Archives for category: Love

I’m drinking strawberry infused water. It is cold – so cold – and vaguely sweet without being sticky. I find myself wondering why this hasn’t been “a thing” for far longer in my life? It’s pleasant, without being heavy, and I am enjoying (rather a lot) that it does not include any cucumber. Don’t get me wrong, I like cucumber just fine. Big fan of pickles, too. It’s just that, subjectively, I find the flavor of cucumber in water to be rather remarkably like very refreshing garden soil. Not really a flavor I’m seeking out by preference. lol

Now and then, on a break, or between tasks, I peek at Google Maps to see how far along his planned route my Traveling Partner has gotten. I smile every time; it feels like a connection. I already miss him, even though, on any given ordinary week day, we are not sharing this time, any way. I just know he won’t be there at the house, when I return home. I ache with the weight of yearning for his company, at the same time I eagerly look forward to cherished stillness. The feelings compete for my attention. I don’t make any effort to dismiss either one, or to diminish them, or to attempt to rationalize how one is more “right” or “true” than the other; they both exist in my experience of self, quite comfortably side by side. They are both true of who I am; I miss my partner when he is away, and I enjoy the luxury of the solitude when he is gone. My emotions are not my enemy, and I am not in any way less mentally capable for having the feelings I do. 🙂

…Still… I’m distracted. I’m thinking of him. Thinking of love. Thinking of the practicalities of life, at home, and in the world. I am waiting – for his return, for the quiet of a few solitary evenings at home, for the fulfillment and joy that both can bring. I’m also distracted, now and then, hoping that he is safe, and that his trip goes well, and brings him satisfaction and delight.

I suppose I could write more, or differently. This moment captivates me, drinking strawberry water, and watching the clock. Working. Waiting. Wistfully looking forward to morning coffee, tomorrow, then taken by surprise by a pang of something a bit like sadness, remembering this morning’s lovely moments over coffee together…and that coffee, tomorrow, will be quite entirely alone. I laugh, noticing I’ve finished off this water – and remind myself that I nearly always have my coffee quite entirely alone, in my studio, in the wee hours, while the world sleeps.

…I think I’ll refill this water bottle, and begin again. 😀

This weekend I enjoyed a hot cup of coffee – the first since my crown fell out, weeks ago. The socket left from the tooth extraction is considerably healed, although still quite tender (and I still have to be suuuper careful about bits of food getting lodged in what is left of the hole). Oh, for sure, I did not drink hot coffee while still completely hot. I, rather wisely, I thought, let is cool off quite a bit, and it was lovely even to drink warm coffee. I’d been managing properly chilled cold coffees for a few days, but hot felt like a real milestone. 🙂

…This morning, I’m finishing off the last of the canned coffee, icy cold. Tomorrow? I’ll be back to making coffee in the morning. It is a moment of self-care, ritual, and reflection, that I have been missing. 🙂

It was a rather peculiar weekend, in some regards. My Traveling Partner prepares to travel. I enjoy his company while he does so. Simple stuff. Still also fairly peculiar, in spots, with more than typical (brief) moments of (unexpected) strife. We work it out – we always do. No yelling, no raised voices, just moments when it was very obvious that our perspectives on some particular event, circumstance, or simply how we view some experiences, differ so much that even discussing them in practical terms becomes difficult. It drove home the understanding that, as individuals, we are each having our own experience, and view the world through the lens of our own understanding, defining our terms using our own unique dictionary, colored by our experiences, our values, and our assumptions.

I took time to reread “How to Love“. Another great starting point in any moment of growth. I followed that with “After the Ecstasy, the Laundry” – both great for perspective, and for reflection. I smile, now, in happy consideration that I have the sort of home life, and partnership, that allows for time to read, and supports discussion, without yelling. It’s nice. It’s very much worth the shared effort.

I step away from my writing for a moment to add something to my backpack that I’ll need later today, and notice that most signs of packing for travel are now missing from the living room landscape. Realizing my partner likely packed the car last night (and that I slept through that), I feel a brief twinge of loneliness in advance, that seems to want my attention. I breathe, exhale, and relax, letting go of the momentary pain of deep attachment being disturbed; we benefit from the time away from each other, having other experiences. I’m even looking forward to having a few days of solo time. I smile softly in the darkness, heading back to my studio, to finish my writing; it feels good to be so well-loved, and to love so deeply in return.

…Strange week for this adventure to play out. I’ve got a team member out on vacation, but somehow also committed myself to completing a major piece of analysis by midweek, while training a new member of my team (who won’t be able to help much with a day-to-day routine he does not yet know), and oh, right – I’ve got an appointment today! I feel time suddenly contract, folding in on me, building a sense of urgency and pressure (that, admittedly, I neither need, nor find “motivating”, at all). I correct my posture. Breathe. Exhale. Relax. I let all that go. The next couple days will be, perhaps, a bit longer than I’d ideally prefer. Sometimes that’s a thing. Reliably skillful boundary and expectation-setting, and general good self-care, means it isn’t a big thing – and will remain very temporary. I’m okay with that. The first couple days (and nights) without my partner will be the most emotionally difficult for me, and being quite busy during that time will serve me well. 🙂

…He leaves tomorrow. “Tomorrow?? That’s practically now!!” My brain sets off alarm bells in my head, and I feel somewhat breathless. Again, I breathe through that. Exhale. Relax. Let it go. I laugh at myself to both yearn for some solo time to catch my breath and really reflect upon the small changes that come with cohabitation, and also yearning to remain close to this human being I love so fondly. So human. There is literally no way to have both, in the same moment. 🙂 He has carefully planned his trip, and shared his itinerary, knowing that I find comfort in the planning, and the details, however poorly he may end up sticking to those due to, you know, all the real life and stuff, that so easily could occur along the way. I eye my clock warily, sensitive to how quickly tomorrow morning comes; I’ll go to work, and when I return home, tomorrow, it will be to solitude. Wild. So soon. 🙂

The weekend is over. The new week is ahead. One Monday of many, and it seems a good one so far. I finish my coffee, check the timing on the train for my early start to the day, and prepare to begin again.

After having a great day, yesterday, I managed to come home in a pretty good mood. That did not last. Like a flash-flood, my irritability developed quickly, out of my physical discomfort, and became “a thing” that really messed with my general contentment. It didn’t wreck my sleep or anything, and I managed to generally, mostly, enjoy the evening, and mostly, generally, maintained a more or less chill approach to things, once I bounced back. Evenings are too short for bullshit; it’s nearly always worth the effort to regain my balance, and restore my typically merry baseline. No time to waste on drama – life is all to brief.

Our path is not always obvious, level, paved, or well-lit. Sometimes it is.

…I did learn an important lesson from my less-than-ideal experience last night, though… it’s too soon for tacos. Yep. That’s it. Practical life lesson. Tooth extractions and tacos don’t really “go together”, and eating foods not well-suited to the healing needs of this hole in my jaw is a poor choice. That’s how I got from “pleasant” to “fuck this shit” so quickly last night; I got something stuck in the still-quite-tender tooth socket which is no longer filled with a molar. lol Between just sort of freaking me out, emotionally, and the actual discomfort, it was a very quick transition from the fragile pleasantness of the evening to momentary misery. It also served as a reminder that practices are always practices, never rising to the level of reliable mastery; I do well to keep practicing. 🙂 I feel fortunate that the evening did not end up worse, and that my difficult irritable moments did not linger far longer. I remind myself it is less about “good fortune” and more about the verbs, choices, and incremental change over time that results from those.

Flower or weed? It’s a matter of perspective, isn’t it?

I sip my coffee thinking about days and weeks ahead. Individual plans being what they are, it looks like I’ll have a couple weeks of solitude at home. I’m looking forward to that, and enjoy my Traveling Partner’s sharing of plans, as he works out this detail or that one, figuring out his route, and timing, and stops along the way. I am eager for him to enjoy his experience. Eager for me to enjoy mine – and patiently, gently, ignoring the subtle hints of anxiousness over the imminent (temporary) separation; I enjoy the solo time quite a lot. I will miss him greatly, nonetheless. I eye my calendar suspiciously, cynically, and with some amusement; he’s re-planned this trip a couple times now, will it really jump from calendar to real life, this time? Well… it did make it to the calendar…

…The woman in the mirror reminds me to take care of me, also, and to see the world, to visit distant friends, to get out onto the highway, and onto the trail. She’s right. I’ve empowered, enabled, equipped, and supported, the various travels of partners over the years, and often failed to so for my own. It’s been awhile since I’ve seen my sister. I have yet to return to Texas, to visit friends down that way. I’m homesick for Fresno (of all things), a hub around which so many old friends make their lives in California, spread out all over, occasionally returning for some event or another, to catch up, and to reconnect with a small close group from long ago. My visit last year (the year before?) was quite wonderful…

…So… what’ll it be? Where will the journey take me? Where do I want to take myself? It’s an important question worthy of my full attention, but it won’t get that this morning. 🙂 There’s a work day ahead. I can at least take time for a walk over my lunch break, and maybe a moment for meditation. 😀 That’s enough, today. 😀

It’s at least a place to start. 😀

I’m sipping my room temperature coffee (lost a crown, haven’t yet had that repaired), and considering the path I am on, and where it has taken me. I’m thinking about my mother’s death. I’m slowly waking up to a new morning, and a new perspective.

Every ending, also a beginning; the sun shines even on our dark moments.

I went to the farmer’s market yesterday. The blueberries and blackberries are just in, and the strawberries have not yet disappeared. At the grocery store, exceptional tree-ripe apricots up from Dinuba were in. They are delicious this morning, with my coffee. Needing more novelty – and admittedly, also more exercise – I selected a nearby trail I “hadn’t gotten to, yet” – and got to it.

The sunshine was bright and illuminating.

It was only two miles, and spent mostly in my head. The sunshine was warm on my skin.

There were beautiful eye-catching flowers I’ve never noticed before.

The breeze was soft, and heavily scented with flowers.

Sweetpeas bloomed all along the trail, at the edges of the blackberry thicket.

I let my feet carry me forward, enjoying sunshine and movement. Thinking about Mom’s passing, without being fully aware that her service was going on, at that time, but still very much grieving the loss in a personal way. No guilt over not traveling for the service; she’d have understood. I know this, because we had discussed it.

Thimbleberries!

I spot a thicket of ripening thimbleberries along my path. I help myself to just one; they are too fragile for commercial cultivation, and have minimal fruit. The lovely flavor is unique, and I savor it, present, just being for that long sweet moment. I enjoy just the one berry, leaving the rest for the birds, before walking on.

There are wee bunnies in the underbrush all along my walk. Most of them are too fast for me to capture on film.

I return, eventually, to the car, and to home, and enjoy a quiet relaxed day of this-n-that, generally at leisure.

…No headache.

I sit a moment with that awareness; no headache yesterday. No headache this morning. I don’t want to miss this moment. This, too, is worth presence, worth savoring long enough to form a clear recollection, for later.

I enjoyed the walk yesterday more than the walk itself probably rates. I definitely need to be doing more of that. I sip my coffee and consider the morning ahead… I can definitely get a walk in, this morning, too. Maybe no pictures? A walking meditation, perhaps. Along the river? I don’t go up that way often; the wind in my ears, the sparseness of the vegetation, the bare expanse of berm along the path; it’s not much to see besides the long broad ribbon of muddy water, but this morning even that sounds enticing.

I finish my coffee, and start figuring myself out for the day. I find myself recalling bow practice, yesterday, with the crossbow my Traveling Partner got me as a late birthday present. I’ve no idea, really, what inspired him to go that direction – and it was a master-stroke of loving inspiration, as it turns out. We enjoyed the sunshine together for a few moments of target practice, before determining that, ideally, we’d need more room than we have behind the house. I promise myself to keep an eye out for suitable locations as I travel here and there. Still grinning, I settle on a pair of jeans, quietly (randomly) retrieved from the closet, as my partner sleeps. This day won’t live itself!

It’s time to begin… again. 🙂

 

It was evening. I was home. There wasn’t much going on. As I recall, we’d already had dinner, and were just hanging out when I caught the first flash out of the corner of my eye (I exclaimed “lightning!” rather exuberantly, and also rudely interrupting my Traveling Partner with my unexpected enthusiasm). Dramatic clouds that had darkened the skies during the commute home, finally became something of note; a thunderstorm. Uncommon here. Enough so that we put further conversation on hold, and I opened the patio door and stood in the electrified breeze, listening to the thunder crashing in the distance, watching for the flashes of lightening. The air tasted fresh and inspiring. I felt homesick for the childhood innocence of being excited to see lightening, to hear thunder; I let myself have the moment.

Thunderstorms were quite common where I grew up. I thought of then. I thought of now. It felt like a choice send off for my Mom. We used to enjoy the thunderstorms together; my bouncing excitement, her feigned gruffness masking her own. She would make a point of stopping me from rushing out into the yard, cautioning me about lightning strikes. Last night, my Traveling Partner was her “stand in” when I jumped to my feet excitedly exclaiming that I was going to “go out in it!” to stand on the deck and feel the wind wrap around me. “Out on the deck? Why not just open the curtains, and open up the door?” We enjoyed the storm together, while it lasted. Storms pass.

After the storm, a hurried shot taken while the rain fell. I got the focus wrong, but… this is sort of common with me, generally. 😉

A couple more work shifts, then the weekend. I sip my coffee and smile, recalling the text from my sister, yesterday evening, asking me if I would like to have Mom’s favorite cup and saucer…? My smile becomes a grin; it was that particular type of floral pattern, that got me interested in porcelain tea cups and saucers, so many years ago. I have a lovely collection of them now, gathered over years, and miles, of lifetime. I eagerly accepted, and later stood in the doorway, listening to the thunder, thinking of my Mom, and of “having a coffee with her”, anytime, always, by enjoying mine in her favored cup. Still smiling, I notice the aphorism on my weighty, serviceable, ceramic mug this morning; life is good. Yes, yes it is…

…If nothing else, it’s better than the alternative (at least as far as I can know). 🙂