Archives for category: Healthy Living

Today is “Pi day”. 😁 Pi day has always put a smile on my face since it became a thing I was aware of. Eat some pie. Celebrate some fun with numbers. Maybe take time to learn more about pi as a number. Have a little fun, and remember that math doesn’t change based on whether you understand it. You can learn it, it’s just a different language.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I reached the trailhead sometime after daybreak, just as sunrise began, but the clouds were positioned such that it wasn’t particularly colorful. A thin crescent moon hangs over the farm fields that become a seasonal lake with the autumn rain. This year it was Spring before that happened, and it is not the dramatic change it usually is.

A new day and an opportunity to begin again.

The marsh is soggy. The seasonal trail is flooded in places and not safe to walk. The all season trail is less fraught with obstacles and unlikely to be impassable at any point. It takes me alongside the Tualatin river, and there’s a very nice place to sit, there. I head out content to walk with my thoughts awhile. It’s enough.

Spring feels like it’s already here.

When I reach this “view point”, I stop and sit with my thoughts awhile. It is as different a day from yesterday as it possibly could be. I feel comfortable, contented, and unbothered. I feel lighthearted and wrapped in love. Feelings are feelings. Feelings are not rooted in factual objective circumstances. I’m okay with letting yesterday’s feelings go; they are part of yesterday. That was s different moment, a moment that has passed. I don’t benefit from clinging to it.

Little birds flit among the still bare branches of the trees and shrubs around me. I watch them with delight. This moment is enough just as it is. Later, I’ll begin again, for now I’ll just be here, enjoying the moment I’ve got.

It’s a rainy morning. I reach the trailhead ahead of the sun and listen to the rain falling. I watch an interesting video, and wait for a break in the rain. I pull my rain poncho from my gear bin when I get my opportunity and set off down the trail in the darkness.

Even once I get to this convenient stopping point more or less midway, I’m still groggy. I’m struggling to really wake up. It’s my own fault, I guess. I woke around 03:00 having to pee, and went back to bed although my wake-up time was only a couple hours away. As I drifted back to sleep I remember thinking I was for sure at risk of achieving deep sleep but waking too soon. Getting up at that hour wouldn’t allow for a second sleep, and would have been much too early. I’d have risked resetting my sleep cycle. I sigh to myself. Groggy it is then, I guess.

I’m in more pain than I’ve been enduring most mornings lately. It’s annoying, but demonstrates how effective the new medication really is. I’m grateful for the medical science that produces effective medication and the agencies that oversee and assure quality and safety. I’m appalled by fuckwits attacking science, medicine, and safety standards. Fucking hell, fund the right stuff you giant jackasses. Healthcare instead of bombs, maybe? Also, get vaccinated, and only vote for knowledgeable ethical people to represent you in government. (And if your response is that there are no ethical politicians, I’ll point out that this may be the heart of the problem.)

I sigh to myself. I’m cranky with pain, waiting for my medication to kick in.

I sit with my thoughts awhile. There will be more rain. That’s the sort of place we live. Rainy, often. I’m okay with that. I like the rain. Anyway, it passes. Change is.

I’m slowly becoming chilly. It’s not especially cold, just chilly and damp. I regret not wearing an extra sweater or a base layer, but it’s fine. I get to my feet and get ready to begin again. I look down the trail as the rain begins to fall, and walk on.

Chilly morning. It’s not seriously cold, but at 4.4C (40F), I definitely feel the air as chilly this morning. The morning feels darker than it has been at this time of morning. (Time for America’s idiotic attempt to force daylight to follow a new schedule. Ridiculous.)  None of this matters much. I’m rested, more or less over my cold, and feeling merry.

It’s Monday.

I started down the trail in the darkness, the light from my headlamp bobbing along with the steady beat of my footsteps. The feeling of merriment percolates within me. A new day is ahead of me and I feel loved and encouraged, which is a great way to begin a day (and a week).

There’s a new (muddy) temporary detour on this trail due to construction (and agriculture). I step carefully, avoiding slipping or falling. I’m grateful I knew the detour would be where it is. Unexpected muddy detours in the darkness are a more serious hazard than those detours I know to expect. This is true in life as well.

As I walk I think ahead to coffee. I pull myself back to this moment here, and immediately find myself reflecting on the weekend. I pull my focus back to this moment, again, and walk on. Eventually I reach my halfway point and write a few words with stiff fingers. Chilly morning. I’m okay with it.

… and if I weren’t okay with it? What then? 😆

I reflect awhile on the challenge of finding balance between simply being and self-awareness. I watched an interesting (and deeply considered) video about self-awareness yesterday. It provided food for thought and a lot of nuance to something I hadn’t considered so deeply before, myself.  I’ll probably watch it again.

Daybreak finally touches the sky. I can make out the trail now, without my headlamp. A useful metaphor for life and experience, I suppose. I smile to myself and prepare to begin again.

This morning I slept in, even accounting for the change to Daylight Savings Time, and in spite of this head cold, which is much better today.

Spring comes to the marsh and meadow, and the oaks on the hillside.

I get to the trailhead equipped with new boots and a smile that feels too big for this moment. I’m enjoying the glow of being so deeply loved, and the recollection of a leisurely coffee with my Traveling Partner this morning. It was quite delightful. Right now, nothing matters more.

Where do you find your peace? How do you restore your resilience when it’s tested? How do you recharge your batteries? Are you doing enough of those things to feel well and whole and reliably content? Just questions I asked myself on the way down the path – many times over the years, actually – and they reverberate through my consciousness as my steps took me down the trail this morning. Lovely morning for it.

… Right now, feeling wrapped in love and filled with contentment and gratitude, I am as happy as I have ever been. This is a happy moment. I marveled at it as my steps crunched down the trail, cane in hand, smiling. This is a truly wonderful feeling. I savor this feeling and the moments that lead me here this morning. I chuckle to myself happily; I feel safe from self-sabotage, because I’m also comfortably aware that “this too will pass”. Moments are fleeting, and it’s best to enjoy them without getting attached. 😁

I breathe, exhale, and relax. No coughing. I think I’m getting past the worst of this cold and beginning to recover.

I am fortunate to be so loved. I’m grateful that the most profound love of my lifetime is also my friend. I’m grateful for the depth of our connection and these years of joy and growth that we’ve shared. I’m deeply appreciative for the opportunities we’ve taken to lift each other up and offer encouragement and wisdom won through facing life’s challenges individually (and together).

I sit swinging my feet and looking out over the marsh. It is less solitary at this time of the morning, and I see hikers and photographers out on the trail, on the other side of the marsh. Ahead of me or behind me, I can’t tell. We’re fellow travelers on a path we hope will take us where we want to go. It’s figuring out the destination that is the tricky bit, isn’t it? That, and not being distracted by some other traveler’s journey. We’re each having our own experience. Sometimes it takes awhile to figure out that the journey is the destination.

I smile happily, enjoying the moment. It’s enough. Later, I’ll begin again.

The hot (so hot) coffee is soothing on my still raw feeling throat and warm in my hands. The morning is mild, and it rained during the night. This lingering cold was complicating my morning, so I picked up coffee on my way to the trailhead instead of after.

It was a good choice. Walking and drinking coffee at the same time makes for a slower, relaxed walk. I reach the halfway point at daybreak, even though I got started earlier than I have been.

Taking the moments as they come, enjoying them as they are.

I set my coffee down and reach for a tissue – and manage to kick over my coffee cup clumsily. Well, shit. I sigh to myself and shrug, picking up the cup. It’s not quite empty. I finish what’s left and crush the cup flat, and put it in my pocket.

Spilled coffee is not exactly high tension disaster. Once, a long time ago now, it might have been too much to bear, or felt like heartbreaking misfortune, in an unexpectedly fragile moment. My resilience was so poor then that any harsh word could crush me completely, and any misadventure, however minor, would wreck my day. I was aggressive, easily triggered, and prone to explosive emotional outbursts inappropriate in adult behavior. It’s not like that now, after years of practicing practices and building emotional resilience. Now I can even hear about heinous acts of pointless violence, and endure, without hours of weeping or withdrawal. I no longer “bear the weight of the world” on my own shoulders…at least not every day, all the time, until it crushes me like a paper cup. I make other choices and protect my peace.

I walk my own path.

…I care, and I do what I can, and freely speak my mind on troubling events in the world, and having taken care of my own heart, and my own peace, I can be more effective and speak with greater clarity…

I watch the gray rainy dawn bring a new day. It’s an ordinary enough day. Work…then the weekend, and the first trail mile in new boots. I’m looking forward to it. This stupid head cold vexes me. I could do more, better, without it. I sigh and start a coughing fit. Once it passes I breathe the fresh air deeply. It already tastes of Spring.

The new medication for my neuropathic pain actually seems to help fairly profoundly without making me stupid, knocking me out, or causing some nasty side effect worse than the pain. I’m enjoying the improvement. It has even “turned down the volume” on my tinnitus quite a bit. I’m grateful to my Traveling Partner for encouraging me to keep seeking a solution, and for sharing his experience on various medications he’s been given. We are not “the same”, but we are both human, and have similar physical challenges. Similar enough in some cases to learn a lot from talking about our experiences together, and supporting each other. I am fortunate to have this partnership.

A soft misty sprinkle begins to fall. No winter here, this year, not really. I sigh and chuckle; I enjoy the misty rain drops on my face. Still… the rain gets me to my feet, ready to begin again.

However straight and obvious life’s path seems at a glance… I can’t quite see where it leads.