Archives for category: joy

It is the wee hours, before 02:00, but after midnight. I’ll get back to sleep shortly. Noisy neighbors, rudely partying outside, in a rainstorm, well into the “quiet hours” indicated by the local noise ordinance. To be sure, a Saturday night, and they don’t do this often, but…they’re sure as hell doing it tonight, loudly. Fucking hell. We’re generally pretty chill about such things, but it’s too much, and quite unreasonable. I go out on the deck and ask them to keep it down. My Traveling Partner, still vexed by continuing noise some minutes later, finally has enough, and yells out the window, audibly angry.

… The noise finally dies down, some 15-20 minutes after we said something. I commit to bringing it up tomorrow, directly. Boundaries, people, consideration. Damn.

I hear my Traveling Partner turn in, again, in the other room. I prepare to do the same. The rain continues. Somewhere in the distance I hear a siren. Tomorrow is soon enough to begin again…

I went back to bed, and slept soundly and deeply, and woke later than usual by more than an hour. I dressed and managed to slip away quietly, without banging, clanging, sneezing, or dropping something to the floor with a crash. Win. Due to the time of year, and the dense storm clouds, it was still dark when I got on the highway, headed for this morning’s trail. The drive on a Sunday morning is reliably pleasant, no traffic.

I reach the trail at daybreak, boots already on because my casual wear soft slip-on shoes – an Allbirds knock-off – gave up on life a few days ago. I haven’t replaced them (yet?). The storm clouds overhead are beginning to break up along the eastern horizon, but it is also sprinkling. I chuckle to myself, thinking it might be nice if the weather would make up its mind, although I’m not actually bothered at all, I simply put on my rain poncho.

Actually, as I walked along contentedly to my halfway point, I noticed that nothing much is bothering me, presently, which is a nice change. I’ve been struggling a bit with my PTSD as the world seems to go crazy in a daft orgy of authoritarian cruelty and ignorant douche-baggery. I do my best to manage my symptoms when they flare up. It’s a lot of work, but I have better tools these days, and a more resilient, healthy partnership with a human being who loves me enough to give a shit about my mental health. I am emotionally supported, and more.

Yesterday was, as it turned out, the kind of day built on love and consideration, and my Traveling Partner and I moved through the challenges created by my bullshit with love and gracious good nature, generally. The evening ended with loving intimacy, and I felt profoundly cared for and nurtured, and thoroughly loved. I hope he did too. I sit on the fence rail swinging my feet like a kid, grinning to myself happily. Today has the added fun of brunch with a colleague who is local to me, and who is becoming more a friend than purely a professional associate. More reasons to smile, brunch and friendship.

My thoughts wander to my beloved Traveling Partner and his progress with healing and regaining more and more of his capabilities. G’damn I am so impressed and proud of him. He works at his physical recovery with dedication and diligence. He continues to make progress, and as he does, he continues to begin to do more and more of the day-to-day practical stuff he once took care of. Slowly the weight of the added workload that had fallen to me is being lifted, along with the stress that came of being unable to do all of everything every day. It’s not “about me”, though – I’m grateful to see him really doing better. I can’t describe my feeling of gratitude – and relief.

And it’s not raining! Small wins count, too.

I sit gazing out over the marsh, or the oaks that dot the hillside, listening to the wind blow, watching the trees bend to it, and observing the ripples that stretch across the pond (lake?) nearest to me. Migratory birds float on the water in small groups. Out in the marshy meadow I see a dot of color, as daylight comes. A tent? There is no camping permitted here, but this is a federal asset, and with the government shutdown, the gates are open 24 hours, and there are now two cars that seem permanently parked in the parking lot, one appears abandoned, the other, lived in. I feel annoyed by the cars, the tent, and the stupid shortsighted partisanship of our government.

I sigh and let that bullshit go; it’ll be there to consider some other time, and there is no reason to sacrifice my merry morning to it. I breathe, exhale, and relax, taking my time with meditation, so still and relaxed that a chipmunk climbs the fence to get closer with her curiosity, creeping up near to me, as I sit. I don’t have any of the sort of treats in my pocket that might interest a chipmunk… and anyway, common wisdom is that it is a bad idea to handfeed wildlife, or to take steps that could interfere with their natural routines. With that in mind, I just sit, still and quiet, enjoying her hesitant proximity. Delightful! An enormous Great Blue Heron flies past, low to the ground, heading to the water, startling the chipmunk. She darts away.

I think about brunch, and wonder whether it will go as planned? My new friend and I are both comfortable with change, and share very realistic expectations of such things. Either of us could cancel without causing hurt feelings, and we both deal with chronic conditions that make it likely that we might choose to, any time we plan something. lol I’m very much looking forward to brunch, but prepared to pivot to other things, should plans need to change.

I breathe the rain-fresh marsh air, deeply. It’s a lovely morning in spite of the rainy weather. The sprinkle begins to become something more like rain, and I’m grateful for my rain poncho. I get to my feet, ready to begin again.

I’m waiting for the sun. I was up too early, and at the trailhead too soon.

My Traveling Partner woke minutes after I woke up to pee. Did I wake him? I don’t know. Doesn’t matter. He woke panicked, and struggling to breathe. That’s a dreadful way to wake up, and he was cross about it. I didn’t hold that against him, I get it, but not having a magic wand handy, my best option to be helpful to him in the moment was to get going and give him a chance to get back to sleep.

…So I did…

I could have tried to go back to sleep, myself, I guess, but his panic and frustrated snarling triggered my anxiety and getting back to sleep wasn’t going to be ideally easy. I was feeling pretty well-rested, already, anyway; no harm done.

Before daybreak, night settings on the camera reveal a cloudy sky.

I get a coffee on the way to the trailhead, arrive before dawn, and sit with my thoughts awhile. The coffee is good, and the cup warms my hands. I sit contentedly in the predawn quiet, thinking my thoughts, unconcerned about the chaos of the world in this moment, here, now.

Some little while after I meditate, my thoughts wander to my Traveling Partner’s enduring (and obvious) affection for me. I smile, thinking of the many little ways he shows his love. Most recently, this comes in the form of newly made 3D printed earrings, with Halloween themes. I am delighted by their variety and the fun of them. He knows me so well. He made “extras” so I can share them with friends who take similar joy in such things. I’ve planned my day around attaching findings and hooks to them; I’m eager to wear them. Eager to share them, and enjoy them in conversation.

… and so many more… I am fortunate to be so loved.

Eventually, daybreak comes. I wonder briefly at my (potentially erroneous) sense that a new day “always” comes… how true is that really? We are mortal creatures. Eventually our finite mortal minutes will run out. I sit wondering if the universe itself truly has its own similar limitations, such that one morning, the sun will not rise, again? It doesn’t feel like a grim weight on my spirit, it’s more just a question, of sorts. I can’t answer it. I don’t have enough knowledge to hold an informed opinion. It is a stray thought, like a cloud, drifting past, rather far away and abstract, and nothing to be bothered by.

There is enough daylight now to make out the trail. My coffee cup is empty. Seems like a good time to begin again. I lace up my boots and get ready to walk another mile. Yes, of course it’s a metaphor… but it’s also a favorite trail, a beautiful morning, and a nice way to begin a new day.

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.

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.