Archives for category: Spring
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Resilience and Preparedness

April 6, 2025 //
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I’m sitting at the halfway point on my walk around the marsh on a Spring morning, early. The air is deliciously fragrant with Spring flowers after a gentle rain during the wee hours. The trail is damp, but not muddy. The sky is gray, but there’s a hint of sunrise on the eastern horizon. There are geese overhead calling to each other as they fly by.

An early start on a new day.

I woke feeling rested and clear-headed this morning, if a bit earlier than planned. It doesn’t matter, really. It’s a lovely morning out on the marsh. Flowers blooming everywhere, trees and shrubs mostly, other flowers will bloom later.

I notice I’m suddenly feeling “froggy” and congested. My nose is simultaneously stuffed up and beginning to run like crazy. I scramble for the travel pack of tissues I had shoved into my pocket “just in case”. The sneezing hits me next. Damn it. An allergy attack? Probably. It’s Spring, and while I am quite fortunate that I don’t have the serious problem with allergies that my mother had, nor those of any of my partners, I do have one or two. Bee stings. Cotton wood trees. And whatever the fuck is blooming right now, apparently, that wasn’t blooming yesterday! I would laugh, but I’m pretty busy trying to breathe for several minutes while I blow my nose, clear my throat, and take a Benadryl. I remind myself to start taking Claritin each morning; it’s that time of year. I remind myself to begin making a point to keep my bee sting kit close by, always, too.

Being prepared matters quite a lot. My symptoms quickly ease, and I’m comfortably enjoying the morning again. Indications of Spring are all around. I especially enjoy the green haze creeping over every branch, as tender young leaves begin to unfold. It’s a beautiful time and it hints at renewal and new beginnings. For the moment I forget about pain (and allergies), and all the housekeeping stuff on my to do list, and instead I simply enjoy the moment, and the Spring. I think about my garden, and about maybe baking some cookies later. Simple pleasures. Nice morning for it.

I’m grateful that I began the day prepared. I’m grateful that I’ve become more skilled at self-care over time. I’m grateful for the awareness that brings Spring into focus, and that allows me to recognize needs that must be addressed promptly without panic. I’m grateful for this beautiful dawn, and this lovely moment, and this chance to begin again.

Even in springtime, the clock is ticking.

I get to my feet, and brush bits of leaves and moss from my jeans, before continuing down the trail. My journey is my destination, this morning, and it is enough.

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Categories Allegories, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, health, joy, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Practices, solo hiking, Spring, The Art of Being

The Complaint Department

April 5, 2025 //
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I stop along the trail for a message from my Traveling Partner about a housekeeping detail. I’d rather it would have been a greeting or a love note, but it was not. It was a complaint (phrased as a request for action). It’s not an unreasonable request, not at all, and I add it to my list of shit to do without further discussion.

It’s a new day. What will you make of it?

Once upon a time, I was often the most negative person in most groups or conversations. I was cynical, irritable, easily angered, frustrated, and disappointed with people and circumstances, and I found very little joy in life. I complained a lot, about a lot of things, often. I told myself I was funny but that couldn’t have been much fun to be around. I sip my coffee and reflect on how much less often I complain about things these days and how much joy and contentment I find in life, generally. I’m in a very different place. (It took work and practice to get here.)

It isn’t that there is actually less in the world to complain about (I mean, seriously? We’re basically watching the world burn). I don’t find value in complaining as a form of communication, in my relationships. It has its place, I suppose. The negativity of it grates on my nerves. There are better ways. Kind frankness and gentle words are more comfortable to receive and more pleasant to act upon, day-to-day. My Traveling Partner, long ago, asked me to be less negative, and since then I’ve walked a very different path – and I’m glad I did (although it turned out he meant something different by it). I enjoy my life so much more. That’s the thing about negativity; it’s emotionally corrosive, and undermines joy, limits satisfaction, and creates discontent. Who needs that?

I get it, though, it’s so easy to be negative about unpleasant experiences and circumstances. So satisfying to complain – like picking at a scab (and it has about as much real value). A constant stream of negativity and complaining isn’t pleasant to be around, though, and it may result in the loss of relationships or connections with people who just don’t have the energy or will to endure it. Something to think about, eh? Certainly my own relationships have improved greatly since I gave up chronic complaining as a “feature” of my character. I still make an occasional complaint or negative observation; I’m very human. I don’t live my life in that place, emotionally, though. Complaining rarely improves anything; it is action that creates change. I get more done by embracing change, taking action to make my life what I most want to live, and by seeking out joy. It takes far fewer harsh words and frankly just feels better as an experience. I didn’t change the world; I changed the way I experience it. Worth it.

Walk on. It’s not personal.

I smile to myself. I’m having my own experience. It’s a lovely morning. I get to my feet and back on the trail. It’s a good day to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, Anxiety, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, Frustration, gratitude, Healthy Living, inspiration, joy, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Practices, Relationships, Spring, The Art of Being

Settling or Satisfied?

April 4, 2025 //
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Contentment and resignation are very different things. I sip my coffee, wondering how much the price of coffee will go up, and whether I will find it worth it to pay that price, or whether I may prefer to give up coffee? It’s an interesting thought. I think, too, about my garden and the joy of being in the garden, among the flowers, veggies, and herbs. It is an endeavor that brings me great joy, connection to my life and self, and deep satisfaction (and occasional frustration). My little house in the ‘burbs isn’t fancy, but I’m fortunate to have this place to call home. Am I “settling” for something that is less than ideal? Maybe, but it’s enough (for most values of “enough”), at least it is for me. That’s something.

My garden view from a favorite chair.

I don’t live a life of “affluence”. Do I need to? I don’t think so. I have “enough”. More than enough, mostly. Would more really be better? Have I “settled”, or am I simply content with things as they are, more or less? What more do I need beyond the garden I’ve got and the sunny days ahead? I smile to myself thinking about the new raised beds my Traveling Partner has agreed to build for me. They will be a lovely addition to my veggie garden, and an opportunity to grow more tasty fresh produce. I’m still learning, always, and I think a bit more room to grow is a good next step. I think about the flower beds, and whether to split up the oldest primroses and separate the clumps to plant more of them further along the walkway. It’s an idea I enjoy. My Traveling Partner suggested it, and he so rarely involves himself with the life of flowers that I’m inclined to go ahead with that out of pure joy and appreciation that he made the suggestion.

…It’s almost time to plant summer flowers…

…It’s always time to pull some weeds…

Is the world in chaos? Sure. Yes. Definitely. The garden brings me a lot of peace and joy in spite of that. I plan to spend more time there. Healthy work with lovely results. The roses are doing well, and I’m eager to see them bloom again. The lavender is taking hold and already putting out new green. Radishes, carrots, spinach, peas, and chard are coming up – the first Spring seedlings. Potted flowers are sprouting, too. Spring brings me so much hope.

A friendly visitor to my garden.

I sip my coffee and think my thoughts of the garden in Spring time. I smile thinking about the blue jay that showed up the very first Spring that we had the raised veggie bed. He was young that year, and so curious about what I was up to. He has come back every year, and sometimes stops on the edge of the bed, while I work, to eye my activities curiously, and follow me from branch to branch among the trees as I work in the flower beds. He comes quite close, and sometimes talks to me (I don’t speak blue jay, but I’m not sure he cares at all). When I turn up grubs in the veggie bed, I leave them out for him. He politely waits until I turn my back to eat them, and no longer flies away with each one, he just stands right there near me, so long as I am careful not to move too quickly or make too much noise. He delights me.

Life in my garden – it doesn’t feel like I’m “settling” at all. There are verbs involved. Work to be done. My results vary. My plans don’t always have the result I intended. Still, there are flowers there, and hope, and on a sunny Spring morning it’s hard to find anything wrong in the world, from the vantage point of the garden. It’s a nice resting place on life’s journey.

I sip my coffee and get ready to begin again…

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

How to Survive Crazy Times

April 3, 2025 //
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My head aches. I woke with it. I allow myself the luxury of assuming the national news coming out of Washington DC is more of the same terrifying crazy destructive billionaire greed-driven bullshit that will cost millions of good people of modest means their livelihoods, or possibly their lives. I don’t bother looking at it. I sigh quietly and look to my mental health and survival.

There are verbs involved. Seedlings to thin. Weeds to pull. Practices to practice.

I think about my garden. I’ve got plans to add another raised bed, and to put in the effort and care necessary to produce a significant amount of our food. It may ultimately be actually necessary. I’m expecting imported produce to become ridiculously costly very soon. I remind myself to consider joining a local farm co-op, too. I’m fortunate to live in an agricultural area, and there are multiple options. I’d keep a couple chickens if I had room to do so, but I don’t. I’ve kept chickens (and once a turkey), best eggs I’ve ever had. It would be worth the effort if I had the space.

I think about time spent in the kitchen, and how rewarding home baked bread and cookies and snack cakes are. Time consuming, too, and I’m often so tired that it’s hard to imagine doing even more, but it may simply be necessary.

Simple pleasures, lasting memories.

Go fewer places, spend less money, read more books, and enjoy simple pleasures; I feel fortunate that these are options that are both effective and (for me) pleasant. I sit with my thoughts about sufficiency and sustainability, and the many survival crafts I learned at home. I’ve got a new appreciation for the things my parents taught me as a kid about getting by in hard times.

Repair, re-use, recycle… getting more out of less may become something urgently necessary for a lot more people, just to get by. I sigh over my coffee – a luxury I may see myself giving up, depending on how tariffs hit coffee imports.

Quite a lot has gone into getting from “there” to “here”. 🙂

Are you worried too? Probably a good idea that we (as a nation) stop voting grifters, criminals, cheats, and unqualified nitwits into office, you know? This isn’t a partisan concern. It’s an ethical concern. It’s a matter of character, the character of our nation. People out for their own interests and focused on personal gain exist in every party. You can choose differently. That’s not really what I’m focused on this morning. I’m not telling you what to do with your vote or your voice. I’m just thinking about getting through this crap for at least the next four years, supporting my family, enjoying life with my Traveling Partner, tending a productive beautiful garden, and reading more books – especially any books that people in power think I ought not read. lol Buy books while you can (yes, it could get that bad, though I hope very much that it doesn’t).

Read banned books. Read controversial books. Think critically.

I sip my coffee, really tasting it. I think gratefully about the next hot shower I take, and consider putting in the effort to make a batch of shower fizzies, and wonder if I put the ingredients in storage, or just tucked them into a corner somewhere? I think about baking bread this weekend, and making jam this summer. I don’t really like to work so hard, not gonna lie, but I do like to live well.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I meditate awhile listening to the robins cheerily greeting the new day. The sun is rising. It’s time to choose a path and walk it. It’s time to begin again, and the clock is ticking.

One step at a time, eyes on the horizon.
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Categories 2024 Election, Allegories, Anxiety, breathe, gardening, gratitude, Healthy Living, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Spring, The Art of Being, War and News of War

Stumbling, Getting Back on the Path

April 1, 2025 //
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I’m sitting in the artificial twilight of a lamppost at the edge of my preferred local trail. It’s not yet fully dawn, but there’s a hint of daybreak in the changing color of the sky. I caught myself scrolling through the news headlines, though there is nothing there worth reading. Nothing new. Mostly intentionally distressing – or selling something. I put it aside. I don’t benefit in any way from becoming sucked into that garbage.

I think about stumbling on the trail a few moments ago. I caught myself, didn’t fall, but it was a moment of inattention and the outcome could have been worse. There’s something to learn there. It’s a metaphor. In a sense, scrolling through the news feed mindlessly is another sort of stumble. Disregarding healthy portion control when I struggle with my weight? Another stumble. Skipping a planned walk or a workout when I have specific fitness goals? Stumble.

Other lives, other challenges, other ways to stumble on a path. An addict in recovery having “just a little, this one time…”. Stumble. Someone making an important lifestyle change yielding to an old habit. Stumble. Important financial goals overlooked for a little “retail therapy”. Stumble. Giving that toxic relationship another chance. Stumble. It’s so very human to stumble, but we really can catch ourselves, and get back on the path. We really can acknowledge our failures and begin again.

I sit with that thought watching daybreak come, turning the sky blue beyond the dark clouds overhead. It’s okay to fail and begin again. It’s okay to pause on the trail to rest or to reflect. It’s okay to be human. It’s a journey. The journey is the destination.

I think of a far away friend admitting to me that she hadn’t been reading my blog. I was surprised by the admission, not because I expect all my friends and people dear to me to read my writing, but more because she found the admission embarrassing or awkward at all. I’m pretty sure it’s a near inevitability that any one reader will eventually stop reading and move on to other things. lol I see “this place” as a resting point on a journey more than a path. Once my point is made, the rest is perhaps noise. Repetition. I certainly wasn’t hurt by her admission. I’m here. You’re here now. For a moment we travel together whether through coincidence or intention, and we nonetheless each have our own experience. I rarely cross paths “in real life” with someone who reads my writing. She’s rare and delightful in that way. I cherish the experience, but don’t expect it. Our Dear Friend connected us, here, through their conversations about my writing. I was fortunate indeed to eventually sit down with them together over coffee. What a joyful day! When our Dear Friend neared the end of her life, we shared that too. I’m grateful.

Dawn. A new day, and the path ahead is clear. When I see the path and walk it mindfully, I’m less likely to stumble. It’s a very human experience, though, and the path is uneven in spots. There’s still a chance I may stumble, or even fall. When I do, I get up, consider my missteps, and begin again.

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Categories Allegories, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, Frustration, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, Spring, The Art of Being, weight loss secrets
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