Archives for category: Metaphors
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Little Complications

May 7, 2024 //
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I’m sipping my coffee and fussing with a small hangnail. I keep trying to ignore it, but keep finding myself sliding the adjacent finger alongside the hangnail, feeling the tiny snag as much more significant than it is, and fighting the impulse to tear it off, which would surely only do more damage. I pause and put lotion on my hands, hoping to soften that wee torn bit of flesh such that it stops being a distraction. It’s a small thing (literally quite small), but continues to pull at my awareness in the background. Will I have the pure will and persistence necessary to leave the fucking thing alone for an entire work shift? (Somehow I’ve misplaced the nail kit I thought I’d left in my desk drawer for this sort of thing…)

I sigh out loud and make myself let this go. Again. I expect I’ll be repeating the effort… repeatedly. lol

…I remind myself to make an appointment for a manicure this week…

…I think about how terrible I am at remembering self-care tasks without actual reminders, and put the reminder on my damned calendar for later…

It was fully daylight when I got to the office this morning, though I left at “the usual time”. The season continues to evolve, Spring deepening and the days growing longer and warmer. I’m eagerly anticipating my camping trip at the end of the month, and looking forward to the early morning drive. 3 hours of country driving, quite early and likely with very little traffic due to the early hour and route I’ve selected. It’s the kind of driving I enjoy most. My Traveling Partner prepared a playlist for me to enjoy – songs I can sing along to that we often enjoy together, and selected to be the sorts of things unlikely to provoke aggressive driving, and more likely to promote a peaceful chill driving experience. I’ve been enjoying it on my commute, too. 😀 Delightful. I feel very loved – and understood.

I sit with the passing recollection that we’ll be losing this office space at the end of this month. Feels a little odd. I don’t actually require an office space to do the work I do; I’m a “fully remote” worker these days, and making the trip into the office is purely optional, and I do it because it’s nice to enjoy the pleasant office, and to give my Traveling Partner the opportunity to sleep in. It’ll be back to working from home in just a couple weeks, and my timing and routine will change to account for that. No idea what that’ll look like, really. My “routine” is not fixed or static, and it changes with seasons, and the changing needs of daily (and family) life. The rate of change is sufficiently slow that things tend to feel pretty routine most of the time, in spite of the changes. I’ll likely return to walking (locally) in the very early morning, and starting my work day hours later than I do now. Being at home during the work day, I’ll do more of the small housekeeping stuff on breaks, during the day, instead of pounding through all of it shortly after returning home. I may be less tired – I’ll get almost 3 hours back in my day that will no longer be spent commuting to the city. I find myself looking forward to all of that.

…I glance at the clock, and realize it’s already time to get on with the day… I begin again.

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

Listening, Practicing

May 5, 2024 //
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It was early when I got to the trailhead. The rain started, again, as I arrived. It didn’t matter, since the gate was still closed. I sat quietly through the few minutes of waiting,  listening to the rain falling, meditating, waiting, drinking coffee I was grateful to have stopped for (what with the waiting and all).

The gate opens now at 05:30 a.m., and daybreak comes much sooner than it did just a few weeks ago. I move the car into the parking lot, up a hill from the couple of spaces outside the gate. It’s still raining, and I’m still waiting. I’m pretty good at waiting.

I sit with my coffee watching the dark rainy night slowly becoming a gray rainy morning, listening to the rain falling steadily,  drops tapping on the car. Surely there will be sufficient break in the rain to get a good walk in? I think it over, unperturbed by either potential outcome. I find my mind wandering to my upcoming camping trip and wondering if it will rain there, then, too? I’ll go prepared for it.

My head aches ferociously this morning. My arthritis is also quite painful. Head, neck, back… so much pain. I’m glad it’s Sunday. I can put more time and energy on self-care. There’s still laundry and dishes to do… no doubt other things I am overlooking for the moment. Still, it’s a gentle relaxed morning. I’m contented and pretty merry in spite of pain.

I start the car and give the windshield a swipe with the wipers; it sounds like the rain may have stopped, and I want to “take a closer look” before I get out of the car and put my boots on. It’s just a slow spattering of random occasional raindrops now,  suitable for walking…

Once my boots are on, I step onto the gravel trail with a crunch. It’s time to begin again!

A lush and rainy Spring morning

I get back to the car a bit damp, after getting a mile down the trail, and turning back when the rain began falling more steadily, again. The trail along the marsh and riverbank is scented by blooming trees and wildflowers. The rain contributes petrichor and that certain specific freshness of a rainy day. No flocks of geese overhead, but the robins don’t mind the rain, and busily went about the business of finding tasty morsels in the leaf matter and muddy ground along the trail. They watch me as curiously as I watch them.

As I change my boots for sneakers, I think about the day ahead. Already another “benchmark day”, and I have been looking forward to it. Seems a good one for tidying up, too, or helping my Traveling Partner with his projects. Maybe both? I’m not rushing to return home; I know my partner is sleeping and likely had a restless night. I am making a point of giving him time to get some restful sleep before I return home and start making noise. (We’re both fairly light sleepers, prone to being a bit noise-sensitive.)

I sit quietly, contentedly listening to the rain fall, before I begin again… again.

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Categories Allegories, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, inspiration, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Practices, Relationships, Sleepless Nights, solo hiking, Spring, The Art of Being, turning 60, weight loss secrets

Waiting

May 4, 2024 //
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It’s well past dawn. No hint of sunshine or blue skies this morning, just mists and gray clouds and a steady rain.

Waiting for a break in the rain.

I’ve got my boots on, and my rain jacket handy, waiting for a break in the rain sufficient to make walking pleasant. A bit later, walk or no walk, I’ll take the car to the mechanic for the last bit of work needed before my next long trip. It’s a relaxed rainy Saturday,  and I’m short on sleep, and in pain. It is what it is. I’m aware of my experience here/now, but also recognize that it isn’t “personal”. it’s just an experience.

I sip my coffee (iced, black, to go), and alternate with sips of water. Waiting. Waiting as the minutes tick by toward the next thing, and listening to the rain fall. Pleasant quiet moments.

…Admittedly, this would be so much more pleasant without the headache and the arthritis pain…

I sit with my thoughts awhile, enjoying the stillness.

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Categories Allegories, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Practices, Sleepless Nights, solo hiking, Spring, The Art of Being

Can’t Help But Let It Rain

April 30, 2024 //
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There’s a steady rain falling. It’s been raining since I parked the car in the city, though the drive in was dry. There’s nothing at all to do about the rain, besides let it fall. The sky is a heavy gray, dark and moody, and the streetlights are still on; there’s not enough light to trigger the daylight sensors. The pavement shines, reflecting the streetlights. The trees in the park are a lush almost luminous assortment of greens. The cars turn the corners as they go around the park block, looking extra shiny, coated with the slick wetness of the rain. This is no mist. It’s a proper rain, and disturbs the surface of the pond in the park, giving the water an almost rough texture. I sip my coffee and watch the rain fall for a while, while I enjoy my breakfast salad (with a handful of blueberries, and a couple hard-boiled eggs). Lovely start to the work day.

I think about my upcoming camping trip, for some minutes, wondering how I will prepare for potential rain. A steady drenching rain such as this one, this morning, would certainly change my options out in the woods, or on the trail. For one thing, if I don’t have adequate overhead cover of some suitable kind, I’d have trouble cooking in the rain (that just also doesn’t even sound fun). I mean, I could hunker down in the opening of my tent, with my Jetboil carefully placed under the edge of the “vestibule” that projects somewhat forward of the tent opening itself, providing a wee bit of cover, and easily boil water for coffee or for preparing a freeze-dried backpacker meal. That’s certainly adequate… but I’ll be going prepared to actually cook real food, too… and I’m looking forward to being outside. It would be a very different experience to be “stuck indoors”, in my tent, facing a downpour. I smile; it’s not an issue, and barely a concern, really, and certainly this far in advance I’m just “borrowing trouble” and thinking thoughts of being prepared. My tent itself is a good one for outlasting the rain, generally, though I’ve never camped in the sort of tropical deluge that could soak through the best of tents… not yet, anyway.

I think about provisions for this camping trip ahead… “glamping” as much as camping, and I’ll have a small solar set up, and a portable fridge that’s pretty good-sized for one person (for 4 days). I sit munching my salad and thinking about what “four days of salad greens” looks like, and how much space that might take… This is the sort of detail that can throw off a plan, and I consider it with care, and with great joy. (I enjoy the planning, itself.)

…The minutes tick by as I amuse myself with my thoughts…

I have learned over time how very critical to my self-care it is to make time to “hear myself think”. These quiet moments of reflection, or even just daydreaming, really matter to my resilience, and my emotional wellness. I quickly begin to feel “crowded” and very much as if “everyone wants a piece of me” with nothing left over for myself, when I don’t make time for simple quiet reflection, and an opportunity to “hear myself think”. Being there for the woman in the mirror is a pretty big deal for such a small thing, and it pays off in calm, contentment, self-awareness, and the ability to maintain perspective and avoid taking dumb shit personally. Giving myself time to sit quietly with my thoughts reduces the likelihood that I’ll end up being a reactive asshole in some inconsequential moment that could potentially go sideways on a day I’m feeling cognitively “crowded” and overwhelmed by life. I’ve even noticed that I’m more easily able to keep track of “all the things”, when I make a point to take a few minutes to just chill and let my thoughts flow past, observed and unchallenged, for some quiet little while. Just saying; I find this a very good practice, though it can sometimes be difficult to find the quiet spot and the time for it. It’s worth making the time.

I sigh quietly to myself. I feel contented and calm. It’s a nice feeling. I’m still nibbling on this breakfast salad. lol That’s been a notable change with the addition of the Ozempic to my care plan; I don’t rush my meals. Like, at all. (All my life previously, I’ve basically wolfed down every meal as if someone might walk up and take my plate away, and in spite of being aware of this being a potentially unhealthy practice, as well as less than civilized for a bystander or dining companion to observe, it’s been a struggle to do things any differently.) Now it’s honestly a bit of a challenge to stay focused on the fact that I am eating a meal, and I’m definitely more likely to stop eating a bit before I notice that I feel “full”. I count this as a positive change, and make a point to notice, before moving on. It’s very nice to find that my consciousness is not dominated by thoughts to do with food, or meals, or cooking, or snacks… and I’m a little surprised, now, to understand that it had been for so long. Odd that there’s so little discussion of the cognitive changes associated with Ozempic… Seems worth discussing. (I’m no longer surprised by how many medications we take are “mind altering” that don’t get described that way, or understood to be so.)

My thoughts veer from cognition to consciousness to knowledge, and I find myself giving thought to what books to take on my camping trip… This “human computer” could use a “software update”! I’ve got a short stack of crypto currency and blockchain related books that seem relevant to my work, currently… but… maybe something more philosophical for this trip? Or… fiction? (I read very little fiction at this point in my life.) I don’t listen to audiobooks… I like real bound books that I can hold in my hand. I’ve got a ebook reader, and I use it quite a lot, but my favorite approach to ebooks is to read a bound book, then reread it as a ebook, which allows me to highlight passages and make digital “notes in the margins” without marking up the bound copy. I used to pride myself on having read every book I own… but I’ve fallen a bit behind on that, and I’ve now got some dozen or so books waiting on my attention, and limited bandwidth. lol It seems rather a shame to spend my downtime on work-related reading, so I turn my attention to books on other topics… Maybe a good time to read Thích Nhất Hạnh? I’ve got a couple books of his that my Traveling Partner gifted me after news of the reknown teacher’s death reached us. I haven’t yet read them all.

…So many books to read, so much to learn that has value, how inconvenient that time if finite…

…I sip my coffee and let my thoughts wander where they will. It’s that sort of morning…

Soon enough it will be time to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, inspiration, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, solo hiking, Spring, The Art of Being, weight loss secrets, Words

A Moment in the Garden

April 29, 2024 //
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I took a moment in the garden in the afternoon, just to enjoy the sunshine after the rain, and to see how things are growing. It’s still early spring, but already the first roses are blooming.

Rose “Baby Love” blooming first in my garden, peeking out from beyond the curry plant.

I stepped gently across the soaking wet lawn, carefully making a point not to come back the way I came, to avoid compressing the moisture saturated ground too much. Everything is lush and green. The earliest planted peas are thriving and blooming.

I’ve already forgotten what specific sort of peas these are. I’ve got several types and varieties. I just enjoy peas.

Interesting greens in the salad bed are beginning to do interesting things. I like to plant a variety of salad greens, including things like dandelions, arugula, “corn salad”, and several other sorts.

Including this… whatever this is. I’ve forgotten.

…And some lettuces. I mean… salad. Obviously. Tender looseleaf red lettuces, and soft delicate butter lettuce… no iceberg lettuce, and rarely any romaine. Boring. I can do without. Flavor, texture, colors… I enjoy the crunch of iceberg lettuce, well enough, I suppose… but it’s rather bland otherwise and not much nutritional value. It’s a small garden; the nutritional density matters.

I took my time as I made my way around the garden. The walk around makes an irregular sort of open-ended oval, not quite a “U” shape, not quite an “O”. There are 13 roses to see along the way, and kitchen herbs tucked in here and there. There’s an assortment of blueberry bushes planted last year, with a hope that they’ll become an edible hedge along one stretch of the walk toward the front door, and a couple others just tucked in here and there for “shrubbery”. Most all the perennials (including most of the roses) are pretty young, having been planted some time in the not-quite-four years we’ve been here. (A couple of the roses are much older, having come along with me for multiple moves, in pots, over the years.) Some of the roses are new this year – they may not even flower until next year. The oldest of the roses, and those that were planted the first year we were here, I expect to bloom heartily. “Baby Love” will bloom more or less continuously, once she begins, through to January next year, unless I do something to force her to acknowledge the changing season (which I rarely do), like prune her back aggressively after the first frost. Our climate is relative mild, and it is not necessary to winter-over the roses.

…It’s definitely Spring…

The lupines are beginning to bloom. The dahlias have broken through the ground. The French tarragon has sent up new sprigs. The curry plant is setting buds and will bloom soon, too.

As I walk in the garden, I find myself strangely feeling that I’m in the company of my Granny, who would walk me through her garden when I was a kid, sampling the herbs and sharing their scents with me, and telling me all the things they were used for. I find myself in the company of my Dad, thinking about which new variety of this or that vegetable might be worth a try this year, picking weeds out from around the tomato plants, and carefully checking those for growth – do they need to be pinched back? I find myself imagining sharing this garden with my dear friend, and her delight over this flower or that one. My background stress recedes and my heart fills with love… and gardening tips. lol

The blue sky and breezes beckoned me to have a sit and rest awhile, listening to the birds. A blue jay stops at the edge of the garden – a familiar one, that comes regularly to see what I’m up to, and rummage around among the weeds and greens for whatever it is blue jays come to the garden for. He watches me fearlessly curious. I watch him back.

It’s cooler now. I’ve finished my time in the garden, and returned indoors to enjoy a quiet cup of tea and hang out with my Traveling Partner, and share my moment in the garden here, with you. It’s enough. I definitely needed it. 🙂

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Categories Allegories, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, gardening, gratitude, Healthy Living, inspiration, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Roses, Spring, The Art of Being
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