Archives for category: Spring

This mortal lifetime is a fleeting and all too brief experience. We haven’t yet defeated aging or death, and we inevitably face both those experiences in turn… if we’re fortunate enough to enjoy some longevity in the first place.

I’m not meaning to sound grim, just putting a bit of self-reflection and perspective into my morning. It just seems to me that there is no time for petty bullshit, taking things personally, or chronic negativity. We’re human, though  and pettiness, bullshit, negativity, and taking things personally often seem to be default settings for human primates. It’s unfortunate. Life is filled with wonder and potential joy and delight, and when we give ourselves the opportunity to experience those qualities, they have incredible potential to lift us up.

…We become what we practice…

I often wonder what keeps some people so invested in unpleasantness and negativity, when it is possible to choose differently? I’m forced to reflect on my own journey; it’s the one I know best. It wasn’t that long ago that I took a lot of shit personally (that wasn’t, at all). I was a chronically pessimistic, cynical, fairly miserable traumatized human being disappointed with life, feeling weighed down by futility and despair, struggling to find any relief, purpose, or joy. I began making other choices, setting off on this profoundly healing journey some 14 years ago, around the time I reconnected with my (now) Traveling Partner. Shortly before then, actually, but at the time I didn’t really understand the nature of the journey ahead, nor where it could lead me (I was only beginning to understand the necessity and ask the important questions).

Like a road trip without a map, through fog.

…If I had known how far I would need to go, how long the journey ahead would be, and how much work, study, and will would be required, I doubt I would have understood that I had it in me to undertake it at all, and I might have given up on myself (I almost did)…

I’m just saying that it is possible to get from “there” to “here”, and it has been worthwhile a hundred times over to make the journey. So worth it.

I’ve read books and studied mindfulness and relevant cognitive research and developments in neuroscience. I’ve given thought to the advice and recommendations of friends, family, lovers, colleagues, and mental health professionals, and taken so many of their suggestions for a test drive, looking for changes that could improve my experience. I’ve pulled myself back from the precipice of despair a thousand times. I’ve practiced a multitude of practices, adopting some as permanent features of the way I live (meditation, non-attachment, and “taking in the good” being among those). I’ve pursued honest self-reflection and committed to better self-care. I’ve sought (and found) perspective, and embraced change. I’ve begun to thrive in life, instead of merely surviving it.

…Powerful stuff…

I’m sitting here with my thoughts on a rather stormy morning as summer approaches, watching the clouds drift by. The sun is up. I’ve got this trail to myself. It’s a pleasant moment and I am grateful to have this quiet solitary time.

I can only walk my own path.

I’m a bit frustrated by one thing as I sit with my thoughts… It’s this; I can find success and joy in life through all the means I’ve named, and I can share all that with you here, and with people dear to me, but I can’t make anyone else follow this (or a similar) path. We’re each having our own experience. I can’t actually make someone else abandon their negativity or pettiness. I can’t make someone embrace joy, or cultivate contentment. I can’t do the work for someone else or even convince them of the necessity or likely improvement that could follow. We have to walk our own hard mile. I had to walk mine, and I walk it even now. You have to walk yours, and the consequences of your actions (and your words) are yours to bear.

I sit with my thoughts awhile longer. It’s a lovely morning. A blue jay hops about in the weeds near my feet. The large rock beside the trail that I’m sitting on is firm beneath me. I feel grounded and comfortable in my skin, in spite of the pain I’m in. I feel sure of my path, and my worthiness to walk it. I am grateful for the many opportunities I have had to grow and change and begin again. Learning to forgive myself has been hard. Learning to forgive others has been harder. Both have been worthwhile and I am less burdened thereby.

This very human experience is an interesting and complicated thing, and I often wonder what the real purpose of it is, or whether it has one at all.

Maybe it’s enough to enjoy the journey?

There is a lot to forgive in one lifetime, but there’s also a lot to enjoy, and a lot to celebrate.  The storm clouds regroup, and the sky darkens. Rain drops begin to spatter the trail and the blue jay has flown away. I stand and stretch, and get ready to head back to the car. It’s time to begin again.

…Where does your path lead? Is that where you really want to go? The clock is ticking; choose wisely.

This morning begins well. Most mornings do. Mornings seem filled with peace and promise (from the perspective of this one mortal life). Sometimes they go horribly sideways and end badly, mostly they don’t. A really bad day sometimes causes me to lose awareness of how few days are truly “bad” for me, these days. Bad days happen. Everyone has occasional bad days. What characterizes a lifetime, though,  isn’t the presence of bad days, nor even how common or uncommon they may be, rather the ease with which a person can bounce back is what I find determines the character of a lifetime.

…I need more practice. Building resiliency takes time…

I breathe, exhale, and relax. It’s a lovely morning. I slept well and deeply. I woke gently, dressed, and left the house. I watched the sun rise as I drove toward the nature park. The sky was an impressionist masterpiece of color, the sun peaking over the horizon a bold orange ball, illuminating the streaks of clouds in hues of pink, peach, and lavender. There were mists clinging in low places, and soft fresh breezes fragrant with Spring flowers.

Today is new and wonderful. Well, definitely new, potentially wonderful. A new day (or new beginning) is filled with potential. That’s enough to begin again with, isn’t it?

Another breath. I walk the trail, content in my solitude. Yesterday was a difficult day. Yesterday is behind me now. Today unfolds ahead of me on the path, undetermined, undecided, full of potential joy and delight.

…It’s enough…

My Traveling Partner pinged me a good morning greeting and let me know he also got the rest he needed so badly. He lets me know I am welcome at home, and it’s nice to hear that. I feel loved. I make a plan to come home at lunchtime, and maybe even start the weekend early…

Everyone has bad days. I definitely do. You do too, I  bet. It’s part of the human experience. Emotions can complicate an experience. We tend to catastrophize difficult moments and conflate one challenge with another. We’re prone towards being self-critical, and our thinking errors fill studious volumes. Still, bad days are as temporary as everything else, and they pass. The dawn of a new day is a new beginning.

…I breathe, exhale  and let go of yesterday…

…It’s time to begin again.

Complicated morning. Some mornings are like that.

I woke too early, and faced with my Traveling Partner’s stress after a bad night, I quickly agreed to just go ahead and get dressed and go to work (at a cowork space) and got dressed and left. The cowork space available to me now doesn’t open until 07:00 a.m., and it was not yet 04:00 a.m., I figured I would just drive to the nearby nature park, and get a walk in as the sun rose. This works for me.

I made a stop at the 24-hour gas station, on my way by and bought a can of cold brew coffee. It was still so early, none of the coffee places were open yet, but I really wanted some coffee, and my headache was making that feel non-negotiable. So. Canned coffee it is.

…And also? Fuck pain…

I got to the nature park so early, it wasn’t open yet, either, and I had to wait for the gate to open at daybreak. Thats okay; I’m good at waiting. It’s just unusual to wait for the gate on a morning when the sun rises so early. lol

Yesterday, I spent my birthday with my Traveling Partner. We hung out watching videos most of the day. It was a simple day relaxing at home, complicated by my partner having had an allergic reaction to medication he’d been given. Seems like yesterday saw him over the worst of that. (Fucking hell, he’s been through so much this year. I wish I could do more to help.)

I’d have worked from home today to be around to provide support and care giving when needed, but my partner is likely to be incredibly irritable today as he finishes the process of coming off the medication that he reacted to… We both agreed, yesterday, it would probably be best if I wasn’t home for that if possible. (This morning’s early wake up call was a bit unexpected, but beyond that, the day seems pretty routine.)

…G’damn, canned coffee is honestly pretty fucking awful…

I had the trail to myself when my walk began, shortly after the gate opened, and after a brief text conversation with my Traveling Partner that tended to confirm his impression that he’d be so grumpy today that my best choice would be to be elsewhere. It stung a bit to have my loving-kindness thoroughly misunderstood, but I understand the shit he’s going through.  I let it go and got on with my walk. The trail became fairly crowded quite quickly for so early (and on a work day), but summer is nearly here, so perhaps I should not be surprised. Other than some silent greetings, a hand wave or a nod or smile in passing, there seemed a tacit agreement that it’s too early for speaking, and I continued my walk more or less alone with my thoughts.

…The sunrise was as close to being “boring” as a sunrise can be, with the dawn coming to clear skies, and nothing more exciting than a hint of yellow low on the horizon. I’m nonetheless supremely grateful for a new day and a chance to begin again. 61, eh? 😆 Feels just like 60…

Grateful for another sunrise.

I stop at my halfway point to sit, meditate, and write a few words. This bit of writing is a practice I find incredibly helpful for gaining perspective, and for practicing non-attachment and gratitude. It’s a bit like practicing self-reflection “out loud” to share my thoughts with you this way, though we may never meet, or discuss what I’ve shared. I often use the opportunity to reframe my bleaker or more difficult moments in a way that provides me greater depth of understanding, more insight (I hope), and positivity. I admit it; it takes some effort to be positive and practice gratitude, sometimes. I’ve definitely found it worthwhile as practices go. Cynicism, pessimism, and negativity never served me very well at all, and actually seriously limited my ability to grow, to heal, and to thrive. I’ve never regretted giving those up in favor of optimism, positivity, and a zest for living a life rich in joy and wonder. I can’t force anyone else to see things my way, or make this change in thinking. It’s enough to share that it has been meaningful and worthwhile for me personally to make this change. (It does take practice and my results do vary.)

…The sun climbs higher into the clear blue of the June sky, as I sit with my thoughts…

I hear voices approaching from around the bend in the trail and check the time. Looks like time to head back to the car and make the drive to the cowork office.

…It’s definitely time to begin again.

Well, here it is… my birthday. 61. I’ve made it another year! Well done, me. lol

…I’m glad I’ve made it this far…

At birth, my cohort life expectancy was 73.4 years, although my familial longevity hints at my potential to be around much longer. (I’ve also got family members whose lives were much shorter… It definitely matters to take care of one’s health and avoid high risk activities.) My individual circumstances being what they have been, I wasn’t confident I’d get this far (in spite of my aspirational notion that I would like to see 2083…).

…I’m glad to be here…

No elaborate plans for the day, aside from quietly celebrating my survival thus far, and spending the day more or less doing what I’d like. I took the day off. My Traveling Partner is still on the injured list, so definitely available to enjoy the day with me, and also needing me to be available to help out and provide care. Managing an intimate connected balance being present for each other will probably guide the day. How else? We’re in this together.

…Maybe takeout from the French restaurant in town for dinner?..

I watch the sun rise from a local trail, walking with my thoughts, pausing to sit in the sunshine and write, before heading back to the car. I’ve survived 61 years of sometimes hard living and considerable trauma… but also joy, love, wonder, happiness, and an adequate measure of prosperity and success sufficient to see the here and now of my life become mostly pretty good. I’m loved. It’s a lovely day. Pretty good one for a birthday, for sure.

I think about the years to come… how many more, I wonder? 15? 20? 35? I walk along considering what sorts of things I can (or must) do to see the other side of 100 with my faculties and abilities intact. 40 more years of life as it is now would be pretty fucking splendid…

…Change is, though, and I have no idea what the future holds…

…It’d be pretty cool to make it to 120, I think, and to see how the world has changed…

I sigh, exhaling a deeply drawn breath of fresh meadow-sweet air. It’s time to begin again… Another year of practices. Another year of putting miles on these boots. Another year of living. It’s worth celebrating.

This is the sort of morning I would happily spend some time emailing my recently departed Dear Friend…

The sunrise from the trail this morning.

I would certainly share a picture of the sunrise, probably commenting on its beauty.  Recent years found my Dear Friend to have very limited ability to get around without help, and she wouldn’t see such a sight without pictures shared by friends. She often asked for details and anecdotes about my unassuming local travels. (I miss her, greatly.)

Tomorrow being my birthday, and having already received (and opened) gifts from my Traveling Partner, I would share those details with her, too. The context, the sentiment, why each gift delights me so, and the “back story”, if there is one, would all be shared and talked over together. She’d tell me why celebrating this birthday matters more than I think it does, and remind me that I am precious to her. She’d embarrass me a bit with praise, and point out how easily we can lose our abilities through disuse. She would encourage me to do more and go further. She would cheer me on and share my joy. If I were feeling beat down or defeated, she would laugh at my dark angry humor and give me her own wise perspective.

…She would slyly say nothing about some handmade delight she had sent my way, that would surprise me the day of my birthday with something more to open…

…Fuck I do miss you, my very Dear Friend…

Of the roses I planted this Spring with my Dear Friend in mind, one has bloomed. I grinned to see the colorful flower. I took a picture to share with her, forgetting for just an instant…    I shared it, instead, with another friend who was similarly close (closer, for years longer) with my Dear Friend, hoping it might bring her a smile, too.

“Rainbow Happy Trails” blooming in a corner of my garden.

I walked the trail this morning, watching the sun rise and the morning take shape. I breathed in the scents of Spring flowers and meadow grass as I walked along between river and marsh. I’m not really “sad” this morning, and the moment of poignant recollection passes without tears. I honor my Dear Friend through these memories and I am okay with missing her; she meant a lot to me, and our friendship got me through some hard times when I sometimes felt I had no one else to turn to. We could count on each other’s good will and affection, and we were there for each other through joy and hardship. That’s a beautiful thing.

…61, tomorrow… it is a bit weird not sharing it with her…

I walk on down the trail. I’ve got it to myself for now. I walk with my wandering thoughts. The work day will begin soon enough. When it does, I’ll begin again. Soon enough. Soon enough. No reason to rush. In the meantime, I walk with my thoughts and my memories, stopping at my halfway point to meditate, reflect, and write a few words about a very Dear Friend of mine. Time well-spent.

I finish up my writing and sit quietly awhile.   Photographers coming down the trail purposefully remind me that this is a work day. I check the time, happy to see I’ve got time to spare. Lovely morning.

…It’s the last day of being 60…

…I guess I’ll begin again…