Restful night. Pleasant morning. Good walk down a familiar trail. I feel prepared for the day ahead, organized, calm, and comfortable in my body. It’s a good starting point for the (day and the) week. The weekend was a good one, although nothing stands out as noteworthy; it was well-spent in the good company of my Traveling Partner. I got a few things done without exhausting myself.
The colors of morning.
A colorful sunrise greeted me as I reached the trailhead. The parking lot was empty (it generally is at this hour). I enjoyed the trail to myself and watched the sun rise as I walked. It’s a lovely Monday morning, two days before my birthday.
…There’s no significance to this particular birthday (61), and I have no particular plans. I’ve already received my birthday presents; my Traveling Partner loves making me smile and seeing my joy, and it’s hard for him to wait for the actual day. lol I don’t mind at all. I feel very loved.
I sit with the sunshine at my back, perched on a picnic table a short walk from the car, writing, thinking, and enjoying the start of this new day. We don’t know how many beautiful sunrises we may see in one mortal lifetime… I hope I have many more, and take time to appreciate them all!
…Monday…
…A lifetime goes by so quickly…
The season is beginning to be more summer than Spring. This morning I’ll begin watering the lawn and garden on a summer schedule. Working from home makes such things pretty easy to stick with. Last week I took some of my meetings (remotely) in the garden, and it was delightful. It also brought my attention to a couple tasks I’ve fallen behind on; I’d let the salad greens bolt, and the weeds are getting out of hand. I spent some weekend time putting things right. I brought in a noteworthy harvest of fresh peas.
…Time spent in the garden seems to run on a different clock…
An ordinary enough life, on a contented joyful Monday morning, feeling purposeful and prepared. This is an experience built over time. Built on carefully chosen practices, and principles of resilience, sufficiency, self-care, mindfulness, and non-attachment. I work at this, and my results vary. I’m for sure going to enjoy it when things are truly going well, and I am feeling good. Pain? Not relevant this morning, and it fades into the background as I enjoy the moment. (“This too will pass.” Change is.)
…So much of my day-to-day joy and contentment is built on steady practices and incremental change over time. It’s achievable. Reliable. There are verbs involved…but it is possible to get from “there” to “here” through those means. Start. Practice. Fail. Begin again. Repeat. Don’t take the required effort personally, just do the needful.
I breathe, exhale, and relax. I feel the shadows of bad dreams in the night dissipate in the morning sunshine. I’m here, now, and it’s a lovely morning to begin again.
This morning I woke gently, aware of what a good day yesterday was, in spite of its difficult beginning (which, honestly, “wasn’t all that”). I found myself musing briefly over how easily a day getting off to a good start can “go off the rails”, and how often a seemingly poor start nonetheless finds its way to a pleasant day. The beginnings do not determine the outcomes. There are so very many choices and opportunities along the way, it seems a poor practice to insist on an entire day being whatever some one moment happens to be.
The morning is off to a promising start. I don’t read anything into it, and refrain from setting myself up for failure by expecting all the moments ahead to be as this one pleasant moment happens to be. I’m also not looking for disappointment or anticipating chaos. It’s simply a moment and I am enjoying it as it is.
As I leave the house to head down the road to a favorite trail, I’m greeted by a peculiar piebald sky. Past daybreak, which comes quite early this time of year, the sky is pale, a faded blue-not-quite-white, and scattered patterns of small dark gray clouds that crowd the northern horizon. Stormy looking, off in the distance. As I drive, a pink and magenta sunrise peeks out from among the distant hills, and I delight in the boldness of the colors with each glimpse. It doesn’t last, and I never quite get a view of it that lasts long enough to snap a picture. Some experiences have to be enjoyed as they happen, and there is no opportunity to save these for later, outside our fleeting memory.
Perhaps rain later…?
I get to the trailhead, put on my boots, and step onto the trail with a smile and my thoughts and a promise to finish this later.
Nice morning for it.
The air is mild and the morning very quiet. I had the trail alone this morning – a pleasant luxury. I walked with my thoughts, which were mostly rather practical.
I began tidying up my studio yesterday, and there’s a bit more to do. Because I had the option of working from an office in the city over the past 8 months, (and with my Traveling Partner injured), necessity and convenience slowly turned my studio into something more like storage than a creative work space. lol It makes sense to get that sorted out, and my studio returned to a clean and tidy work space, now. No office to go to presently, and my partner’s son moving in soon (temporary and welcome), I need this space for artistic endeavors, but also for work (doubles as my office), and even as a “personal retreat”, when I just can’t deal with people and need some solitude. It isn’t intended to be storage space, aside from the closet, in which my stored artworks are kept until they sell or hang somewhere.
…Yesterday was a lovely productive day…
I walked and thought. Nice morning for it. I saw nutria playing along the marsh, at the waters edge. The young ones born this year are exploring their world with playful curiosity. I walked past a small herd of deer, which quietly watched me back as I walked past. (They were gone when I returned down the trail heading for the car.) There were little birds everywhere, squirrels too. The meadow flowers made the air sweet with their scents. The lupines are done blooming and are going to seed. Other flowers take their turn blooming. The trees are all fully leafed out now, and signs of summer are everywhere. Seasons change. Change is.
I get back to the car too early to head right home. I’d like to let my Traveling Partner sleep awhile. I take time to finish my writing and to meditate.
Sitting with my thoughts.
I think ahead to what my next bit of away time might be? I sigh impatiently when I recall I’ve never yet spent even one night home alone in our home. I yearn for that small luxury, but it hasn’t worked out any time my Traveling Partner has made plans to be away. Four years of projects, business, and camping trips cut short by inclement weather, or deferred by illness. Travel plans derailed by injury or circumstance. It just hasn’t worked out; I’ve never been home alone here for more than a few hours, and even then in steady contact with my Traveling Partner throughout. We may as well have been in the living room together. lol Sometimes frustrating. Sometimes disappointing. Mostly I just feel loved. I hold out hope that I may yet experience the luxury of solitude at home, here, eventually… I’m for sure not holding my fucking breath, though!
…I’m not even bitching, really, I’m fortunate to have other options to get the solitary time I need…
So… yeah… sometime in these upcoming summer weeks maybe another camping trip? Maybe a weekend on the coast in a favorite little hotel? Maybe a road trip to see distant friends, with the solitude being a nice interlude between visits? I know the busy-ness and chaos of getting my stepson moved in later this month will take a lot out of me, and potentially leave me scrambling for any kind of alone time at all, grateful perhaps to find even 10 minutes alone behind a closed bathroom door, or in my office during the work day during an uninterrupted hour. I know how such circumstances affect me. I also know to plan ahead in summer months.
…I think about late July and wonder…
…On the other hand, I don’t know that I will be free to travel, at all; my partner has surgery coming up, not yet scheduled but expected to be scheduled soon for a date as early as available (not an emergency, but a high priority)… could be I will need to be home to care for him (and of course that needs to come first).
I sigh and catch myself grousing silently about the inconveniences and difficulties of adulthood… but I silence myself; I’m fortunate that these are the challenges I am facing. It could be ever so much worse. I take a moment for gratitude. Happy to be in the partnership I’m in, with a human being who lives me deeply, and looking ahead to enjoying the summer at home, puttering in my garden, and living my life gently. It’s enough.
I smile, breathe, exhale, and relax, watching the blue sky spread from horizon to horizon. I look over my rather practical list of things to do today and add a reminder to cut back bolting greens in the garden and harvest peas for dinner. Looks like a lovely day ahead and it’s time to begin again.
I’m having a restless sort of morning. I’ve stepped through the details of my morning routine, my commute, the start of my work day, and I feel… restless. Like there’s “something more” “out there”, or as if I am unsatisfied with life, generally. It’s an illusion, as much as it has any basis in reality. Emotional weather. I breathe, inhaling deeply, and exhaling slowly, feeling my subtle anxiety lurking in the background fall away ever so slowly with each breath. It’s a practice that works to reduce my anxiety, before it can get out of hand, but it does nothing much to change this strange feeling of restlessness.
…I could plan a camping trip… It’s a bit early in the year for (me to be) sleeping on the ground, but I enjoy the exercise of planning, and I don’t mind planning well in advance – in fact, some places I might wish to camp require quite a bit of long range planning (they’re just that popular, I suppose). On the other hand, I’m not feeling any sort of urgent need to be away from home (quite the contrary). This feeling of restlessness is inconveniently timed. I sip my coffee and think about it for some minutes – what am I “running from”? Something? Anything? Am I tussling with unaddressed urges? No doubt I’ve got my share of those…
The morning sky has clouds, and broad streaks of blue between those. The sunrise surprised me with it’s earliness, and was gone before I gave it much thought. It’s definitely morning, bathed in daylight diffused by the cloudy sky. Pretty. I gaze out the windows awhile, watching the streetcar make the trip around the block, from one stop to the next, heading the other direction. As early as it is, there are already people in the park below me, walking, sipping coffee, sitting on a bench. The water features are bland brown blocks of earth tones, not yet reflecting the sky above in any visible way from this distance (and angle of view). I wonder to myself when the Koi fish will be there, again, and where they go when they are not in the pond. I don’t care enough to look into it further, I’m just momentarily curious.
I breathe, exhale, and relax, taking stock of my pain and considering how best to manage it. I sip my coffee, and pull myself more upright, correcting my posture (again). I think about my Traveling Partner, his recovery, and how much I adore him. It’s hard being injured and being patient with the tediously long time recovery can sometimes take. Some injuries don’t heal quickly. I feel for him and kind of regret coming into the office, when I could be working from home where I could easily do things to care for him and make life easier. I sigh and shake my head when I realize I’d also very much like to just go back to bed and maybe nap awhile… Fucking hell? Really? The day has hardly begun…
…I hear a flurry of negative self-talk comments begin to develop in my thoughts, and put myself on pause; there’s literally nothing whatsoever wrong with wistful thoughts of sleeping in and napping, especially for a woman who struggles to get adequate healthy sleep! I laugh out loud in this quiet room and remind myself silently to “be nice” and treat myself with care and kindness – to do otherwise puts me at risk of losing sight of how I treat others. If I’m a dick to myself, how can I expect to treat others gently and with compassion? It’s something I’ve been working on a lot, lately.
Another sip of my almost-cold-now coffee, and my thoughts slide towards far away friends, and a dear friend struggling with mortality. Maybe that’s really the thing driving my restlessness, I realize; I miss far away friends, and I know I will regret not making time to see them (more often than I do). I find myself wondering if I should simply plan a trip to see my ill friend, and make a point of doing so while I can. It clearly matters enough to fuck with my head. I think that over quietly, and the restlessness begins to ease. Okay, so I got there, eventually. Now to do something about it, I suppose…
I’m sitting in the waiting area of a local tire place. No coffee. I mean, I could, but… it’s late in the day, and the coffee here is probably quite dreadful, so… no.
Generic tire place.
The smell is “shop” and tires. It’s a bit noisy, but the sunshine streaming through the big windows feels nice. Tomorrow I leave for my camping trip… Tonight, apparently, I need to get a tire repaired. Shit. Well, at least I already got the grocery shopping done and the car is packed. Really nothing left but the morning… grab my camera bag and go, if my Traveling Partner is sleeping when I get up. Have coffee together before I leave if he’s already up.
….Easy…
It already seems rather silly that I stressed about this tire.
I’m pretty excited about this camping trip. Enough to overlook the pain I’m in. Headache. Arthritis. Fuck pain. I’m going camping anyway. I really need a couple days alone with my thoughts, my camera, and some trails I’ve never walked. Maybe I’ll write. Maybe I won’t. I know I will listen to the wind through the trees and the squawking of the jays.
This damned tire though.
…The mechanic turns up to tell me it’s fixed. A bit of paint on the rim prevented a good seal on the tire. Easily fixed. I head home.
I woke this morning peculiarly unaware that I was tethered by my CPAP and airline to the machine perched on the bookshelf near the bed. It feels strange to have become so thoroughly used to this thing that is my “new normal”. I woke, showered, made coffee, and joined my Traveling Partner in the living room. After a handful of his observations about my “energy”, my facial express, my relative state of relaxation (or, more to the point, his perception that I was appearing tense in some way), I took my coffee into the studio to chill and wake up without encroaching on his chill time. I’m pretty sure he hadn’t been awake long, himself.
After I have my coffee, I’ll most likely put on clothes more suited to the weather and go for a walk. Whether or not I have energy to burn, it’s a good practice, and contributes to my wellness. 😀
Pleasant morning so far. I eagerly did the pre-registration for my upcoming camping trip, and surprised myself that I’d reserved the space for one more night that I thought I had… I could go on Wednesday, if I wanted to (I do, but… work, money, expenses… etc etc etc; adulting is full of compromises). This does mean, though, however early I arrive on Thursday, my space will be ready for me to set up camp. 😀 I’m excited. The car is mostly packed and ready. I’m even taking the portable fridge and a small solar set up, and glamping in style, even planning to cook real meals (instead of my usual practice of snacking on grab-n-go whatever and eating freeze-dried backpacking meals)! I remind myself to check the air in the tires, and turn on the power to the portable fridge sometime on Tuesday so that it is cold and ready-to-go when I leave on Thursday morning. I probably won’t depart before dawn (though I easily could), but I’ll likely head out after morning coffee with my partner and some chill time together.
…I’m so excited about this trip…
I’ve got my gear together. I’ve got my camera, my sketchbook, my yoga mat, a book to read… and I definitely need this solo time. 😀 I sip my coffee and smile to myself; I’ve still got to pick up some grocery items for the trip, although some of what I need I’ve already got here at home. Preparedness feels very good.
…I think that last sentence over again, “Preparedness feels very good.” – It definitely does. How did I get here to this place where I’m mostly prepared for most of what I want or need to do, most of the time? Was it my survivalist-ish, prepper-y, upbringing? Was it the emphasis on self-reliance in crisis that I learned at home? Was it the Army and those Army ways and practices? Was it hard lessons learned in life over time? Was it this partnership that is so thoroughly grounded in practical means of supporting good quality of life over time? Probably all of that. It’s not something that’s out of reach for anyone else. It’s a matter of understanding what you want, what it takes, and ensuring the basics for those needs are generally available, or within reasonable reach. It takes time to get there. It takes self-reflection (because it can be astonishingly easy to slide from “prepared” to “hoarding”, and that’s not a good end result). It takes practice, and efficiency, and knowing what matters most. It takes patience. It takes a certain commitment of mind, will, and action. It’s not “all that”, though, and I suspect anyone could be “more prepared” if they choose to do so, and make the necessary actions common practices.
…An example? All summer long our camping gear is basically ready-to-go – we load it into our vehicle, pick up any desired perishables, and head out. When we get back, we launder clothes, clean gear, and repack everything and put stuff away for next time, but conveniently so we can easily grab it for the next trip out. When our season ends (neither of us really enjoy cold weather camping), we put it all completely away in storage until next year. New season? We get everything out of storage, do a “gear check” and examine every tent and line and tent spike for damage, repair or replace items that are too worn for safe use, and restock any non-perishable consumables that we’ve run low on. It’s a cycle that works for us.
For me, having a reliable practice (or many) helps me stay on track of this busy life. I chuckle, looking around my studio; my pocket of chaos in a life that is mostly pretty orderly. LOL I could do better. It’s within reach. I just need to begin again. 😀
This journey just isn’t about perfect. It’s always practice. My results vary. That’s fine – I know they will. I just stay on the path… and begin again.
