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Enough Blame to Go Around

July 8, 2024 //
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I’m sipping an iced coffee, perched on a stretch of fence, watching the sun rise. Another hazy warm summer morning that foretells of heat to come. I’ll be in the chill of an air conditioned office for much of the day. Right now I am sitting outside, along the edge of this trail that wanders betwixt marsh and river, looking out across an expanse of meadow, breathing summer air scented by flowers and grasses. It’s a pleasant moment and my being here, now, is mostly due to my Traveling Partner’s need to get some sleep in early morning hours, and the resulting habit of mine that has developed over time; I walk in the early morning hours (avoiding making a bunch of noise knocking about the house while my Traveling Partner tries to sleep).

Another summer morning. Another sunrise.

I smile and breathe the summer scented air. It would not be an exaggeration to place the “blame” for a lot of my current living situation and quality of life on my Traveling Partner. When he and I began to become close, I was in a very different situation (professionally, financially, domestically, medically, and romantically), and from the beginning he questioned (often) why I was in that place instead of living quite differently (and better). He suggested I could do more/better with the resources I had, with my background and experience, and with available options that seemed so obvious to him. He encouraged me to choose differently. It was 2010. He nudged me into getting my first smartphone. It started with that small change, and with the change in my outlook on life that developed and began to deepen through that first year together. He really “backed me up” and encouraged me in a way no previous partner had.

…He has reliably encouraged me to be my best version of the woman I would most like to be that I possibly can…

How I live my life is in my hands. My choices are my own. I am responsible for the consequences of my actions and my words and deeds. (Good and bad.) But… I likely wouldn’t have made many of the choices I did, when I made them, or pursued the results I have gotten, without the love and encouragement, and day-to-day confidence in my abilities that my Traveling Partner has shown me. I playfully “blame him” for much of my experience of success in this latter portion of my life. I doubt I would be in this specific here and now without him. I’m grateful, both for his enduring love and friendship, and also to be here, now, living this life. However long this lasts, it’s pretty pleasant and generally comfortable, and I hope I never take it for granted.

… I’ve done the work to get here, but I wasn’t alone on this journey; it’s been a shared experience. We’re in this together…

The sound of distant traffic reminds me this is a work day. I could happily sit here with my coffee, listening to birdsong and breezes until the heat of the day made it uncomfortable, but there’s work to be done, and it’s part of maintaining this pleasant life I share with my Traveling Partner (and the Anxious Adventurer, for some while to come). I glance at the time, on my cute wrist watch, a gift from my partner earlier this year. I’ve got plenty of time to make my way back up the trail, and my coffee is gone…

… Seems like a good time to begin again…

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Categories Allegories, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, inspiration, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, Summer, The Art of Being, Words

A New Day, A New Beginning

July 5, 2024 //
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I slept well in spite of the noise of fireworks going off well into the night. I woke occasionally and quickly sank back into sleep. I woke up at my usual early hour, no alarm set at all. I rose, dressed, and slipped away quietly into the early light of a summer dawn.

It’s a lovely morning. The sunrise began with streaks of peach and pink clouds across a hazy mostly clear sky. It’s going to be hot today.

I find myself straddling past moments of recollection and future moments of speculation, in this pleasant quiet “now”. The paved portion of this trail is quiet beneath my feet. Small birds explore the weeds and grass for tasty bits as I walk past. The air feels soft on my skin and I hear the sound of distant traffic… and my tinnitus. Squirrels play, chasing each other up and down and around the trunks of trees along the trail. I breathe and walk.

… Summer…

I let my thoughts wander freely as I walk. My Traveling Partner’s surgery is scheduled. I’m not fretting over that; I’m hopeful. Grateful. Eager to see him well (repaired?). I’m thinking ahead to getting some real downtime, sometime beyond the most critical recovery time immediately following his surgery. I’m eager to have a few days alone, spent on creative work and solitary reflection, unconstrained by the requirements of caregiving and service to hearth and home. I’m tired frankly, and any rest I get and all the resilience I can build, have been almost immediately consumed by the next need, week after week, for months. I’m not even complaining; I have been needed and also appreciated. My Traveling Partner has shown me great consideration, love, and gratitude, and I have no resentment in my heart. I’m just tired and eager for him to be himself at 100% again.

I don’t yet have anything specific in mind. Camping? A hotel holiday on the coast? A trip to some glittering metropolis? A quiet stay in some remote bed and breakfast? A stay at some monastery that hosts retreats? “Spin the wheel” and just show up at the airport or train station and grab the next cheap seat to somewhere at random and figure it out when I get “there”? Options.

Rather unrealistically, I want to be sitting in my Granny’s kitchen on a lazy summer morning, listening to the sound of seabirds and the tides changing along the marshy edge of Mine Creek. I’d like to make a cup of fairly terrible drip coffee and pour it over ice, and take it out to the porch, with my pastels and my sketchbook, and while away the cool morning painting landscapes of the shore along Frenchtown Rd. My heart aches for qualities of peace and serene beauty and the joy of solitary moments I don’t find often these days. The world is complicated and messy, as are human beings with their violence and villainy, their petty deceits and corruption. Peace is sometimes hard to find, and difficult to cultivate. I feel momentarily homesick for places that no longer exist outside my memory, and a bit lonely for people dear to me who are gone now.

… Strangely sentimental morning…

The sky is a brilliant clear blue as I finish this bit of writing. The morning is beginning to warm up already. It’s time to head back up the trail to the car, and back to the house to start the work day. I sigh to myself and remember to take my morning medication. It’s already time to begin again…

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Categories Allegories, art and the artist, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, inspiration, loneliness, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, Summer, The Art of Being, Uncategorized

The Best Advice

July 3, 2024 //
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Beautiful sunrise. Good morning to get a walk in. I’ve had the trail to myself, and watched the sunrise as I walked. Lovely.

Every day, every journey, begins somewhere.

The weather forecast indicates there is an extreme heat warning for the latter portion of the week, possibly record-breaking. I checked with my Traveling Partner about whether there were steps we might need to take to stay comfortable and ensure our AC functions properly. I’ll make a point to stock additional beverages and cold foods, so we won’t be required to cook using the oven or stovetop for long periods of time. I’ll drink more water.

…”Drink more water” is excellent hot weather advice, but there’s something quite limited about even the very best to bits of advice; it only works when actually taken. There are verbs involved. If we receive great advice but choose to disregard it, instead of applying it, our failures and misadventures thereby are of our own making. No one to blame but the person in the mirror. We for sure can’t claim we didn’t have guidance or that the advice was ineffective. lol

Why do people get great advice and then choose not to follow it? I don’t have an answer, I’m just wondering. I mean, actually, I can come up with several possible answers, but I don’t at all know which are likely to be most correct. Maybe we don’t trust the advice to be accurate? Maybe we don’t find the source to be credible? Maybe we think we’re a special case and the norms don’t apply to us? Maybe… maybe mostly… we’re just not really listening in the first place? That seems likely… people are pretty crappy at listening to someone else talking.

… Maybe sometimes there’s too much new information to process…

Are you listening to the good advice you’re given? Do you use it?

My neck aches ferociously this morning. I think I “slept on it wrong”. Ouch. The pain colors my experience unpleasantly. When the time comes, I take my morning medication, grateful to be able to add prescription pain relief, grateful to have it available, hopeful that it will bring some relief. I stopped on the trail several times trying to “work the kinks out” by practicing the release and self-massage techniques my chiropractor taught me. These are often quite helpful, this morning they are less so. I still make the effort. The headache that rises from the pain in my neck spreads like flames across the left side of my face. Occipital neuralgia. Fuuuuuuck. “Just kill me now”, I snarl quietly to myself, though I don’t mean it literally. I just hurt. I stretch. I breathe. I keep walking. This too will pass.

I reach my halfway point and keep walking, lost in my thoughts and preoccupied by my pain. This trail is a loop. Though I often walk out and back, a shorter distance, the full distance of the loop isn’t unreasonably far. I laugh at myself; looks like I’m going the distance this morning. I have time. Anyway, I’d be shit to be around this morning, and my Traveling Partner was already up when I left. No reason to rush back with my bitchy cross mood intact. I sigh as I walk.

… I should probably begin again. That’s pretty good advice…

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Categories Allegories, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Practices, solo hiking, Summer, The Art of Being, turning 60, women

Building a New Normal

July 1, 2024 //
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Sometimes change is hard. Sometimes change arrives rather quickly, and instead of evolving gradually over time, it pulls up out front in a moving van and unpacks over a weekend. 😂

…We managed to get most of the necessary move-in basics handled and the truck returned on time…

Getting the Anxious Adventurer moved in was the priority for the weekend, other than caring for my Traveling Partner, who was effective and handy, supporting various tasks with thoughtful guidance. The whole chaotic endeavor was considerably improved by how we each embraced the circumstances (no doubt each for our own reasons). We’re all in it together and it was obvious.

I’m definitely feeling the strain of the aggressive pace of the weekend’s activity in sore muscles and lingering fatigue. “A new normal” begins with this quiet, pleasant Monday morning. I’ll work from home with much more freedom to focus on work with my Traveling Partner’s son now available to help out, too. Hell, I might have enough left in me at the end of the day to cook a proper meal! There’s more to do, but now it can be handled within the context of the day-to-day living of life, which feels pretty good. I even got to spend some time reading last night!

There’s more to do. The work of adjusting to the changes required is not yet completed. There are boxes to go into storage. Things to change or “fix” about how the household is set up, to be better suited to three people, where there had been only two, before. The living room, though, is no longer filled with the contents of a moving van, and no one is sleeping on the floor. Progress. Today will be my first day working from my completely rearranged office-studio-creative space, which still needs a bit more fine-tuning. I chuckle to myself, still amused and astonished that I managed to move a full-sized couch into such a small room (with the help of the Anxious Adventurer and the guidance of my Traveling Partner giving instructions from down the hall). Funnier still, it manages to be more “cozy” than crowded. It will force me to be quite mindful of the space and keep it very neat, though; there is no room to tolerate clutter. Not one spare square inch of space is left for being careless or messy.

I while away a few minutes thinking about change and wondering when my Traveling Partner’s surgery will be? Scheduling that should happen today. Once we’ve got the date settled, I’ll also schedule some away-time for myself, for a date maybe a couple weeks after the surgery. Damn, it’s good to have the help of the Anxious Adventurer! I feel incredibly grateful and very fortunate. I finally have the emotional “room” to breathe and reflect and consider and exist outside the constraints of holding myself constantly at the ready to handle any/every task, every moment, all of every day… That was a lot of pressure, but I didn’t know how else to handle things.

… I’m so tired…

It’s a new day. A new opportunity to begin again. There’s more to do (nearly always is), but life has “less weight to it” somehow and I feel pretty good, generally. I woke at my usual early time, and I’ve had the trail to myself this morning. I watched the sun rise as I walked, and these quiet minutes to write and reflect don’t feel snatched from the limited time available for everything else that needs doing. It’s nice.

I don’t yet know what the new normal looks like, but I’m on this path and I’ll know soon enough. I stretch and yawn and smile. It’s time to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, Anxiety, art and the artist, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, inspiration, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Summer, The Art of Being

The Great Household Shuffling of 2024

June 29, 2024 //
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I survived yesterday’s chaos with reasonable grace, I think. I’m okay with the recollection of the day, and the outcomes of various moments. The steady process of handling tasks to do with my Traveling Partner’s son moving in is well-underway, everyone doing their part to get everything done reasonably quickly. It’s a lot to do, and there’s still more. It’ll all get done in due time.

I am finding it quite interesting to see so many things learned over time reflected back at me through the lens of seeing these experiences and practices through observation of someone who has had quite different experiences in life, having not yet learned these things at all. My stepson seems to me a bit of an “anxious adventurer”, willfully and deliberately seeking new experiences and growth, by choice, while also finding the novel situations this puts him in quite uncomfortable and anxiety-provoking. (His results vary.) I’m impressed by his adventurous nature. I’m impressed by his will to fight through his anxiety. I’m concerned by his lack of specific life skills and his lack of exposure to some fundamentals of resilience and emotional wellness. Those concerns are in no way his “fault” and it’s not about blame anyway. He’s a fellow traveler and for the time being, also a family member residing with my partner and me. There’s a lot to learn, to share, to consider…and there’s time for all that. It’s the sort of thing that does take time – and practice.

For my part, the work involved in compressing my personal space to make room for The Anxious Adventurer is sometimes quite poignant. I worked so hard for so long to have some of the luxuries I’ve been able to enjoy these last four years… but my small library uses an entire bedroom (it’s also my meditation space). My art studio, doing double duty as my office, takes another. Somehow, just due to practical logistical considerations, I’ve ended up compressing most of these things into the smallest fucking room in the house. Since it’s not actually possible to do that in a literal sense, the books and shelves of my wee library will be relocated to the main bedroom. It’s fine. It’s all fine. None of this is intended to be permanent (as my Traveling Partner regularly reminds me).

… I do know how reality works, however, and I am familiar with the vagaries of “temporary” arrangements…

A new day

Mostly, I’m just looking forward to whatever the new normal may be, and figuring that out won’t happen until the moving and shuffling around of various things is really finished (likely some weeks after my Traveling Partner has his surgery and has subsequently also recovered).

I woke quite early this morning, ahead of the sunrise entirely. I have a Saturday appointment in the city which I already wish I had cancelled due to the inconvenience of its timing, but it’s an appointment for care with a provider who reliably actually helps. Seems foolish to cancel that, when my day-to-day pain would benefit from it so much. It’s the sort of foolishly short-sighted choice I am prone to make. I’m mostly glad I didn’t cancel, but my anxiety nags at me for “being so selfish” or “letting everyone else down”. (Which is one of the many lies my anxiety tells me.)

… I still find it quite difficult to make my own self-care a high priority, in spite of knowing how important it is…

I slipped quietly out of the house far earlier than necessary, this morning, but I think I managed to do it without waking either my Traveling Partner or the Anxious Adventurer. Win! I arrived at the trailhead just at daybreak. I walked the trail between river and marsh, listening to the birds and the sound of distant traffic (and my tinnitus). It’s been lovely. I had the trail to myself. I took my time. Stopped here and there for a picture or a moment. It’s been quite satisfying and joyful, and a delightful use of my time.

… I needed the break and the solitude…

I got back to the car too early to head to the city. I write a while. I meditate. I think about coffee. Maybe breakfast? In any case, it’s time to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, Anxiety, art and the artist, Brain Injury, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, Frustration, gratitude, Healthy Living, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, Summer, The Art of Being
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