Archives for category: Oregon Trails

It’s a quiet evening. I’m sitting with this heating pad on my back, contentedly watching a randomized playlist of favorite South Park episodes, sort of, and checking out tent camping opportunities around the state. Spring will be here soon enough. I’m in pain, but managing to find contentment; I’m not spreading the stress around.

Taking time to hang out with a friend, to pause the clock and enjoy the moment, and to enjoy a well-chosen, healthy brunch...

Taking time to hang out with a friend, to pause the clock and enjoy the moment, and to enjoy a well-chosen, healthy brunch…

...walking urban trails, enjoying a great coffee, getting a massage, lingering in a hot Epsom salt bath, and sharing a favorite show in the evening...

…walking urban trails, enjoying a great coffee, getting a massage, lingering in a hot Epsom salt bath, and sharing a favorite show in the evening…

Today was a good day. It’s enough.

 

I took a long walk today, something short of ‘hiking’, but much more than a walk around the block, or to the store. I spent a mellow hour or so among the trees in a nearby nature park, a favorite place that was once part of my daily commute, on foot, to and from work each day. That seems an eternity ago, but in any case, it’s neither here nor there – it’s in the past. I walked paths I hadn’t walked before, and happily observed a couple new ones – or perhaps placed such that I simply hadn’t gotten to them, previously; they were new to me, and that was enough to count them as new, on my walk today. Camera in hand, questions in mind, and some mostly unmeasured time to walk, meditate, and be present, aware.

I feel more prepared for 2015, and in the quiet moments between hanging out with family, and finding my way to sleep, I am enjoying taking a look at the day’s pictures, as well as the experience, emotions, and thoughts they represent for me now. I hope the New Year finds you well, hopeful, encouraged, and ready to continue your journey, wherever it may lead you. Thank you for reading – it never stops being meaningful that there are people on the other end of this handful of words. You matter to me.

My New Year’s celebration, my thoughts along my walk today, are rather more personal than the sort of things I generally share so easily. Rather than feel naked and uneasy sharing things I don’t comfortably express, lack words for, find ‘too private’, or may actually just not be meaningful for anyone but me, I’ll share some of today’s pictures, and some observations. It’s enough. 🙂

...Come on, now; this is why we can't have nice things. :-\

…Come on, now; this is why we can’t have nice things. :-\

As I entered the park, I felt sad, disappointed, and angry that people don’t have enough ‘pride of place’ to want to care for the world we all share. I’m not sure I know what to do about it, beyond choosing, myself, not to litter, leave shopping carts misplaced far from stores, drop soda cans along sidewalks, or dump major appliances down hillsides. I guess it’s a start.

A fusion of nature and craftsmanship.

A fusion of nature and craftsmanship.

I entered the park and noticed some vaguely bowl-shaped stones here and there, and considered what a lovely bird bath something like that would be in my garden. I find the functional stone, and the carved detail added later beautiful, and seeming very sturdy; something that could be counted on. I walk on, reflecting on my desire to feel secure in my life, and in my relationships.

Every moment has something to teach me; there's no knowing what may be around the next bend.

Every moment has something to teach me; there’s no knowing what may be around the next bend.

I inhaled the chill winter air as I walked new paths. Again and again, I was struck by the quality of the winter afternoon sunlight. Again and again, I was frustrated in my attempts to capture it. I stopped looking for perfection, and began accepting what the camera revealed to me.

Winter forest, winter sky - I see mostly what I expect to see, when I expect to see something particular.

Winter forest, winter sky – I see mostly what I expect to see, when I expect to see something particular.

I walked through areas of the park I used to avoid for ‘safety reasons’. Not that the park is unsafe in any noteworthy way; I fell and hurt myself pretty badly there, once, tripping over an exposed tree root that I didn’t see – I wasn’t looking. That was a day I felt incredibly happy, and I was looking up, and around, and enjoying birdsong, and singing holiday carols to myself as I walked along – I definitely wasn’t looking at the ground. While that’s lovely, lacking sufficient mindfulness to successfully walk to work without hurting myself is probably not something to brag about. I walked paths, today, that were rife with twisted knots and braids of tree roots without any particular concern – or lack of awareness. I was aware of the tree roots, among the many details I observed along the way, and enjoyed them as an opportunity to refine the mindfulness practices that add so much to my experience now; I’m always practicing, that’s how these practices work. 🙂 It felt like a huge triumph to feel so comfortable, confident, and unconcerned about an obstacle that once weighed so heavily on my experience that I gave it the power to change my path.

Winter has her lessons, too.

Winter has her lessons, too.

I enjoyed my winter walk so very much, today. I was well-prepared, and although I was walking new paths, I felt I was in familiar territory. I felt safe. I felt fearless. I felt comfortable. Funny how much being prepared can change an experience. Something as small as dressing for the winter weather can have so much value. It’s worth taking the time to prepare, even for something as simple as a winter walk. How often have I rushed out the door to do something, or go somewhere, and found myself inconvenienced because I overlooked something I needed, or suffered pointlessly for some other issue that consideration (“What can I do to prepare for this?”) could have prepared me for? How many times have I succeeded beyond my expectations or desires, on occasions that I happened to be more prepared for an event, decision, or activity?

Looking up; a common practice I use to shift perspective, and a lovely metaphor.

Looking up; a common practice I use to shift perspective, and a lovely metaphor.

There’s more to staring into the sky than meets the eye. I find the literal change in perspective does tend to fairly easily allow me to change my perspective, whatever the circumstances. Perspective has proven to be a very big deal in finding emotional resilience, contentment, and emotional self-sufficiency. I had trouble learning the lessons of compassion until I learned some of the lessons perspective has to offer. I find that perspective and compassion generally go hand in hand.

Sometimes illumination seems so near... other time, it seems a distant possibility, seen just beyond some challenge.

Sometimes illumination seems so near… other time, it seems a distant possibility, seen just beyond some challenge.

So… I walk on. Sometimes the perception that illumination is just out of reach is an illusion, a ‘trick of light’ – a matter of perspective. It may not be at all what it appears to be, in some brief moment of struggle, or frustration.

Winter reflections.

Winter reflections.

That’s really what my walk was about, for me, reflections – my own, on the year just past, and considering what to take along for the journey ahead… Who am I, today, that I wasn’t last year? Who do I hope to be on this day, next year? How do I get there, from here? In the simplest terms, it’s just a walk on a winter day, some photographs, some moments, some thoughts… I didn’t need more than that. Today is a good day to start a new year…a year of love, of consideration, of practice. Today is a good day to start a new year on a less familiar path.

It’s a progression, isn’t it? Who we become over time. How we get from ‘here’ to ‘there’. Our progress in work, in life, in being. This amazing journey of discover we are each on is… yeah. Amazing.

...This is also a journey that can get very 'real'...

…This is also a journey that can get very ‘real’…

I spent much of my time out in the trees meditating. (Less on yoga than I’d have liked to…admittedly, because I didn’t really want to get down on the ground with the bugs and leavings of creatures passing through; no time for hantavirus this year, thanks!) Meditating, and study. One of my partners had recommended some TA (Transactional Analysis) reading, that he has been finding value in. I understand the value of shared language (and the axiom that ‘language functions by agreement’ seems supported by my experience), and I regularly read books and article recommended by significant others of a variety of sorts in order to maintain a shared understanding of the meanings of things in my personal dictionary. Earlier exposures to TA didn’t provide me with much direct benefit for healing or growth, and it doesn’t seem to be a system that is really about that, as much as it is useful for troubleshooting pattern behaviors in small group dynamics – and it’s very good for that.  Having caught up on that bit of reading over the course of a day, I moved on to something that is more specifically suited to actual treatment and/or rehabilitation of my TBI – and stuff that suits that need tends toward the practical, the positive, and things built around repeatable exercises that have clear cognitive or behavioral outcomes, and changes over time to brain structure/function. In this case, I picked up “Hardwiring Happiness: The New Brain Science of Contentment, Calm, and Confidence” by Rick Hanson.  I’m adding it to my reading list today – it’s that big a deal already.

Few books move me immediately, and most of the time practical exercises contained in study material can be a tad generic, or feel a bit forced. My experience with Hardwiring Happiness has been quite different so far; every exercise attempted from a place of commitment and sincerely and wholeheartedly undertaken has resulted in real success and a sense of immediate improvement. Nice. Easy. How much stuff in life actually feels easy? How we pursue growth and change matter. What we fill our heads with matters. The actions we take matter. Our intentions matter, too. My time in the trees felt – and still feels – significant and important to me. I feel, too, as if I have gotten ‘unstuck’ from something I was struggling with on an existential level about the nature of emotional hurts, ancient pain and rage, long-carried baggage, and the nature of forgiveness. This is a nice place to be on a Tuesday morning. I am taking a moment to recognize and celebrate my progress along a difficult journey, and to honor my will to carry on, my goals off in the distance, and my strength carry me onward.

Taking a moment to consider the path ahead for perspective.

Taking a moment to consider the ground already covered and the path ahead for perspective.

The desire to achieve some measure of improved emotional self-sufficiency almost requires that I pause now and then to give myself a moment of recognition and celebration; I’ve worked hard to get here, from somewhere quite different, and it hasn’t been an easy journey. It’s been day by day, book by book, moment by moment, epiphany by epiphany, restful pause by restful pause, appointment by appointment, breakthrough by breakthrough, meltdown by meltdown, choice by choice, change by change… always practicing practices, studying, and taking care of me. The journey stretches far beyond what I can imagine, from where I stand now, and will continue until some time as I choose to quit, or the clock stops ticking altogether; it’s definitely a good idea to stop once in a while along the way for a moment of gratitude, appreciation, self-awareness, and praise.

Getting stuck happens. I had reached a point some weeks ago, where I was having more difficulty, more of the time, suffering more, and feeling as if I were just at the edge of ‘really getting it’ in some way that I couldn’t quite reach…and struggling. Losing ground on emotional resiliency, taking more stuff personally, feeling more of the lingering hurt and frustration in the background becoming more significant in the right-now moments of my everyday experience – and somewhat inexplicably so. Life was pushing a particular lesson at me, hard, and it was as if I couldn’t read the blackboard from where I was seated.  The weekend grieving and painting was important to express myself beyond the limitations of words. This past weekend in the trees helped me find new words, and to contemplate new ideas, and recommit to ideas I know work for me. It turns out that even this area of my life, there are processes I can count on. I remain a student of life, more about questions than answers.  My commitment to mindfulness and approaching each moment eyes wide open to the possibilities of now, and facing experiences as a beginner, open and with a humble heart, still gets me some amazing results. I got unstuck. This is good stuff.  I am hoping to apply the large-scale basics to smaller situations, the sort that blow up out of nowhere leaving everyone feeling sad and lost and wounded, that happen quickly, and dissipate, leaving emotional disarray in their wake. It would be good to build that level of emotional resilience and responsiveness, for my own experience, and for the value it holds for my relationships with others.

Like a paved trail on a sunny day, some of this may seem obvious; it doesn't hurt to check the map once in awhile, anyway.

Like a paved trail on a sunny day, some of this may seem obvious; it doesn’t hurt to check the map once in a while, anyway.

Today is a good day to share progress. Today is a good day to celebrate the many things I do well, get right, and find value in each moment. Today is a good day to make what nurtures the best within me a higher priority than my challenges. Today is a good day to make choices in favor of what meets my needs over time. Today is a good day to change the world.

My weekend in the trees over the Autumnal Equinox was lovely. It was not as quiet as I’d hoped; two troops of boy scouts had occupied the same bit of forest available to me for the weekend, and were actively exploring it in the way that boys of that age are active like no other creatures. lol. I was not distressed by their activity, or their presence. Apparently, I may have grown some while I wasn’t looking. 🙂

Forest: the view from my tent.

Forest: the view from my tent.

Friday was still and quiet all day, and Sunday from the moment day broke through the milky predawn sky and the boy scouts fled the trees in a moderately orderly fashion (at the behest of their leaders), until I myself departed at noon, was again quite still and quiet. I mean, as quiet as forests get. Certainly, the forest has music all its own that rarely really ceases. I got plenty of quiet, certainly enough stillness to calm my spirit and nourish my soul, and oddly several very good nights of sleep. On that, it wasn’t that I didn’t wake in the middle of the night to pee – I did, and honestly the walk in the dark, and cold, to get to that destination – and of the sort it is when camping – did nothing to add pleasantly to that experience – it was simply that the sleep I got was simply exquisitely restful. Naps or nighttime, either way, the sleep I got over the weekend was of amazing quality for restfulness, depth, and pleasantness. I am a big fan of good sleep.

Friday, I hiked 10 continuous miles, and met a goal set for 2015.

Friday, I hiked 10 continuous miles, and met a goal set for 2015.

My weekend in the trees was spent hiking, studying, meditating, focused contentedly on me, on the ‘now’ I exist in, and on solidifying recent lessons from life’s curriculum. My Granny would have called it ‘sorting shit out’ and made an annoyed face at me for my ‘grand words’ (although she loved my writing, even my poetry). I found time, this weekend, to walk in solitude wrapped in the affection and memory of cherished friends and loved ones no longer walking a living path. I never felt ‘lonely’, even in those poignant moments when loss felt visceral and heavy as I walked the trails.

I had plenty of company, too, from this guy and his sibs.

I had plenty of company, too, from this guy and his sibs.

Some important things occurred to me this weekend, perhaps short of an epiphany, but the evolution of useful ideas and worthy of further consideration and study. I learned quickly that I don’t understand these new ideas well enough to communicate them to others, without stumbling over things important to them. Sharing ends up being for some other time, rather than now.

Some of this has been about a change in perspective...

Some of this has been about a change in perspective…

...I mean, seriously changing perspective.

…I mean, seriously changing perspective.

My last weekend solo camping ended feeling very ready to head home. This one, although I felt the absence of my loves and dear ones in a significant way, ended feeling vaguely as if no amount of time in the trees could ever feel ‘too much’ given adequate supplies, and a secure tent. I wasn’t quite ready to come home…until my traveling partner pulled up in the parking lot. Just seeing him took my breath away such that I very nearly didn’t give him the usual hug and kiss; the moment was so intense with the wonder of loving this being. This man of flesh and emotion, of thought and action, of will and tenderness standing before me just then for that one moment seemed an ‘everything’ unarguably enough to come out of the trees for.  My partner.

What followed was a quiet evening at home, each contentedly (it seemed to me) doing our own thing, sharing space and time, and now and then conversation. My partner made a point of bringing some healthy groceries home for a simple and nourishing evening meal. I cooked. My generally-at-home partner tidied up after. Teamwork. A partnership. It was a lovely evening of family and warmth and contentment. It was enough. This morning…it still is.

Sometimes the path is paved, pleasant, and a beautiful experience.

Sometimes the path is paved, pleasant, and a beautiful experience.

My body and my heart have returned from the forest. My feet will carry me to work today, and I’ll harness my mind to my employers goals and do what I do. My thoughts, generally, are still out there…in the trees…in the autumn forest…listening to the fall of pine needles in breezes…the guttural insistent croak of a frog somewhere in the distance…the squeak and chatter of the nearby chipmunks and squirrels…on the edge of an awakening, on the edge of understanding something more today than I did last week, and in the midst of becoming. Surely, there will be more words on this another day.

Today is a good day to be.

This morning is as if it is an entirely different day… oh. Wait…it is. 🙂 It tends to work that way, generally speaking.

Yesterday was challenging, but the evening was lovely and my traveling partner and I hung out, played a favorite game (Carcassone), and conversed. It was connected and fun and gentle on our hearts. I found it a lovely way to prepare for my departure into the trees today. I woke with a smile – way ahead of the alarm, and excited like a little kid. This morning it’s espresso over ice, with a splash of lemonade, as I find myself catching odd ‘nice to have’ items that I had overlooked (pony tail bands…quarters in case I need to contact someone at home…oh hell, phone numbers!…), although I could walk out now with the gear as packed and be ready to go, and have a great time.

My partner observed that I had not either patched my old tent from last time (a young owl landed on it while I sipped my coffee, very early, and when he took flight, he left behind a small tear in the top of the rain fly) nor had I replaced it. I laughed about this tent being 30 years old and only costing $30 (I sure never expected it to last this long!)…which is nearly true. I bought it in 1996 to attend my first Renaissance Fair, so only 18 years old. Still – damned old for a $30 tent. It was 8:30 pm when my partner suggested I just go ahead and replace the tent. By nine I was back from our neighborhood gear shop with an excellent replacement – and instead of heading to the trees in an 18-year-old, worn, torn, one-season tent, I’ll be heading out with a brand new, good quality, 3-season tent that will be far more comfortable. Call me excited, I can barely make myself go to work! lol

So, I sip my iced coffee, go over my gear – before I head out after work, I’ll check the tent carefully to ensure I have all I need, and that I understand the set up. Being compassionate with myself about my TBI means I take extra steps to ensure I understand how gear works in advance. Relying on smarts and experience to push me through new set ups is a poor choice; I can do it, but my stress level regarding the emotion of frustration, specifically, isn’t something I want to put myself through if I can make better choices.

Being compassionate with myself – and my  partners – also means I give myself time, and room, and permission, to let go of what hurts, trust that I am loved and able to love in return, and accepting that the limitations I do have can be enormously frustrating for people who love me, and that’s entirely understandable. We’re all doing our best around here, and although sometimes it doesn’t feel ‘good enough’, it really always is.

So. Here I go. A more pleasant launch point for a weekend of stillness in the forest. See you in a few days!

The storm clouds of the moment are so quickly swept away in some moment that follows. I am still learning to make room for change, and to trust love.

The storm clouds of the moment are so quickly swept away in some moment that follows. I am still learning to make room for change, and to trust love.

Today is a good day for adventure. Today is a good day to trust my heart. Today is a good day to enjoy smiles, laughter, and hugs good-bye. Today is a good day to take a step back from the troubles of the world, and from the chaos and damage within. Today is a good day to change.