It’s a gray and rainy morning. I woke too early, still groggy when I left the house. I reached the trailhead ahead of the dawn by a bit more than an hour. The darkness was chilly. The trail was dotted with unseen puddles. Everything is damp and smells of fresh earth and recent rain.
[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]
I walk a bit farther than usual before I stop. I enjoy a different perspective on daybreak when it comes.
Blue morning.
… I’ll be fine after I have some coffee…
I sit awhile watching the blue hues become a rather ordinary uninteresting gray rainy day. I’d rather be sleeping. Or painting. I feel moody and cross.
I sit with my thoughts awhile, not really meditating, just thinking things over. Options. Choices. The way ahead. Life. I sigh to myself. The complexities of being human vex me sometimes. I watch the gray clouds glide past overhead. Stormy weather. Chilly enough for a sweater. I’m glad I wore one.
I breathe, exhale, and relax. I look down the trail. The solitude is pleasant. Uncomplicated. I get to my feet, and stretch. It’s a new day. The clock is ticking. I remind myself to let small shit stay small – and I begin again.
I woke gently, ahead of my alarm. I freshenened up and dressed for the day, then watered the lawn as I left. It is a pleasant routine and a lovely morning.
[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]
I arrived at the trailhead as a beautiful sunrise began, hues of orange and gold quickly evolving to a delicate pearl pink sky. Beautiful.
Well, hello there brand new day!
I head down the path, enjoying the cool morning. Sometimes the path is clear, and the way ahead free of obstacles. Sometimes the walking is easy and my stride relaxed and comfortable. Some days are harder, others easier, and it took me far too long to learn to spend more time, emotional energy, and attention on the moments of joy and delight, however small or brief, than on the difficult moments. Truly, my difficulties generally find a way to get more than their “fair share” of my attention, no effort required. I savor this gentle delightful morning as I walk. I put attention on it, and keep my awareness firmly on “now”. The morning is a delight and I don’t want to miss any of it.
Vineyards along the trail under a pink sky.
I spent much of yesterday evening in my studio, sorting through recent images (and their associated recollections), finding the specific (best?) pictures that captured some detail I knew I wanted to paint. Another significant portion of the evening was spent in my Traveling Partner’s good company, as he showed me his drone and walked me through the features. He gifted me his previous drone, and talked me through basic operation. I even took my first flight! Oh, I’m slow about such things, and we were in the house, so really all I did was start her up, take flight, and hover awhile, carefully feeling the experience of controlling her in the air. All the while, my Traveling Partner watched me thoughtfully.
… Loving someone with brain damage creates some challenges…
I woke this morning to a loving note from my partner. He’d carefully shopped for a better choice of “beginner drone” for me with features better suited to my limitations (and less likely to potentially injure me under predictable relatively common things that can (do) go awry for beginners). He made some recommendations, and I find myself genuinely excited about it. No particular reason to “go down this path”, beyond the fun of it, and the joy of a shared experience – but there is all of that, and I’m eager.
I grin to myself, feeling very loved this morning. I remind myself to study and take the TRUST test, so I can legally fly my drone.
Each dawn begins a new day. I say it a lot. This morning I’m really feeling the joy in it. There’s another busy work day ahead, but that will happen when the time comes. It needs no attention from me now. I sit contentedly with my thoughts.
There are hard times and good times, and it is pretty easy to miss out on the good times if I allow the hard times and moments of stress to dominate my thoughts beyond the boundaries of those moments. I breathe, exhale, and relax, feeling the pleasant summer morning infuse my consciousness with delight. The oaks stand watch alongside the trail as they always do, and I wonder (again) what their awareness might be like, and whether they have consciousness as I do? It’s not a question I can answer… but I do wonder.
…I think about coffee…
We make a lot of our challenges in life harder than they need to be. Just saying, that’s a very human thing – but we can choose differently. There are verbs involved. Decisions. Will. Action. (Practice.) I smile and watch a bunny on the opposite side of the trail from where I’m sitting. She has slowly come closer, nibbling tasty grasses and watching me for any sign of threatening movement. I sit quite still until she hops away back into the grass. We can choose how we treat those around us. I sit reflecting on how easy such choices seem in the abstract, and how difficult they can feel in the moment.
The clock ticks on. I’m grateful for the lovely gentle morning. I silently wish my beloved well, from the side of the trail, hoping his night was as good as mine, his sleep as restful, and his morning as full of effortless joy. Maybe it will be? Maybe it won’t be. Either way, I hope he knows he is loved. I look at the time. It’s already time to begin again.
… Like, stupid early, and here I am awake, with an unfortunate “go f* yourself” feeling at the moment. It’ll pass. I’m just awake ridiculously early. Too early to get coffee, not too early to walk in the dark moodily, vexed by the circumstances.
[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]
It’s still dark when I reach my halfway point and stop. It looks like a winter morning, but it’s pleasantly mild (15C/60F). Daybreak soon. I breathe, exhale, and relax. I definitely need the calming, self-soothing benefits of meditation this morning, after being abruptly startled awake by my Traveling Partner yelling, rhetorically, “Why can’t I just sleep?!” or something very like that. I don’t have an answer for him.
I sit with my thoughts, and this slice of peace here in the darkness.
Eventually, the night sky takes on a hint of deep blue. To the east, I see a streak of lighter blue, hinting at the sunrise to come. A new day.
In spite of yesterday’s fatigue, after struggling to find restful sleep (after being awakened in the wee hours), the day went well enough. I called it a night a little early and slept restfully. This morning’s unfortunately stressful start at least begins my day with enough sleep. Work itself should be routine. I scrounge around the groggy corners of my mind trying to recall things I may have committed to doing in addition to work, hoping to avoid forgetting something I’ve been asked to do. I’d like today to be a good one.
I stretch and yawn and watch the eastern horizon change colors. I wonder what the day holds? I answer pings from my partner. I think about coffee.
Sometimes life feels pretty easy. Some other times, not so much. I could probably stop right there, it is a complete thought.
[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]
I start down the marsh trail leaning more heavily on my cane than on most mornings. Pain. It is what it is. It is mostly managed. The path ahead appears deserted, but the handful of cars in the parking lot when I arrived tell a different story. I don’t much feel like seeing or talking with people – strangers or otherwise. The stormy looking sky suits my mood and the pain I’m in.
Sometimes the path ahead is not obvious.
I walk with my thoughts until I get to my usual halfway point on this trail. There are photographers set up there. Birdwatchers, probably. I didn’t ask, I just walked on. I give a casual wave to someone who waved at me. No one speaks; I don’t want to have conversation, and they don’t want to disturb the wildlife.
I woke too early. I woke already in pain. I’m not saying so to complain about it, it’s just an observation and a potential explanation for my shitty mood this morning. I don’t plan to let either the pain or my dark mood take over my day, although it isn’t always easy (or reliably successful) to change course. Emotions are complicated. For now, this is the experience I’m having. “The way out is through,” I remind myself, and I keep walking.
“Emotion and Reason” 18″ x 24″ acrylic on canvas w/ceramic and glow. 2012
I get to a fork in the path. There’s a convenient rock to sit on, and I am alone. I reflect on paths and journeys, on beginnings and endings, and on how difficult uncertainty makes decisions. I sigh to myself and sit with my thoughts awhile. I ignore the silent tears that well up and slide down my cheeks. A brief moment of sunshine doesn’t last, and the morning returns to shades of gray.
I write for some little while, without ever nearing any sort of useful conclusion. My thoughts are mostly my own, this morning. I breathe, exhale, and relax. Every time my mind begins to sink into meditation, the tears begin, slow and steady. I know this is probably telling me something, but I’m less certain I want to deal with whatever emotional mess is percolating up from within. I let it go, and let it go again. It is a new day, and I’ve got options. I sigh quietly. “Choose wisely,” I remind myself. The menu of the Strange Diner is vast. I don’t have to stay in the mire.
I start to feel stiff as I sit here. No wise woman on a mountain to consult with, only a mirror, and a moment, a woman, and a path. I get to my feet feeling cross about pain and mortality. I turn and look down the path. I can’t see beyond the next bend, and reluctantly I begin again.
I woke shortly before my lights would have come on to start the day. My Traveling Partner was already awake. He invited me to join him for a coffee and to listen to an album he had found for me.
[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]
I tend to be a creature of habit. This is an intentional choice, with a clear purpose in mind; it prevents my life from falling apart due to consequences of brain damage and poor memory. It is one of many practical strategies and self-nurturing practices. Here’s the thing though; life is not “on rails”. The path is not a fixed determined way leading to a clearly identified destination. Life is an experience, and the menu of The Strange Diner is vast. We have options. Choices.
I chose coffee with my beloved. I start the sprinkler, and make us some coffee. He starts the music once I sit down. Oh, nice! A Muslimgauze album I haven’t heard! An “archival release” from 2016, so… posthumously. We listen together, drinking coffee. I’m enjoying it so completely I lose track of time – and I’m okay with that; I chose to embrace the moment.
Daylight on the trail.
When I start my walk, it is later in the morning. I’m okay with that, too. I’ve got time. Moments are precious and fleeting, and I do my best to make wise choices and face life and change with a measure of openness. It’s one of my “big 5” values. Openness balances routine and habit pretty well, and tends to prevent my thinking from becoming stale or rigid. Helpful, because I definitely don’t know everything, and most things in life are just not even “about me”.
I get to my halfway point wearing a smile and feeling relaxed and unbothered. I hear sirens in the distance; some other human being is having a pretty bad day, it sounds like. Out of long practiced habit, I wish them well from afar. It could have been me, and if it had been I’d appreciate some kindness, I know. “Thoughts and prayers” are not the most effective ways of handling an emergency, but what we carry in our thoughts and in our hearts does matter…it defines who we are when we are alone with ourselves.
I breathe, exhale, and relax, still hearing the music in my memory of the morning. I reflect on life and love and openness as a lived value. I’m glad I said “yes” to coffee with my beloved Traveling Partner. It was a great beginning to a new day.
I sit awhile in the Spring sunshine. A moment, a smile, and a good spot from which to begin a new day.
Evening Light 