Archives for category: solo hiking
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Prose and Comms

September 14, 2024 //
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I woke gently after a restful night. I made coffee for my still-sleeping Traveling Partner, and slipped away quietly into the pre-dawn darkness, headed to the trailhead and another walk at sunrise.

Not quite daybreak, still a new day.

My Traveling Partner wakes before dawn, and pings me a question. This is two mornings in a row that abrupt communication without any sort of greeting or preamble have interrupted my only reliable opportunity to take a little quiet time for myself that doesn’t require me to take that time away from some other purpose or person. I’m momentarily irritated that I’m not important enough in the moment to at least rate a greeting or a “good morning” before questions and complaints. I’m feeling moody over the lack of consideration for this precious self-care time and puzzled by the lack of awareness that I need this for me. None of my partner’s questions or concerns seem so urgent that they couldn’t have waited until after my walk. I sit quietly after the conversation ends, wondering whether to bring it up, and how I could do so without making drama. Is it worth the potential discord? I could have chosen to ignore the pings until later… seems rude to do that when I know he’s home recovering from surgery and could need help. I feel a bit trapped between circumstances and manners.

…He sets boundaries so easily. Why is it so hard for me…?

I breathe, exhale, and relax, and work on getting back to me, after our conversation ends. This quiet time, meditating, reflecting, writing, and walking, is very much part of how I care for myself and maintain my emotional wellness, and build resilience. It has become comfortably routine, and almost “non-negotiable”. Yesterday’s lack of a walk ended up being something I felt all day.

Daybreak comes, and an opportunity to begin again.

I sigh to myself as I lace up my boots. No colorful sunrise this morning, I guess. The sky is cloudy, and hues of blue and gray. The air is mild and scented with meadow grasses and wildflowers, a very particular fragrance both spicy and sweetly floral. I enjoy it. It reminds me of Oregon, which doesn’t surprise me; that’s where I am.

… I head down the trail, intending to finish this at the halfway point…

I get to a nice spot to sit for a little while. It’s a quiet morning and I have the trail all to myself – a pleasant luxury, and rare on a Saturday, even so early. My neck aches ferociously, and my headache is an 11 on a 1-10 scale this morning. I am grateful to have an appointment with a skilled practitioner later this morning. I’d like to enjoy the day without being in this much pain. It’s very distracting. It pulls my focus away from these words and this world again and again. Most unpleasant.

I thought I had something of more substance to write about this morning. It had begun to take shape as I drove to this place, but distractions and conversation with my Traveling Partner caused my thoughts to unravel too quickly to capture even a loose idea of what was on my mind at the time. No matter; I began again. I tend to “write where I am”. Whether that perspective is geographical, metaphysical, or emotional isn’t all that important. In any case, it is the moment I find myself in.

I sit awhile with my thoughts, not writing, and without any particular direction or theme. Pain sucks. I have difficulty recalling a time when I was living pain free more days than not… How long ago…?  I think I would have to measure in decades. The arthritis in my spine set in sometime in my mid-twenties. It’s been with me awhile – much longer than my headache. I distractedly rub my irritated neck. 9 or 10 years for the neck, I think… Fuck pain. G’damn there’s too much of that in the world. I snarl quietly to myself and yield to the demands of my pain, and take an Rx pain reliever earlier than I usually do. I glare at the cloudy sky thinking it’s likely the weather making the pain worse somehow. I laugh at the thought; it sounds stupidly primitive and superstitious, and not very rational. What do I know about it? I’m just a fucking human primate trying to cope with my pain any way I safely can.

I hear voices up the trail. By the time I get back to the car, it’ll be time to head to the city for my appointment. I think about my Traveling Partner, and remind myself to stop by the pharmacy for his prescriptions on my way home. I feel like I am forgetting something, but I don’t know what. I’d love to spend the day painting, but I don’t see that happening today… I hurt, and I’d just as soon go back to bed.  “Fuck pain.” I say out loud to myself. I don’t want to give in to it. There’s so much I’d like to do.

I get to my feet, and stretch, and rest my weight on my cane for a moment, making certain I’ve “got my feet under me” before I head back up the trail. It’s already time to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, anger, art and the artist, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, Frustration, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, Love, meditation, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, The Art of Being, The Big 5, Words

Practicing

September 11, 2024 //
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There was a misty rain falling when I got to the trailhead before daybreak. I don’t mind that. It had rained rather heavily at several points during the night, too, and I didn’t mind that either. My sleep was restless and unsatisfying, and I didn’t get enough of it. The household seemed noisy until almost midnight. I struggled to return to sleep each time I woke. I feel fine this morning. Eager to get a walk in along the damp marsh-side trail. It’s a short drive to the office from this nature park, and that’s where I’ll be working today. In general, the day is off to a good start, though seeing it through that lens is largely a matter of practice over time. (It wasn’t all that long ago that a restless night followed by a drizzly morning would likely have found me exceedingly irritated with life and wholly unpleasant to be around.)

…I keep practicing…

A rainy dawn, a new day.

Daybreak comes and I swap my shoes for boots, and grab my cane. I finish off my iced coffee and double check that I have my water bottle ready. I breathe the rain-fresh air and sigh contentedly, stretching before I head down the trail.

Practices come in all sizes. Changing the things I practice in life has done a lot to change my quality of life, my thinking, and my perspective. I’m more resilient. I am calmer. I bounce back from stress more easily and more quickly. I still have challenges. I still have to deal with my own bullshit and baggage. I’m very human. Trauma has changed me over the course of a lifetime and there’s no knowing who I might have been without it. There’s no “going back” – but it hardly matters when I remember that all my choices are ahead of me when I am present in this moment, awake, aware, and ready to begin again any time I fail myself or fall short of living my values. Failures are part of life.

I smile at the cloudy gray sky thinking about how best to capture those hues in pastel. This is a worthy moment to be here, now, and I embrace it. I breathe, exhale, relax, and begin again.

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Categories Allegories, anger, Anxiety, art and the artist, Brain Injury, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, inspiration, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Sleepless Nights, solo hiking, Summer, The Art of Being

Cosmic Joke

September 10, 2024 //
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I may be losing my hearing. I’m also still very “sound sensitive”. This seems like an incredibly cruel prank, and it’s hard to find the humor in it…but…I’m betting it’s there, somewhere, because this shit is too stupid, annoying, and also all too fucking real to be tragic, and I’m sick of it already. Irrelevant to the present moment, aside from the high-pitched whine and “static” in my ears all the time. (It seems much louder than it once was.) My Traveling Partner reminded me recently that it could be a byproduct of one or more of the medications I take. That’s it’s own annoying thing.

This morning is fine, though. I sigh and let go of my annoyance over the tinnitus and breathe. I woke on time, thought about resetting my alarm and sleeping longer, but wakefulness overtook me as quickly as the thought formed. The mild fever (probably caused by one of the vaccines I got on Sunday) that sent me to bed so early yesterday seemed to have broken during the second half of the night, sometime. I woke damp with sweat but feeling generally okay. It’s a new day.

Waiting for the sun.

New morning. New day. New opportunity to begin again. I breathe, exhale, and relax. The hint of chill in the air suggests a warm fleece and I am grateful to have left mine in the car. I put it on and feel more comfortable. I sit with my thoughts, waiting on the sunrise. Short walk today, maybe. I consider my energy level and the likely demands of the workday ahead. It was a good choice to take yesterday off. I definitely needed the rest.

I sit for a moment, quietly, wondering what I need today?

I take my morning meds, and sip my coffee. Cosmic jokes aside, it’s an ordinary day, likely to be filled with ordinary moments. I think about dinner, later… Can I reserve enough energy to cook a proper meal? I’d very much like to. There are so many careful choices to make between now and then, if that’s to be a thing. (When did it become so complicated?)

I breathe, exhale, and relax. Daybreak comes and I can see the trail sufficiently well to walk it (at least along the edge of the meadow and the vineyard), by the time I get to the denser trees along the creek bank, it’ll be past sunrise. I chuckle to myself; none of this requires planning or additional thought, this is a familiar trail, and a familiar experience. I only need to do the verbs. I change from my soft shoes to my boots and prepare to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, meditation, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, pain, Perspective, Practices, solo hiking, Summer, The Art of Being

It Builds Character

September 8, 2024 //
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I drove to the trailhead this morning thinking about Stoicism and (secular) Buddhism, and assorted other philosophies and schools of thought that seek to promote becoming “a good person” or living “a good life” through specific thinking and practices. My thinking is inspired, in part, by a video I watched last night on the topic of Stoicism and the problematic way it has been co-opted by “the manosphere” and silicon valley tech bros for profit and personal gain – not unlike the way secular Buddhism and mindfulness practices have been co-opted for profit and personal gain by a broad variety of influencers, brands, and e-commerce sites. It’s certainly disappointing when a powerful message, system of thought, or practice is distorted or diluted in this way for nothing more valuable than cash. Human greed is honestly pretty gross. (In my own opinion, one of humanity’s ugliest and most destructive traits.)

Beyond all that, which is certainly worth reflecting on, I find myself thinking of words I heard often as a kid, and rarely hear in discourse anymore; “it builds character”. I don’t think I actually understood, as a kid. I only knew it was something I was likely to hear from one elder or role model or another if I was heard complaining about some task or activity I didn’t want to be doing, but somehow found myself obligated to. “It builds character”, someone would say, sometimes dismissively. I don’t think I had any clue then what exactly “character” actually was, nor why I would want to build it.

…Thinking about it this morning, I don’t think it’s any surprise that so much of the prevailing civil and political discourse seems wholly lacking in ethics and “good character”. There doesn’t seem to be any particular emphasis on these things in our culture or society, presently. Consider, specifically, our politicians and pundits – how many of these would you say are truly people of “good character”?

What defines good character? This seems to me to be a very important question. I sit quietly reflecting on this question, and wondering why my elders would have expected me to become a person of good character through actions described as “building character”, if I had no idea what “good character” actually is. Did they have any idea themselves, or were they merely silencing the complaints of a child with words that had once been used to silence them? I think we both know the likely answer, eh?

… What will we do about it..?

The pre-dawn darkness lingers and I sit with my thoughts awhile longer. Worthy thoughts for a Sunday morning. I find myself considering re-reading Marcus Aurelius and Zeno, and also Thomas Aquinas, Augustine, and Ignatius of Loyola. Flawed human beings all, I don’t doubt, but aren’t we all? I’m just saying there is more to learn about what makes a good person, and very little of it is to be found on Instagram, Tik Tok, or an influencer’s merch site. Some of the answers we human beings seek, again and again, have already been found, if only we’ll shut up a minute, read a fucking book, listen to wiser voices, and actually put into practice that wisdom in an honest and humble way. None of this shit is easy. None of this shit is found in an expensive subscription or online course. Spending money on shortcuts doesn’t actually provide an actual shortcut; it remains necessary to do the fucking work. lol It builds character. 😉

A new day, and and chance to begin again, and to be the person you most want to be.

Yesterday I took time to paint. It was satisfying soul-nourishing time well-spent. I’m considering another afternoon of painting, between loads of laundry. I flipped through recent photographs in the evening for inspiration and found much to be inspired by. Perhaps I will find my way to making a couple hours of painting a regular practice each week? I like the idea of treating myself so well.

Inspired by a recent sunrise view at a favorite trailhead.

Daybreak comes. A new sunrise begins and with it a new day full of opportunities for reflection, practice, and… building character. I probably need a better understanding of what that really means to me, and how best to put it into practice. We become what we practice (good or bad). It makes sense to choose wisely.

It’s time to begin again. This path isn’t going to walk itself!

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Categories Allegories, Art, art and the artist, autumn, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, inspiration, Logic & Reason, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, Summer, The Art of Being, The Big 5, Words

Shards Scattered Everywhere

September 7, 2024 //
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Well, damn. That’s more than a little embarrassing…

Yesterday was quite a lovely day. I mean, it was definitely tending to be so, and I was relaxed and enjoying the day. Work was busy, complicated, and still quite fun. The day ended well, and I just had one errand to run to finish the week and call it the weekend. Easy. Routine.

… Right?.. Right?!..

It’s pretty easy to forget, when things are going well, that I do legitimately have some… “issues”. I start feeling as if I’m “past all that”. Feeling like my chaos is neatly tidied up, the damage repaired. “Nothing to see here.” It’s a pleasantly comfortable feeling, complacency, isn’t it? Which makes it all suck so much worse when shit goes sideways in some horrifically catastrophic feeling way that scatters shards of lingering trauma, broken bits of emotional baggage, and the wreckage of good intentions everywhere. It’s pretty horrible. The emotional damage done to loved ones dealing with it is embarrassing, inexcusable, and inflicts further trauma. It’s hard to make an adequate apology, making amends is even more difficult, and the fucking embarrassment, g’damn. The shame is a heavy burden to bear, and it can be complicated to prevent that from flaring up later as still more emotional bullshit. Fuuuuuuck.

So human.

Yesterday? Yesterday went sideways over a fucking product return. Yep. That was enough to push me entirely over the edge in actual seconds, and I may never truly understand why, let alone ever be able to explain it. It was bad. I lost my temper, my grip on reality, my ability to manage my emotions or even communicate clearly at all. My Traveling Partner was trying to help, but was immediately triggered, himself by my batshit-crazy bullshit, and wholly disadvantaged by also being medicated in a way that limited his ability to manage his own emotions or to support mine. It was (emotionally) messy. Ugly. Unpleasant. And it was over a fucking package. Over a moment of confusion and doubt regarding whether I understood which specific package it was and what return code belonged to it. Fucking stupid shit. Un-fucking-believable and a completely inexcusable overreaction to the circumstances.

No, apologies aren’t always adequate, which sucks. I still apologize. I’m still sincerely contrite and regretful. The damage is done and it may take time to rebuild a sense of emotional safety and trust. The whole messy business amounts to a powerful reminder regarding complacency. A reminder that mental illness is a real thing and the practices I practice to keep my shit together and foster mental and emotional wellness are not “a cure”. I still very much have to remain alert and self-aware.

…Well, shit…

I feel bad for the Anxious Adventurer. I wanted to set clearer expectations about my mental health and what challenges living in my home could present. My Traveling Partner shut that down, at the time. (I never asked why and don’t know.) What a shitty experience all around.

Here’s the thing though…

Waiting for the sun.

… Today is a new day. I can (and will) begin again. Yes, flare ups of mental illness suck. They’re scary and embarrassing. It’s horrible to understand how I have hurt those dear to me (and it doesn’t lessen the pain or the damage done that I’m talking about emotional violence not physical violence). I’ve still got to acknowledge the circumstances honestly. Reflect on things with calm self-awareness after the fact. Restore lost order. Make apologies and amends – and also move on and let it go.

Begin again.

It’s a new day. New challenges. New opportunities. A fresh set of moments, choices, and experiences. The day begins well, as I sit at the trailhead waiting for the sun. I started a new medication yesterday, intended to ease my occipital neuralgia and possibly reduce the pain of my cervicogenic headache. Will it be effective? Don’t know yet, but so far I am tolerating well, and it seems to have a pleasantly calming effect without knocking me out. In spite of numerous interruptions to my sleep last night, I slept well and deeply. The day begins well.

…I wonder where this path leads..?

Daybreak brings a new beginning.

Scattered plump raindrops greet me as I step onto the trail. I grab my rain poncho “just in case”. The trail stretches ahead, familiar, but also unknown; each new day is different.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. It’s time to get to it. We’ve each got to walk our own mile. The trail isn’t always smooth, but the choices (and consequences) are my own. When I stumble, I know I can begin again.

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Categories Allegories, anger, Anxiety, Brain Injury, breathe, Despair, forgiveness, Free Will, Frustration, gratitude, health, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Sleepless Nights, solo hiking, Summer, The Art of Being, The Big 5
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