Archives for category: Healthy Living
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Choose Your Ride, Pay For Your Ticket

March 3, 2025 //
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Nothing in life is free. Seriously. You want the thing? You pay the price. You want to embark on that adventure? It comes at a cost. You’re going to take that chance, jump at that opportunity, walk down that path over there? You’ll pay for it, one way or another. This isn’t a threat, nor is it a warning, I’m just saying there’s a price to be paid for our choices, and it isn’t always in cash, or stated clearly up front.

Last Wednesday, the Anxious Adventurer and I finished off the storage move. (Yay!) There was a feeling of accomplishment, but it was also a lot of work. Friday, I took the day off work and spent about 7 hours walking on beaches, with breaks in between to write a few words, or go from “here” to “there” – about 11 total miles of walking, based on my tracker. Saturday began with a 3 mile walk on a favorite trail, and ended with housekeeping, chores, and gardening. Sunday was more of the same. Today? Yeah, today “the bill came due” and I’m paying for all of it; I feel like I’ve been in a serious fight (and lost). My muscles ache from the least of efforts. It was difficult just getting out of bed and getting dressed this morning. My back, legs, shoulders, and neck all ache ferociously, and I’m stiff. So stiff. Today I’m walking with a cane just getting from the car to my desk to the coffee in the office kitchenette, and I’m “wearing my years”. I’m not complaining, just saying this is where I am, and why. I take a moment to consider the sensations of my body. This fragile vessel needs care, and while that’s true every day, right now I’m really feeling it. Funny thing is, most of these things I did so much of were themselves forms of self-care. Hilarious (for some forms of humor). (I guess you had to be there. lol)

I breathe, exhale, and “relax” – best I can, hurting the way I do right now. It’ll pass. I remind myself that there’s always a price to be paid for the things we do, or want, or achieve, even if only the time consumed of our limited mortal years. Was the price too high? No, not at all, and I’m paying it without objection, resentment, or resistence. It is what it is. (Which is, mostly, painful at present.) The moment will pass. The pain will ease. I’ll go on to be stronger for the effort I’ve made, and I’m pleased with the outcome (particularly in the garden). Hell, there’s more yet to do. Life doesn’t pause for a breather just because a task has been completed. There’s always that next step. Another project. Another moment.

…Life being lived; there are verbs involved…

Garden books & seed packets; the plan is not the experience.

I sip my coffee (g’damn I am so sore this morning, even sipping coffee manages to hurt), pleased that it is so good today. I smile thinking about the work in the garden, progress made toward Spring, and seeds yet to be planted. The metaphor of a garden is one of my personal favorites, and I consider what I am planting – in the garden, and in life – and how best to tend my garden for a bountiful harvest. There’s work involved, and it helps to plan, and to proceed with intention, but the path ahead isn’t predetermined, and the way is not always clear. I sigh contentedly in spite of my physical discomfort. I’m fortunate, and I sit with my gratitude for a moment. We become what we practice, for sure, and our choices and actions make a difference in the life we lead – but where our journey begins, and what obstacles befall us along the way, matters too – and we have less control over that. I reflect awhile on my good fortune in life, generally. I’m not saying it’s been “an easy life”, and I’ve surely had what sometimes seems like more than my “fair share” of trauma over the years, but… considering things from the perspective of this one human experience of a lifetime of growth and change and circumstance? I’m fortunate, indeed. (It’s rarely helpful to become mired in pain, or to wallow in the chaos and damage.) I’ve much to be grateful for…

I sip my coffee, think my thoughts, and prepare to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, breathe, Free Will, gardening, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, inspiration, joy, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, pain, Perspective, Practices, Spring, The Art of Being, turning 60, weight loss secrets, winter

The Path Ahead

March 2, 2025 //
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It is a gray morning on the edge of winter’s end. Spring soon, and this morning hints at that, mild and wet and so very gray.

Early on a morning in March

I sit quietly for a moment before I head down the trail. I listen to the flocks of geese overhead and the sound of traffic on the highway beyond the nature park. Everything is muddy. Marshy. So gray. My head aches ferociously. My arthritis pain is a serious distraction. Still, I’ve got my boots on, and I’m here. This trail won’t walk itself. I sigh quietly and try not to anticipate the pain of every step ahead.

… I’ve just got to actually begin…

Yesterday afternoon I spent time in the garden. It was lovely. Time well spent. I’m paying for it now, I suspect, the bending and reaching is not ideal for my spine. It’s okay, though; the garden needed attention. If we don’t tend our garden, we surely can’t complain that all we have are weeds! The roses are pruned and ready for spring. I put down some fertilizer for the hungriest ones. I got started on cleaning up the veggie bed, too. Weather permitting, I’ll finish that today. After my walk, I remind myself, I can stop at the garden supply store and pick up soil amendments , or at least look around and put myself in the mood.

Another sigh. Another moment. It isn’t always easy to get started down the path, even when I have an idea where I’m going. Sometimes it’s more a matter of will than enthusiasm. It’s still a beginning. It’s still time. I push myself off from the side of the car, where I’ve been leaning, ready but not yet going. I look down the trail a little unenthusiastically, and get started. It’s time to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, breathe, Free Will, gardening, gratitude, Healthy Living, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Practices, Roses, solo hiking, Spring, The Art of Being, winter

Familiar Unknown Places

February 27, 2025 //
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I didn’t know I was dreaming until I woke. It all seemed quite familiar and very real. I was in a beautifully appointed very modern corporate space, pale hues of bamboo and beige upholstery, live greenery here and there, and fresh, interesting “living wall” accents. The high ceilings and “open office” arrangements were sparsely populated with small groups of Millennial and Gen Z professionals, speaking quietly. Escalators (so many escalators) let from area to area, seeming to cascade downward or rise to new levels around each corner. There were stairs and landings, and small glass offices. There were conference rooms, and the hushed background noise of the ventilation masked the sound of traffic outside.

I knew without being told that this place was in Portland, Oregon. I knew without having to ask that this was some massive corporate “start up” that had long-since outgrown any sort of authenticity, well-established and corrupt. The beauty was all image, no substance. Still, I wandered looking around with a vague sense of purposeful excitement. I felt simultaneously that I somehow “belonged” but was also an outsider.

There were numerous little cafe places here and there, adjacent to working areas. The espresso was hot. The pastries were crisp and flaky. The lines were… yeah. There were lines. lol I waited, now and then, and I wandered. I started at one end of this… building? And I walked the length of it, finding myself aware that it was less like an open world than a specific path, A to B, a fixed journey, no detours or side paths at all, although it often looked like there could be. I reached a place, and a person, and was greeted as a welcome – and expected – friend by someone I vaguely recalled. Didn’t I work with him once at some other place? He invited me to sit, and introduced me to some other, who also welcomed me as expected. Was I there to work? I couldn’t remember changing jobs…but I knew without asking that this place would be paying me a lot of money. I also knew, immediately, that the delights of the espresso, the pastry, and the decor would never ever make up for the corporate hell that this place was going to be…

I woke abruptly, realizing I had been dreaming. Grateful to be where I am, doing what I do. Strange dream. It lingers in my thoughts, reminding me of places I have been, and of former jobs and colleagues from long ago. I find myself wondering what I was trying to tell myself…?

I sigh quietly, looking around this co-work space. Even more modern than the office building in my dream, my current job has no offices at all, anywhere. They are not needed, nor are they truly useful. We work together productively in virtual spaces, and it is enough. Still… the mail has to go somewhere. It comes here. This quiet co-work space with it’s open office space surrounded by small private offices, decorated in pale hues of fake wood finishes, gray carpet with colorful rugs, and “art” on the walls – all copies. It’s fine, and I’m not criticizing, it fully meets the needs of those who use the space, and the artifice tends to be in the decor, instead of in the souls of the people working here. That seems like a good thing.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I look over my calendar and sip my coffee. I’m fortunate to enjoy the work I do. It’s a routine workday, and it’s time to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, breathe, gratitude, Healthy Living, inspiration, meditation, Metaphors, Moments, Perspective, The Art of Being, Words

Start Where You Are

February 25, 2025 //
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A friend asked me a question, and asked for “some steps, you know, some basic practices” because they were “freaking out with all this chaos and scary shit going on” (I know, me too, right?). I said I’d do my best. I hope it helps. ❤

Where does this path lead?

Sometimes it’s a difficult journey, this “life” thing, eh? It doesn’t have to be has difficult as it sometimes seems. It is an unfortunate truth that we often complicate our situation needlessly, sometimes through poor decision-making, sometimes through lack of clarity in our thinking, sometimes just because we have feelings and don’t reliably deal with those skillfully. But, the good news is that we do actually have choices, and tools at our disposal (like critical thinking, perspective, and non-attachment). We can take things a step at a time…

  1. Start where you are. Any journey is more difficult if you are trying to begin from somewhere other than where you actually stand. Honest self-reflection, acceptance, and making a point to test your assumptions and reality check your expectations is really useful.
  2. Breathe, exhale, relax. Maybe you don’t have “a meditation practice”. Maybe you don’t need one? It’s reliably helpful to “take a minute” to calm yourself when you are stressed out. Change your perspective or your environment, however briefly, and break out of your rumination or your stress spiral. Let small shit stay small. Let things go that you’re getting hung up on, if only for a little while. Take a break. Walk away from it.
  3. Take care of your “fragile vessel”. Such a simple thing – self-care really matters, particularly when life feels hardest. Are you getting enough rest? Are you eating healthy meals? Drinking enough water? How about a shower and some clean clothes? Have you taken prescription medications that may affect your feeling of wellness (or failed to take them)? Are you in pain – and are you doing something to ease that, if you can?
  4. No media, no doomscrolling. This one is a small thing, but a big deal; if you’re already stressed to the breaking point, feeling overwhelmed, or struggling to manage the details in your life, I promise you that reading the news, or doomscrolling endlessly through various feeds on your device(s) is not helpful. Put it down. Silence your notifications. Put the device on Do Not Disturb. Walk away from the tether that ties you to constant demands for your attention. Go outside. Take a walk. Read a book. Sit down over a cup of tea or coffee with an actual human being out in the world and have a conversation. (See point 2.)
  5. Put things into perspective. This one is both difficult and easy. Easy to say, sometimes more difficult to put into practice, just being real with you. Your perspective on a difficult moment may be filtered through the lens of the stress you feel, or prior experiences that weren’t really quite the same. You may be struggling with your chaos and damage, and past traumas may be coloring your understanding. Take a step back. (Don’t take dumb shit personally.) Consider the moment from more than one angle. This one moment, right here, is unique and unrepeatable – and it will pass (good or bad). Let it.
  6. Practice non-attachment. This is a practice that sometimes has some poignance (at least for me); let it go. Just that. Whatever it is, don’t cling to it. Let it go. If you lost the thing you cling to so tightly (whether it is an object, relationship, or sense of identity), things might change, sure, but – wouldn’t you (most likely) be okay if you allow yourself to be? We sometimes cling so tightly to something that isn’t even quite real. Some of what hurts us most we’ve completely made up – it’s safe to let that shit go.
  7. Practice gratitude. I’m not even kidding. I’m also not suggesting that being grateful for the struggle itself, or the pain you’re in, or this complicated moment is the goal. Not at all. I’m suggesting that being grateful for other things, the small wins, the pleasant moments, the little joys, the handful of things that are reliably part of your individual good fortune has real value. It’s difficult for anger, anxiety, or sorrow to compete for one’s attention with heartfelt gratitude. Authenticity matters, and gratitude can’t be “forced”, but there are likely to be quite a few little things for which you are truly grateful. Make room for those. Reflect on, and cherish those. It may give you a firm foundation to stand on before you…
  8. Take the next step. Life is a journey. Most of our path we walk alone. Sometimes we’re fortunate enough to share the journey, but it is still our journey. We’re each having our own experience. Walk on. Sure, have an eye on where you think you’d like to get to, but understand an important detail; the journey is the destination. Do your best to be the person you’d most like to be, moment to moment. Make those choices – the ones that allow you to walk your path, authentically.
  9. Be here, now. Spend less time on regret (the past is behind you) and worry (the future has not yet happened and may not be whatever you fear it might). Be present, in this moment. Now. This takes us back to point 1, you may have noticed… “start where you are”.
As with so many journeys, it isn’t always clear where the path leads.

Breathe. Exhale. Relax. You can begin again. Each time you stumble, pick yourself up, and begin again. Each time you fail, learn from that experience. You’ve got this. It’s your path, your journey, no one can handle this one better than you can.

Staying on the path is a choice, and there are verbs involved.
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Categories Allegories, Anxiety, Brain Injury, breathe, Despair, forgiveness, Free Will, Frustration, gratitude, grief, Healthy Living, loneliness, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, The Art of Being, War and News of War, Words

Gently Now

February 23, 2025 //
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I’m waiting at the trailhead for daybreak. It is a quiet Sunday morning, uncomplicated and ordinary. I’m okay with that. Everything does not need to be exciting all the time. Truly, it’s probably best that generally things are fairly mundane and without excitement or drama. Isn’t there enough of all that without going looking for it or creating it?

There is a big difference between “interesting” and “exciting”, and between “worthwhile” and “full of drama”. I am content with interesting moments and spending my time on things that are worthwhile.

Daybreak comes to the marsh.

There’s a hint of mist clinging in the low spots out on the marsh. The morning is drizzly and mild, and seems rather warm for winter. I don’t rush to head down the trail. I’m in no hurry, and I take time to properly enjoy the hint of a view in the pre-dawn dimness. There’s very little traffic on the highway beyond the trailhead parking. I feel almost alone in the world. It’s a pleasant feeling from the safety and comfort of not being truly alone in the world. (That would be a very complicated experience fraught with unanticipated dangers, as temptingly pleasant as it often sounds to me. Reality would not care at all about my expectations or assumptions.)

I smile and get going, boots crunching quietly on the path. Nice morning for it.

The drizzle persisted as I walked. I returned to the car quite damp, though I never felt the rain. Daybreak became dawn in the usual way, as I walked. Dawn became a gray somewhat dismal unseen sunrise, beyond the dense gray clouds. I enjoyed the walk nonetheless; it was never about the weather, only the moment.

Today I ache ferociously all over. Yesterday’s longer walk, and the time spent later moving heavy(ish) objects, and later still doing the planned housework stuff, was time and effort spent productively and well. I’m definitely feeling it, though. Today’s dampness isn’t helping. There’s a feeling of satisfaction to the pain, though, and a sense that fitness efforts are paying off, however sore I am this morning. Yesterday was a good day. I sit with the recollection for a few minutes, feeling grateful and fortunate.

Today? More housekeeping, very routine, and I am not in any hurry to get to it. It will wait, and my Traveling Partner enjoys having a little time to sleep in and wake up slowly. I sit listening to the sounds of birdsong as the morning minutes tick by gently. I have time for my thoughts, and time to run a couple errands. I probably have time to enjoy a cup of coffee, before my beloved pings me to say he’s up and ask if I would come home and make breakfast. I smile, heart full of love. It’s no great imposition to make breakfast on a Sunday (and he appreciates simple things that I make quite well), and he’s not yet sufficiently recovered to cook easily. He’s a good cook, though, and I look forward to him being back in the kitchen, inviting me to come home and enjoy the breakfast he prepares.

I sigh quietly, contentedly. I breathe, exhale, and relax. This is a pleasant moment of solitude and I linger here, savoring it. I’m grateful.

All manner of little birds call to each other, as I sit listening. I look but don’t see them. Some are in the meadow grass. Some are in the trees. Minutes pass. Soon it will be time to begin again. I’m okay with that, too.

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Categories Allegories, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, inspiration, joy, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, The Art of Being, winter
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