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Love & Memory

March 12, 2024 //
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I had a restless night of interrupted sleep. No bad dreams, just periodically waking up for no obvious reason, before settling into sleep once again. It wasn’t unpleasant, but the night seemed unreasonably long and I got up well ahead of my usual time, dressed, and left for work early. The commute was effortless, because at that hour there was no traffic on the road. Now, I’m sitting at my desk, looking out at the dark pre-dawn cityscape, sipping my coffee. It’s a Tuesday, and my calendar is pretty full, but all that begins quite a bit later, and I have some time to sit with my thoughts.

A cherished handmade gift from a dear friend.

Last night as I was tidying up a quiet room that is mostly decorated with books, I found this small handmade paper journal sort of just set aside, waiting for some moment. It was a gift from my recently deceased dear friend, celebrating my 60th birthday. It was intended to accompany me on a camping trip with my Traveling Partner, and as I recall now, I elected to keep it safe from harm by not taking it out into the wilds where dirt, wind, or rain might wreck it, knowing I’d find some similarly meaningful use for it some other time and place.

It even came with instructions. 😀

I sat for a moment with this cherished gift in my hands, gently unfolding the letter that is still tucked into a pocket inside the cover. I reread the letter, my heart filled with love and fond memories, a soft sad smile on my face. I miss my friend, but how delightful to have this memento of our friendship to remember her by!

Each page decorated by hand, each page unique, bringing to mind the illuminated manuscripts of another age.

I turn the pages, one by one, each one different, each one ready for some thought, or poem, or random handful of words to be written there. I felt so inspired, just to hold it in my hands! I examined each page, reconnecting with so many memories of the friendship we had shared. I delighted in the recollection of her enthusiasm for small handmade gifts, and how extraordinary and special each such gift to me remains to this day. I smiled thinking about her best friend bringing a similar cherished gift to the hospital while I was there visiting, to share that precious memory. What a beautiful human being my dear friend was! She was – is – so well loved by those who knew her. Missed.

“Friendship is a gift that lasts.” – It is indeed.

I turn to a page with a pocket from which a string dangles, and a note attached to the pocket reads “Pull the white string up”, and so I do – and as if speaking to me from “the beyond”, a tag appears that reads “friendship is a gift that lasts”. My eyes fill with tears that don’t fall, and the smile on my face becomes a bit brittle, a little fragile, with this reminder that I was also dear to my dear friend. I feel loved. I feel grateful to have shared this amazing friendship. My smile deepens as I sit with my memories for a moment. I’m okay. Grief is a process, and there is no escaping it; “the way out is through”. Fucking hell, what a first rate friend she truly was.

The last page. A bookmark. A reminder.

I turn page after page of this small handmade journal, and imagine writing in it, at long last. What would I write in such a precious space? What words fit in this slim fragile volume? I imagine for a moment that whatever I wrote here might be something she could read, from wherever her spirit rests. Fanciful, but comforting. The bookmark tucked into the pocket on the last page says only, in large letters, “Roses”. I smile and think about the roses I recently purchased to add to the garden with her – and the memories of our friendship – in mind. I allow myself the fancy of imagining she somehow knew. (Certainly, she knew I love roses.)

What a beautiful little moment! It lingers with me now, and I woke this morning to see the wee journal resting on a cushion, next to my neatly folded clothes, waiting for the new day. Where will this journey take me? What is ahead on this path? I sip my coffee and think happy thoughts of trails to hike, and roses to plant, and long summer days in the garden. I think about the wee journal, and my dear friend, and what words might fill these pages.

My mind wanders to other cherished friendships. I could be a better friend; I make a commitment to reach out to friends I haven’t spoken to recently. I think fondly of my Traveling Partner – our deeply loving relationship is also built on a firm foundation of a cherished friendship. We were friends long before we were ever lovers. I’m grateful for that friendship, it has carried us through some tough times with considerable affection and grace. Whatever else goes on in life, friends are such a huge part of life being worth living in the first place. I sip my coffee and think about how fortunate I am to have the rich friendships I do. The value isn’t in numbers of friends, either, it’s in the quality of enduring friendships, and the love and laughter they bring to this very human experience, that can sometimes feel so lonely otherwise.

I look up as I finish my coffee. The morning sky is hues of blue and shades of gray where clouds crowd the horizon. Daybreak has passed. Sunrise is moments away, although I doubt it will be anything exceptional to see, this morning. Regardless, here it is a new day – and already time to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, art and the artist, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, grief, Healthy Living, inspiration, loneliness, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Practices, Relationships, Roses, Sleepless Nights, Spring, The Art of Being, The Big 5

DST Fog

March 11, 2024 //
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Good thing I have my commute memorized. lol The Monday after DST begins is hard. I didn’t oversleep, but my silent alarm had the lights at full brightness before they woke me, or even disturbed my rest at all. I woke groggy and stupid, clumsy and disorganized, but still managed to dress, still remembered to grab my lunch from the fridge, still thought to get gas before I left town. I joined a ridiculous queue of Monday morning commuters, a lot more traffic than usual (some mix of folks heading out late, and others leaving early, on top of the “regulars” who depart more or less when I do). The drivers were a mix of groggy, stupid, and irritable, but traffic moved along pretty efficiently, and although it was a bit slower than usual getting into the city, I am grateful that I arrived safely – particularly after passing a really nasty traffic accident blocking one of the more complex intersections as I entered the city (looked like 3-4 cars, and not just a “fender bender” – there were cops and emergency vehicles pretty much blocking all but one lane, and that one was mildly obstructed, too).

I got to the office, made coffee, and got the day started, and I find myself grateful for routines and habits built over time that can carry me efficiently through the first couple hours of my day when I’m so groggy and stupid. I get things sorted out for what looks likely to be a routine and very commonplace Monday, and then take a minute for myself, and this cup of coffee.

…My coffee had already gone cold, so I get up and pour the whole thing over a glass full of ice…

The weekend was a lovely one, relaxed and easy, spent in the good company of my Traveling Partner. I got out into the garden a bit, even picked out a couple modestly-sized roses to plant with the memory of my dear friend who recently passed in mind. It delights me to celebrate her life, and our many years of shared friendship, and brings me a great deal of contentment and comfort to do it in this lasting way. I planted some flowers (seeds) here and there. I checked in with the neighbor who does some of the yard care (for many of us in this community) to see what his plan is this year, and coordinated some details. I got in a couple good hikes, did some housekeeping, ran some errands. It was a fairly ordinary weekend in my wee suburban paradise. I feel rested and contented, and the smile on my face lingers from the pleasant days spent with my Traveling Partner. So much joy and love. I sit awhile just enjoying the recollection.

A new addition to an old collection.

One of my errands took me to a local thrift shop, and although I was looking for something else entirely, I strolled past the cups and saucers (I always do), and I spotted a lovely cup and saucer that is a good fit for my collection! It’s been a long time since I added anything new (about… 8 years?), and I was excited to see that the manufacturer’s mark is an authentic one. I still need to take time to identify the pattern by name & number, and determine the likely age of the piece – all part of the fun (for me). In the meantime, it sits on my mantlepiece where I can quickly pick it up, examine a detail, and, you know, maybe enjoy a cup of tea in it. 😀

It’s been a wonderful weekend. I sit and enjoy that thought awhile longer. Soon enough it’ll be time to begin again. 🙂

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Categories Allegories, breathe, Free Will, gardening, gratitude, Healthy Living, inspiration, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Practices, Relationships, Roses, Spring, The Art of Being

Being and Yearning

March 8, 2024 //
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As I came around the last bend in the road before I reached the city, the sunrise greeted me with a messy smudge of coral and orange, like badly applied lipstick. I so earnestly wished to make a right turn and chase that sunrise to wherever the day might take me…

The yearning hit me hard. I don’t find myself wanting to chase things like a bigger house, a more exotic car, Birkin bags, or Louboutin shoes. Sufficiency is generally quite enough for me, and I’m content with the occasional excesses of more modest scale, like garden seeds, or art supplies, or a new keyboard…but… I sometimes find myself faced with a very peculiar moment of yearning and discontent that is very much part of “who I am” (and has been for as much of my life as I can recall)… I sometimes earnestly and deeply want to be free of everything that defines my life – however it is presently defined. As though the constraints of habit and routine, and requirements and expectations, just get to be too much, and something within me spills out and I just want to… go. Somewhere. Somewhere else than wherever I am. I want to “chase that sunrise”. I want to sleep in and when I wake wander to some previously unvisited delightful breakfast spot and linger into the day over my coffee. I want to wander a beach or a forest trail, listening to the birds and the breezes. I want to be… untethered. I doubt this experience is unique to me, and it seems generally very human.

This morning, once my commute carried me to the city, and the car was parked in the usual place, and I frowned at the thermostat in the office on my way past it, as I often do, and made a cup of coffee (that has already gone cold), I sat down and did the payday stuff and the budgeting, like a proper grownup. No tears or terror, no stress, just regular adult shit that has to get done regardless of how lovely the sunrise may be. I’m okay with it. I don’t really need to drop everything and escape my existence, I’ve got a pretty comfortable life that I enjoy very much, and I’m fortunate to share it with a partner I love deeply, and who loves me back so wonderfully. Life is pretty good right now. I’m not objecting to that, or craving change – just acknowledging my restless nature, and maybe wishing it were already “camping season” (too chilly yet for me, personally). lol Funny creatures, human primates – give them everything they want and need in life, and still they find their way to discontentedness, wanting either more, or less. LOL

I sip my tepid coffee, unbothered by any detail of the morning, thus far. I’m okay. I breathe. Exhale. Relax. (Mutter something cranky about the broken heat in this office.) I stretch, and check my calendar. Set up my work day. Email the budget details to my Traveling Partner. There’s no particular stress to the day, so far. Hell, I’m not even in much pain; it seems very manageable so far. The sun continues to rise, and the buildings beyond the office reflect the golden glow and hints of orange and pink. Beautiful. I take a minute to enjoy it, before I sit down to write a few words.

It’s a Friday. I find myself missing my Traveling Partner greatly this morning, and wishing perhaps that I’d worked from home, but we’d discussed that yesterday evening, and he expressed a desire to make the day a quiet one, healing and resting, and to support that endeavor, I committed to the commute and the day in the office. Maybe a short one? I’d love to get the weekend started and get out in the garden again, or try a trail I’ve never walked before, or just… drive somewhere far. lol That restless nature nagging at me in the background almost makes me giggle – I’d be satisfied to spend the day in my studio, on an artistic journey, and as that thought crosses my mind, I realize that this is what I’m yearning for – some creative time in my own head, whether writing, or painting, or in the garden. Well, the weekend is here, and that’s easily done. I just have to begin again. 😀

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Categories Allegories, art and the artist, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gardening, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, inspiration, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Roses, solo hiking, Spring, The Art of Being, turning 60, weight loss secrets, winter

Thoughts, Dreams, & Plans

March 5, 2024 //
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I’m sipping my coffee and watching the dawn become a new day. No colorful sunrise this morning, the sky is a rather bland mostly featureless gray of clouds that seem not to have made up their mind whether to be threatening and stormy or just… gray. It isn’t raining. It isn’t cold. It’s also not exactly dry, nor is it at all warm. A Spring sort of morning, betwixt things. “Nothing to see here”, and my mind moves along, exploring scattered thoughts that lack cohesiveness or theme.

I got into the garden yesterday, after work, feeling extra motivated after seeing video of deer eating my damned roses (again, as usual – I guess they’re tasty). I pulled some weeds, and added a generous layer of compost to the vegetable bed. I planted early stuff: peas, carrots, radishes. I’d have done a bit more of that, but I was exhausted before my list was. lol The rest of the evening was spent fighting my sore feet and aching back, but feeling contented and joyful that I’d at least gotten things started in the garden for the year. This morning, my legs ache, but only a little bit, and it’s the healthy feeling of working hard and gaining strength. I can’t really fuss about that, it’s part of the process of improving my fitness, generally. lol My aching muscles bring my thoughts back to the garden every time I notice them. 😀

I took time to really look over the garden yesterday evening, with an eye for where a couple new roses could go, and maybe a little bench. I’m stymied by the lush green of the lawn my Traveling Partner put in last year; it’s so beautiful it’s quite difficult to imagine removing even a scrap of it, although a quiet corner with another flower bed and a bench would reduce the amount of lawn requiring care. I turn the idea over and over in my head, and look over pictures of the yard and garden, from a variety of angles. No doubt I’ll end up asking my Traveling Partner for his suggestions and thoughts, and he’ll likely tell me he doesn’t care about that and that it’s my garden… but it does matter, and this is his home, too… I sip my coffee, smiling, and thinking about how much love is like… dark matter? Filling all the space in my relationship with my partner that isn’t filled with something else. lol (And this is the kind of dumb shit non-physicists say using the language of physics because it sounds pretty or profound or somehow meaningful, but probably isn’t any of those things due to limited actual understanding of the underlying concepts. lol I just mean to say I love that human so tremendously it seems to require cosmic concepts to convey it.)

…A bench, some roses, some flowers… maybe a small fig tree… could I make all that fit somewhere…? I’d sure like to. I see a wee quiet spot with a bench shaded by a fig tree, a small figure of Guan Yin seated on a lotus tucked among trailing roses and fragrant herbs and flowers, scents of Spring filling the air, and small birds perched here and there… There’s a corner of the lawn, toward the front, that seems… too “square”, and I wonder if perhaps a curved or triangular bed might soften the edge, and also provide a place for a bench, with a view of the rest of the garden, and the house so welcoming just beyond… For now, there’s no clear plan, just a lot of day dreams and imaginings, and memories of a friend. That’s okay, every journey happens in steps. 🙂

[…I miss you, dear friend, that’s certainly true, but when I am thinking about the garden, or working the soil with my hands, pruning roses, planting, lost in my own thoughts, you seem to be there with me, and I guess that’ll have to be enough.]

Tears well up ever so briefly. It’s not really a morning for sorrows, and there is work to be done in the here-and-now. I stretch and sip my coffee – it’s time to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, breathe, Free Will, gardening, gratitude, grief, health, Healthy Living, inspiration, loneliness, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Practices, Relationships, Roses, Spring, weight loss secrets, winter, women

Daydreaming of Spring

March 3, 2024 //
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I’m taking a minute after my walk, this morning, sitting quietly with the sensations of leg muscles taxed by my pace, and skin chilled by wintry winds, slowly recovering in the warmth of the car. Switching back from my boots to my sneakers with fingers numbed from the morning chill felt awkward and clumsy, and being mildly out of breath from the modest uphill bit of trail back to the parking lot was uncomfortable, but I also feel exhilarated by the freshness of the crisp morning air, and the sense of purpose that lingers even now that I am no longer in motion.

The day looks likely to be a chilly one, but the garden continues to beckon me, and as much as I do love sitting around hanging out with my Traveling Partner, it’s not healthy to overindulge in that favorite activity. lol I consider stopping at a nursery on the way home for some bagged compost to add to the garden before I plant Spring seeds… No reason to let a drizzle stop me; it rains a lot around here, and it’s often the wise choice to go ahead and do things anyway.

… Do the things! (There is longevity and wellness in the effort, and far too much of who and what we are functions on a “use it or lose it” basis.) I remind myself how much fitness truly is packed into the many small day-to-day tasks upon which good quality of life is built. I remind myself to treat sitting around indulging in sedentary pleasures as I might treat indulging in sugary treats; very sparingly. Do more. Keep at it. Finish something and move on to doing something else. There are verbs involved, and sometimes the effort doesn’t seem “worth it”, but avoiding the effort is potentially a slow slide towards being unable to do when the time comes that I must. These are not new thoughts. I find value in repetition for reinforcing the need to do the verbs, is all.

The crisp damp morning aggravates my arthritis. I’m looking forward to a luxurious long hot shower and clean dry clothes. There’s laundry to do, and I have a plan to make stir fry for dinner tonight. It’s not always easy to push past physical pain to stay moving and active… But it’s worth the effort.

I sigh quietly. Finish my coffee, and get ready to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, breathe, Free Will, gardening, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Practices, Roses, Spring, The Art of Being, weight loss secrets, winter
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