Archives for category: Oregon Trails

This morning I woke gently, aware of what a good day yesterday was, in spite of its difficult beginning (which, honestly, “wasn’t all that”). I found myself musing briefly over how easily a day getting off to a good start can “go off the rails”, and how often a seemingly poor start nonetheless finds its way to a pleasant day. The beginnings do not determine the outcomes. There are so very many choices and opportunities along the way, it seems a poor practice to insist on an entire day being whatever some one moment happens to be.

The morning is off to a promising start. I don’t read anything into it, and refrain from setting myself up for failure by expecting all the moments ahead to be as this one pleasant moment happens to be. I’m also not looking for disappointment or anticipating chaos. It’s simply a moment and I am enjoying it as it is.

As I leave the house to head down the road to a favorite trail, I’m greeted by a peculiar piebald sky. Past daybreak, which comes quite early this time of year, the sky is pale, a faded blue-not-quite-white, and scattered patterns of small dark gray clouds that crowd the northern horizon. Stormy looking, off in the distance. As I drive, a pink and magenta sunrise peeks out from among the distant hills, and I delight in the boldness of the colors with each glimpse. It doesn’t last, and I never quite get a view of it that lasts long enough to snap a picture. Some experiences have to be enjoyed as they happen, and there is no opportunity to save these for later, outside our fleeting memory.

Perhaps rain later…?

I get to the trailhead, put on my boots, and step onto the trail with a smile and my thoughts and a promise to finish this later.

Nice morning for it.

The air is mild and the morning very quiet. I had the trail alone this morning – a pleasant luxury. I walked with my thoughts, which were mostly rather practical.

I began tidying up my studio yesterday, and there’s a bit more to do. Because I had the option of working from an office in the city over the past 8 months, (and with my Traveling Partner injured), necessity and convenience slowly turned my studio into something more like storage than a creative work space. lol It makes sense to get that sorted out, and my studio returned to a clean and tidy work space, now. No office to go to presently, and my partner’s son moving in soon (temporary and welcome), I need this space for artistic endeavors, but also for work (doubles as my office), and even as a “personal retreat”, when I just can’t deal with people and need some solitude. It isn’t intended to be storage space, aside from the closet, in which my stored artworks are kept until they sell or hang somewhere.

…Yesterday was a lovely productive day…

I walked and thought. Nice morning for it.  I saw nutria playing along the marsh, at the waters edge. The young ones born this year are exploring their world with playful curiosity. I walked past a small herd of deer, which quietly watched me back as I walked past. (They were gone when I returned down the trail heading for the car.) There were little birds everywhere, squirrels too. The meadow flowers made the air sweet with their scents. The lupines are done blooming and are going to seed. Other flowers take their turn blooming. The trees are all fully leafed out now, and signs of summer are everywhere. Seasons change. Change is.

I get back to the car too early to head right home. I’d like to let my Traveling Partner sleep awhile. I take time to finish my writing and to meditate.

Sitting with my thoughts.

I think ahead to what my next bit of away time might be? I sigh impatiently when I recall I’ve never yet spent even one night home alone in our home. I yearn for that small luxury, but it  hasn’t worked out any time my Traveling Partner has made plans to be away.  Four years of projects, business,  and camping trips cut short by inclement weather, or deferred by illness. Travel plans derailed by injury or circumstance. It just hasn’t worked out; I’ve never been home alone here for more than a few hours, and even then in steady contact with my Traveling Partner throughout. We may as well have been in the living room together. lol Sometimes frustrating. Sometimes disappointing. Mostly I just feel loved. I hold out hope that I may yet experience the luxury of solitude at home, here, eventually… I’m for sure not holding my fucking breath, though!

…I’m not even bitching, really, I’m fortunate to have other options to get the solitary time I need…

So… yeah… sometime in these upcoming summer weeks maybe another camping trip? Maybe a weekend on the coast in a favorite little hotel? Maybe a road trip to see distant friends, with the solitude being a nice interlude between visits? I know the busy-ness and chaos of getting my stepson moved in later this month will take a lot out of me, and potentially leave me scrambling for any kind of alone time at all, grateful perhaps to find even 10 minutes alone behind a closed bathroom door, or in my office during the work day during an uninterrupted hour. I know how such circumstances affect me. I also know to plan ahead in summer months.

…I think about late July and wonder…

…On the other hand, I don’t know that I will be free to travel, at all; my partner has surgery coming up, not yet scheduled  but expected to be scheduled soon for a date as early as available (not an emergency, but a high priority)… could be I will need to be home to care for him (and of course that needs to come first).

I sigh and catch myself grousing silently about the inconveniences and difficulties of adulthood… but I silence myself; I’m fortunate that these are the challenges I am facing. It could be ever so much worse. I take a moment for gratitude. Happy to be in the partnership I’m in, with a human being who lives me deeply, and looking ahead to enjoying the summer at home, puttering in my garden, and living my life gently. It’s enough.

I smile, breathe, exhale, and relax, watching the blue sky spread from horizon to horizon. I  look over my rather practical list of things to do today and add a reminder to cut back bolting greens in the garden and harvest peas for dinner. Looks like a lovely day ahead and it’s time to begin again.

I’m in a wretched vile mood, twisted with pain, angry with… humanity. Feeling pretty over “everyone’s” bullshit, greed, and negativity. It’s not my best look. This morning I would happily give the whole world a giant middle finger, a “fuck you” as a greeting, and pull up a chair to sit back and watch the world burn.

…Did you even know I had it in me?…

I woke fairly comfortably, feeling level-headed and mellow, in a good mood and not in much pain. I was barely dressed to head out for a pleasant morning walk when that all went screeching off course, abruptly veering into a seriously shitty mood, neck and back spasms, my headache roaring to its full potential, and just not in a good place at all. Does it matter why? Not really. Humans being human.

…And here I am…

I get to the trail after a drive that could have been quite pleasant if my head were in a different place. The sunrise was gorgeous. I saw it. Traffic was light. It’s a Saturday. I hit the trail without any lingering. It’s rather crowded this morning, and having to endure the presence of other people, and hear the sound of voices, grates on my nerves. Aggravating. I am feeling so fucking over humanity this morning. I don’t want to share the trail or the moment. My steps come down hard as I walk a more aggressive pace than usual. I’ll probably pay for that later.

There’s more to the moment than my emotions.

I walk on, trying to reset my experience and begin again. It’s not always easy. I am still seething. I breathe, exhale, and walk on… one step at a time, and trying to let go of my irritation each time I see someone on the trail or hear voices approaching. I’d very much like to be quite alone, right now,  but that’s clearly not going to happen.

…Emotions are not facts…

…The plan is not the experience…

…The journey is the destination (and it has to begin where I actually am)…

…I can choose not to endure “second dart” suffering…

…There are verbs involved…

…My results vary…

…This will pass…

I breathe in the fresh Spring air. I exhale as a slow sigh. I’m “not there yet”, but I keep walking. Eventually I will get somewhere. One step at a time. Incremental change. Practicing the practices. Beginning again.

Our behavior in the world and in our relationships affects everyone we interact with. I reflect as I walk… How can I best process my experience without adversely affecting other people, including my Traveling Partner? How do I proceed by being the person I most want to be? If I were comfortably able to process my anger effectively without expressing it explosively or pushing a lot of negative energy into shared emotional space, what would that look like? How is that done? (It’d be nice to have a fucking “user’s guide” for managing emotional skillfully. )

I walk with my thoughts, making a point of being politely appreciative of pleasant greetings from passers-by and returning a wave or a smile. I don’t really want to deal with people, but shitty moods have an element of potential for “contagion” – we are social creatures – and I really don’t want to be a force for evil and negativity in the world, not even on a small scale. No one benefits from that; life is already difficult enough. So… I walk with my thoughts and work on getting past my bullshit, so I can enjoy the day.

I get to my halfway point and sit down to write a bit.

By the time I get to this paragraph, the sun is well up in the sky, warming my shoulders and back as I write. I feel some better. My emotions, at least, are tamed. I’m not seething with unexpressed anger, now. I’m not having to force myself to view the world through a positive lens by some act of will. I’m not immediately annoyed to see another human being on the trail. Aside from the physical pain, I’m mostly okay. “Fine”, for most values of fine.

I take my self-reflection further, and make room for gratitude; it’s a beautiful morning, and I will see a specialist this morning who reliably manages to alleviate a good portion of my pain, if only temporarily. It’s enough and I am grateful for the skilled care. I give a moment to soft feelings of love and care for my Traveling Partner, too. His day got off to a difficult start. We’ve each got our own challenges, each having our own experience, but there’s no shortage of deep and abiding love between us. He’s a worthy traveling companion on life’s journey.

I sigh, sitting in the sunshine, watching a chipmunk approaching me from the side, hesitantly. I watch, trying to avoid being obvious about it. She darts away when I move ever so slightly. “I get it”, I think to myself, “humans are the worst.”

…I breathe, exhale, and relax, and make the effort to let that feeling go…

I look at the time. If I timed this right, it’ll be time to head to my appointment, just as I get back to the car. It’s definitely time to head back down the trail, and begin again.

I got my walk in early. I started just at daybreak on this mild Spring morning. I walked a bit aggressively, lost in my own thoughts, eyes fixed on some point ahead,  but without really seeing. I felt cross about the way my morning started (with my Traveling Partner’s aggravation over being wakened and struggling to breathe, as I finished dressing to leave).

…Took me awhile to let it go…

I had wished him well and expressed my hope that he could get back to sleep. He didn’t seem to think he would and expressed that in a way that kept our exchange on my mind as I walked along, over-thinking it unsatisyingly.

…I seriously could have done a better job of letting it go, and letting small shit stay small…

I didn’t really begin to enjoy my walk or adjust my attitude until after he pinged me a cute sticker of a little cat tucked in for sleep, indicating he was going back to bed. Damn, I love that guy. At that point, I was easily able to settle down and sort myself out, with a sigh and a smile and a feeling of gratitude. Shit could be a lot g’damn worse in life (and love).

…We’re each having our own experience…

When I sat down to write, I took a quick look at the “page stats” for this blog (it’s not about numbers so much as insights into what people choose to read, and I often find new relevance in old writing). I found myself re-reading a post from almost 18 months ago, and reflecting further on perspective, change,  and the importance of self-care. It gave me real clarity on the morning, and restored my sense of perspective generally, and how good things truly are. Reading a relevant older post is another way to “be there for myself”, and practice good self-care, and another way to regain perspective. (I say a silent “thank you” to the reader who read that post yesterday; reading it this morning was helpful.)

…My Traveling Partner is on his own journey, having his own experience, and taking that at all personally isn’t a helpful approach to partnership…

Here. Now. Perspective. Sufficiency.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. It’s a pretty morning. The temperature here is a comfortable 50°F or so. The sunshine lights the blades of grass and the trunks of the oaks in the grove where I sit perched on a picnic table enjoying the sunrise. It’s still quite early and I am not rushing back to the house. I’ve got a cup of coffee and this quiet moment to myself and I am enjoying it.

…Sometimes the best thing I can do to take care of myself is to simply take a few quiet minutes to breathe and reflect…

Later today I will take my Traveling Partner to an appointment with a specialist. I hope there is promising news about what can be done and what the long term prognosis for his recovery from his December injury may be. It’s hard watching him suffer and struggle. I feel so helpless so often. I definitely want to do more to alleviate his pain and discomfort than I seem able to. It’s not about me, though; I just want this human being I love so dearly to be okay.

I sigh out loud and catch myself picking at my cuticles anxiously. Yeah… still human. Still prone to worry and stress. I breathe the fresh Spring air deeply and exhale slowly. I can smell the hedge roses that are on the other side of the parking lot adjacent to this park where I am sitting, and the scent of recently cut meadow grass. I enjoy the smell of Spring, grateful that my seasonal allergies are nothing like as severe as my Mother’s allergies, or my Traveling Partner’s. They’re mostly pretty mild, and seem very specific to certain local flowering trees. That time of year is already beginning to pass.

I am in rather a lot of pain this morning. It’s been an issue all week. I take the medication I have for it. I cope the best I can. I remain unwilling to let my pain call my shots and I try to “just live my life” in spite of it. My results vary. I make a point of not complaining much about it, to the point of generally mentioning it only in passing, if I mention it at all, in conversation. It’s not that I find this to be a helpful strategy, it’s just that there’s nothing to do about it, really, that I’m not already doing, and I am very much aware that my partner is in a great deal more pain than I am. I don’t want to make that about me. I just want to do my best to support and care for him while he’s injured and working on recovering. He knows I am in pain, it’s a chronic condition. No point making that “a thing” – right now it’s just a distraction.

I sit with my coffee and my thoughts awhile longer. Soon enough it will be time to begin again.

I slept poorly, last night, when I slept at all. It rained through the night, and I listened to it when I was awake, between restless naps. I figure the most likely cause of my restless night was having to abruptly discontinue several regular medications in preparation for a diagnostic procedure later today. I probably should have expected the difficult night.

I finally woke to stormy skies, and my Traveling Partner also (already, temporarily) awake. He was eager for me to get on out of the house for my walk and expressed hope that I would be gone “a long time “. It’s a work day, on top of a day with an appointment in it, and a day that follows a night of truly shitty “sleep”. I’ll plan to do my best to treat the hapless humans on my path with kindness and gentleness; they can’t know what I’m going through right now.

My head aches all sorts of ways. I find some limited comfort in an iced coffee (having already confirmed I would not have to give that up, too). My back aches (with my arthritis), on this rainy morning. My tinnitus is loud (so loud). Complicating all of these, my head is stuffy from not taking allergy medicine, my guts are all churned up (no idea what may have caused that) , my “sense of things” is just… off. I feel uncomfortable and irritable.

…It’s still a work day… my partner still also had a poor night of sleep…

I got a walk in, between rain showers. Now I’m contentedly sipping coffee in the car, watching the sky shift from ominous gray storm clouds to bands of blue sky peeking between clouds that hint at the chance of sunshine… but I see showers in the distance, moving across the horizon.

I start my work day from this pleasant spot, catching up my email and checking Slack channels. I pause for a moment of gratitude that this exists as an option. I can linger here pretty comfortably, and let my Traveling Partner sleep awhile longer before I take a seat in my office, and risk waking him with a meeting, or the sound of my typing.

As quickly as the sun broke through the storm clouds, it disappears again, and I see a rain shower approaching. I don’t much care, one way or the other; I can’t stop it from raining, and may as well enjoy the moment anyway. It’s just weather.

I sigh quietly to myself. I’m prepared for today to feel awkward and uncomfortable, and possibly a bit difficult, but so far things are okay. It’s enough and I feel pretty contented, generally. I breathe, exhale, and relax. I do my best to set myself up for success…

…I get ready to begin again…

How to find joy; make room for it. Be open to it when it happens upon you. Savor the joyful moments. Allow joy to exist. Sounds so simple…

…Sometimes it’s not so simple and requires some practice…

I’ve got the trail to myself this morning.

My tinnitus is loud in my ears this morning. It can be a real irritant. I look for joy in the moment, and build that by listening for the breezes rustling Spring foliage and whispering through the meadow grass along the trail as I walk. I listen attentively to the birds singing their morning songs. I craft joy in this moment by filling my thoughts with pleasant recollections of recent other joyful moments,  taking time to savor them and fill my heart and consciousness with these precious small delights. Joy doesn’t require grand gestures, big purchases, or flare. Many of my most joyful moments are humble bright spots in life that might go unnoticed if I allow myself to wallow in misery instead.

…Funny how easily we can become focused on, and mired in, our most miserable moments, and how reluctant we can be to spend similar time and energy on the things that delight us and feel good…

Spring flowers are blooming.

Sustaining joy is largely a matter of being willing to put more attention on it day-to-day than on the many small shitty experiences that occur in a human lifetime. I hate pointing it out, but… it’s a choice.  No kidding. It’s as simple (and as difficult) as choosing joy, and choosing to prefer it as a priority for putting time and attention on. That’s truly difficult when stuck in some unpleasant moment or enduring some crappy experience in life, nonetheless, it’s a choice.

…In my darkness moments, I still could have chosen joy, instead (a rather annoying matter of will)…

It matters what we choose to put our attention on.

Yesterday was a good day. I spent it on housekeeping and hanging out with my Traveling Partner. He spent the day healing and working on his laptop. I cleaned the kitchen thoroughly and spent a little time sorting things out on the new Linux OS on my desktop computer. We enjoyed meals together, laughter, conversation… a very pleasant day. I take a moment to savor the recollection. I chose joy all day. Toward the end of the day a couple packages arrived… for me!

…I  keep forgetting my birthday is coming up in a few days. lol It’s not any sort of “milestone year”… and 61 doesn’t feel “important” beyond surviving to celebrate it at all. Getting a couple unexpected (extra) gifts from my Traveling Partner delighted me immensely. 😀 😍 🤩  One rather practical (ish) gift of camping gear; a somewhat fancy pour-over set for making coffee, and a wee jar of an exotic rose petal tea. I  sit grinning and feeling incredibly loved. This human being “gets me”. I feel fortunate to be enjoying his presence in my life…I’ve never been more loved (as far as I know).

My big birthday gift is a delightful marble run that my partner 3D printed for me, and which I assembled before my camping trip. It’s super cool and captivates me. I love watching the marbles going around! I enjoy “seeing chaos in action” and it’s a beautifully harmless chaos model.

Joy is a funny thing… like contentment (and unlike “happiness”), it can be cultivated, crafted, and sustained… but that does require choices to make joy a priority, and to put time and attention on embracing joy. Make time to linger on, and savor, joyful moments. Stop ruminating over and catastrophizing small moments of unpleasantness. Your results will definitely vary, but we really do become what we practice.

…Cultivating joy may cause you to become an actual optimist, which honestly isn’t so bad (although I don’t think I could have imagined it when I was deeply cynical and pessimistic)…

I enjoy joy… it’s enjoyable. lol

I smile to myself, thinking my thoughts and watching the river flow by as I  rest and write at my halfway point. It’s a good day for joy. I breathe in the scent of Spring wildflowers and listen to the birds and breezes. I fill my heart with joy before I head back up the trail to begin again.