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A New Normal

July 11, 2024 //
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Life is beginning to develop a “new normal”. Change is, and it won’t be argued with. We adapt. Shift gears. Adjust routines. Change our habits. Resisting change, generally, is fairly pointless (especially if we chose it). How we cope with it says a lot about who we are.

My Traveling Partner and the Anxious Adventurer seem to be enjoying the new arrangement generally speaking. I’m okay with it, too. It’s pretty nice having some help while my partner is injured. I can now see a time on the horizon of my future when I won’t be chronically exhausted and on the edge of hitting some emotional or physical limitation that shuts me down and reduces my capacity to be helpful. It’s encouraging.

Having still less time to myself and less space of my own to retreat into takes getting used to. This is offset, though, by how much better things can be for my Traveling Partner, how much more skillfully his needs can be met by the two of us splitting up the work of caregiving, and how this makes it so much easier (for me) to also focus on my partner romantically and emotionally (because I am not completely run down by physical labor). Caregiving is more difficult than it may appear to someone not involved in caregiving, themselves. I’ve certainly got a newfound depth of understanding about it, personally!

I sigh quietly to myself, sitting alone on a bench along the trail, watching the sun rise. Pretty morning. Maybe less hot than it has been? I’m grateful for these quiet solitary moments.

As often happens with me, changes in my environment (and living situation) have disrupted my sleep. I wake briefly at odd times, responding to a new noise, or turning over and somehow noticing my orientation in the room is different than it had been previously, or just different than I expect. Sometimes I actually wake, maybe sit up for a moment, or read for a little while. It’s fine. It’ll pass. Annoyingly, one of these new “wake points” is at 03:00, too close to my typical time to wake up such that I can’t easily get back to sleep. lol It’ll pass. Change is, and I do adapt.

Another work day. Soon the weekend. 16 days to my coastal getaway. It’s nice having that to look forward to. There’s quite a bit of work and change to manage between now and then, but… It’s fine. Truly fine. I feel pretty good this morning, in spite of arthritis and headache pain. Pleasant morning.

I find myself missing my Traveling Partner, though we’re separated only by a handful of miles and the few minutes of travel time from finishing my walk to returning home. Humans are strange creatures prone to attachment. lol

The sun continues to rise. It’s time to finish my walk and get on with the day. It’s a good time to begin again.

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

Taking Steps

July 10, 2024 //
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I am taking steps, this morning, both literally and figuratively. In the literal sense, I am up early, before dawn, and on the trail. Steps. In the figurative sense I am putting a plan in motion to ease my persistent fatigue and get some better rest. I made reservations for a couple days away, at the end of July, to get some solitary restful time with my thoughts and my pastels. The former feels quite routine, the latter quite necessary, but I guess they both have all those qualities – they’re just different practices that I use to care for this fragile vessel.

Daybreak

… I’m so tired…

I walk on, enjoying the brief solitary interlude I’ve learned to count on each day. A few precious minutes with my thoughts, walking my own path, just… being. Most days, I can’t really expect even one additional solitary moment that isn’t spent in a bathroom, or driving (which rarely feels solitary). There’s nearly always someone around (at home, my Traveling Partner, and at work my colleagues), and in spite of human primates being “social creatures”, I struggle to get adequate solitude, as an individual. I sigh as I walk, thinking my solitary thoughts. Most days, these minutes and miles on the trail are enough to refuel me and keep me going. It’s enough.

…A couple days of creative time on the coast will be lovely, and I am already looking forward to it…

The sunrise softens to a pale sky of pastel hues, pink and pale yellow and a streak of baby blue. Pretty. It’ll be another very hot day today, though maybe just a bit cooler than yesterday’s 106°F.

The world finds me even here in the early morning alone on this trail. My Traveling Partner pings me. Tells me about his difficult night, the pain he is in, and how he’s doing so far this morning. I stop walking to reply and decide to write these few words. (I happened to be at a convenient spot to sit for a minute, so the timing fits.)

Sometimes it feels like there is no rest, really, no real solitude, no actual “downtime”… There’s a sensation, some days, that “someone always wants a piece of me”. I breathe, exhale, and relax. There’s no reason to push myself so hard. Boundaries can be set and reinforced. I can reclaim my time and attention for myself, for my own purposes. There are verbs involved, and my results vary. Success requires practice.

Later today, we move forward with some of the planned changes around the house, making room for one more human being. Yeah, even knowing myself as I do, I agreed to this shit. 😂 It’s fine. I’m for sure not sorry to see books on shelves in the living room instead of tucked away in a small bedroom being used as a library. I enjoy books and could happily cover every wall with bookshelves.

The sunrise continues to develop as the morning warms up. The colors have shifted to a more homogeneous shade of peach (or is it a pale salmon or coral?), with a smudge of lavender smeared along the horizon. My mind wanders as I sit with my thoughts. This is also…fine. I breathe, exhale, and relax. This mile won’t walk itself! I laugh quietly and watch little birds in the recently mown grass. It’s time to get going, finish this walk, and get on with the day.

… It’s time to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, art and the artist, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, inspiration, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Practices, Relationships, Sleepless Nights, solo hiking, Summer, The Art of Being

Summer Heat

July 9, 2024 //
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This morning I woke early, watered the lawn before sunrise, and enjoyed coffee with my Traveling Partner. I left the house at more or less the usual time. Instead of an iced coffee, I picked up a bottle of water on my way to the trailhead, because I stupidly forgot to refill my water bottle. It’s going to be another hot day and I didn’t want to end up dehydrated walking the trail as the sun rises.

As I drove, the sun breached the horizon, a demonic angry red, seeming larger and more intense in the sky than on other mornings. It was such an astonishing sight that I grabbed my phone as I drove hoping to snap even one blurry picture – because that was some unbelievable shit right there! Wow. So huge in the sky and such a fierce relentless hue, it seemed as if disaster must surely be imminent. I failed to get a picture. I succeeded in not causing (or becoming victim of) a collision.

As I rounded a later curve in the road, I saw the sun, now fully above the horizon, still looking massively large in the sky, and only slightly less strange in color, a bold deep orange slowly rising in a hazy summer sky. It’s going to be another hot day for certain. I’m glad I took time to water the lawn and the garden.

Summer heat ahead. A strange mist clings to the low places.

I hit the trail and walked my miles. Returned to the car still thinking about that crazy sunrise. Climate change? Distant wildfires? Summer heat and haze?  I find myself wondering if I will ever see such a sunrise again…or will a day come when every sunrise seems to herald possible disaster or appear on the horizon as some sort of dreadful sign of worse to come? I hope not…? But what a sight!

…We may yet have a chance to avoid destroying our planet… We might want to do something with that, eh?

…It’s already past time to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, Anxiety, health, Healthy Living, inspiration, meditation, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, Summer, War and News of War

Unsolicited Advice

July 7, 2024 //
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It’s going to be another hot summer day. I remind myself unnecessarily to drink enough water (meaning, specifically, more than usual). Seems likely that the remaining summers ahead for human kind will continue to be hot and then hotter, unless something changes. Stay cool. Take care of yourself. Avoid punishing manual labor in the heat of the day. Be alert for signs of heat-related illness and take steps sooner than later.

Another hot summer day ahead.

I woke early and slipped away into the earliest hint of dawn. The morning air was still and felt somehow warmer than the 67°F than it was. Yesterday the morning felt warm at 60°F. Tomorrow it’ll no doubt feel warmer still at some higher temperature. The nights are not cooling off completely and the days are getting warmer, too. Summer.

The sun rose an irritable looking orange at the edge of a hazy pink horizon, as I drove to the trailhead. It was vivid and beautiful, particularly the view as I came around a bend in the road, with Mt Hood silhouetted a deep smudgy lavender against the vibrant colors of the dawn. I love that particular view, and I am forced to enjoy it in the moment; there’s no place to stop, there, so no opportunity to get a picture, and I never know ahead of time what beauty may appear – and quickly disappear – as I come around that bend in the road.

So here it is another day. Another hot one. I walked my walk, taking note of the increasingly warm temperatures as I walked. Drinking water. At my halfway point, I sit awhile watching and listening. I update my list of things to get done today. I drink more water. I write these few words. The warm humid morning and sense of sharing the trail (though I don’t see anyone else) push me to maintain a brisk pace, and I am eager to get home and have a shower. I’m unpleasantly sticky with sweat.

I walk on, thinking thoughts of balance, perspective, moderation, and sufficiency. I breathe, exhale, and relax, grateful to have remembered to take allergy medication this morning. I watch the sun rise as I walk, and now I am distracted by having to pee. Still drinking water.

I approached the parking lot (and the restrooms), unsurprised to see it nearly full. It’s clearly time to begin again.

… Stay cool. Be safe. Drink water. Know your physical limits. Wear sunscreen if you’re going outside. Take care of yourself; you matter. Be careful with those spoons…

An update, some time later, same day…

My Traveling Partner woke shortly after I arrived home, and not in a good mood. His sleep was interrupted and less than ideally restful. He’s had a change of medication, too, and it’s causing considerable irritability. He’s aware of it, and alerts me (and the Anxious Adventurer) of the situation, asks for our patience, and suggests we keep our distance as much as possible. Practical advice, and I plan to take it. There’s little about my to-do list that requires participation or even input from anyone, so I figure I can keep myself productively occupied for much of the day.

…First things first, a healthy breakfast salad, and a nice cup of tea…

I queue up my art video playlist for some study time over a bite of breakfast. A good beginning, suited to the day ahead, beating the heat. Next, after breakfast, I’ll tackle the housekeeping chores while the day is still cool… I may even paint with these new pastels, today! 😀 I sip my tea and hope that my partner’s experience of the day improves once he is fully awake, and has had his coffee. If not then, I hope he finds a suitable opportunity to begin again, and finds his success there.

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Categories Allegories, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Summer, The Art of Being

A New Day, A New Beginning

July 5, 2024 //
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I slept well in spite of the noise of fireworks going off well into the night. I woke occasionally and quickly sank back into sleep. I woke up at my usual early hour, no alarm set at all. I rose, dressed, and slipped away quietly into the early light of a summer dawn.

It’s a lovely morning. The sunrise began with streaks of peach and pink clouds across a hazy mostly clear sky. It’s going to be hot today.

I find myself straddling past moments of recollection and future moments of speculation, in this pleasant quiet “now”. The paved portion of this trail is quiet beneath my feet. Small birds explore the weeds and grass for tasty bits as I walk past. The air feels soft on my skin and I hear the sound of distant traffic… and my tinnitus. Squirrels play, chasing each other up and down and around the trunks of trees along the trail. I breathe and walk.

… Summer…

I let my thoughts wander freely as I walk. My Traveling Partner’s surgery is scheduled. I’m not fretting over that; I’m hopeful. Grateful. Eager to see him well (repaired?). I’m thinking ahead to getting some real downtime, sometime beyond the most critical recovery time immediately following his surgery. I’m eager to have a few days alone, spent on creative work and solitary reflection, unconstrained by the requirements of caregiving and service to hearth and home. I’m tired frankly, and any rest I get and all the resilience I can build, have been almost immediately consumed by the next need, week after week, for months. I’m not even complaining; I have been needed and also appreciated. My Traveling Partner has shown me great consideration, love, and gratitude, and I have no resentment in my heart. I’m just tired and eager for him to be himself at 100% again.

I don’t yet have anything specific in mind. Camping? A hotel holiday on the coast? A trip to some glittering metropolis? A quiet stay in some remote bed and breakfast? A stay at some monastery that hosts retreats? “Spin the wheel” and just show up at the airport or train station and grab the next cheap seat to somewhere at random and figure it out when I get “there”? Options.

Rather unrealistically, I want to be sitting in my Granny’s kitchen on a lazy summer morning, listening to the sound of seabirds and the tides changing along the marshy edge of Mine Creek. I’d like to make a cup of fairly terrible drip coffee and pour it over ice, and take it out to the porch, with my pastels and my sketchbook, and while away the cool morning painting landscapes of the shore along Frenchtown Rd. My heart aches for qualities of peace and serene beauty and the joy of solitary moments I don’t find often these days. The world is complicated and messy, as are human beings with their violence and villainy, their petty deceits and corruption. Peace is sometimes hard to find, and difficult to cultivate. I feel momentarily homesick for places that no longer exist outside my memory, and a bit lonely for people dear to me who are gone now.

… Strangely sentimental morning…

The sky is a brilliant clear blue as I finish this bit of writing. The morning is beginning to warm up already. It’s time to head back up the trail to the car, and back to the house to start the work day. I sigh to myself and remember to take my morning medication. It’s already time to begin again…

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Categories Allegories, art and the artist, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, inspiration, loneliness, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, Summer, The Art of Being, Uncategorized
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