There was a misty rain falling when I got to the trailhead before daybreak. I don’t mind that. It had rained rather heavily at several points during the night, too, and I didn’t mind that either. My sleep was restless and unsatisfying, and I didn’t get enough of it. The household seemed noisy until almost midnight. I struggled to return to sleep each time I woke. I feel fine this morning. Eager to get a walk in along the damp marsh-side trail. It’s a short drive to the office from this nature park, and that’s where I’ll be working today. In general, the day is off to a good start, though seeing it through that lens is largely a matter of practice over time. (It wasn’t all that long ago that a restless night followed by a drizzly morning would likely have found me exceedingly irritated with life and wholly unpleasant to be around.)
…I keep practicing…
A rainy dawn, a new day.
Daybreak comes and I swap my shoes for boots, and grab my cane. I finish off my iced coffee and double check that I have my water bottle ready. I breathe the rain-fresh air and sigh contentedly, stretching before I head down the trail.
Practices come in all sizes. Changing the things I practice in life has done a lot to change my quality of life, my thinking, and my perspective. I’m more resilient. I am calmer. I bounce back from stress more easily and more quickly. I still have challenges. I still have to deal with my own bullshit and baggage. I’m very human. Trauma has changed me over the course of a lifetime and there’s no knowing who I might have been without it. There’s no “going back” – but it hardly matters when I remember that all my choices are ahead of me when I am present in this moment, awake, aware, and ready to begin again any time I fail myself or fall short of living my values. Failures are part of life.
I smile at the cloudy gray sky thinking about how best to capture those hues in pastel. This is a worthy moment to be here, now, and I embrace it. I breathe, exhale, relax, and begin again.
I drove to the trailhead this morning thinking about Stoicism and (secular) Buddhism, and assorted other philosophies and schools of thought that seek to promote becoming “a good person” or living “a good life” through specific thinking and practices. My thinking is inspired, in part, by a video I watched last night on the topic of Stoicism and the problematic way it has been co-opted by “the manosphere” and silicon valley tech bros for profit and personal gain – not unlike the way secular Buddhism and mindfulness practices have been co-opted for profit and personal gain by a broad variety of influencers, brands, and e-commerce sites. It’s certainly disappointing when a powerful message, system of thought, or practice is distorted or diluted in this way for nothing more valuable than cash. Human greed is honestly pretty gross. (In my own opinion, one of humanity’s ugliest and most destructive traits.)
Beyond all that, which is certainly worth reflecting on, I find myself thinking of words I heard often as a kid, and rarely hear in discourse anymore; “it builds character”. I don’t think I actually understood, as a kid. I only knew it was something I was likely to hear from one elder or role model or another if I was heard complaining about some task or activity I didn’t want to be doing, but somehow found myself obligated to. “It builds character”, someone would say, sometimes dismissively. I don’t think I had any clue then what exactly “character” actually was, nor why I would want to build it.
…Thinking about it this morning, I don’t think it’s any surprise that so much of the prevailing civil and political discourse seems wholly lacking in ethics and “good character”. There doesn’t seem to be any particular emphasis on these things in our culture or society, presently. Consider, specifically, our politicians and pundits – how many of these would you say are truly people of “good character”?
What defines good character? This seems to me to be a very important question. I sit quietly reflecting on this question, and wondering why my elders would have expected me to become a person of good character through actions described as “building character”, if I had no idea what “good character” actually is. Did they have any idea themselves, or were they merely silencing the complaints of a child with words that had once been used to silence them? I think we both know the likely answer, eh?
… What will we do about it..?
The pre-dawn darkness lingers and I sit with my thoughts awhile longer. Worthy thoughts for a Sunday morning. I find myself considering re-reading Marcus Aurelius and Zeno, and also Thomas Aquinas, Augustine, and Ignatius of Loyola. Flawed human beings all, I don’t doubt, but aren’t we all? I’m just saying there is more to learn about what makes a good person, and very little of it is to be found on Instagram, Tik Tok, or an influencer’s merch site. Some of the answers we human beings seek, again and again, have already been found, if only we’ll shut up a minute, read a fucking book, listen to wiser voices, and actually put into practice that wisdom in an honest and humble way. None of this shit is easy. None of this shit is found in an expensive subscription or online course. Spending money on shortcuts doesn’t actually provide an actual shortcut; it remains necessary to do the fucking work. lol It builds character. 😉
A new day, and and chance to begin again, and to be the person you most want to be.
Yesterday I took time to paint. It was satisfying soul-nourishing time well-spent. I’m considering another afternoon of painting, between loads of laundry. I flipped through recent photographs in the evening for inspiration and found much to be inspired by. Perhaps I will find my way to making a couple hours of painting a regular practice each week? I like the idea of treating myself so well.
Inspired by a recent sunrise view at a favorite trailhead.
Daybreak comes. A new sunrise begins and with it a new day full of opportunities for reflection, practice, and… building character. I probably need a better understanding of what that really means to me, and how best to put it into practice. We become what we practice (good or bad). It makes sense to choose wisely.
It’s time to begin again. This path isn’t going to walk itself!
Well, damn. That’s more than a little embarrassing…
Yesterday was quite a lovely day. I mean, it was definitely tending to be so, and I was relaxed and enjoying the day. Work was busy, complicated, and still quite fun. The day ended well, and I just had one errand to run to finish the week and call it the weekend. Easy. Routine.
… Right?.. Right?!..
It’s pretty easy to forget, when things are going well, that I do legitimately have some… “issues”. I start feeling as if I’m “past all that”. Feeling like my chaos is neatly tidied up, the damage repaired. “Nothing to see here.” It’s a pleasantly comfortable feeling, complacency, isn’t it? Which makes it all suck so much worse when shit goes sideways in some horrifically catastrophic feeling way that scatters shards of lingering trauma, broken bits of emotional baggage, and the wreckage of good intentions everywhere. It’s pretty horrible. The emotional damage done to loved ones dealing with it is embarrassing, inexcusable, and inflicts further trauma. It’s hard to make an adequate apology, making amends is even more difficult, and the fucking embarrassment, g’damn. The shame is a heavy burden to bear, and it can be complicated to prevent that from flaring up later as still more emotional bullshit. Fuuuuuuck.
So human.
Yesterday? Yesterday went sideways over a fucking product return. Yep. That was enough to push me entirely over the edge in actual seconds, and I may never truly understand why, let alone ever be able to explain it. It was bad. I lost my temper, my grip on reality, my ability to manage my emotions or even communicate clearly at all. My Traveling Partner was trying to help, but was immediately triggered, himself by my batshit-crazy bullshit, and wholly disadvantaged by also being medicated in a way that limited his ability to manage his own emotions or to support mine. It was (emotionally) messy. Ugly. Unpleasant. And it was over a fucking package. Over a moment of confusion and doubt regarding whether I understood which specific package it was and what return code belonged to it. Fucking stupid shit. Un-fucking-believable and a completely inexcusable overreaction to the circumstances.
No, apologies aren’t always adequate, which sucks. I still apologize. I’m still sincerely contrite and regretful. The damage is done and it may take time to rebuild a sense of emotional safety and trust. The whole messy business amounts to a powerful reminder regarding complacency. A reminder that mental illness is a real thing and the practices I practice to keep my shit together and foster mental and emotional wellness are not “a cure”. I still very much have to remain alert and self-aware.
…Well, shit…
I feel bad for the Anxious Adventurer. I wanted to set clearer expectations about my mental health and what challenges living in my home could present. My Traveling Partner shut that down, at the time. (I never asked why and don’t know.) What a shitty experience all around.
Here’s the thing though…
Waiting for the sun.
… Today is a new day. I can (and will) begin again. Yes, flare ups of mental illness suck. They’re scary and embarrassing. It’s horrible to understand how I have hurt those dear to me (and it doesn’t lessen the pain or the damage done that I’m talking about emotional violence not physical violence). I’ve still got to acknowledge the circumstances honestly. Reflect on things with calm self-awareness after the fact. Restore lost order. Make apologies and amends – and also move on and let it go.
Begin again.
It’s a new day. New challenges. New opportunities. A fresh set of moments, choices, and experiences. The day begins well, as I sit at the trailhead waiting for the sun. I started a new medication yesterday, intended to ease my occipital neuralgia and possibly reduce the pain of my cervicogenic headache. Will it be effective? Don’t know yet, but so far I am tolerating well, and it seems to have a pleasantly calming effect without knocking me out. In spite of numerous interruptions to my sleep last night, I slept well and deeply. The day begins well.
…I wonder where this path leads..?
Daybreak brings a new beginning.
Scattered plump raindrops greet me as I step onto the trail. I grab my rain poncho “just in case”. The trail stretches ahead, familiar, but also unknown; each new day is different.
I breathe, exhale, and relax. It’s time to get to it. We’ve each got to walk our own mile. The trail isn’t always smooth, but the choices (and consequences) are my own. When I stumble, I know I can begin again.
It’s a quiet start to the day. The morning air feels subtly autumnal. I find myself regretting that I didn’t wear my fleece hoodie. The walking warms me up though.
One perspective on the morning.
There’s a low mist clinging to the ground along the river when I begin my walk. It drifts over the meadow adjacent to the trail, becoming a thin fog. It’s very quiet this morning. I don’t hear any birds, or traffic, only my footsteps and my breathing.
It is a routine work day, possibly a busy one. There is a project to be done, later, and later still an evening meal to prepare. I sigh quietly as I walk. The to-do list is long. Having the Anxious Adventurer in the household lifts a measure of the everyday housekeeping burden, but greatly increases the “mental workload” and emotional labor landing on me day after day, on top of the increases associated with caregiving for my Traveling Partner. I’m less physically exhausted than I had been…but… I often find myself very much “over” dealing with people at all, far sooner than I typically might. It’s a struggle to get enough time alone, unbothered by what everyone else needs moment to moment, and undistracted by pings, questions, or requests for my thoughts on the various topics. I often end up feeling like a bitch just trying to get a moment alone with my thoughts.
… I’m grateful for this solitary time in the mornings (and I am pretty certain it’s keeping me sane).
I turn the last bend on the trail and sit down for a moment to think and to write. “This too will pass,” I remind myself. I breathe, exhale, and relax. It’s time to begin again… I head down the trail towards the car, and the beginning of the work day.
Here it is, a Tuesday. First day back to work after a long weekend that actually felt long. It was a delightful weekend in the company of my Traveling Partner. Evenings shared with the Anxious Adventurer, too, after his work days were done. It was pretty nice all around. It is satisfying to see my partner continuing to improve and recover after surgery (though he is less satisfied, because progress feels so slow).
A new day begins now.
I am starting the day with that “song in my heart” feeling. It’s quite wonderful. I made a point to set things up for my partner at home to make his morning easy, and slipped away into the pre-dawn darkness. The Anxious Adventurer has an early start at work this morning, and has been making great progress with being quiet and considerate in the mornings. I’m hopeful that my Traveling Partner will be able to sleep in and get more of the rest he needs. He’ll have a quiet house for a few hours.
As soon as there is enough daylight, I hit the trail and get a short walk in. Short this morning because I’ve got work and getting an early start gets me home earlier…
…An early ping from my Traveling Partner upends my careful planning. He woke, and can’t find his glasses. Recent experience suggests they may have fallen into a gap between the mattress and headboard, and if so he won’t be able to see or reach them. He asks for my help and if course I don’t mind working from home; I prefer it. I assure him I’m on my way and head back up the trail to the car.
… It’s time to begin again. Change is.
No, seriously – change is a thing. Reliably.
Later…
I’m at the office. Funny story… well, not really, but for context; my Traveling Partner found his glasses. He’d knocked them to the floor, but they were within reach once he spotted them. Difficult, but not (apparently) completely outside the realm of possibility… because he got it done. He alerted me. We chatted awhile, and I resumed my plan for the day with minimal delay. Hilariously, I still feel “more than connected” with him, presently. I feel alert for his outreach, sensitive to the idea he may yet need me, and I’ve got a persistent sensation of having “half an eye on my phone” for incoming messages. My full (very – it’s a Tuesday) meeting calendar today limits the ease with which I could promptly return home (following an almost hour-long commute), but I settled my nerves by alerting my work team of the potential, and then I just… let it go. It’s fine. Routine. Human.
…Fuck I love my Traveling Partner so deeply and so enduringly that even my lingering hang ups and baggage regarding time and timing are nothing compared to my love, and my willingness to come to his aid on a moment’s notice.
Change is. The journey is the destination. There’s no point getting overly invested in the details of a plan, or in expectations or assumptions about how things may go or what the future holds. Breathe. Exhale. Relax. Roll with it. Practice non-attachment and practice not taking shit personally, and life becomes so much less prone to OPD (Other People’s Drama) and disappointment. Go ahead – be daring – just be.
Evening Light 