Archives for category: Healthy Living

The clear night sky sprinkled with stars has given way to pink streaks of clouds across a pale blue sky. I sit at my halfway point on this trail watching the sun rise.

Each sunrise is the promise of a new day.

My anxiety commandeered my dreams at some point during the night. My Traveling Partner somehow breeched the fragile boundary between reality and dreams, calling me back from The Nightmare City with a question. I don’t remember the question, and I’m not sure whether he actually woke me (or, if he did, why). I got up briefly to pee and went back to sleep. I woke gently, without anxiety, and the morning has been pleasant and otherwise routine.

The morning felt quite mild, initially, but as I sit on a favorite fence rail, I begin to feel the autumn chill. I’m grateful for this sweater, and the fleece I threw on over it at the last minute, as I got out of the car in the darkness. I sit enjoying the sunrise, and the sky turns from pink stripes to streaks of thin white clouds and blue skies. It’s a lovely morning. I’m taking my time with it.

My Traveling Partner pings me a good morning greeting and asks about my plans. He’s enjoying his morning, too. I mention an errand I plan to take care of before I return home – having completely forgotten it no longer needs to be done. He gently reminds me. I laugh heartily, out loud – it’s the sort of thing that could frustrate me to tears under some circumstances. This morning it’s harmless, inconsequential, and amusing, and I consider the difference in perspective that allows it to be funny, this time.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. It’s been a lovely weekend, filled with loving moments and good fortune, and these stand out from the moments of stress that also occurred. It’s nice to feel so positive, and to have developed an outlook on life that allows me to bounce back from stress so much more easily than any younger version of me knew how to do. If I could, I’d go back in time and share what I have learned with that younger me. Instead, I share that here, with you.

…We become what we practice…

A small sparkling highlight this weekend was stopping for groceries yesterday morning; the Checker returned my keys to me! I’d misplaced them days ago, and hadn’t found them. I had resigned myself to the likelihood that they were lost. She had carefully held on to them, waiting to see me again on an upcoming weekend. Having them returned to me gives me a feeling of hope that probably exceeds the moment, and I’m okay with that. Feeling hopeful is far better than feeling that everything is pointless or futile.

Such a small thing.

There’s an entire new day ahead. It’s a Sunday, and most of the day will be housework and chores and getting ready for a new week – and I’ll be doing things from a hopeful perspective, and spending time in the company of my Traveling Partner. Sounds like a good way to spend time.

I look down the trail. Several small groups of people approach, some distance away on the other side of the meadow. I get to my feet – it’s time to begin again.

I am staring at this blank page. Have been for a few minutes, since I reached my halfway point on the trail this morning. Words are not coming easily this morning.  Too much that I could write about, very little that I want to write about.

I could write about difficult conversations… We all have them now and then, and… I’m already not really feeling like saying more. I mean, having the hard conversations really matters, and having them from a kind and well-intentioned perspective is generally a good approach. What else is there to say?

I could write about how convincingly complex scams can be, and encourage you to protect yourself. This too, in spite of how much it could matter, isn’t anything I really feel like throwing more words at this morning.

I could write about the critical importance of good manners, kindness, and consideration, even within our most intimate relationships… But it seems a little obvious. Too obvious to be said, again.

I could write about work, life, art, gardening – I could use some recent moment as an example or as a metaphor. I just don’t feel like it, just now. My mind wanders and I am more inclined to simply enjoy this moment, here. On the horizon, in the distance, hot air balloons rise as shadowy shapes against the pale peach and tangerine hues of the morning sky.

Oaks along the trail

I breathe, exhale, and relax. The morning is a chilly one. I am comfortably warm in a favorite heavy sweater. A mist is rising from the lowlands of the marsh as the sun rises on the eastern horizon. This morning this moment is my entire world – at least for now. It’s enough. I sit quietly watching the sunrise.

My tinnitus fills my awareness. I breathe, exhale, and let that go, turning my attention willfully to other sounds. “Pay no attention to the sounds that aren’t there.” I remind myself. A crow lands on the fence rail next to me, fairly close. He steps back and forth, looking me over before loudly exclaiming something in a language I don’t understand and then taking flight. The clouds over head take on mother of pearl hues, baby blue, seashell pink, it’s quite beautiful, but I don’t manage to get a picture that shows what my eyes see. So much color! I sigh to myself and give up trying, and instead just enjoy the sight. That’s enough.

My eyelids feel heavy. My back aches. I think I could happily curl up in a soft blanket and nap for awhile… but this is neither the time nor the place for napping.  My body and mind seem to plead with me to get some fucking rest, for real. I think about the things that must be done today… most of that could be done tomorrow with no great ill effects.

I sigh again as the sunrise becomes the start of a new day. I still don’t have much to say. I still want a nap. No idea what I’ll do with the day… But I know I’ll begin again, on the other end of this trail.

I slept through the night, waking to the artificial sunrise of my silent alarm. I dressed and left the house in the usual way. I arrived at the trailhead before daybreak, put on my boots, grabbed my cane, and began the trek down the trail.

I walk and breathe, my mind a mostly barren place, nothing really amounting to actually thought going on. I just walked.

… Strange morning…

My Traveling Partner pings me. No “good morning” greeting or inquiry about my state of being. Instead I get a hurt reminder that I had said I would pick up a package waiting in the mailbox. I’d forgotten, distracted by a moment of discord shortly after I got home yesterday. Shit. For the time being (and it is a recent change) we’ve only got one key to the mailbox, and picking up the mail now requires a return home to grab the key, or the foresight to take it on the way out the door. A suprisingly complicated change, once brain damage is accounted for. I sigh to myself. I do my best to do everything that needs to be done… Seems always just out of reach.

I’m now at my halfway point feeling aggravated, disappointed with myself, and fairly disinterested in interacting with “the world”… And it’s a fucking work day. Great. I ignore the slow tears dripping down my face. For the moment I have no patience with this very human experience. My Traveling Partner is having a difficult morning, himself. I do what I can to be supportive, compassionate, and kind. Maybe one of us will turn our morning around and have a good day?

I breathe, exhale, and… Well, I try to relax. I persist with trying to meditate, trying to let go of my irritability, trying to simply breathe and be… Inhale. Exhale. Repeat. How fucking hard does this shit have to be?!

Daybreak comes. I look down the trail and get to my feet. It isn’t all lovely mornings, big smiles, and beautiful sunrises. This is a very human experience, and sometimes there’s real work involved, and however “successful” the outcomes seem to be, the moment may still be quite unsatisfying or unpleasant. It is what it is. Another reason to begin again… and it’s time. I’ll do my best.

It’s a chilly morning out on the trail. I’m okay with that, I’ve got a warm sweater on. The afternoon is forecast to be cooler, too. It definitely feels like fall now. I walked briskly, hands jammed into my pockets. I forgot to grab my cane, but so far my ankle is not failing me. I get to my halfway point still steady on my feet, and the pain I am in is “only” my arthritis. That’s not stopping me – it’s not even slowing me down, it’s just annoying.

I stop and take a seat on this rock that is “my usual spot”. It’s still fairly dark, though after I turn off my headlamp, I see that daybreak is here. The sky is a hazy gray, a combination of cloudy skies and distant wildfire smoke. It’s been a pretty dry year. I find myself wishing it would rain. I sigh to myself. Wishes aren’t worth much. Yearning doesn’t take me farther along my path unless I also put in the necessary work to walk it. There are reliably verbs involved. Choices to make. Actions to take. Will and effort and follow through required. We each have to walk our own mile, and no amount of yearning or daydreaming or wishing will take us to our destination.

I sit with my thoughts awhile. Daybreak becomes a hazy gray dawn, with a streak of orange on the eastern horizon as the sunrise begins. I’m grateful to see another. For a moment I wonder how many sunrises have there been in all of human history, and whether our earliest conscious cousins among primitive people also watched the sun rise with eyes wide with wonder, enjoying the rare hues and splendid colors? Surely they must have…?

I exchange a few words with my beloved Traveling Partner as the day begins. I feel relaxed and merry in spite of pain. It is a pleasant day, so far.

The trees are green now, with hints of yellow and russet, instead of appearing as dark smudges alongside the trail. The sky is a softer hazy pale blue. The trail is clearly visible and the start of the work day is on the other side of this walk… It’s already time to begin again.

Yesterday was a beautiful and fulfilling excursion into a single prolonged moment of self-reflection and wonder. Meaning to say, it was a lovely day spent mostly in my own head.

What enlightenment looks like.

I walked miles of beach at low tide, close to the water’s edge where the sand is most firm and walkable. I ventured across slipping loose sand to explore rocks piled at the foot of steep erosion prone cliffs. I peered into tide pools ankle deep in waves as the tide turned. I walked,  and wondered as I wandered.

I saw empty limpet and crab shells on the beach, and pebbles tumbled smooth by ocean waves. I saw anemones and starfish clinging to the rocks exposed at low tide. I saw a variety of sea plants uprooted and tossed along the beach, and even corals torn from wherever they had been, and carried to the chilly Oregon beach on which I spent the morning. Name it? Nah. Go find your own. lol The adventure and satisfaction are not about the specific location, they are more to do with how I spent the time and where I turned my attention; inward.

What you see is often a matter of where you look. This is a picture of a starfish.

I enjoyed the day. I feel more rested than I have in a long while. I sit now, alongside the local trail I’ve been walking most mornings lately, enjoying a few minutes of quiet reflection as the sun rises. Today is an ordinary work day. I feel easy in my skin and comfortable with myself. I’m in a ferocious amount of pain, which is neither surprising nor particularly consequential. It’s just a “feature” of this mortal life.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. This morning, the world’s stress and chaos, the violence, the bullshit, and the jockeying for power by the already powerful is nothing to do with me, directly. I’m here, now, in this moment, in this local place. My heart feels light. It’s enough.

I look down the trail, as the eastern horizon turns a bold orange. A new day begins. I smile and get to my feet. It’s time for me to begin, again, too.