Archives for category: Oregon Trails
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Waiting for the Sun

December 30, 2023 //
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It’s early. Pre-dawn. I’m waiting for daybreak at a favorite nearby trailhead on a drizzly chilly-but-not-cold Winter morning, on a Saturday morning, a day before this year ends. I enjoy walking as a metaphor for forward progress, for momentum, and for pursuing a path. Good morning for it. It’s even seeming very likely that the rain may hold off long enough to get a proper walk in without returning home quite sodden and chilled, which is a nice bonus this morning. I’d be here, now, even if conditions were colder and wetter, but I am glad the weather is relatively mild.

I rub my eyes and sip the iced coffee I picked up as I headed up the road to this place. Good morning for that too; I’d hoped to sleep quite a bit later, and I am tired. So tired. I suppose I could nap in the car until the sun peaks over the horizon… but… I’d miss watching the sunrise. lol I do enjoy a sunrise. Another beautiful living metaphor, a sunrise speaks to me of change and renewal and new beginnings, and I enjoy each one I am so fortunate to see.

… Fuck… I could be sleeping right now, though… only I’m not. Nothing much to be done about that, however , so I make the best use I can of these precious minutes of mortal lifetime to do something nice for/with myself. That’s how I find myself here on this trailhead so many mornings, waiting for the sun. I’m okay with it. I’ve waited on the sunrise for far worse reasons in this life.

This iced coffee is very good. The barista did a great job pulling the shots for it. “Shaken espresso”, but without anything to flavor or sweeten it, and no milk or cream, just coffee and ice. On a colder morning this wouldn’t be an ideal choice, because I’d want to be able to warm my hands with the cup. lol This morning it’s 48°F, and an iced coffee seems fine. I sip it contentedly, as the waning moon overhead perks through the clouds and a gentle rain spatters the moon roof of the car intermittently.

It’s a good time for meditation and quiet contemplation of the year that is almost over. It’s a good time to reflect on what has worked and what hasn’t worked so well. It’s a good time to look ahead and wonder, question, dream, and plan. Later, the sun will rise, and it will be a good time to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, inspiration, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Sleepless Nights, solo hiking, The Art of Being, turning 60, War and News of War, winter

Quiet Night, Quiet Morning

December 23, 2023 //
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I slept poorly. I mean, it could have been worse, and I am adequately rested, but I woke several times to imagined noises and vague discomfort. I was up, at one point, for more than an hour, trying to ease stuffy sinuses, the result of sleeping too long on one side, with my CPAP mask pressed too firmly against my nose. I eventually woke, and got up, to head out for my walk. It was before daybreak, and I was wrong about the time by more than an hour, although I had looked at the clock when I woke. (To be fair, I didn’t have my glasses on yet.)

I sit contentedly at the trailhead waiting for daybreak. Sunrise won’t be until almost 08:00. It’s a chilly drizzly morning, and I am bundled up for the weather. My tinnitus rings in my ears noisily. The sound of my breathing is soft and steady. There’s nothing going on to remark up on, and I am quite okay with that. I use the time to meditate.

… This imperfect world… This imperfect life… I sit quietly with my thoughts. The holiday weekend begins on the other side of the walk I will shortly take. What will I do with the day? Mundane things like laundry most likely; I’m a little behind. lol It’s like that this year. Slow and easy and uncomplicated because sometimes life is hard and I need a break. I’ll enjoy the holiday with gratitude this year, and keep it small, and filled with love. That’s enough.

Also? Fuck pain. lol Just saying. I could do without that complication. In spite of that, there’s quite a lot to celebrate. I smile thinking about my Traveling Partner, at home, still asleep. I breathe, exhale, relax. I notice a small bird nestled in the top of a hedge quite near me and realize daybreak has shifted to dawn. It’s time to begin again. I grab my cane from the passenger seat… This walk won’t take itself. 🙂

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

Winter Solstice

December 21, 2023 //
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Happy holiday, if you’re celebrating the change of the season. The shortest day. The longest night. The arrival of Winter. This is a season of change. A season… of sorrow. I wish you well. Truly, I wish all the world well. I hope for peace.

Dawn of the shortest day, gray, chilly, and misty.

I got a walk in, down damp trails in chilly weather, feeling the chill in my bones as I walked through the mist along the marsh. Winter is here.

When I was young, and living in a very different location, I was often puzzled by the Solstice being “in the middle of” Winter, instead of at the start. It reliably felt like “mid-Winter” to me, in much the same way that the Summer Solstice felt like “mid-Summer”. Here, the climate (these days) feels more aligned to the equinoxes and solstices; each starting the change of season. The hottest days of Summer are long after the Solstice. The coldest days of Winter follow the Solstice. The Vernal Equinox is “too soon” for Spring camping. The Autumnal Equinox finds the forests still cloaked in green, with the colors of Autumn weeks away. I don’t know why that matters, perhaps it doesn’t. I’m just thinking about it.

Today I’ll mark the day with a favorite ritual; I’ll plant the seeds of the future, metaphorically and literally. I’ve some carefully selected rosehips that I’ll put into the earth along the back of the property. Maybe some will take hold? That’s the idea. I’ve got some other seeds chosen, things that would not suffer for being in the ground through the cold winter weeks ahead, and may spring to life in the earliest days of Spring, bringing the promise of new life. Hope. Growth. Change. I do this every year. It’s just a thing I do. I think back to walking country roads with my Granny, or pathways in gardens, plucking choice rosehips together, to plant here or there some other time. I do miss her greatly. I remember her teaching me all the herbs in her garden, one by one. “Crush this in your hands, Sweetie, doesn’t that smell good? How does it make you feel?” She would tell me their names, and what they might be used for. Cooking herbs. Tea herbs. Medicinal herbs. Where they came from. How to care for them.

I listen to a piece of music that “feels right” today for some reason. I try not to overthink it. It’s just been sticking with me. It seems a clear reminder not to waste the limited time we’ve got. I promise you, it is limited.

My Traveling Partner seems to be on the mend. I continue to do my best to “pick up the slack” around the house. It’s a less than perfect effort: there are a handful of dishes in the sink, and I still have not unpacked since I returned from the coast (two weeks ago??). Maybe I’ll get to that, too. Today is just one day, but much can be accomplished in a day – even the very shortest one.

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Categories Allegories, autumn, breathe, Free Will, gardening, gratitude, grief, inspiration, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Practices, solo hiking, The Art of Being, War and News of War, winter

Sometimes All You Get Is The Sunrise

December 17, 2023 //
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I’m sitting in my car, waiting for the sunrise to illuminate the trail, preferring not to walk it in the dark. I slept poorly, completely pwnd by my nightmares. My head aches ferociously and I feel as if I am stressed to a breaking point in spite of so recently having a few days away. I find myself on the edge of tears over and over again, and awash in vague feelings of frustration. It’s shitty.

I breathe. Exhale. Regain a sense of calm. Then I lose it again. The experience is very much as if I am completely “disregulated” for some reason. My thoughts come back to this fucking headache. Going on 9 years, in January. No relief. No diagnosis that feels trustworthy or useful. I’m still here, though, that’s something. For now it has to be enough.

The beginning of a sunrise.

My Traveling Partner pings me a greeting. He’s up early. His injured condition is vexing and worrisome for both of us. Worse for him, obviously, living with it. The visit to the ER earlier this week seemed somewhat reassuring but the feeling hasn’t lasted and he’s struggling more than seems reasonable. No doubt this is weighing more heavily on my heart and mind than I was prepared for.

The sun begins to rise and the horizon is on fire with intense reds and oranges, and a hint of pink. It’s gorgeous. I sit watching it evolve over some minutes, half an eye on the trailhead. Soon the path will be light enough to walk quite safely.

I try to let the sunrise be enough. The tears start falling. I let them. I don’t really know what else to do with tears. Right now is hard. Sometimes that’s how things are. The world seems like a pretty terrible heartless place right now, which adds to the feeling of senselessness, futility, and frustration. Subjectively, I feel very alone and ineffective, powerless to prevent this mortal vessel from breaking down, powerless to help my partner, powerless to help my dearest friend. Powerless to change the world. Mortality comes for us all, and these fucking meat suits are more fragile than they seemed in younger years. Fuck.

I cry awhile, sitting here alone, watching the sun rise. Sometimes a sunrise is all we get. Sometimes it has to be enough. I sigh and wipe the tears off my face before I get out of the car to walk this favorite trail. It’s time to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, anger, Anxiety, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, Despair, Free Will, Frustration, grief, health, loneliness, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Practices, Relationships, Sleepless Nights, solo hiking, The Art of Being, turning 60

Finding Inspiration

December 16, 2023 //
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This morning I took a walk in the cold of the frosty morning, just as daybreak arrived. No pictures. Just walking with my thoughts, and taking care that I didn’t slip on an icy surface along the way. Now I’m home, sipping coffee, sitting here with my thoughts. Same thoughts? Same thoughts. I am thinking about good and evil, right and wrong, and the excuses we make. I’m thinking about the inexcusable horror of war and how terrible and pointless it is. I’m thinking about inspiration, and things I’ve seen that I’d like to put on canvas. I keep the sound turned down low on the playlist I’m listening to, in case my Traveling Partner calls out from the other room to get my help with anything, while he recovers from an injury.

…There’s a bit of grocery shopping to plan, an errand to run, and I’m overdue to finally unpack from my trip to the coast (which now seems so long ago). There are dishes to do. Meals to plan. Laundry to wash, fold, and put away. Life. Adulthood. Taking care of things that take care of me. Sometimes it seems pretty fucking endless, ridiculously repetitive and without any lasting outcome of value. Processes and practices work that way, I suppose. I take a breath, feeling my fingers dance across the keyboard as my thoughts flow across my awareness and on past. I exhale, still finding contentment in these simple things. It’s enough, generally…

I saw a gorgeous sunrise while I was on the coast, and it’s the sort of sight that fills my thoughts for days and lingers in my recollections. Such sunrises are the stuff of inspiration, for me. Sunrises are a little on the nose as metaphors for new beginnings, but there it is; simple and true. Believable. Real.

Begin again.

I breathe, exhale, relax, and look over the many pictures I took on my recent coastal getaway. I spent most of that time working, and so most of the pictures are of the view from the balcony or windows of the hotel room where I stayed for 4 days, with a handful taken on this or that walk on the beach on a lunch break, or some opportune moment when the tide was low. It was time well-spent. I reflect on the time, now, hoping to prevent the nurturing emotional gains of rest, resilience, and introspection from slipping away in the chaos of returning home to an injured partner, and the busy whirlwind of pre-holiday life, generally. Breathe in. Breathe out. Look at the next picture. Repeat.

My Traveling Partner asks about breakfast sandwiches and whether I might make some…? It’s time to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, Art, art and the artist, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, inspiration, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships
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