Archives for category: Summer

I’m sitting quietly, waiting for the sun. I’m sipping an iced coffee, feeling mostly grateful, and mostly in love. Life (and love) has its ups and downs. Aging has the benefit of bringing a bit of perspective, maybe some wisdom, but…it also kinda sucks, fairly often. This mortal sack of flesh feels like a trap as often as it behaves as a useful tool. Maybe that’s my headache talking?

I’m feeling vaguely nostalgic this morning, yearning for a “simpler” time that frankly doesn’t actually exist for me. Those recollections of bygone simplicity are bullshit – fragments of experiences that were far less simple than memory suggests, and far more complicated. Memory, in my experience, is much less nuanced than the lived experience in the moment.

I think about walking the cobbled streets of old Augsburg in the 1980’s… My memory lies to me about what a time it was. The reality? Mental illness was overtaking me, I lived in terror due to domestic violence, and I was fraught with constant anxiety (both personally and professionally). The shopping in Augsburg was great. The people were friendly. The climate was delightful. The holiday market was splendid and the cafes were amazing. So… what is “really true” about my time there? Was it grand or terrible? It’s hard to say. Sometimes I miss Augsburg.

My mind wanders to Fresno. What a very different time in my life. I worked my ass off in construction – but only half of the year, generally. The money was good while the work lasted, each season, but I was trading my health for those dollars one brutal hour at a time and struggling to make ends meet between jobs. I was wracked with constant anxiety and being stalked by my ex. I was living a life of unsustainable extremes – the delights were too delightful, the lows were dangerously low. My self-care… wasn’t care-ful. I was “using myself up” without really understanding the consequences of my choices. I cultivated some amazing (lasting) friendships. Because of those friends, many of whom are no longer in Fresno, I still sometimes miss Fresno in spite of, well… Fresno. lol

My mind wanders to “the woods” at the end of the street where we lived when I turned the corner on childhood and began the painful journey through adolescence. I ran the paths through those woods so many times. Walked them on quiet days seeking peace and solitude. I sat among the trees in the summer heat, listening to the trickle of the creek that flowed through the woods and the buzzing of insects. …I was sexually assaulted there. Somehow, I still remember those woods with great fondness (and, to be fair, the trees themselves were in no way responsible for me being raped).

Funny how nostalgia tries to “tidy things up”. Life – reality – is more complicated than that. Understanding (and accepting) the complexities of life is useful for healing. I can choose to hold on to, and savor, all the beauty and splendor of this mortal lifetime, and set aside the pain (mostly), and learn to bounce back, to let go, and to learn what lessons I can. I can savor the precious memories. I can experience gratitude for the wonders I’ve seen and the love I have experienced. I can reject the darkness and refuse to let it own me.

Nostalgia is weird and complicated. I sit with the good feelings, occasionally stumbling on some painful recollection that finds its way into the mix – like stubbing my toe on a pleasant walk. It’s weird, unexpected, and momentarily distressing. I breathe through the painful memories when they come; they’re part of my life, and I am the woman I am today because life is so much more complicated than a beautiful memory. There’s more to my story, more to my journey, than beautiful sunrises.

I sigh and sip my coffee. Daybreak comes with a hint of orange low on the horizon. I breathe, exhale, and relax. This? This is a lovely pleasant moment, and I am enjoying it. Quiet time well-spent on self-reflection and a bit of nostalgia. I don’t read too much into it. This too shall pass. Moments are brief. Change is. It feels like time to begin again.

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.

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.

I’m sitting quietly, waiting for the sun.. short walk today and then hurrying home. It’s an important appointment day for my Traveling Partner and I took the day off. No time pressure beyond leaving on time.

I’m sitting comfortably in my partner’s pick-up truck, instead of cozily in my Mazda. I feel safe and it’s an interesting shift in perspective. I took the truck to more efficiently prepare for the hour long drive a little later; I filled the gas tank and cleaned the windows. The Mazda’s stiff sporty suspension makes for an uncomfortable ride for someone with an injury. I won’t make that mistake again!

Breathe, exhale, relax.

Today is 100% about getting my Traveling Partner where he needs to go and taking care of his needs. Once we’ve returned home, I can take care of mine. I took the entire day off in part because yesterday afternoon was so much intense manual labor (moving all the furniture around in the bedroom for more efficient use of the space, at my Traveling Partner’s request), I was just too exhausted to face starting the work week after also hustling to get to and from the appointment in the morning. I’m just not up to it, and I need more time to take care of myself, too.

Today though…an opportunity to demonstrate love and provide care. This is sometimes difficult shit. Injured (or sick) people are often not their best selves. The demands can be substantial and difficult to meet satisfactorily. It’s complicated. Am I up to the challenge? Today I am hoping to avoid taking small moments of discord personally. I’m committed to being pleasant, agreeable and available to support my partner. I’m hoping to avoid being a bitch about… anything, really, but most particularly the basic care my partner truly needs and which I committed to providing. It’s hard sometimes. It’s a lot. It’s okay; this too will pass.

So, a new day begins with a new sunrise. I’ll walk a familiar trail – and follow my path with care and love and willing to begin again, as often as I must. Probably won’t be a perfect effort; I’m not a perfect person. My results vary. I have choices. I hope to make wise ones.

…I remind myself to breathe…

It’s time to begin again.

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!