Another chilly morning, as I hit the trail to walk, think, and watch the sun rise. There’s a mist clinging in the low places along the marsh, almost as dense as fog this morning.
My tinnitus is ridiculously loud in my ears. My neck aches ferociously. I am grateful that my next stop will be an appointment for some myofascial release work that reliably helps…at least for a little while.
It’s a busy day ahead. Errands. Housekeeping tasks intended to keep life easy for my Traveling Partner and the Anxious Adventurer while I am away for a few days. I’m no expert on caregiving (at all), but the Anxious Adventurer has still less experience, and anything I can do to set him up for success while I am away is a win for me (and for my Traveling Partner, his father). So I’ve got a list of things to get done before I go, and a plan to leave early tomorrow – maybe even do my morning walk along the beach, or in the forest, on a trail I’ve never walked, somewhere along the way to the coast. I’m eager to have a break, with a real reduction in stress (because my Traveling Partner won’t be home alone trying to do things for himself he presently struggles to do).
I face the day calmly and with a sense of purpose. There’s quite a lot to do, but I did some of it yesterday, and I’ve made a point not to leave it all for the last minute. Helpful. Practical.
The sun rises golden against a shell-pink sky streaked with delicate lavender clouds. Pretty. The air smells of summer flowers. A doe with two fawns stands very still and quiet as I walk past (so still I didn’t see her there until I was almost next to her). Around the next bend in the trail, the buck stood watching me intently, before walking slowly back up the trail towards his mate. At the edge of the river, nutria enjoy a playful moment. I walk on. Every now and then my thoughts stray in the direction of more stressful concerns. I observe the thoughts and let them go. This is not the time for any of that. I bring my attention back to this moment, here, now. I watch the delicate lacy flowers that stand above the tops of the meadow grass. They wave just a bit in a breeze I don’t really feel.
Breathe. Exhale. Relax. Walk on.
I love these quiet solitary moments. I fill my soul on this feeling of peace and contentment, savoring small joys and wonder for later moments. My residual anger and frustrations with life and circumstances melts away and I feel a sense of being “my best self”. Pain doesn’t matter so much in this timeless now.
Breathe. Exhale. Relax. Walk on.
Like a lot of things, building emotional resilience is a practice. Creating an implicit sense of living life that is skewed towards the positive requires practice. One step at a time. One walk at a time. One moment of gratitude at a time. Savoring small joys and deliberately bringing my focus to what is working, what is pleasant, all of life’s little successes…it adds up. Incremental change over time works; we become what we practice. Practice is ongoing. It’s not a competition, there is no “finish line”, and the journey is the destination.
I breathe deeply, and keep on walking. It’s a lovely morning to begin again.
Evening Light 