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Breathe. Be.

August 25, 2024 //
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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.

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Categories Allegories, art and the artist, autumn, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, Frustration, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, Love, meditation, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, Summer, The Art of Being

What Are You Practicing?

August 24, 2024 //
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We become what we practice. Prove me wrong. When I practice being calm, I become a calmer person. When I practice listening I become a better listener. When I practice kindness, I become more inclined to be kind, generally.

…If I practice being angry, I become more easily angered, more often, and more likely to react with anger to circumstances and people that may not warrant such a reaction at all…

When I practice perspective and consideration, my perspective on life deepens, and I become more considerate.

The next conversation you have with someone may determine whether you continue to have the relationship you do. Good or bad. More connected or more distant. The words you choose and the emotions you embody become reality. A real experience being experienced. A memory being made.

Who are you? Who is that other person to you? If you live as the person you most want to be, how will you behave? What are you choosing to practice?

The way ahead is not always clear. It’s still your path, and you choose your direction and your steps.

You have choices. Choose wisely.

I reached the trailhead before daybreak, park gate still closed. I’m okay with that. I find the quiet solitary time necessary to my well-being and sometimes hard to snatch from a busy day. I enjoy every quiet moment that I happen upon. I sit awhile and reflect before I ever reach for my device, listening to the sound of traffic on the highway, and the ringing in my ears that never ceases and rarely diminishes.

A morning well-suited to solitary reflection.

The gate opens with a sort of screeching creaking sound. This morning my plan is to walk the entire loop trail around the marsh, (3 miles), then cut over to the river trail, and walk that out and back (1 mile each way) for a 5 mile walk. Goals. I change into my boots, remembering to grab my water bottle, my cane, my lightweight collapsible 3-legged camp stool, and a beautiful tangerine for later. The sky begins to lighten, and the fog begins to lift. Nice day for a walk with my thoughts.

I stand ready at the beginning of the marsh trail, listening for a moment, before  I begin. I breathe the meadow-sweet air at the edge of the marsh. I feel vaguely sleepy under the cloudy gray sky. I sigh to myself as I step forward; no beautiful sunrise this morning and it looks like rain.  As an afterthought, I grab my lightweight rain poncho and stuff it in my back pocket, “just in case”, and head down the trail.

Weed or wildflower? It’s largely a matter of context and perspective.

Sometime later, I stop at my decision-making point, where the marsh trail and river trail intersect. Walk on? Three miles or five? I unfold my little camp stool and take a seat to rest a moment. The air is cool and fresh and scented with something that seems at once both floral and spicy. I breathe, exhale, and relax. This moment is mine to enjoy however I wish. I choose gratitude, contentment, and joy, sitting here with my solitary thoughts.

…It really doesn’t have to be more complicated. Choose. Practice. We become what we practice…

I can’t tell you how to live your life. I’m just pointing out that you have (and make) choices. If your emotional experience of life is characterized by anger, frustration, and disappointment, which definitely sucks, you have the opportunity every day to choose (and practice) something very different. Life isn’t something inflicted upon you; you are living your experience. You choose your words, your actions, and to a large degree even your thoughts. If you don’t enjoy life as you live it now, choose to live it differently. The choices (and consequences of those choices) are yours.

… Sometimes growth and progress are uncomfortable. Sometimes we have to work harder, and go farther. Sometimes we have to chuck out what hasn’t worked and begin all over again. I look down the trail ahead of me. Five miles. I choose to walk on, and go further. I collapse my folding stool and sling it over my shoulder. It’s time to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, anger, Anxiety, Brain Injury, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, Frustration, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, inspiration, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, Summer, The Art of Being, weight loss secrets

Learn From It and Let It Go

August 23, 2024 //
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I’m sitting quietly with my coffee, reflecting on recent days, resilience, self-care, love, and the sometimes limited success of “doing my best”. My results definitely vary. Very human. I keep practicing.

A new day, a new beginning.

I reached the trailhead before daybreak, and it began to rain (again) just as the sky lightened enough to walk it safely. So… I wait for a break in the rain. I don’t mind; it’s lovely quiet time to write, meditate, and reflect on recent successes and joy. Time well-spent on a self-care practice that matters more than it seems it should, for such a small thing. I definitely need this quiet solitary time in order to truly thrive.

Yesterday was peculiarly difficult until my Traveling Partner realized he had made an error with his medication that affected his experience in a negative way. He asked me to resume helping him by setting up his medications for him. He still needs my help for now, and I am happy to provide it. Taking a careful, considerate, and collaborative approach, he told me what he needs, I got it together and set up for the night and first thing this morning. Later today I’ll set it up for the afternoon and evening. So far, this feels like a good approach, appropriate to where he is with his recovery.

The evening was a quiet one. I went to bed early enough to get a good night of rest, and even slept through the night (rare for me). I woke feeling rested and comfortable in my skin. It’s a pleasant feeling and a good start to the day. My pain is not a big deal for the moment, even my headache is only about a 2 out of 10, this morning. I sit with that awareness for a while, just enjoying it. Enjoying – savoring – these good moments, however small, is a profoundly powerful tool for building emotional resilience.

This morning I plan to give my Traveling Partner some quiet time for rest. I’ll start work a little later, maybe run some errands before then (after my walk). The cloudy sky revealed by the dawn promises more rain to come, but for the moment it has stopped raining. I grab my boots and my cane. Time for that walk. I smile, enjoying the lush hues of green of the trees and blackberry thickets along the edge of the meadow beyond this parking lot and think about painting the scene in pastels. Maybe this weekend? I sigh contentedly to myself. It looks like a good time to begin again.

Breathe, exhale, relax. Begin again.
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Categories Allegories, art and the artist, Brain Injury, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, Summer, The Art of Being

Such Loving Words

August 21, 2024 //
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He said, almost as an afterthought, “I forget about your brain damage sometimes, because you generally handle things so well.” I don’t recall where that conversation went, now, but the remark itself lingers. A compliment? I think so…? It’s complicated, like finding the right balance between just living life and reminding people now and then that there is brain damage, and that it is very much a part of my day-to-day experience.

… I continue to think about my Traveling Partner’s loving words. Those. Others. 14 years together. We’ve been through some things. This bit of chaos, here, now? Part of the journey. Opportunities to grow, to do better, to become better partners, are plentiful right now. I hope to take advantage of many of them. I see my partner embracing those opportunities, too. We’re both very human, and this is a very human journey.

New beginnings, new perspective.

I started my walk just before sunrise, at first light. My pace is improving, my strength, too. Staying on top of my self-care requires diligence and focus. Sometimes I feel like I’d rather just… sleep.  Yesterday evening, I chose (with my partner’s encouragement) to go to bed early and get a proper night’s sleep. I woke feeling rested and started the day feeling pretty good. Yesterday I also tried a capsaicin patch for a particular pain that seems caused by my neck, and is intensely distracting at its worst. I’m surprised, but it actually did really help. (Please don’t tell me if this is a placebo effect! I’d rather have the relief.)

At some point yesterday, it was difficult to dismiss my partner’s assertion that I was “holding my breath” in response to my pain. I clearly was. I caught myself several times. Annoying. It’s not at all helpful to stop fucking breathing! As I walked this morning I focused on “staying with my breath”. It seems irritating and silly to have to practice breathing for fucks sake, but here I am. Then I laugh out loud; skillful, practiced breath work is part of so many things! Why do I even fuss about it? I sleep with a CPAP machine, because I frequently stop breathing while I sleep. Why would I expect that this concern would somehow just not be a thing simply because I am awake?

A momentary traveling companion along the way.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. My anxiety isn’t bad this morning. My recent “11” is a more manageable “2”, today. Win. I finish my walk, and prepare to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, Anxiety, Brain Injury, breathe, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, Love, meditation, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, The Art of Being

Here. Now. Breathe.

August 20, 2024 //
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I take a quick gulp of my iced coffee and lace up my boots to get a quick walk in, before the work day begins. My thoughts are with my Traveling Partner. I am already dealing with feelings of guilt and regret for agreeing to come into the office today. I hope to make it a fairly short day, which causes me some anxiety. No reason for that (the anxiety), really, my boss and my work team have been very supportive of the time I have needed to take to support my partner, first while injured, and now following his surgery.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I remind myself that anxiety is a liar. I remind myself that my Traveling Partner was okay with me going into the office today, and that he’s been making great progress on his recovery, and even that he won’t be alone all day because he has a friend coming around to visit a little later. I still feel distracted by the distance from my partner, concerned for his well-being, and worried in an abstract persistent way. Perhaps this is a predictable bit of the slow return to normalcy? I sigh and grab my cane; I no longer take walks without it.

Every journey begins somewhere.

I get back to the car, fleece unzipped, warmed through from walking briskly, and pleased to have covered a good distance in half my usual time. Sunrise is just getting going. Daybreak comes much later than a few weeks ago. My back aches this morning and my tinnitus is loud in my ears, but my headache isn’t particularly bad, and that feels like a win. It’s enough to build the day on. I sit for a moment watching the clouds hustle across the morning sky, shades of gray with hints of blue. I sip my coffee and breathe the meadow-sweet air. This is a pleasant moment. I don’t rush it, instead I linger here long enough to really feel it.

Last week is a blur; too much too fast, too tense, too emotional, and too little sleep. I’m glad it’s behind me; it may have been one of the most emotionally difficult weeks of my life. It sure feels that way from this vantage point, but it’s still very “fresh”, and no doubt my perspective is skewed. I breathe, exhale, and relax. I let it go (at least for now; there’s more to learn from that experience).

Hints of pink in the clouds skittering by remind me to check the time. I finish swapping back from boots to shoes. I take my morning meds with a swallow of coffee and silently complain about the pain I’m in, before thinking about the pain my partner still experiences as he heals and the many months of more severe pain he had to endure to get to this point. Perspective. (In spite of the many tense moments between us recently, I miss him dreadfully right now, although I am only 20 miles away, and only for a couple hours at this point.)

I sigh and admit to myself the inevitable; it’s time to begin again.

Like it or not, you’ve got to walk your own mile.

[Some time about 2 hours later]

It sometimes feels as if “life” and “change” are entirely interchangeable words. On my way between my walk and the office, my Traveling Partner phoned. He needed my help, and it really highlighted the necessity. Non-negotiable; I need to be there. I turned the car around immediately and headed back. It’s one thing to be away an hour, maybe two, but all day? I can’t. I really can’t. Not yet. Fuck.

I reach out to my work team and reset expectations. No problem there; everyone’s good with it. I reach out to the Anxious Adventurer; can he be there sooner, and be immediately helpful while I’m on my way back? He can. I feel relieved, and alert my Traveling Partner that help is on the way – and I am, too. Change is.

It’s later. My partner is resting. I’m settled into work. “Nothing to see here.” It’s a Tuesday. I’ve got this cup of coffee, and this day plan in front of me. Routine? Hardly. It is what it is… And what it is, is time to begin again. Again.

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Categories Allegories, Anxiety, Brain Injury, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, Summer, The Art of Being
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