silvery, reflecting the sky as the sun rises. Nice morning, if a bit cold. I’m grateful for the warm sweater I chose this morning.
Choices matter. Actions matter more.
A flock of geese takes flight from the marsh pond behind me. I’m seated on a fence rail betwixt the pond and the trail. The flock rises almost as one and I wonder how they all knew to do so just then? They pass overhead and I pull the hood of my fleece hoodie over my head “just in case”. I consider myself fortunate; no bird poop spatters me. I sit with my gratitude. Sometimes small things leave a big impression; I was once hit by falling bird poop, and getting it out of my hair seriously grossed me out. It may never occur again. I sit considering the numbers of birds, and people, and how often a bird passes overhead, and how rarely someone is actually hit by falling bird poop. It’s not really a high risk.
Go outside anyway. Walk a trail. Smell the flowers. See a sunrise. Trying to avoid all of the obstacles and potential misadventures on life’s journey only results in a life never really lived.
Choose. Do the thing. Experience the moment. Fail, learn, and grow. Walk a path you know you have chosen for yourself. Don’t rely overmuch on your “heroes” to lead the way. They too are mortal creatures with very human failings. Topple them from their pedestals and examine the truth of who they are (or were) as people and maybe do better. It may be easier than you think.
The sunrise is pearly pink and delicate orange, this morning. The meadow grass is tipped with frost. My breath turns to mist each time I exhale. I sit with the moment, enjoying the quiet, feeling myself relax. Looking towards the far side of the marsh and meadow, I see a green haze in the treetops. Definitely Spring.
I sit awhile longer, thinking about this or that vexing circumstance. Each time a grievance or complaint rises in my consciousness demanding my attention, I look it over and ask myself two questions,
Does this really matter enough to give it attention and energy at all?
If the answer (for me) is “yes”, then what will I do about that?
If human primates put as much energy into solving their problems (or changing their circumstances) as they do just bitching about them, we’d likely have a very different world. I don’t know what that world would be like, but I do like thinking about it.
I sigh to myself, filling my lungs with cold Spring air. The wheel keeps turning. The clock keeps ticking. What will you do when it is time to begin again? I think about the path ahead of me, and get to my feet.
The moment begins with a coffee. Ethiopian beans, a medium roast, ground medium fine, to make a lovely pour-over to which I’ve added a bit of powdered vanilla and dried rose petals, before I begin the pour. I take my coffee to the garden.
I sip and I think, and I watch a blue jay, watching me. He is, I think, a blue jay who was born quite nearby, a couple years ago, and he returns to my garden each Spring, often following me around as I work in various flower beds and raised beds. When I walk away from one bit of work, he inspects it with interest, before following me to the next spot. I call him “Bob”, but he doesn’t answer to that name. Neither does he fly away startled. He often seems interested in what I have to say. lol Today he left me an acorn while I watched, and flew to a nearby branch to watch me. I pocketed his gift (and said “thank you” lol) and it is still in my pocket, now.
[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]
… Later, my Traveling Partner will point out that the blue jay I saw is probably not the same blue jay, and that their lives are rather short. I consider that, and wonder how much memory they might pass on, reminded of a video we recently watched, about butterflies. I call them all “Bob” anyway, so in some sense it hardly matters, and the jays have never objected.
The primroses are blooming.
I spent a beautiful morning in the garden, pulling weeds from the veggie bed and putting down compost. The work is unfinished, though I got quite a lot done, and that is the way of big projects, isn’t it? We work to a plan, overcome challenges, use available resources, notice some lack in the available materials… Well shit.
I ran out of compost at about the same time that I ran out of energy, and limped out of the garden reluctantly, boots muddy, muscles sore. What a lovely way to celebrate the Equinox, hands in the fertile earth – a favorite Rite of Spring. The entire time I worked in the garden, my beloved Traveling Partner was working in his shop. I could hear the music of the machines while I worked. I found particular joy and comfort to hear the sounds of my partner working.
A new day dawns. What will you do with the opportunities?
This morning I woke ahead of my alarm, and rose expecting to feel stiff from yesterday’s effort. I feel okay. Capable. Strong. All things considered, I’m not as strong as I’d like to be and have more limitations than I prefer, but I feel good today and for all observable values of “good”, I feel pretty splendid, actually. I smile as I drive to the trailhead. It’s a lovely morning to put some miles on my boots before returning home. I’ll stop for a bag of compost on my way home and go back to the garden. It is my way of celebrating the coming of Spring. Tomorrow is soon enough for laundry and whatnot.
As I cross the marsh, I listen to the robins singing their noisy morning song, and geese calling to each other overhead. Lovely morning for walking, and I have the trail alone, too. The solitude feels like a gift. I grin and think of my Traveling Partner, sleeping at home. I’m glad he’s getting the rest he needs. He’s in the middle of a job and needs to be rested in order to be focused, relaxed, and able to work with the full measure of his skills.
I smile, feeling incredibly loved as I recall that he’s made reservations for us to celebrate our anniversary at a Michelin starred restaurant that recently appeared on a list of “best in the nation” eateries. I’m excited to go, and even more tickled that the whole thing is his idea. I feel very loved and filled with gratitude for my partner’s recovery from injury.
I walk with my thoughts all the way to far side of the marsh, past my usual halfway point. I take a side trail I usually skip, just for fun, to the top of a hill, expecting a view out over the marsh… No such view has been preserved here, and I find myself in a grove of oaks surrounded by a dense thicket of brush and shrubbery. I’m not disappointed, just reminded how often our expectations have no direct connection to reality. It’s a pleasant spot to write and meditate, so I do that, taking a seat on a fallen tree trunk. It’s a beautiful quiet place.
I finish my writing, and my meditation, and find myself in daylight, sun up, and blue sky overhead. The garden is waiting. It’s a good time to begin again. I get to my feet and get started. The clock is ticking and this trail isn’t going to walk itself. 😁 Later, I’ll make coffee… perhaps with a hint of rose and vanilla.
Evening Light 