Oh. Wait… No sponsor, here. No advertiser (unless forced on you by the app, and if so, my apologies cuz that truly sucks). No AI used in writing this post. No monetization. (I don’t make money off of this writing, and money isn’t the point.)
… Welcome…
Sunrise
It is a Friday. An ordinary enough work day. The days are getting shorter, enough to notice the change in the timing of the sunrise. I set off down the trail feeling a certain settled contentment that I yearned for, for so long. It’s a lovely warm feeling a little like love, focused on just this moment right here. I breathe the summer air deeply, tasting the scents of meadow and wildflowers. I watch the robins scratching in the grass alongside the trail ahead. I think about the day ahead of me and the weekend just beyond. I keep walking.
When I get to my halfway point, I pause to meditate as the sun rises, and to write a bit. I sit with my thoughts trying to recall something I thought I’d write about, but it eludes me now.
I sit quietly with my feeling of contentment and soft joy. Nice moment, in spite of physical pain competing for my attention. Fuck pain, though. I breathe, exhale, and relax, doing my best to distract myself. It’s quite early and my meds aren’t yet doing their thing in full measure. Soon. It’ll be some better, soon.
The work day ahead feels uncomplicated, necessary, and appropriately limited by time. I think about maybe baking brownies and remind myself to pick up chicken for dinner, later. It’s an utterly ordinary day in a very average and largely unremarkable life – or so it seems to me. I’m okay with that. I don’t need something spectacular and extraordinary out of my day-to-day experience. Enough is enough in every practical way.
“Enough” is a matter of perspective.
I sigh to myself watching the sky change colors with the rising sun. Soon enough I’ll begin again, but for now, right here is fine. I’ll sit here on this picnic table and enjoy it awhile before I walk on.
It’s a lovely morning on the trail. The sun is up, shining golden and filling the tree tops with light. The air is cool and hints at fall ahead. Summer scents of mown meadows and blooming flowers fill the still air. The distant hills are hazy; it’s wildfire season. I pause to sit and meditate as the morning becomes a new day. It is a lovely practice.
Sunlight and oak trees
“Nothing to see here.” I have the trail to myself, this morning. I enjoy that as the pleasant luxury that it is. I don’t own this land. I don’t have any claim on this place at this time. It is a public trail available for anyone who chooses to use it. It’s nice to have it to myself, and quite rare this time of year.
There’s a work day ahead, but it’s not yet time for that. This is time for me. Pleasant solitary minutes for walking and reflecting, for thinking and for meditating, and for snapping the occasional photograph of sunlight in the trees, or wildflowers, small birds, or the rising sun.
The sunrise, as I arrived.
I watch small yellow birds land on weedy stems alongside the path. They chirp together, nibbling at the seeds drying there after the flowers have faded and fallen.
A small yellow bird holds still for a picture.
Lovely moment. Lovely morning. I’ll work from home today, a nice break from commuting to the office. I am grateful to have the choice. I sit watching the little birds flutter among the weeds. There are several now. They ignore me and go about the business of the day.
…Each moment is so precious…
What are you cultivating? What are you working towards as a human being? Are you the person you most want to be? What steps are you taking to get there? What practices are you practicing? We become what we practice, so those choices really matter. Choose wisely.
I breathe, exhale, and relax. The morning chill contrasts with the warmth of the sunshine on my bare arms. I sigh contentedly. It’s a great beginning to a new day, for me, here, now. Your results may vary. You’re having your own experience – make the choices that will make it a good one, if you can. It’s worth making that effort.
… The journey is the destination…
I get to my feet to head back. It’s already time to begin again.
In much the same way as “the clothes make the man”, the sunrise makes the day. To be most brief; it doesn’t. At all.
I say this after driving to the trailhead this morning watching a sunrise so colorful and splendid that it obscured all possible awareness of what tends to make such beautiful displays as dawn becomes day (which is typically some sort of terrible pollution in the air, or wildfires, rarely anything good).
I tried to snap a picture of this morning’s unbelievably beautiful sunrise. The sort of bold magentas and subtle lavenders that I feel inspired to paint. They seem unreal even in a photograph. The magenta and lavender hues gave way to bolder oranges, and tangerine and gold, and a vaguely bilious yellow green strip along the horizon as the sun began to rise above the hilltops. In between the streaked clouds, a delicate cerulean blue peaked through. No photograph could capture this tremendous display of beauty and color. I did try. lol
You had to be there.
By the time I reached the trailhead, the sunrise was over. The morning is quite cloudy and hints at rain. The ferocious heat has abated somewhat, and it is cooler than it has been, pleasantly so. The morning is quiet, but here in this place, I do hear the traffic on the adjacent highway as I lace up my boots. I listen to little birds chirping and carrying on, and I wonder what they are so excited about first thing?
Yesterday was interesting. Most of it was quite lovely, and spent in the good company of my beloved Traveling Partner. There were some moments that I will reflect on fondly for some time to come and I feel very loved. There were also a couple of moments that I could have done without, and I feel my expression change when I recall them. Humans being human. The moments don’t define the day.
I set off down the trail. I hear distant voices. I see hot air balloons in the sky, visible but quite far away. I walk the marsh trail, more meadow than marsh this time of year. I walk along the river. Somewhere nearby a duck quacks. A chipmunk darts across the path, as it turns and winds through the oak groves.
The map is not the world.
The journey is the destination, and the map is not the world. Our plan is not our experience. What we choose to wear, the words we say, the things we have or yearn for, these are not the essence of who we are. It’s closer to the truth to say that we are the path we walk, the choices we make, and the accumulated outcomes of those choices. We are the lived expression of our values – our real values, not the ones we say are dear to us, nor some trendy popular sound bite. A flag sticker on a vehicle doesn’t make the driver a patriot, nor does a catchy slogan make a responsible citizen (or a good leader). We tell the world (and those dearest to us) who we are through our actions, everything else is more like something we’re wearing, I think. Still chosen. We are, more than anything, the sum of our choices.
… Choose wisely…
I smile thinking about precious lived moments of love with my Traveling Partner. We’re unquestionably human, both of us, but g’damn do I ever love this particular human being with all my heart. I easily forgive and overlook little hurtful moments because they are few and only moments. No one moment defines the profound enduring love we share. He “gets me”. We know each well and deeply. Our lives have become so entwined over time I can’t imagine what life would be like without him. My smile deepens, recalling the unexpected gift he gave me yesterday, a small figure of a favorite anime character. Doesn’t matter why this character is among my favorites, but it certainly says something about me to see them there on my desk together: Wonder Woman, Major Kusanagi, Professor Chaos, and now Kento Nanami joins them. Aspirational role models? Avatars? Totems? I don’t know… little godlings perhaps, standing as light posts on a quiet street on a dark night. They represent qualities I seek and embrace within myself, or acknowledge and work to overcome. Definitely a bit of both; our heroes are as flawed as we are ourselves.
Who are your heroes? Why them?
I sit at my halfway point thinking and writing. Realizing that I don’t actually know who my partner’s heroes are. Not explicitly. I don’t think I’ve ever asked, though we share more of our inner lives with each other than most people likely do. Interesting. What an odd thing. I could guess, but guessing is a pretty poor way to gather information. I think I’ll ask sometime.
I sit awhile thinking about this man I love and who loves me so dearly in return. We’ve traveled some miles together. I hope we share many more. He has become part of me. This love we share is one of the best parts of who I have become over time.
If the sunrise doesn’t make the day, what does? No one moment is the entirety of a day unless we allow it to become so. A day is not the entire lifetime, any more than a step is the whole journey. We have so many opportunities to begin again if things go sideways or we step off the path.
What does “make the man”? For me? His values. His lived values. It’s not necessary for someone to tell you what they value with their words, their actions tell you all you need to know. What are you telling the world about who you are and what you value, with your actions? Are you satisfied with the picture your actions paint? If not, you have choices, and you can begin again.
I sigh and glance at the time. There’s this trail, and the day, ahead of me and the clock is ticking. I smile and stretch and get to my feet.
I “slept in” (for some values of sleeping in), and drove to the trailhead with the sun in my eyes. No traffic. Lovely quiet drive. No pressure, no stress. I walked down the trail eagerly, feeling rested and fit. I hear (and see) robins, jays, finches, sparrows, and swallows. I listen to their calls and songs as they flit about their business in the meadow. A smallish owl perched very still atop a fence post startles me when he opens his eyes and turns his head as I pass; I thought he was part of the fence post! When he takes off and flies past me I get a better sense of his size (not “small”!)
…I keep walking…
A favorite spot to linger in summertime.
I get to my “halfway point” and take a seat on a fallen branch in this copse of oaks. I feel “surrounded by nature” though I’m an easy walk back to the trailhead parking lot, and the adjacent highway. I love this spot for a brief getaway from “the world”. Sunshine, blue sky, birdsong, breezes, meadow flowers…it has everything I want on a summer morning, except my Traveling Partner’s good company and a good cup of coffee. There’s something to understand there about wanting, yearning, seeking, finding, and… sufficiency.
What is enough? Once upon a time, I felt as if every moment had to meet every need and fulfill every desire. That’s a pretty shitty and unsatisfying way to live; nothing can ever measure up to such feelings. Worse still, I wanted so much. I wanted “happily ever after”, and every waking moment felt like failure, regardless how much joy and delight might actually be available. I couldn’t feel the good in my life because I was mired in chronic disappointment. Things didn’t change much until I stopped chasing “happiness” and began to cultivate contentment. Contentment is so… achievable. Turned out to be a useful stepping stone to moments of profound happiness, too, and because I wasn’t chasing happiness, I could really enjoy it with my whole self when I happened upon it.
I sit with my quiet thoughts awhile, listening to the various birds singing their songs. Some I easily recognize, others I’m less sure of. Here too, a lesson; curiosity and wonder leave plenty of room for learning and growth, where “certainty” tends to close that door with a bang. It’s hard to learn when we think we know. “Don’t be too sure” seems like very good advice. I’ve learned to embrace uncertainty and joy. I grin at a little bird approaching me very closely. I don’t bother trying to get a picture, I just enjoy the moment, instead.
The sun is warm on my back. I feel wrapped in contentment and quiet joy. My Traveling Partner pings me a good morning. My heart feels light. I get to my feet to finish my walk, and begin again.
The sunrise was a bold assortment of hues of pink and magenta this morning, rays of color flaring from behind streaks of pink clouds edged with mauve. I watched as I drove to the trailhead.
A new day, a new perspective.
…I wish I’d slept in…
I yawned through the first half of my walk, feeling sleepy. I feel like I could easily enjoy a nap, though I slept well and deeply and woke rested this morning. Doesn’t matter, and I keep walking.
I reached my halfway point happy to pause, but wishing there were a hammock conveniently nearby. lol There is not.
I sit watching a small herd of deer crossing the meadow. They have two fawns with them. It’s that time of year, and I know I’ll be seeing the fawn that has been keeping the local doe coming back to my garden again and again. Soon they’ll move on for the summer, and my roses will get a break from being nibbled at.
4 of July. My Traveling Partner has some work he expects will keep him occupied for much of the day. I’ll busy myself with tidying up the deck for cooking, later. The groceries are on hand. No errands to run that can’t wait (none that I recall right now), just a pleasant holiday weekend ahead, available for relaxation, good food, and fun.
I sit awhile watching the new day begin, and thinking about summer times past. The things I miss most about childhood summers are fireflies, thunderstorms, and leisure time (which seemed so endless then, it is hard to imagine now). There are no fireflies in this part of the world, and thunderstorms are quite uncommon. I’m managing to get sufficient leisure time, generally, but it doesn’t feel like those endless days of summer from my childhood. I sigh to myself, grateful for the three day weekend.
A little yellow and black bird hops quite close to me and sings a little song before flying away. I don’t even try to get a picture. I already know he’s too quick for me.
I get to my feet. Another yawn. It’s already time to begin again.
