I am lingering in this moment, waiting for a break in the rain at this favorite trailhead. Nice morning for walking, if the rain stops for a little while. The forecast suggests it will, soon.
For some time I simply sat quietly, listening to the rain, the traffic on the nearby highway, and my tinnitus. A pleasant and uncomplicated interlude, and time well-spent alone with my thoughts, just being.
I am contemplating contemplation. Thinking about vita contemplativa. Considering solitude, stillness, and self-reflection. I am pondering presence, and the idea of ichi-go ichi-e. We live such busy lives. It’s clear to me that there is more to living a “good life” than being busy. Work and “productive effort” really isn’t all there is, and I have real doubts that it is even the most important part of life… In fact, I’m fairly certain it is not. So much of what we are exists apart from the work that we do.
Work and consumption and doom-scrolling through the various feeds seeking to profit from my attention span are a relatively meaningless piece of my life. Why let these details consume my precious limited mortal lifetime? There’s so much else to experience, to enjoy, and to feel. I sit with my thoughts and my awareness of this moment. Time becomes irrelevant when I am fully present in my life, experiencing the journey, awake, aware, and really “here for it”.
I’m not busy right now. That’s intentional. I’m also not bored, nor seeking anything to become busy with. I’m okay with this quiet moment spent with my thoughts, living this moment, listening to the rain fall, and watching the slow approach of dawn.
When was the last time you took a moment to do nothing at all, but to do that very deliberately, quite aware of your experience of the moment, simply being, without agenda or impatience? Without drama or bullshit? Without occupying your attention with a screen in front of you or a device in your hand? I’m finding such experiences very worthwhile, restful, luxurious, delicious moments of freedom from the clock, “hearing myself think”.
I write a few words. I’ll sit awhile longer. The rain will stop, and I’ll lace up my boots, pick up my cane, and head down the trail eager to begin again, aware how much it matters to really experience the journey.
12 years ago I started this blog. It was a difficult time in my life, in spite of having a lot of the ingredients available for contentment, emotional security, and joy. I was deeply unhappy, and mentally unwell. I was teetering on the edge of making very final, very poor decision about my life that I wouldn’t have been able to revoke. Things felt incredibly bleak and I was “trapped in the mire“. When I considered starting this blog, I didn’t have a clear idea of what I was seeking from it and I could not see my path ahead. I was wandering in darkness, metaphorically.
Sometimes our path is illuminated. Sometimes we walk our mile in darkness.
I sought encouragement from one of my partners at the time, asking her thoughts regarding beginning a blog. I had kept a pen & ink journal for many decades, I just wasn’t certain I had something to say that was worth “sharing with the world”. She had a blog, and I hoped that she would have words of encouragement and maybe some insights. No, she did not have that. Instead, I received a valuable lesson regarding the likelihood that any given person has any interests but their own in mind, and a reminder that regardless of the relationship, however close I may think someone is, there’s a real chance that they do not have my needs and interests in mind at all. She smirked at me with a certain smugness, and told me rather dismissively that it probably wasn’t worth it for me to write a blog, and that chances were that no one would ever read it anyway, and I probably wouldn’t be able to “keep it up” more than a couple days. I was… hurt. I felt “invisible” and misunderstood. I felt exactly what she intended; dismissed and diminished. Then the anger – did she even know me? (She did not.) It was a lesson worth learning, and although I am fortunate to be so well-loved by my Traveling Partner in my current relationship, I have also learned to take care of myself, and to be the one meeting my emotional needs, first and reliably, as much as I know how to do.
Wherever it leads, the path we choose in life isn’t going to walk itself.
That first blog post was barely a beginning – but it was a beginning. Since then, I’ve had so many beginnings, and so many words of encouragement from so many people dear to me. I’ve shared my voice: my thoughts, my fears, my ideas, my astonishment, my affection, and my anger – and so many emotions and experiences on this path. I’ve practiced practices, and shared those here. I’ve failed and started over, and shared that too. Once a year, I am reminded of her dismissive words so long ago, and I smile and sip my coffee; she definitely didn’t know me. lol (As it turned out, I didn’t know her either, but I soon learned all I needed to know.)
Where does this path lead?
Since I wrote that first post, I’ve written 3111 3112 blog posts, with an average of 163k words each year (about 750 words each time I post, sometimes more, sometimes less), posting an average of 258 days per year. Consistency has worked for me. I’ve found my way into the inboxes of a couple hundred long-time subscribers (thank you), and turned up in more than 5 thousand searches and every search engine I’d ever heard of, and a few that were new to me. More than 34k people in 123 different countries have found their way here (I’m not surprised that most of my readers are in the United States, Canada, and the UK). I’m not “famous” (and not seeking fame), and I wouldn’t consider this blog wildly popular, but I’m definitely glad I started writing here – and grateful that you’re reading. I hope my musings have been helpful in some way, and if not helpful, I hope you’ve at least been entertained for some little while. Thank you for reading.
I’ve still got to walk my own path.
I’ll also say this; you have value. You have something to say in the world, something to contribute. Don’t let someone else’s opinion hold you back. If you’re inspired to write, or sing, or dance, or sculpt, or film, or share who you are with the world in some way, begin! If it doesn’t work out easily – begin again! We become what we practice. What you have to say matters – maybe a lot. We all want to be heard. It’s easy to become discouraged when someone whose opinion matters to us doesn’t support our enthusiasm when we expect it – don’t let that hold you back. We’re each having our own experience, and they have reasons of their own for not giving you the support you want and need, and those may have nothing to do with you at all. Let that shit go. Walk your own path. Find the traveling companions on life’s journey who are actually “going your way” for a while, and walk with them. Sometimes the journey is difficult, but that doesn’t make it less worthy.
Each step along this path has been worthy in it’s own distinct way, although I don’t always see it at the time I take the step.
It’s been 12 years since I began this blog. It’s been worthwhile to write each day that I did so. It’s been helpful more than once to look back on my own thoughts and words, myself, and seek my own council from the woman in the mirror. It’s buoyed my spirits when I felt low to read your comments, and know that I am “being heard”, and to feel that something I’ve said may have helped light the path for some other traveler.
The path isn’t always easy, but it’s mine, and I’ll continue to walk it. It’s time to begin again. Again.
Perspective is an interesting thing. Change the context, or vantage point of an observed thing, and it may look quite different. Change the filter or lens on a camera, and the pictures are transformed. Zoom in, or step back, and what is revealed changes. Scale in comparison to other things may alter the apparent importance of something experienced or observed. A change of perspective has as much to do with our understanding as a change to the facts themselves. How interesting is that?
I woke earlier than I planned. Earlier than necessary at all, but once I was awake, there wasn’t much point in hanging about at home waiting for an unexpected opportunity to make a household-waking amount of noise inadvertently. I dressed, made coffee for my Traveling Partner, and got on with things. Somewhere between the front door and the trailhead, sleepiness caught up with me, and getting up so early now feels foolish. I parked the car just as the rain began drumming on the roof. Well, shit. I sit back a bit, listen to the rain sleepily and watch the clouds cross the sky while I wait for a break in the rain sufficient to walk the trail comfortably.
I am thinking about the “lens” through which I view the world. It’s a useful metaphor for perspective. I think about the necessity of “polishing the lens” for accuracy through education, fact-checking, and testing assumptions. I think about taking a closer look at events and experiences for a deeper understanding by way of “increasing the magnification” as one might with the lenses of a microscope. I consider how many lenses my eye doctor uses to get my prescription on my glasses just right, and the many comparisons between lenses that process requires. The lens is as excellent metaphor for perspective and clarity of thought. I sit contentedly, listening to the rain, and considering things through a variety of “lenses”.
…It makes sense to view the world through a variety of lenses, and to build nuanced understanding through considering things from more than one perspective…
My tinnitus rings and chimes and buzzes loudly in my ears and I am sleepy. My mind wanders. That’s okay, I’m not in any particular hurry and it’s still raining quite hard. The clouds are a pale soft gray against the darkness of the night sky. I find myself wondering if the new administration really will manage to put an end to the bullshit back-and-forth of the Daylight Savings Time changes we put ourselves through each year. If they do, which way will they go: permanent DST, or the other? I consider each option from several points of view and realize I’m not actually certain which I’d prefer, myself. I can see value to either, depending on the lens I choose. Summer hikes? Winter commutes? Sleeping in? Camping? Gardening? Children going to school? People with seasonal affective disorder? This lack of certainty tends to suggest it may be tough to bring about such a change, if many people are similar conflicted or uncertain. I find myself wondering, too, who will have the loudest voices and most money to spend on influencing the outcome.
I yawn drowsily as the rain stops. Seems a good time for my wandering mind and I to hit the trail. I put on my boots. They feel heavy on my feet this morning. I hang my headlamp around my neck. It dangles loosely, pointing toward my feet. I pull on my fleece over my sweater and stuff my rain poncho into my back pocket, just in case. Time to walk a couple miles in my own shoes. Time to stay on my path. Time to see the world with new eyes from a new perspective.
… Time to begin again… again.
A familiar walk from a different perspective, and through a different lens.
My tinnitus is super loud this morning. Distracting. Annoying. I breathe, exhale, and relax, as I absentmindedly rub my left trapezius muscle, up near my neck… Or is it my sternocleidomastoid? That general area. Feels like it is carved of stone and most of the time also a prominent source of day-to-day pain. I see one of my care providers today. He’s very skilled and I am hopeful that I’ll have a few hours or a couple days of real relief before my fucked up neck recreates the painful circumstances all over again. I’ve grown resigned to accepting that it is simply the byproduct of an old neck injury, combined with progressing degenerative disk disease (C3-C4 mostly and cervical arthritis from C5 on up to C1). It sucks and it’s painful, but, and this is important and real, it could be worse.
I walked down the trail listening to the crunch of boots on pea gravel, and I focused on the external sounds around me; it helps push the tinnitus into the background some. I got to a pleasant spot along the river to sit for a moment. The world is quiet and from here I can’t hear the traffic on the nearby highway at all. Whether this is an atmospheric phenomenon, a lack of traffic, or hearing loss is not clear to me, and maybe not even relevant to this pleasant moment. There’s a strip of color, not quite orange, on the eastern horizon, peeking between hillsides, silhouetting the trees on the far bank where the river bends. I have the trail and the park to myself this morning, alone with my thoughts (and my tinnitus, and my pain). Well… mostly…
I sit quietly as a rather large raccoon waddles past. She gives me a look and hesitates a moment before proceeding. I sit still and watch her discreetly from my peripheral vision hoping not to discourage her and choking back a laugh remembering the desk sign my Traveling Partner made for me (“most likely to be eaten by something she shouldn’t be petting”). As the raccoon continues past she’s followed by 2…3…4…5 chubby fuzzy youngsters, one of whom appears eager to get a closer look at me. Mom looks back and lifts herself on her back legs and makes sounds that clearly manage to communicate “Damn it, leave that human alone, you have no idea where that thing has been! Come on, we don’t have time for this.” It’s super hard not to giggle but I really don’t want to alarm Mama Raccoon – she’s pretty big, and I’m definitely not up for defending myself from an angry or frightened raccoon; they are not to be trifled with.
She walks on with her youngsters following, heading down the river bank. I walk on, too, heading back up the trail toward the parking lot. It’s daybreak. Good time to begin again.
It’s the first morning of 2025. Unimpressive in most respects thus far, but that isn’t the point of a new beginning, nor is it the goal of this very human journey. There’s really no one to “impress”, and nothing much with which to impress them, not really. Thoughts to the contrary tend to be illusions we create in our own heads or adopt from others and subsequently use to torment ourselves with further illusions of disappointment and perceived failure. We could do better by ourselves than all that nonsense. It’s at least worth the attempt.
A new year, a new beginning. Choose your verbs, and practice.
We’re each human beings, having our own very human experience, each walking our chosen path alone, all of us in this together in spite of that. I look down the trail. It is a chilly misty morning that threatens rain. The world is damp and quiet. I sit with my thoughts a moment after lacing up my boots. Another mile ahead of me. Another moment of this precious mortal life, in which to consider, to choose, and to act. Where does this path lead?
In practical terms, last year I walked 788 trail miles (according to my tracker), and lost about 50 lbs. They may or may not be related. I’m not doing the walking to lose the weight in any specific direct way. It’s probably helpful to keep walking. Certainly it’s helpful to eat in a healthier way and manage my calories more closely. I’m very certain the semaglutide is a huge part of the weight loss, but even that is more about my health overall, and managing tricky details like my blood sugar, and oddly, my cognitive and emotional approach to food. It was always more complicated than “willpower”. It took a long time to be okay with that and to give myself a fucking break and be as kind and compassionate with the woman in the mirror as she seeks to be with the world. Humans being human.
I don’t really do “resolutions” at the New Year. I do take some quiet time to reflect quite seriously about who I am, who I most want to be, and what it might take to close the distance between the two. It’s a journey. The journey is the destination. There are so many steps in a mile, so many miles in a journey… and so many choices. I’ll definitely keep walking, both practically and metaphorically. In practical terms, I hope to reach one thousand trail miles this year. (Sounds like a lot but it averages to less than 3 miles a day over a year, which sounds pretty doable.)
I’ve got a list of books to read, and some quality of life goals that require changing some behavior. Nothing fancy or drastic, and incremental change over time can have really big results. We become what we practice. It’s enough.
I had a modest plan for today, and I don’t know if I am realistically up to it. I spent yesterday pretty ill, and I’m not yet back to 100%. I’ll take it easy in my walk, keep it short and unambitious, and be gentle with myself. Later I’ll take down the holiday decor – I’m pretty sure I’ve got enough in reserve to get that done. My other thought was to do the floors, all the floors, all the ways. Sweep, mop, dust baseboards, spot clean here and there were needed, and vacuum thoroughly – it’d be nice to begin the year bringing order out of chaos in this humble way, and I always enjoy how the house looks after some serious “detailing” of some kind… but… I’m fairly certain that project might be too much for me, today. Pushing it off to the weekend feels like “giving up”, but it also feels like self-care.
New year, new beginning – there are choices ahead, some simple, some complicated, and there’s a life to be lived. It’s definitely time to begin again. What will you be practicing? Where does your path lead? See you on the trail (metaphorically speaking).
Evening Light 