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The Best Advice

July 3, 2024 //
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Beautiful sunrise. Good morning to get a walk in. I’ve had the trail to myself, and watched the sunrise as I walked. Lovely.

Every day, every journey, begins somewhere.

The weather forecast indicates there is an extreme heat warning for the latter portion of the week, possibly record-breaking. I checked with my Traveling Partner about whether there were steps we might need to take to stay comfortable and ensure our AC functions properly. I’ll make a point to stock additional beverages and cold foods, so we won’t be required to cook using the oven or stovetop for long periods of time. I’ll drink more water.

…”Drink more water” is excellent hot weather advice, but there’s something quite limited about even the very best to bits of advice; it only works when actually taken. There are verbs involved. If we receive great advice but choose to disregard it, instead of applying it, our failures and misadventures thereby are of our own making. No one to blame but the person in the mirror. We for sure can’t claim we didn’t have guidance or that the advice was ineffective. lol

Why do people get great advice and then choose not to follow it? I don’t have an answer, I’m just wondering. I mean, actually, I can come up with several possible answers, but I don’t at all know which are likely to be most correct. Maybe we don’t trust the advice to be accurate? Maybe we don’t find the source to be credible? Maybe we think we’re a special case and the norms don’t apply to us? Maybe… maybe mostly… we’re just not really listening in the first place? That seems likely… people are pretty crappy at listening to someone else talking.

… Maybe sometimes there’s too much new information to process…

Are you listening to the good advice you’re given? Do you use it?

My neck aches ferociously this morning. I think I “slept on it wrong”. Ouch. The pain colors my experience unpleasantly. When the time comes, I take my morning medication, grateful to be able to add prescription pain relief, grateful to have it available, hopeful that it will bring some relief. I stopped on the trail several times trying to “work the kinks out” by practicing the release and self-massage techniques my chiropractor taught me. These are often quite helpful, this morning they are less so. I still make the effort. The headache that rises from the pain in my neck spreads like flames across the left side of my face. Occipital neuralgia. Fuuuuuuck. “Just kill me now”, I snarl quietly to myself, though I don’t mean it literally. I just hurt. I stretch. I breathe. I keep walking. This too will pass.

I reach my halfway point and keep walking, lost in my thoughts and preoccupied by my pain. This trail is a loop. Though I often walk out and back, a shorter distance, the full distance of the loop isn’t unreasonably far. I laugh at myself; looks like I’m going the distance this morning. I have time. Anyway, I’d be shit to be around this morning, and my Traveling Partner was already up when I left. No reason to rush back with my bitchy cross mood intact. I sigh as I walk.

… I should probably begin again. That’s pretty good advice…

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Categories Allegories, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Practices, solo hiking, Summer, The Art of Being, turning 60, women

In the Driver’s Seat

July 2, 2024 //
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Lovely morning for walking, it is cool and there’s a mist clinging in low places. My thoughts wander here and there, and my musings are guided a bit by pain, which I mostly treat as “inconsequential noise”, trying to keep it in the background.

I find myself thinking about pain as a warning light on my “dashboard” in a driving metaphor for life. When we’re children, in a sense we aren’t even driving our own car, or managing the maintenance of it, at all. We’re dependent on the knowledge and care of the adults around us. Ideally, once we’re “old enough to drive”, we’ve also been taught what we need to know to be a “skillful driver” in life. We need to know when to refuel, what to use for that purpose, and what our vehicle requires for maintenance. Before we ever get on the highway, it’s helpful to ensure the vehicle is safe to operate.

… There’s no owner’s manual in the glove box…

On life’s journey, as the driver of our physical “vehicle”, we do well to pay attention to those dashboard lights… Do we have a full tank (enough energy and stamina)? Is our “check engine light” on?(Seems a suitable metaphor for mental health.) Is there some sort of warning chime pinging away to alert us that some physical detail is amiss? (Thinking about the seatbelt warning, or open door warning as metaphors for pain, perhaps.) I think you get what I am going for at this point, probably. There’s a lot involved in skillful driving before we ever get on the road… And it’s similar in life; before I can even begin again with a next step on life’s journey, it’s a good idea to make a point to check out the “vehicle” for readiness.

…It can be as simple as noticing my tank is on empty before setting off on a long drive far from the nearest gas station. Fuel up! Get enough rest. Eat healthy, nutritionally dense meals with an appropriate balance of macro nutrients. Drink enough water. Take medications on time.

…It could be more complicated… Is that check engine light on? Flickering mysteriously? Maybe it’s time to consider emotional health, stressors, and “work: life balance”? Maybe it’s a good time to see a therapist or spend quality time with a close friend?

…Has “routine maintenance” been handled properly? Good quality sleep, healthy exercise, and good self-care really improve the longevity of the “vehicle” we’re driving down life’s highway.

Once we’re no longer children, it’s a bit like being handed the keys to our first car. There’s a lot to learn and a lot of good practices to build. It’s more important to take good care of our vehicle than most of us understand when we first get behind the wheel. No owner’s manual. No map. For some drivers, not even a sense of where to go, until long after the journey is underway, and we’re many miles beyond and away from where we eventually decide we’d like to be.

Drive carefully. Pay attention to the road ahead. Check your fluid levels. And for fucks sake, do something about those dashboard lights! lol It’s a long drive, and you’ll want to be able to count on your car.

I sip my coffee in the morning sunshine, parked at the trailhead after my walk. I mostly got the rest I needed, but this broken down hoopty I have to rely on these days needs a bit of care. My “check engine light” flickers now and then, and there’s nearly always some warning indicator pinging at me to take care of something. It’s mostly pain and pain management, and I mostly treat it as though it’s the warning light that’s broken, rather than deal with the potential there’s some more serious shit going wrong. Putting it in those words, I find myself concerned that I am being stupidly short-sighted about something potentially serious that could eventually “leave me stranded by the side of the road”.

… I love metaphors…

I sigh quietly and sit with my thoughts, before making a note to communicate with my doctor about my pain and my persistent headache (again). I don’t want to waste time on detours, but I do want to count on this vehicle for a good long time. Self-care matters, but sometimes we need more.

… It’s already time to begin again…

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Categories Allegories, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, health, Healthy Living, meditation, Metaphors, Moments, pain, Parables, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Summer, The Art of Being, Uncategorized

Building a New Normal

July 1, 2024 //
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Sometimes change is hard. Sometimes change arrives rather quickly, and instead of evolving gradually over time, it pulls up out front in a moving van and unpacks over a weekend. 😂

…We managed to get most of the necessary move-in basics handled and the truck returned on time…

Getting the Anxious Adventurer moved in was the priority for the weekend, other than caring for my Traveling Partner, who was effective and handy, supporting various tasks with thoughtful guidance. The whole chaotic endeavor was considerably improved by how we each embraced the circumstances (no doubt each for our own reasons). We’re all in it together and it was obvious.

I’m definitely feeling the strain of the aggressive pace of the weekend’s activity in sore muscles and lingering fatigue. “A new normal” begins with this quiet, pleasant Monday morning. I’ll work from home with much more freedom to focus on work with my Traveling Partner’s son now available to help out, too. Hell, I might have enough left in me at the end of the day to cook a proper meal! There’s more to do, but now it can be handled within the context of the day-to-day living of life, which feels pretty good. I even got to spend some time reading last night!

There’s more to do. The work of adjusting to the changes required is not yet completed. There are boxes to go into storage. Things to change or “fix” about how the household is set up, to be better suited to three people, where there had been only two, before. The living room, though, is no longer filled with the contents of a moving van, and no one is sleeping on the floor. Progress. Today will be my first day working from my completely rearranged office-studio-creative space, which still needs a bit more fine-tuning. I chuckle to myself, still amused and astonished that I managed to move a full-sized couch into such a small room (with the help of the Anxious Adventurer and the guidance of my Traveling Partner giving instructions from down the hall). Funnier still, it manages to be more “cozy” than crowded. It will force me to be quite mindful of the space and keep it very neat, though; there is no room to tolerate clutter. Not one spare square inch of space is left for being careless or messy.

I while away a few minutes thinking about change and wondering when my Traveling Partner’s surgery will be? Scheduling that should happen today. Once we’ve got the date settled, I’ll also schedule some away-time for myself, for a date maybe a couple weeks after the surgery. Damn, it’s good to have the help of the Anxious Adventurer! I feel incredibly grateful and very fortunate. I finally have the emotional “room” to breathe and reflect and consider and exist outside the constraints of holding myself constantly at the ready to handle any/every task, every moment, all of every day… That was a lot of pressure, but I didn’t know how else to handle things.

… I’m so tired…

It’s a new day. A new opportunity to begin again. There’s more to do (nearly always is), but life has “less weight to it” somehow and I feel pretty good, generally. I woke at my usual early time, and I’ve had the trail to myself this morning. I watched the sun rise as I walked, and these quiet minutes to write and reflect don’t feel snatched from the limited time available for everything else that needs doing. It’s nice.

I don’t yet know what the new normal looks like, but I’m on this path and I’ll know soon enough. I stretch and yawn and smile. It’s time to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, Anxiety, art and the artist, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, inspiration, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Summer, The Art of Being

Another day, More Chaos

June 30, 2024 //
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Moving is hard. It’s a ton of work compounded by fatigue and distractions, and chaos reliably rides shotgun (sometimes even if the move is executed “military style”). We’re getting it done, but it’s a lot of work, and coordination of effort, and management of many small logistical details. My injured Traveling Partner helpfully coordinates things between the Anxious Adventurer and me, as we each handle various tasks, leaving us both free to focus on what we’re doing, checking in with him as we complete one task and move on to the next.

Today the rented truck gets returned and we’re “done” – for some values of done. There’s still quite a lot to do, but last night the Anxious Adventurer slept in his room, and even found the energy to bake cookies (they were delicious) in the evening.

… I’m so fucking tired…

I woke at my usual time, got myself together, and headed to the local trail I like most. Later it’ll be grocery shopping and laundry and trying to maintain the pace on the ordinary tasks that keep the household running, on top of continuing to handle various moving in tasks still needing attention.

… Did I mention I’m tired? I’m also in pain.

I remind myself that a new normal with less chaos and less work (well, possibly the same amount effort, but distributed across more human capacity) is near at hand. My tinnitus whines, chimes, and buzzes in my ears. My back hurts. My head aches. I look past all that as I walk the trail. This is my path. It’s not always easy. I’ve survived a lot worse. I just keep walking. Persistence pays off. Incremental change over time is reliable.

…We become what we practice…

I breathe, exhale, and relax. It’s a pleasant morning, gray and overcast, mild and somewhat humid. I keep walking.

My Traveling Partner is already up, and I wonder if I woke him as I left the house? I let that thought go, too. I walk on. I prepare a mental grocery list, and remind myself to go over some basic expectations about groceries, shared (and limited) space, and avoiding waste or duplication. We three each have somewhat different tastes, and ideally that becomes exciting variety and chances to try new things. All of us cook (although for now my Traveling Partner can’t easily do anything much cooking-wise), but pantry and cupboard space is very limited.

… It’s an exciting time. I focus on the excitement instead of the chaos as I walk…

I stop for a picture and a quiet moment.

…So much yet to do, and the weekend feels so short…

Tomorrow morning is a new work day. Weird. Work, in the abstract, feels so removed from my experience right now. How strange. I pause at my halfway point, and sit, smelling the blooming blackberries and wildflowers. The air is very still and calm. It smells like it may rain again. I sigh quietly and watch a feral cat slink past giving me a sideways glance before disappearing in the underbrush. I find myself wondering when I will have the cognitive bandwidth (and the time) to explore the possibilities of the new pastels.  Realistically, it may be a while, and the possibility exists as a temptation dangling ahead of me awaiting some future moment…if I get enough done.

I sigh. Shit’s not getting done while I sit here. Fuck. I stand and stretch stiff joints, and dust off my pants, before heading back to the car to get started on the day. It’s already time to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, art and the artist, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, Summer, The Art of Being, The Big 5

The Great Household Shuffling of 2024

June 29, 2024 //
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I survived yesterday’s chaos with reasonable grace, I think. I’m okay with the recollection of the day, and the outcomes of various moments. The steady process of handling tasks to do with my Traveling Partner’s son moving in is well-underway, everyone doing their part to get everything done reasonably quickly. It’s a lot to do, and there’s still more. It’ll all get done in due time.

I am finding it quite interesting to see so many things learned over time reflected back at me through the lens of seeing these experiences and practices through observation of someone who has had quite different experiences in life, having not yet learned these things at all. My stepson seems to me a bit of an “anxious adventurer”, willfully and deliberately seeking new experiences and growth, by choice, while also finding the novel situations this puts him in quite uncomfortable and anxiety-provoking. (His results vary.) I’m impressed by his adventurous nature. I’m impressed by his will to fight through his anxiety. I’m concerned by his lack of specific life skills and his lack of exposure to some fundamentals of resilience and emotional wellness. Those concerns are in no way his “fault” and it’s not about blame anyway. He’s a fellow traveler and for the time being, also a family member residing with my partner and me. There’s a lot to learn, to share, to consider…and there’s time for all that. It’s the sort of thing that does take time – and practice.

For my part, the work involved in compressing my personal space to make room for The Anxious Adventurer is sometimes quite poignant. I worked so hard for so long to have some of the luxuries I’ve been able to enjoy these last four years… but my small library uses an entire bedroom (it’s also my meditation space). My art studio, doing double duty as my office, takes another. Somehow, just due to practical logistical considerations, I’ve ended up compressing most of these things into the smallest fucking room in the house. Since it’s not actually possible to do that in a literal sense, the books and shelves of my wee library will be relocated to the main bedroom. It’s fine. It’s all fine. None of this is intended to be permanent (as my Traveling Partner regularly reminds me).

… I do know how reality works, however, and I am familiar with the vagaries of “temporary” arrangements…

A new day

Mostly, I’m just looking forward to whatever the new normal may be, and figuring that out won’t happen until the moving and shuffling around of various things is really finished (likely some weeks after my Traveling Partner has his surgery and has subsequently also recovered).

I woke quite early this morning, ahead of the sunrise entirely. I have a Saturday appointment in the city which I already wish I had cancelled due to the inconvenience of its timing, but it’s an appointment for care with a provider who reliably actually helps. Seems foolish to cancel that, when my day-to-day pain would benefit from it so much. It’s the sort of foolishly short-sighted choice I am prone to make. I’m mostly glad I didn’t cancel, but my anxiety nags at me for “being so selfish” or “letting everyone else down”. (Which is one of the many lies my anxiety tells me.)

… I still find it quite difficult to make my own self-care a high priority, in spite of knowing how important it is…

I slipped quietly out of the house far earlier than necessary, this morning, but I think I managed to do it without waking either my Traveling Partner or the Anxious Adventurer. Win! I arrived at the trailhead just at daybreak. I walked the trail between river and marsh, listening to the birds and the sound of distant traffic (and my tinnitus). It’s been lovely. I had the trail to myself. I took my time. Stopped here and there for a picture or a moment. It’s been quite satisfying and joyful, and a delightful use of my time.

… I needed the break and the solitude…

I got back to the car too early to head to the city. I write a while. I meditate. I think about coffee. Maybe breakfast? In any case, it’s time to begin again.

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