Archives for category: Love

My tinnitus has nothing to do with anything else going on, at all, it’s just there, and I happened to notice, and it seems like the sort of “understandable thing that is” that I experience as relatively mundane and ordinary, which in contrast with the craziness of the world (quite specifically, the USA) is almost a relief.

Yep. I’d rather deal with my tinnitus than with having to accept that powerful people in the US government would very much like to make the Epstein files “just go away” by any means available, which seems pretty gross and thoroughly distasteful and indecent. What about justice, though? I’d rather deal with my tinnitus than come to terms with this adminstration pretty much just storming into its own cities arresting and assaulting its own citizens (yes, even actual born-right-here citizens) on thoroughly bogus pretexts. I’d rather deal with my tinnitus than with obvious corruption in our government. I’d rather deal with my tinnitus than watch the USA kidnap the president of a foreign country on whatever bullshit excuse-making can be developed on the fly. Venezuela? Really? Hopefully we’ve all seen enough by now to recognize that this government is not made up of ethical committed professionals who seek to govern skillfully for the benefit of all citizens. It just isn’t.

…Fuck this tinnitus though…

…And also fuck censorship, and fuck corporate greed, and fuck dark money in politics, and fuck politicians enriching themselves in office. Fuck sexism, racism, nationalism, and just generally most ~isms, since they seem reliably poorly thought out and highly likely to hurt more people than they solve any kind of problems. Tools to control populations by ensnaring them in the illusion of shared values. Fuck AI and fuck billionaires, too. Vaporware, AI slop and wealth-hoarding are not going to build a better world. We’re overdue to figure out a better approach to global trade, culture, and society. We’ve surely got the means to do better (and for more people), and it’s pretty ugly that what seems to be holding us back, more than anything else, are greed and the desire for power. It’s a pretty ugly look, Humanity. Do better.

…Omg this fucking tinnitus, though…

I breathe, exhale, and relax. The day started gently. I’m feeling much better…but… for some dumbass reason, the US attacked Venezuela and kidnapped (“arrested”?) it’s president. I have trouble making any excuses for that kind of stupidity, frankly. Venezuela isn’t even adjacent to the United States at any point at all, does us no direct harm or injury. More bloodshed over oil, more than likely. Horrible. Corrupt. Greedy. Fucking hell, we just aren’t the good guys, y’all. I don’t need to be stuck on this – don’t know why I am. I’m disappointed in this administration. Deeply disappointed, and also pretty grossed out by the aesthetics of the individuals associated with it (the whole “Mar a Lago face” thing is weird and I find it disturbingly inauthentic, but I guess that will make it easy to tell what values any particular talking head may have). Weird to see people spend money to make themselves over into a charicature of the person they could be. I admit I don’t get it, at all. The dishonesty, too, is very disturbing. We’re okay with kidnapping foreign leaders and killing unidentified civilians on fishing boats, but we are uncomfortable calling out genocide if it requires using that word? Words have meaning, that’s why they have definitions. What the actual fuck?

…Use your words. Speak truth to power…

I begin again. I let it go. I breathe, exhale, and relax. I sigh quietly to myself and sip my coffee. It’s very good. Ethiopian beans, freshly ground. Smooth, low acidity, with a rich flavor that hints at chocolate, and meadow flowers. Lovely. I make a point to enjoy this cup of coffee and this quiet moment. Right here, now? This is a very pleasant moment, and there are no bombs dropping here. I pull myself back to the here and now, and allow myself this moment of quiet joy and comfort.

…In spite of my tinnitus…

My Traveling Partner is having his own experience. I sip my coffee and think about him, and us. We’re both very human. Both doing our best, and learning as we go. I’m grateful for this partnership, and more grateful still that he has been so deeply supportive of my emotional wellness, and my physical health, and even of my simple joy in life. I look around my studio/office at all the many little things that remind me of my beloved and this partnership we share. It fills me with joy to feel so loved. This love we share is a pleasant haven from the world’s craziness. I smile, feeling his love even from across the house. I’m glad that I’m feeling some better; there are so many things I’d like to be doing (and so many other things that simply need to be done)! I feel fortunate to have a partner who will help me slow down and take care of myself when that is the wiser choice – I don’t always succeed there, left to my own devices. I appreciate the help.

I finish my coffee, and think about the day ahead. I plan to relax and continue to focus on self-care and getting over the flu. That’s enough today. Tomorrow I can begin again.

This morning I’m writing from my home office. It’s later in the morning than I usually wake, and I’ve a short work day between me and the weekend, but it begins a bit later. This is time I’d usually spend out on a trail somewhere, walking with my thoughts. This morning I am at home. Still dealing with lingering symptoms of illness, especially first thing, and yesterday evening my Traveling Partner took notice when I described my plan for the next morning.

“What kind of symptoms are you still dealing with?” was quickly followed by “I don’t like the idea of you being out in the freezing cold and dark when you’re sick, please stay home tomorrow and take care of yourself.” So… Here I am. Taking care of myself, and enjoying an excellent cup of coffee at home. Of course, I managed to wake my Traveling Partner when (or after) I woke. He greeted me in the kitchen as I attempted to prepare coffee quietly, and checked on how I was doing. My congestion, weak voice, and occasionally coughing validated his concern (and confirmed his suggestion that I stay home was a good one). He doesn’t grief me over waking him; he is sympathetic, caring, and concerned for me. I retreat to my office space to drink coffee and deal with my symptoms, and work on breathing comfortably. I go through a few tissues. I drink my coffee.

…Before the work day even begins, my Traveling Partner checks on me, and notes that I “sound awful” and that he really doesn’t want me wandering around out in the cold early in the mornings, encouraging me to just stay home for a couple days and take care of myself. He reminds me that either he or the Anxious Adventurer can go to the store for anything we need and handle whatever has to get done, while I put my energy into getting well. I know he’s right. He gives me more suitably useful advice, which I am grateful for; my thinking isn’t too clear, and the longer I’m up, the more aware I am of how much I’d rather be in bed. LOL

… I decide to call out sick and just rest and work on getting well…

… My Traveling Partner encourages me to take a hot shower to ease my congestion. It’s a good idea and I’m grateful to have clean water, reliably hot, whenever I want it. I’m fortunate. It wasn’t so long ago that indoor plumbing for bathing, drinking, and cooking, were real luxuries only available to a privileged few. I stood in the steam under the running water, wondering how many people in the world still lack safe drinking water, and indoor plumbing. Too many, I’m sure (since, ideally, that number would be 0 in any truly fair world in which resources were appropriately distributed to maximize quality of life for all). I knew people who had only a well for water, and an outhouse for waste, when I was a kid, though it was becoming rare anywhere in the US besides way out in the country by that time.

I felt some better after a hot shower, for a little while. Eventually, my body reminds me I am not well yet, in the form of fatigue. Yep, I tired myself out taking a shower, putting on clean clothes, and sitting up for half an hour. I don’t actually fathom how I thought just pushing myself harder/further day after day was going to be the best approach to taking care of this fragile vessel. That was dumb, but holidays are special and I “wasn’t sick enough” to just skip it and go back to bed… and so, here I am, three weeks into what began as a relatively mild flu, now forced to take it seriously, because my symptoms haven’t cleared up and even seem worse this morning. Fucking human primates – we are pretty bad at admitting we’re ill and properly taking care of ourselves. Well, a lot of us are. lol I am. I meant to do better by the woman in the mirror, but I failed.

S’ok. It’s a journey. I’m having my own experience. I can choose, change, and choose some other change some other time. Today I’m choosing self-care, and going back to bed. I’ll begin again later.

There is no map, only fellow travelers along the way willing to share a tip, or offer a warning. Listen or don’t, either way you’re making your own journey, and having your own experience. Sometimes you’ll be the dumbest person in the room. Sometimes it won’t be about you at all. Sometimes the path is clear, the way ahead smooth and steady. Other times, every day will present some new obstacle to be overcome. I guess I’m just saying…

…Keep walking (metaphorically speaking). The “way out” is through, and ultimately, the journey is the destination.

The co-work space is hushed and empty, this morning. I am alone for now, and it will be hours before anyone else shows up to do the things they do to bring home a paycheck, pay the bills, feed their families, and get by for another handful of mortal days. Yeesh. That sounds sort of gloomy, doesn’t it? I sigh to myself. I’ll admit that I’ve been yearning for some kind of retirement, or other opportunity to exit the treadmill of the modern workforce since I was… 17, and just joining the Army. Honestly, one of the selling points of that adventure was being able to “retire” at 38. I probably should have done more homework on that notion – since the practical truth of it is that very few people who retire from the military at 38 are actually able to properly retire at that point. Most go on to some second career, and work until some more typical retirement age, if they are able to retire at all. There’s no point holding back the truth of it; the military does not pay well. Those retirement benefits are often not sufficient to afford even a working-class quality of life, unless one is fortunate almost to the point of ridiculous luck, and living quite a charmed life, indeed. Again and again, I’ve looked ahead to some milestone and hoped to be done with “gainful employment” by then, only to find myself reaching that point quite unprepared to be able to retire (for a variety of reasons, some to do with me, some to do with circumstances). Our dreams and our realities don’t necessarily intersect in some fortuitous way that results in a fairytale life of leisure and good company. Mostly they don’t, actually, and we live the lives we work (sometimes too hard) to have, and we get by on some combination of circumstances and decision-making that falls short of our fantasties – that’s just real. No point being unhappy about that; reality does not care what we yearn for in our fondest daydreams. Everything we want in life has some sort of cost.

…Keep walking, and make wise choices…

I pull myself more upright, and take some deep cleansing breaths. My headache is not as bad today as it was yesterday, and I’m grateful – yesterday’s headache was much, and I got very little done as a result. My arthritis pain is what it is – and it’s winter, so what it is, is pretty awful. I shrug to myself, an expression of some combination of feeling resigned to it, and also being mostly rather unbothered by it; it has been part of my life, year after year, for close to 36 years now, slowly worsening over time. And if I had been offered a choice? Told about the arthritis is clear very certain terms? Would I have chosen not to have the surgery that kept me on my feet, and out of a wheelchair, in favor of some potential imagined future without the arthritis that would eventually develop in my spine? No, I would not have chosen to leave my shattered spine in the state it was in on some fantasy hope that it might magically heal on its own. There was no scenario – no realistic scenario – that was going to see me pain free in my 40s, 50s, and 60s. That would have been magical thinking, and the consequences would likely have been worse than any I deal with now. I’d have been seeing the world from a different vantage point, too (a wheelchair). Very few of the trails I am so fortunate to be able to enjoy walking are accessible to someone in a wheelchair. I take a moment for gratitude; I do love seeing those sunrises from the trail.

…Chronic pain is nothing if not ongoing. It could be worse, though. I got good sleep last night, and I face the new day feeling mostly pretty chill and comfortable, mostly pretty prepared. It is an ordinary enough work day, and the pain I’m in is manageable. I make a point to be grateful for that, too.

Are you making careful choices, or following along with someone else’s?

Our individual journeys are paved with our choices, our decision-making, our actions – and we’re walking a path that we largely create ourselves, moment-by-moment. Where does this path lead? Does it have any potential to take me to my goals? I sit with my coffee, reflecting on my life, my decisions, the consequences of my actions, and incremental changes over time. The new year is ahead. Am I the woman I most want to be? Are my day-to-day actions aligned with my values? Are my choices a reflection of consideration and will? Am I getting all I can out of this journey that is my lived mortal life? If I could change one detail of “who I am” effortless, like toggling a switch, what would that detail be? What would I change it to? Having identified this detail as something I’d like to change – am I prepared to then also make the choices and do the work to see it change over time? I think about how long it can take to make some kinds of changes really “stick”. It can be so much work! Sometimes the path seems unreasonably long as it stretches ahead of me. Sometimes that distance is an illusion. Your results may vary… We do become what we practice. Choose wisely.

…Keep walking…

I think about the pleasant holiday, and the weekend. I feel fortunate to have enjoyed both so thoroughly. I think about the gifts, the sweets, the moments, each so very beautiful, so delightful. We didn’t spend much (didn’t have much to spend), and that mattered not at all – it was all so well done, and there was so much love and genuine joy involved. The company was good. The food was good. The amount of consideration given to each other was exceptional. Presence definitely mattered more than presents, this year – and I’m grateful for all of it.

Stickers, and a novel I’ve never read – simple joys are worth savoring.

I sigh contentedly. I don’t need more out of this moment than I’ve already got. I’ve even got some time before work to enjoy a walk through this suburban neighborhood, still lit with holiday lights. After that? Another opportunity to begin again.

Merry Giftmas! 😁

What a beautiful morning to wake up to, plump stockings laid carefully on favorite seats, the tree lit and merrily keeping watch over the wrapped gifts, stacked to look plentiful in a season of limited resources. I even slept in! (Though I am still first to wake, somehow.)

… I don’t recall that I’ve ever slept in on Giftmas morning…

The rest of the house still sleeps. I put on soft holiday jazz, and make a cup of coffee. I look out on the morning…gray and rainy looking, here. I open the door and breathe the cool fresh air.

“…we wish you a merry Christmas, and a happy new year…” I smile listening to the music. An unhurried, relaxed Giftmas morning? Wow. It’s like a gift all its own.

Later, things will be busy with unwrapping gifts and sharing oohs and ahs of appreciation and delight, then, later still, family phone calls, brunch… and dishes. 😆 I’m not bitching; all the things we want most to enjoy require something of us in return. “You gotta pay for your thrills,” an old friend long ago used to tell me (and I miss you still, Trouble.). I know there are definitely verbs involved – and choices.

I sit with the quiet, joyful and content with the moment just as it is. I can begin again later.

When I originally planned my holiday time, it was with consideration of being new in my role, leading a team through a very busy season, and expecting I might still be scrambling to finish some holiday task or another. As it has turned out, my team is stronger than I knew and capable of getting the job done when I’m unavailable. I’m also finished with the holiday preparation. I don’t really need “more time”, but I did get quite sick after I returned from traveling for work. Turns out my plan to work half days this week (and taking the Eve and Giftmas Day off entirely) is a much appreciated adjustment to my work schedule as I get over being ill. Convenient.

Yesterday after work I focused on self-care. I feel a bit more better this morning than yesterday morning. The first thing in the morning congestion and coughing didn’t last as long, and my sinuses required fewer tissues. Small win, but still worth appreciating. I’ve got another short day today… for which I am deeply grateful. I may not actually have an entire work shift in me, quite yet. I am at least able to get a walk, and add a mile or two on these boots before the work day begins. The walking seems to help clear the congestion in my lungs.

The morning is another mild one. It rained more during the night, but for now the cloudy sky is only that. The trail is dotted with puddles. Slippery leaves are scattered here and there. I walk carefully, with my cane keeping me steady. I breathe – as deeply as I am able – filling my lungs with the rain-fresh “winter” air of the Pacific Northwest. Everything smells clean and fresh and healthy. Holiday lights on apartment balconies shine through the trees from across the creek that meanders past this section of the trail. The morning is quiet and dark. Daybreak won’t come for another hour.

“Morning! Coming up on your left!” I hear,  behind me, the voice of a stranger. Another walker – the older gentleman I spotted a few mornings ago. “Nice morning for it,” I reply as he approaches and begins to pass me. “I hope I didn’t startle you, Miss, I tried not to.” He sounds friendly and not at all threatening. We walk abreast momentarily. He shares that he’s seen me walking in the mornings and admits that it inspired him to walk more.

Turns out he’s the night security guy for the construction site on the other side of the parking lot, and began getting a walk in at the end of his shift, on this trail so convenient to the job site. He wishes me a good morning as he walks on ahead (at a faster pace on longer legs). I return his well wishes, grateful to have my solitude returned, and appreciative of a stranger’s consideration. Nonetheless, as I walk I feel for the knife in my pocket, and move it to my left hand, keeping my sturdy trekking pole in my right hand for balance. Oh, I’m not any sort of intimidating character or threat, nor am I inclined towards violence, but I’d take advantage of a lifetime of suppressed ancient rage to make an attacker rethink their life choices by defending myself, in order to enjoy another mortal day in the arms of my beloved Traveling Partner.

My hyper-vigilance is aroused by this passing stranger in the darkness, which seems unsurprising. I don’t take it too seriously; I’ve come a long way over the years, and this won’t wreck my day. It barely qualifies as “triggered”, and mostly seems useful, reasonable, and manageable. I keep walking, until I reach my halfway point and stop for a moment, to meditate and write.

Even in the darkness, sometimes there is light.

The sky has a familiar faint glow of the light of human communities reflecting back from the clouds overhead. I enjoy the silhouettes of trees and buildings and partially defined shapes of things that seem less obvious. I sit with the quiet, breathing, exhaling, relaxing, and filling up on the feeling of peace and stillness of the moment. I enjoy the feeling of being free to take my time. I enjoy feeling unrushed, unharried, and unbothered.

… Happy Holidays, however you celebrate the season…

I smile, remembering that I need to pick up a holiday pie, later this morning (then find myself wondering if I’m supposed to pick it up tomorrow… and suddenly wonder what day it even is? (Then double-check the date). I chuckle to myself. A human being, being human. A soft sprinkling of rain begins to fall. Predictable. No surprise in rain falling here, this time of year. I pull my folded rain poncho from my pocket, where I had shoved it as I got out of the car “just in case”, and put it on. The rain stops. I’m grateful to be prepared.

A small herd of deer steps shyly from the trees and walks across the trail into the grass at the edge of the vineyard, a short distance away. They are aware of me, but don’t seem concerned. I watch them. They watch me. When the rain begins again, I stand and stretch, and the deer walk away slowly, down the grassy strip along the path, before veering more deeply into the vineyard. I turn the other direction, looking down the trail towards the too-bright lights of the construction site around which the trail eventually wraps. (I wonder how this trail will change after that hotel is finished?)

I sigh quietly, contentedly, breathing the damp winter air, grateful for the mild morning. I enjoy these moments… and it is time to begin again. There are more, other, moments to enjoy… further down the path.

… And visions of sugar plums…

Twas the night before Christmas