It’s rare to put things in order such that some need of my own really “comes first”. I usually put specific key responsibilities at the top of my list, obligations to home and hearth, family or colleagues, because doing the needful matters, and people are counting on me. Last night I chose to play a current favorite video game for a little while, instead of tidying up or hanging out with the family. This morning I’m writing before I do the budget (it’s a payday). Choices have consequences, and as I sip my coffee I find myself feeling like a jerk for putting myself first last night; I forgot to make tuna salad for my Traveling Partner, which he had specifically and fondly requested (he really likes the way I make it).
…Well, shit…
I sigh to myself and make a note to include an apology with my morning greeting, later. I could do better. Very human; my results vary. But, it’s also not helpful to kick myself over it for any length of time, once I’ve acknowledged my error, commit to making amends, and am ready to move on contrite over the miss, but also grateful that I did take a moment to treat myself well. I’ve just got to do a little better at balancing such things.
…I’ll keep practicing…
I sip my coffee listening to a bit of music, and getting my thoughts organized for the day ahead. The weekend is almost here. It’s a lovely summer day. I feel a peculiar pang of nostalgia for long lazy summer days of adolescence, hanging out at the edge of the woods with my boom box, listening to Atlanta Rhythm Section or Van Halen. Funny to feel it so sharply from this office desk, simultaneously feeling the gratitude and joy of living a substantially better life than I knew in those earlier times. Humans are weird. We cling so tightly to illusions of what was, forgetting for the moment the realities that hurt us so deeply. I guess it’s better than being mired in sorrow. I smile to myself, as I listen to a favorite song from a long gone time ago.
Another day, another set of choices, and new steps on this journey to becoming the person I most want to be. I know I can count on my results to vary, and I’m grateful for each new opportunity to begin again. Change is. This path definitely leads somewhere. I guess it’s time…
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.
It is the wee hours, and I’m awake. I haven’t yet fallen asleep, but I’ve enjoyed some lovely quiet time reading (re-reading a favorite classic, Siddhartha by Herman Hesse).
…I expected to fall asleep quickly.
An experience is very much what we make of it, and reality has no particular relationship to our expectations at all. I chuckle about it in the darkness. I’m unconcerned about having my device in front of my eyes right now, having dimmed the display to less than 25% and only “stopping by” while I drink some water and finish this cough drop to soothe my still irritated throat.
I was not wholly surprised to find myself wakeful. Different pain meds. Substantial changes in routine (to prepare for surgery), which included giving up supplements, and limiting or changing the timing of various medications and over-the-counter remedies. Of course I’m not asleep. I slept in this morning. I was drugged or unconscious much of the morning due to surgery. I slept for unmeasured hours after I was released to go home. Why would I even expect to actually be tired beyond the fatigue of injury itself? (Every healing surgery is also an experience of being injured, and systems interfered with!)
So. I’ve stirred myself enough to get some water. A cough drop. A change of position. (Picked another book, just in case sleeplessness persists.) I’ll meditate, then try sleep again and see where things stand when a new day dawns. That’ll be soon enough to begin again. First I need to take care of me (and brush aside these expectations cluttering things up my thinking, too, eh?).
Once upon a time there was a rose…
Morning of a new day. Why that picture? Because the damned deer ate my roses (again) and I was thinking about that during the night. I’d waited 4 years for that rose (Golden Opportunity) to bloom! I’m glad I got to see her. The deer only eat tender new growth… many roses bloom on new growth – you see the problem? Could be little cages for every rose next year except those that the deer don’t favor (I suspect they are either too thorny, or don’t taste good for some reason).
My cup of coffee is good this morning. Hot. Well and carefully made. Exactly as I like it. I’m grateful, but apparently I inconsiderately left the counter a mess (everything is just a bit more difficult with my left hand impaired, but that’s no excuse for not noticing that I had dripped coffee and grounds on the counter and failed to clean them up). So human. My Traveling Partner called it out with some annoyance; no one likes waking up to a mess. He was kind enough to clean it up as he made his own coffee. I’m annoyed with myself for leaving it, though. I hope our morning together is pleasant otherwise. I’m mostly myself this morning, but still recovering, and a little impaired. I remind myself to slow down and be patient with myself and alert to my surroundings.
I finally slept last night. I slept until I woke, much later than I generally would. My timing all feels off. It’ll pass. There’s no pressure; I’m off work today to recover. I take my time doing the budget and payday stuff; I’m typing with only 9 fingers, presently, and it feels awkward with the finger that is not available being an index finger. This will also pass. A lot of the details of our human experience are quite temporary. Too temporary for a lot of fuss and bother or agitation, generally. It’d be nice if that were an easier idea to hold onto in a stressful moment! It takes practice – and the practice is in the lived experiences; results will vary. I sip my coffee and think about that. We become what we practice – there is persistence implied, and continued repetition over time. Effort. Verbs. Will.
It’s pleasant to have a Greek yogurt drink (peach) with my coffee this morning. I didn’t enjoy having to go to “clear liquids” only, for the 24 hours before my surgery. lol It was more about the loss of the sensual delight in tasting something good, less about hunger or blood sugar – the Ozempic definitely did it’s job there. Turns out that, at least for me, the experience of food and meals and tasting things is one of life’s real joys, and the day felt stripped of something precious without it. It wasn’t actually a big deal, it’s just genuinely nice not having to go without, and I’m appreciating that. There is real value in taking a moment to appreciate something, to feel it, to enjoy it, to be in that moment, so I make it a point to do that. It has tended to result in an implicit experience of life as pleasant and positive, generally, instead of the bleakness and feeling of futility that once characterized how I experienced my life. A very good practice (for me) and a change I’m very glad I made.
Yesterday was quite nice, after the surgery. I mostly slept, but when I woke it was to an experience of being cared for. My Traveling Partner was wonderful, (going with me to my surgery, bringing me home and caring for me all day) and the Anxious Adventurer did his part as well (bringing me a very nice sorbet to soothe my throat on his way home from work and taking care of dishes and trash and housekeeping stuff), and it was so nice to chillax over silly videos and munch pizza together at dinner time. No idea what today holds, really, nothing complicated – I’m giving myself the best chance I can to heal well and thoroughly without complications. I use my hands a lot. I’m grateful to have the use of them.
I think things over another few minutes. I hear my partner call to me from the other room, checking on me. It’s time to begin again.
It’s been lovely having a bit of a vacation. The clock keeps ticking. The wheel keeps turning. Eventually every pleasant vacation drops us off at the starting point to begin living life in “the usual way” (more or less). I’m not unhappy with that. The power of taking a break comes from the way (and amount) it deviates from the day-to-day. (This is why a “stay-cation” can still be a wonderful interlude that refreshes and recharges us.)
A familiar sight on a familiar trail.
A new beginning, a restart, a chance to set off on the journey with new perspective is one of the things I value each time I take a vacation (or even a break, or after a long weekend). If I’ve learned something new about myself, I take advantage of that new understanding in some way. If I’ve used the time to build a new habit or make a lifestyle change, I carry it forward into my everyday living. Practical. This approach can be so effective that I’ve even taken time off specifically to begin or end some behavior in order to focus on that change before resuming routine living, in order to “make it stick” more effectively.
I finish this morning’s walk just as the rain begins spattering the windshield. Of course it’s raining. I’m not even surprised. I felt it coming.
My arthritis has been griefing me all week. The amount of pain I’m in nearly every day is just fucking stupid, and unreasonable, and difficult to manage, and seems wholly “unfair”, and I mostly just don’t even complain about it or bring it up beyond the occasional mention (in my lived actual life), though I mention it relatively frequently here. It’s mostly pointless to say anything much about it. There’s nothing much anyone can do about it, and I’d rather not be defined by my pain or allow it to dictate the boundaries of my experience. Besides, everyone hurts sometimes, and we can only ever really understand our own pain. It’s truly difficult to understand the magnitude of someone else’s pain, and far too easy to dismiss it as being somehow less than our own. I’d rather not discuss it or argue the point; it’s not a competition. I think it sucks to be in pain, and I’m often cross about it while trying my best not to make it anyone else’s problem (especially my Traveling Partner); we’ve all got our own pain to deal with. If you’re in pain, I’m sorry to hear it, and I wish that it were in my power to ease your suffering.
I breathe, exhale, and relax. The rainy weather pretty reliably means more arthritis pain. I smile to myself, somewhat mirthlessly. I enjoy the rain so much! The spectacular mismatch between my delight in rainy days and the pain I’m in on rainy days is not lost on me. If I’m lucky, my delight and my joy in life may distract me from my pain for some little while.
Are you in pain? I get it. Please take care of yourself. Take it easy when you can (and when you must), and set healthy boundaries. Pain doesn’t have to become your whole world – you can choose differently (often)(sometimes). Your results may vary.
When I arrived.
Yesterday was a nice finish to my vacation days, although a storm blowing in from the sea ultimately chased me back to the car and got me headed home a little earlier than I’d planned. It was still quite a lovely day. It has been a supremely relaxing and restful week. I needed that more than I knew.
When I left.
I didn’t mind the storm. Like change, the weather simply is, and it’s not to be argued with. lol It was too blustery for plein air painting, and I didn’t really mind. I adapted to the conditions (easier than trying to argue with the weather). I enjoyed walking on the beach and exploring the tide pools. I took pictures of the rocks and waves and the storm moving in. I enjoyed returning home to see that a rose I had planted the year after we moved in had finally bloomed. (She took her sweet damned time with that, but she’s beautiful, and worth the wait.) The hollyhocks are blooming too, but colossal, and clearly “in the wrong spot” as planted. As with any garden, I learn with the seasons, and make changes based on what I learn along the way. (It’s a metaphor.)
“Golden Opportunity” blooming.
So… Here I am. Now. Being. Listening to the rain fall, and reflecting on the moment. My tinnitus is louder than the rain, but my pain is managed. Good enough. I’ve got things to do, and it’s time to begin again.
My last “proper day of vacation” began with some sleeping in – what a delightful luxury! I dressed and slipped out of the house without waking my Traveling Partner (as far as I know). I decided, yesterday, that today I’d make the drive to the coast and head down to Fogarty Creek, which has easy access to a small private feeling beach enclosed by steep rocky hillsides. The Oregon Coast Trail passes through there.
… Stormy clouds followed me, and I figured it might rain at some point, but I drove on, unconcerned, enjoying the absence of traffic (not another car on the road going my way, at all)…
Kite flying on a stormy morning seemed like a good idea to someone.
I parked with my coffee at a favorite spot with a great view of the ocean. The tide is coming in, and in a few more minutes it’ll be high tide, according to the tide table, but not the highest high tide today. That’ll be later, shortly before sundown, and long after I’ve returned home.
The first rain drops tap the windshield gently, and then it’s just straight up raining. Last time I made Fogarty Creek my destination, it also rained (a drenching deluge blown sideways by fierce storm winds). Today I can see breaks in the storm gray clouds overhead, so perhaps the rain will pass quickly. No matter. I actually don’t care much about the weather today, I’m enjoying my time (and my coffee) anyway. I sit watching a man on the beach persisting in trying to fly his kite in spite of the rain.
The drive over to the coast was beautiful. The roadside slopes and ditches were in bloom with plentiful pink foxgloves and purple vetch, and blackberry brambles covered in clouds of pretty white flowers. The air smelled fresh and sweet. No traffic at all was a nice treat. No traffic = no stress. It was fun.
…So this is 62? So far so good…
I sip my coffee, sitting contentedly with my thoughts on a rainy morning, listening to the raindrops on the roof of the car. I’m enjoying the pleasant relaxed vibe of having nothing specific to do and nowhere I need to be. I savor the moment, because this too will pass; moments are fleeting, and a mortal lifetime is brief. It’s enough to enjoy the moment as it is. I breathe, exhale, and relax. I think of my Traveling Partner and hope he has a lovely day relaxing or working, whatever suits him most.
I sigh to myself as the rain slows to a few random drops. Soon enough, I’ll finish the drive. There’s no rush, and the journey is the destination. It hardly matters whether I drive further down the coast or sit contentedly right here. What matters most is simply to enjoy the moment…
Evening Light 