Archives for category: Mindfulness

I haven’t slept much. I got up as planned, and it definitely felt too early. Vertigo (mild) and a headache (about average) greeted me as I opened my eyes. I dressed and left the house making a point to grab my respirator on the way out; air quality has been unpredictable and often hazardous. I check the AQI before I go.

… I am grateful to see another sunrise…

[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]

I get to the trailhead at the nature park as the gate grinds open. It’s daybreak and there is a dense white mist in the low places. The horizon is an irritated dirty orange, hazy and unhealthy looking. There are several active wildfires to the east, unsurprising given the color of the sunrise.

The morning feels cool, in spite of being rather warm, relatively speaking. Nice morning for walking. I get to my halfway point pretty quickly this morning, after setting a brisk pace and staying focused on the walking.

Perspective matters. (Oaks on a dry grassy meadow slope.)

I’m so tired. I never went soundly back to sleep after I had gotten up to pee, last night. Various noises (and sometimes my Traveling Partner) woke me again and again, each time just as I was settling into a deeper sleep. It was a difficult night. My beloved seemed to be asleep as I left the house. It’s hard to be sure. I hope so. After a night like that, he definitely needs some sleep. I’m grateful that it is Saturday. Maybe I can grab a nap later?

Sleep difficulties are vexing. I’ve had a difficult relationship with sleep all my life. Nightmares. Sleep paralysis. Somnambulance. Exploding head dreams. Night terrors. Insomnia. Circadian rhythm disturbances from shift work. Sleep aversion. My problematic relationship with sleep began when I was a toddler and continues into the present, although far less severe now.

I can thank my Traveling Partner for a large part of my improved relationship with sleep. During our first year living together, he observed that if I could reduce my anxiety about being awake, I would at least be able to find some way to make use of the time, possibly even enjoy it. He was right. Removing the anxiety and frustration made the wakefulness itself inconsequential, and from there I learned to (mostly) make some gentle use of wakeful hours during the night. At some point there was less wakefulness, though I still have occasional difficult or sleepless nights. I no longer take them so personally. My sleep hygiene has improved, too. All of it matters.

I stretch and yawn. The stretch feels good. The sun continues to rise. A new day. Promising – but aren’t they all?

I sigh to myself. The difficult night makes my mind fuzzy. Housework and painting maybe? I thought maybe driving my RC car would be fun, but it’s going to be another very hot day, and if the AQI increases in the afternoon, as it did yesterday, maybe Sunday would be better? I don’t know. I’m glad I’m already done with doing Amazon returns for my beloved. I’d surely mix them up operating under this amount of bleary-eyed fatigue, today. Housework would be a more productive use of my time, today. I don’t know.

… I remind myself to get coffee beans…

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I can slow down and let the day unfold gently on its own terms. That works too. I look down the trail, the brown meadow grasses turned to gold by the rising sun. It’s a beautiful time to begin again.

I woke to my Traveling Partner’s voice telling me the weather and air quality are safe for walking. “Ideal” he may have said. I sat up groggy, and started dressing.

[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]

I reached the trailhead sometime between daybreak and sunrise. The morning sky is pink and blue, with just a bit of haze coloring the distant hills in shades of muted blues. The temperature is mild and quite comfortable for now, but hinting at another very hot day ahead.

Sometimes “better” will have to be enough.

I remember, with some frustration, that I had meant to grab some items purchased online that didn’t work out, so I could run the return errand today. I forgot them in my rush to leave, hoping to give my beloved at least some quiet time for himself. Shit. Probably have to go back for those later. It’s a short day; I have an appointment later. I walk with my thoughts, mostly working on figuring out the timing. Can I make it work?

“Can I make it work?” Sometimes yes, sometimes no, eh? It is a question that comes up a lot in a human life.

I get to my halfway point and stop. Shorter walk, but still walking. I breathe, exhale, and relax, and settle myself into this moment, here, now. This? Right here? This moment of quiet peace, contentment, and joy? It’s enough. I sit with it awhile, savoring the scent of summer in the air (instead of smoke). I watch the sun rise and a new day begin. I think my thoughts.

… The appointment is relatively early in the afternoon, I can do the returns afterwards…

My thoughts wander on. Life. Love. Joy. Sorrow. Work. Chores. Dreams. Plans. Recollections of jokes my partner has told, and lovely things he has said to me. I breathe, exhale, and bring myself back to “now”. This is quite a nice moment without any extras. I enjoy it as it is.

I sit quietly until I can’t avoid hearing my tinnitus screeching in my ears, and my thoughts become dominated by eagerness to have coffee. I sigh to myself and get to my feet. The clock is ticking, and it’s time to begin again.

Being cared for comes in a lot of forms. Yesterday, it came in the form of a 3M NIOSH half-mask respirator, on a morning so hazy with wildfire smoke I definitely should not have been out in it.

[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]

I returned home to begin my work day, and greeted my partner. He noticed my background stress level seemed high (and nothing going on to cause that) and asked me what was up, or suggested I take a breath, something – I don’t recall that part clearly, I only remember looking at him, trying to take a deep breath, and putting my hand to my chest and choking out something to do with how much my lungs seemed to hurt when I breathe. He looked alarmed and went into action. It was almost immediate; I had a mask in my hand, my Traveling Partner’s help with fitting it, and confirmation of the dangerous air quality. Putting the mask on, I felt almost immediate relief. I also felt very loved, and well-cared for.

…I wore that mask all day while I worked…

Being cared for takes a lot of forms. Some are obvious. Some less so. Some are life-saving measures. Some are conveniences. This morning, I enjoyed another moment of care; my beloved sent me a message for first thing, strictly cautioned me against going outside unless the AQI was better than 50, and provided me a wee guide to what my morning could look like (knowing my routine would be thrown off). He made me a list, and I checked it off with care: sleep in until 6, make coffee, put on jazz, make-up, and a smile, and start my day. He was quite right; it has made for a lovely beginning.

Today begins well. AQI is down to 90 – not ideal, but I don’t need the mask this morning to breathe comfortably. This cup of coffee is good. I did not rush through my wake-up or my make-up. I feel comfortable and unbothered. The work day is ahead, and in spite of following a wholly different routine this morning, the day feels very much on track to be quite a good one. I breathe, exhale, and relax. Feels good. No irritated eyes this morning. No raw scratchy throat. No pain when I inhale. Better.

I smile thinking of something I learned from my Traveling Partner, it’s not super relevant right at the moment, but the phrase is in my thoughts; “put your own oxygen mask on first”. Makes sense. If you don’t practice effective self-care, how do you preserve the capacity to help others? I was pretty stupid yesterday, going out for my walk without checking the AQI first, knowing the previous day had been hazy, and that we are more or less surrounded by wildfires right now. Smart would have been checking the AQI and staying home. Smarter still would have been thinking ahead the day prior, discussing the weather with my beloved, and establishing a plan, and maybe getting out that mask and having it ready when I needed it! Hopefully I learn from this. I had the knowledge. I had the tools. I failed on the verbs. Very human.

I sip my coffee and reflect on circumstances, before I begin again.

This morning I do my walk, taking the loop around and heading back to the car. The air quality index is 139, unhealthy, due to wildfire smoke mostly. Worse than yesterday. I don’t really want to be out in it.

[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]

I walk with my thoughts before the sun rises. Cooler. The poor quality air seems to have somewhat less effect on my breathing, although still uncomfortable. I go through an entire pack of travel tissues before I complete the 1.5 mile loop. Still worth it to get out of the house awhile, before the heat of the day, and to give my Traveling Partner an opportunity to sleep, to wake, and to enjoy his coffee quietly.

My beloved delighted me with an unexpected gift yesterday evening – a handy bag for my RC car. So super cool. The best part is feeling seen and loved. I am eagerly looking forward to driving again, but this heat and the smoky air are keeping me mostly indoors. Maybe this weekend? There’s a nearby public track I’d love to check out, and maybe I will make the drive back to the hobby shop for… some reason. 😆

… I feel a bit as if I’ve found my way back to something that is part of who I am…

I’m grateful to have a partner who “gets me”, loves this person that I am, and encourages me to grow and be even more of the person I most want to be. This is a special relationship – not an “easy” one, but in the context of this romantic relationship (and really no other) I have grown so much! I think back to the woman I was in 1975, just barely on the edge of womanhood, reflecting on who I might become and what life could look like, then – I never imagined I could be here, now, living this life. A life characterized by contentment and love was so far beyond my understanding of what life could be, I hadn’t imagined such a thing. I was more focused on stuff, and money, and getting the fuck out of my parents’ home.

Smoked oaks.

I look at the trees along the trail. A smoky haze obscures the more distant horizon. The haze looks almost like a foggy morning, but for the hint of dirty brown to the color. I breathe, exhale, and relax.

The wildfire map, today.

As recently as 2016, wildfires were not yet a seasonal occurrence in this state. They definitely seem to be, now. It’s disappointing that we’ve managed to break our planet, and the people with the means (whether money or power) seem unwilling to do the needful to turn things around. I sigh to myself, wondering how much longer humanity actually has… The clock is ticking.

The sinus headache from the smoky air vexes me. There’s nothing much to be done about it; breathing smoke is unhealthy. Once I return home, I’ll definitely stay indoors as much as possible. I remind myself this too will pass. Fires will be extinguished. The wind will change direction. “Fire season” will end. The rain will return. Change is.

… In the meantime, I’ll adapt, and I’ll begin again.

Roll back the clock to some distant past moment in your life. Who were you then? Who was the most important influence over the person you became from that moment? What do you think of that person, now? If you could guide your past self, give them a word of advice or redirect their attention… would you? What would you say? Do you ever look back and… wonder?

[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]

I found myself thinking about my early influences as a young adult, yesterday. The remembrance was sparked by seeing a 1975 interview of Hunter S. Thompson in my video feed. I had watched that interview then (or excerpts of it). At the time he made a huge impression on me. It would not be an exaggeration to say he influenced my approach to writing. Was the actual person who was Hunter S. Thompson likely to be a “good influence” on a brain damaged bookish ‘tween girl eager to explore the adult world? Hardly… and by “hardly”, I suppose I mean to say emphatically “no”.

I look at the smoky hazy morning sky. The air quality is looking pretty bad. It’s probably not ideal to be out here walking in it. The weather report calls the air quality “acceptable” today. I’m not sure I agree. (I can feel that it is harder to breathe.) The moon that had greeted me as I left the house was a distinctive rust sort of hue, against the night sky.

In more primitive times an omen, perhaps. Now only a reminder that the western United States is on fire – “omen” enough, I guess.

The funny thing about the people who influence us most (and I don’t mean those vapid performative self-identified online “influencers” shilling products to make a buck), they are also other human beings, having their own experiences and fucking shit up more often than we can ever know. Just other people. Humans being human. Growing and changing over time just as we each are, ourselves. They aren’t really any different, in that regard. We are each having our own experience. Walking our own path. That’s an idea worth facing, embracing, and making real use of. Where does your path lead? Is it your own, of your own choosing, or are you chasing someone else’s dream?

Where does this path lead?

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I can taste the scent of wood smoke in the air. The haze has become, overnight, sufficient to obscure the view of the hills and mountains to the west. The sky is a peculiar color. The wind has changed direction and now it’s our turn to see sickly orange-brown skies.

I sit a little longer thinking about the various influences there have been over the woman I have become, some positive, some not so much.

…I don’t actually recall where I thought I was going with this; I am distracted by the strange smoky sky, and now it is already time to finish this walk and begin again.