Archives for category: Oregon Trails
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A Quiet Moment

January 20, 2024 //
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It’s early and chilly. I’m at the trailhead waiting for the sun. Here and there are little piles of snow left behind by last weekend’s snow storm, but what I can make out of the trail in the pre-dawn gloom is clear. It’s a good day to get a walk in… because it looks like I can. lol I’m grateful.

I sit with my thoughts. Waiting. The days are slowly getting longer, again. Daybreak comes a few minutes earlier. The sun sets a few minutes later. For this too, I am grateful. I enjoy watching the seasons change. I enjoy welcoming the return of Spring, when it arrives.

I’ve made plans for a long weekend solo getaway a couple weeks from now. It’ll be good to have some downtime and “recharge my battery”. I don’t have ambitious plans or a list of exciting adventures to seek. I’m eager to rest, to read, maybe to write. I’m looking forward to walking other favorite trails and seeing things from another perspective. I’ve kept the planning quite simple, nothing more than a travel plan and a short packing list. I’ll pack the day I leave, and do a grocery run for my Traveling Partner before I go. I won’t be surprised if the first thing I do after checking into my room is… nap. lol Still, I am managing to be quite excited about it.

The sun seems slow to rise this morning. The sky is a stubborn deep gray, featureless and opaque. My bones hint at rain. I check the forecast and it agrees that rain is likely. If it’s not a drenching icy downpour, I’ll probably walk anyway; I’ve been missing this too much to give up on it over a drizzle.

A car pulls into the parking lot behind me. The gate is still closed. They’re not as patient as I am and they leave.

My Traveling Partner pings me a good morning. It feels like the day has begun properly, although I am still waiting for the sun.

A hint of a lighter shade of a bluer gray begins to develop on the horizon. It won’t be long now. I’m ready to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, meditation, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Practices, solo hiking, The Art of Being, winter

More to It Than That

January 11, 2024 //
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I’m sitting in my car, listening to the rain falling. It’s a chilly Winter morning. There’s serious Winter weather in the weekend forecast. I think about going to the store to “stock up”, but I find myself wondering if that’s more reflexive than necessary. We’re generally pretty well supplied with day-to-day basics. I could pick up some convenience items I guess, maybe fresh veggies and some chicken…

The pain I am in this morning is “ordinary”. It’s part of my daily experience of life, and it’s difficult to bother bitching about it sometimes. Yes, I’m in pain. Yes, I took something for it. No, that doesn’t really resolve it. I try to avoid letting pain call my shots, because at least for now that’s still an option.

My Traveling Partner is also in pain. He also does his best to manage it. I can’t know directly how much pain he is in, but I feel for him in that “fuck, I wish I could help” kind of way. I feel pretty helpless, though; aside from my concern and general helpfulness I can’t do much about his actual pain. Nor can he, for me.

Physical pain is one of the least pleasant experiences of being alive, I personally think, but it’s also pretty commonplace.

I sit with my thoughts and breathe. The rain falls. The wind blows. Occasional gusts rock the car. The trees along the trail just in front of where I am parked wave as a group in the wind. A very committed runner goes by, headlamp shining brightly and illuminating the path ahead of him. The rain continues to spatter the car.

… I’m so tired. I haven’t been sleeping well. I’d sleep in if I could, but that hasn’t been successful in a while. I feel rundown and overextended. I know I need more/better rest. I don’t actually know how to get that, presently. There’s a lot to get done and with my Traveling Partner injured, a lot of it falls to me. I remind myself I only need to do my best and that has to include taking care of myself. It’s reasonable to fall behind on some things. I make that okay with myself (again), and focus on today, now.

Sometimes life isn’t easy. It’s okay that it isn’t, and it doesn’t need to be made more difficult with a bunch of bullshit expectations of reaching beyond our abilities, time, and energy. It’s okay to slow down (unless you’re being chased by a bear or something, in which case maybe don’t slow down! 😂) It’s important to take care of this fragile vessel. It’s even necessary.

I yawn and look at my calendar. It’s time to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, breathe, Free Will, health, Healthy Living, Love, meditation, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Practices, Relationships, Sleepless Nights, The Art of Being, winter

Unexceptional and That’s Fine

January 7, 2024 //
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Another rainy weekend morning at the trailhead waiting for daybreak.

Rainy perspective on a moment.

There’s nothing extraordinary about this wintry rainy morning. I’m okay with that. Life is built on moments and most of those moments are utterly ordinary in every way. That’s not even a criticism, it’s fine. Perhaps better than fine, it’s sustainable and useful.

The rain spatters the car pretty ceaselessly. I’ll have a better idea whether I will be walking the trail once daybreak makes it visible, in the meantime I sit enjoying the sound of the rain and thinking my thoughts. I’ve grown to embrace this waiting time; it’s mine, for me, solitary and still.

I set aside my writing and take time for meditation. I breathe, exhale, relax, and let my thoughts pass as clouds on a breezy day, noticed but without doing anything with them. I settle into a feeling of profound contentment and love. The thought of my Traveling Partner and our shared journey fills my awareness. A sense of gratitude enriches the moment. Pleasant morning. I woke so gently this morning, and now here I sit, enjoying… now. It’s enough.

I sigh contentedly. Daybreak. I hear the clang of the park gate opening. I notice that the rain has stopped, at least for now… If the trail isn’t too flooded, it’ll be a lovely morning to walk it. It’s a lovely morning anyway. Time to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, breathe, forgiveness, gratitude, Healthy Living, inspiration, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Practices, solo hiking, The Art of Being, turning 60, winter

New Year, Another Change

January 6, 2024 //
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I’m sitting at the trailhead, early on a Saturday morning before dawn, listening to the rain on the windows of my car. I watch the lights of passing cars on the nearby highway sweep over the soggy roadside and the marsh beyond. I am waiting for a break in the rain and for the gate to the park to open. I won’t have to wait much longer on the gate, it opens at daybreak.

I’m sipping an iced espresso, more ice than coffee, and thinking about yesterday. New job. Well… Same job, but as a full-time employee rather than a contractor. I’m smiling as I recall the moment, because my boss seemed every bit as excited to make the offer as I was to receive it, and said some pretty great things about the work I’ve done so far. It feels really good to get that kind of validation.

… I remind myself not to take the compliments personally, just as I would if I had been grievously insulted; they’re words. Opinions. Impressions in the moment. They provoke an emotional reaction, sure, but my own lived experience reminds me they guarantee nothing and provide no assurance of a particular outcome.

… Still… I’m pleased and excited. It’s a step I wanted to take and it puts me in a good place for the year ahead. I sit quietly with the feeling of eagerness and contentment for awhile, waiting for daybreak.

Daybreak comes. The park gate opens. The geese begin their day and I hear them honking at each other before I see them overhead. The rain just keeps coming down steadily. Too rainy to bring the camera out. I wait, still hopeful I might get a break in the rain sufficient to walk a couple miles along the soggy marsh trails. Maybe. Maybe not.

I sit wondering what to do with the day before remembering it’s time to take down all the holiday decor and put it away for another year. I’d almost forgotten all about it. lol My heart is still celebrating, I suppose. It’s not that there’s all that much joy available in the world right now, more that it is more urgent that we savor the joy there is.

I sip my coffee (honestly more ice water than coffee at this point) swirling it in the cup to hear the ice rattle. Life can change so quickly. I sit with my thoughts, my joys, my sorrows. I enjoy the pleasant stillness and solitude awhile. No agenda. No demands on my time or attention. Just this moment, the rain, and the sounds of the geese… It’s enough.

… Later, I’ll begin again.

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Categories Allegories, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, inspiration, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Practices, solo hiking, The Art of Being, turning 60, winter, Words

Turning the Page

December 31, 2023 //
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I’m sitting at a favorite trailhead, listening to the quiet of these predawn moments, and waiting for daybreak to illuminate the trail enough to walk without a flashlight. It’s the last day of the year.

An occasional car passes as I wait for the sun.

This nature park is only open from dawn to dusk, but there’s also parking near the gate. I wait to hear the quiet “clang!” of the gate opening, which reliably occurs just at daybreak. There are a couple other “regulars” who turn up to walk or take pictures as early as I often do, but this morning it’s just me. I’m okay with that; I’m not here to make conversation. None of the early morning people are. lol

2023 is over. What a year. So many lives lost to conflict or genocide. Humanity can be so terribly disappointing. The amount of violence and trauma left behind by 2023 would be shocking if we weren’t all so numb. I sit quietly, in solemn reflection and acknowledgement; we’ve got to do better if we’re going to survive ourselves at all.

2024 is just about here… I think about the year behind me. The challenges. The successes. The failures. The unrecognized opportunities. The missteps and course corrections. Work. Life. Love. Change. I consider how fortunate I am to enjoy the relationship I have with my Traveling Partner. I reflect on my current job and how much I enjoy it… And how little my enjoyment of my work ultimately actually matters, inasmuch as it has very little correlation with my longevity in a given role, at all. I think about the books I’ve read this year and the books I hope to read in the year ahead. I think about how wretched and poisonous corporate greed is, and the way it taints just every-fucking-thing. I think about hearth and home, and how much difference love makes, day-to-day. I reflect on how fortunate I am to have this life and another year to live it.

One more walk in 2023.

It’s daybreak and I can see the trail. I take a moment to move the car past the gate into the parking lot.

I sigh. Finish my coffee and lace up my hiking boots. It’s time to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, inspiration, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, The Art of Being, War and News of War, winter
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