Archives for category: turning 60
« Older Entries
Newer Entries »

Hand-crafted Stillness

May 18, 2024 //
0

I woke early and headed to a favorite trail. It was already daylight when I reached the trailhead. I had the trail (and the park) all to myself this morning and enjoyed my walk, listening to birdsong, the distant sound of traffic on the nearby highway, and the crunch of of my steps on the trail.

I’m sitting at my half-way point, now, enjoying the stillness I walked so far to reach. 1.5 miles. My first 3 mile walk in awhile, by the time I get back to the car. Feels good. It’s an overcast morning. Looks like it might rain. I breathe the cool air deeply, taking in the scent of Spring wildflowers. Lovely morning for it.

Today I’ll spend the day on various preparatory tasks for my camping trip; I leave tomorrow morning sometime. (I’m not rushing and don’t have any reason to set some firm timeline.) I’ll do a few things to help ensure my Traveling Partner only misses me because he loves me, not because there’s some massive inconvenience that is difficult for him to overcome. I’ll make a point of having him give me a refresher on setting up and using the solar power; it’s the sort of “use it or lose it” knowledge I am at risk of discovering I’ve lost, just when I need it most, and I’ve only taken the system with me for solo camping once before. Not enough practice with it, yet, to count on implicit memory.

…Tomorrow is so soon…

I’ve already fueled up the car. Had a couple repairs and some maintenance done. Got the oil changed. Made sure the wiper fluid is topped off. Fixed a broken latch on the lid of the center console (should have been done months ago). The car is ready for the next long drive. Next is packing the gear that’s at the house. Tomorrow, on my way out of town, I’ll stop by storage for the rest of the gear I need; I’ve already checked it out and figured out what goes and whether it fits in the Mazda.

…IĀ  remind myself to take a minute with my partner to check the gear in the truck; there are probably a couple things I want that are kept in the truck, generally…

…Another trip to the store, too…

Mildly vexed by the cloudy morning, I check the weather forecast for my camp site again; still says sunny weather most of the time I expect to camp. I’m happy about that, but also unconvinced – and unconcerned. The weather will be whatever it is and I can’t do a thing about that, besides prepare for it. The map is not the world. The plan is not the experience. The forecast is not the weather. lol

I’m excited to get started, but equally eager to enjoy a relaxed experience, treat myself and my partner well, and avoid later aggravation by being well-prepared and un-rushed. It’s a bit of a balancing act. I breathe, exhale, and relax. I have no potential to find myself “running late”, my time is already my own for the next 7 days. That feels amazing. I can’t possibly find myself “ahead of schedule” or finding my plan going sideways, this simply isn’t built on such a delicate plan at all. Damn, it feels good to just not even worry about time or timing. I needed this rest, so much.

I sigh and laugh at myself, when I catch myself checking my watch for the time. lol These all too brief mortal lives are so time-bound. Hilarious. We made that shit up, and routinely forget there’s only now.

…Still…It’s a good time to begin again. Time to head back down the trail…

Tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,
Categories Allegories, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, inspiration, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, Spring, The Art of Being, turning 60

So An Early Start Then?

May 17, 2024 //
0

Hot coffee, a bowl of grits, and the sun in my eyes… it’s the morning of a new day. My last in this office, and I’m grateful I still had this day here! I woke ridiculously early – shortly after 2 a.m. – and couldn’t go back to sleep. My head was stuffy (allergies) and I couldn’t breathe sufficiently easily to rest comfortably with my CPAP mask on (yeah, that’s a thing). I finally gave up at 3 a.m., dressed, and headed to the office to avoid waking my Traveling Partner – no reason we should both lose sleep because I’ve got a head full of allergies.

I got to the office too early to pay for parking. Too early for drinking coffee. Too early to take my morning medication. Too early to start work. It was just too damned early. I crashed out on the beautiful leather modern-style couch in the corner: cute, minimalist, simple lines – and very uncomfortable, but I managed to nap briefly (almost an hour) and woke feeling decently well-rested. Good enough to begin the day. Good enough to make coffee (and grits). Good enough to enjoy the sun rise. So far? A good morning, in spite of the early start.

I flip through my notes about this-n-that. The camping trip (I’ve got a packing list and some things yet to do)… the housekeeping and shopping (preparing for the camping trip and providing for my partner’s comfort while I am away)… things on my mind that want further reflection (saving those for the camping trip and the drive down to the camp site)… oh and work (time to tidy up any loose ends before being away for an entire week). I’m eager and excited. The time is short; this is my last work shift before my camping trip, and Sunday is the day I plan to hit the road. There are things to pack, things to charge, and things to pick up at the store, and my Traveling Partner delighted me with a new 3D print project (a marble run), and it may be ready to assemble today! I’m thankfully not feeling overwhelmed by all of it – just excited. šŸ˜€

…Although I’m super excited about this camping trip, on some level it’s only now setting in that I’m really going, and for four days!…

I’m pleased that my plan ensures I’ll make it back in time to enjoy a pleasant long Memorial Day weekend with my Traveling Partner, chilling at home and puttering in the garden. (No way do I want to go camping over a holiday weekend. LOL Too many people.) I think about that for a few pleasant minutes… I think about making waffles, and watching favorite animated shows, and sharing pictures from the camping trip and hearing all about the projects he did while I was gone.

I remind myself to get out into the garden tomorrow and give it a good watering after I cut back any salad greens that have begun to bolt after the heat earlier this week. I think about cutting a bunch of those tasty greens to take with me (instead of buying salad greens). Sounds delightful. Tomorrow should be a great day for it, too.

Thinking about the weather tomorrow, I pause to check the weather for the upcoming week at my camping location on the coast. Mixed reporting; each source I look at gives a somewhat different forecast. lol Looks like a good chance of some showers Tuesday night (they all agree on that), into Wednesday morning, and pleasantly mild otherwise. I remind myself to thank my Traveling Partner for suggesting I take the Moon shade for additional cover – super handy for cooking if the weather is a bit drizzly. I grin to myself as I think ahead to camping – I love sleeping in a tent listening to the rain.

The picture is not the experience. The map is not the world.

Regardless how well-prepared I feel I may be, reality will have a say. I make a note to keep an eye on the changing forecast, and to set up camp such that items needing protection from the rain get it and any firewood is kept dry. I find myself thinking about how differently I set up my camp when I bring along the solar panels, and the fridge and such… without those “extra” items I tend to put my tent well away from everything, and don’t think too much about placement other than distance. Bringing along the solar power, the fridge, a complete camp kitchen and the Moon shade (which anchors to my vehicle) changes things… I think on that for awhile, just amusing myself with thoughts of camping, and setting up camp with purpose and intention. I can’t really do anything about it until I really see the site I’ve chosen and put my feet on the ground there, and see details like where the sunlight lasts longest, and which way the wind tends to blow, and where the fire ring is relative to the picnic table (I already know the picture is unlikely to be “the true truth” – those tables can be easily moved by a group or a couple of people with the will to do so, but I have trouble moving one alone, these days).

…I make a lot of notes (it’s just a thing I do)…

I sit quietly for some minutes, sipping my coffee and smiling to myself contentedly, feeling grateful, fortunate, and well-loved – and also wondering what I’ll forget on this camping trip? (Always seems to be something.)

I glance at the clock. I’ve “caught up with the day” – and it’s time to begin again. šŸ˜€

Tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,
Categories Allegories, breathe, gardening, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, meditation, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Practices, Relationships, Sleepless Nights, solo hiking, Spring, The Art of Being, turning 60

If You Weren’t Here, Now, Where Would You Be?

May 16, 2024 //
0

Tomorrow is for sure my last work day in this lovely office space. I’m not changing jobs; we’re leaving this space. Feels… strange. It’s okay. Not a sorrowful moment, just a moment. I sit quietly, looking out these windows at this view, and wondering what my day-to-day experience will be like after I return from my camping trip to a new, different, routine? Probably still pretty routine; that’s how I tend to live, mostly. lol

…I didn’t have to commute to this place to do the work I could as easily have been doing at home. I embraced the commute, and this space, as an opportunity, and I’ve enjoyed it for these past 8 months or so. Change is. I’m okay with that. I’m also okay with giving up the cost of fuel for the commute, and parking in the city, and all the vexing details that go along with all of that…

Traffic.

I’m counting down the days until my camping trip. My Traveling Partner was frank last evening that he’ll miss me, that it’s hard to do everything for himself when I’m away right now (while he recovers from an injury), and that he’s also a bit jealous to be stuck at home while I am camping. That’s real. I feel for him – and I feel fortunate to be so loved as to be missed when I’m gone. That’s beautiful. We both get something out of missing each other now and then, and I know I’ll miss him too. I also yearn for this time away, which I will spend in a solitary way, quietly among the trees, on the trail, or by the campfire. I need this solo time much the same way he needs the joyful camaraderie of our union as lovers and traveling companions on life’s journey – we do our best to strike a healthy balance, so we each thrive individually and together. He probably gets more time alone than he needs (I often find myself a bit jealous of that), and I don’t always get the solitary time I need – but we know the needs are there (his for steady, close companionship, mine for interludes of aloneness), and we work together to meet them (all). Funny how much love makes that matter – and how hard love can make it to achieve. It’s a peculiar puzzle.

“Life Sparkles (with the love we feel)” 11″ x 14″ acrylic on canvas w/glow and glitter 2018

I think about the here and now, and contrast it with daydreams of other places, other lived experiences, over the course of this one lifetime. There are so many experiences that I will likely never have, that I’ve often considered, or even yearned for. We make choices, and follow the path our choices take us down. Some choices take a few items “off the menu”, and some choices open grand vistas of new opportunities to consider. There’s a lot of variety in the human experience. I sit with my coffee, considering my choices, and where they have lead me. I couldn’t always say so, but it is very true today; I am walking my own path. That feels pretty good. I’m okay with where I am standing in life, presently. It’s a good place to be, although the world often feels like a pretty seriously fucked up mess on a terrifying order of magnitude (when I zoom out to consider that)… up close, this one life, this moment here, is pretty good. I’m okay… contented. Even “happy”. Deeply in love with my partner. Working a job I find satisfying, alongside people I respect and enjoy as both people and as colleagues. Living fairly simply in a little home I can call my own. I’ve got a veggie garden, beautiful roses, a small library of books I love. I’m fortunate. I can’t attribute all of my good fortune to my exceptional decision-making… because frankly, that’s not been the case for me. I’ve bungled a ton of shit, and made so many awful choices in life… but… I’m here, now, and this is a good place to be. I’ve gotten lucky, a lot, and I’m grateful for the circumstances and friendships that have paved this path, and continue to light my way.

Like a potted rose slaking its thirst on a gentle rain; I’m grateful.

I sigh contentedly. Be here, now. Good suggestion, if you like where you’re standing. If that’s not the case, it’s time to begin again, perhaps, and choose differently? So many choices. They aren’t all easy – and mistakes will be made. Results will vary. Verbs will be involved. The best plans still require attentive follow-through, care, and action. Sometimes adulting is hard. Sometimes life is filled with sorrow. We fail, we fall, we hurt, we struggle… and then we begin again. No do-overs, really, but we can pick ourselves up, brush the dirt off our knees and the tears off our cheeks, and walk on. Mostly it’s enough. The journey is the destination. We become what we practice.

…What are you practicing?…

I chuckle when I notice how filled with aphorisms and purpose-built slogans this particular bit of writing happens to be. I’m okay with that, too. “Repetition is learning.” I heard that first from a monster, many years ago, under circumstances I don’t care to repeat (or share in any detail). The source of useful information has nothing much to do with the usefulness of the information, itself. Another good lesson learned.

Change is. Choose wisely.

I look fondly out the windows to the park below. It’s a lovely view and I’ll miss it, but it’s time for change – and time to begin again.

Tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,
Categories Allegories, Brain Injury, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, inspiration, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Spring, The Art of Being, turning 60

Time Will Crawl

May 12, 2024 //
0

I’m taking a minute or two after finishing my walk, to sit with my thoughts awhile before moving on with the day. It’s Mother’s Day. I am thinking about my father, and trying to remember how old he was when he died… wasn’t that in 2003? 2002? I’m not certain, and it vexes me. He wasn’t “old”; he passed in his 60s. I didn’t find out when it happened, only after. Quite a bit after, actually. I wasn’t very close with my family at that time (even now, actually). I have a David Bowie song in my head… I don’t know why these are related, but I feel as if there’s some connection.

The sun rose orange, this morning. I stayed quite local, not that what trail I walk has much to do with anything. It’s just a detail.

Mt Hood in the distance.

Mother’s Day is a weird sort of holiday. Certainly mothers deserve to be celebrated, and supported, and also given some fucking help with things, and an occasional fucking day off. No question about any of that… but… if a woman with a child (or children) isn’t getting these things from her partner, family, community, or society, does a “Hallmark holiday” make up for that at all? Mother’s Day is bit like the “carbon offset credit” of holidays. A “get out of jail free” pass for not paying due regard to mothers and the difficulty of that work in the first place. Still, I’m not intending to piss in anyone’s punch bowl; enjoy it, Moms, you’re overdue for more and better. It’s tough exhausting work.

…Funny that I’m thinking of my Dad, though, and can’t remember any Mother’s Days, from my youth…

I’m 100% okay with not being a mother, myself, and don’t feel any loss over not being part of this “holiday”. Choices. I am glad I made the choices I made. They led me here.

Looks like another sunny summer-y day ahead. My Traveling Partner turned the outside water back on for the season, in spite of being injured still. I can’t quite reach the valve, myself. I think about the day ahead, and my list of things to do. Some of the stuff on my list is routine housekeeping, and gardening, and with my camping trip only 7 days away now, a few things to do with that are makingĀ  it to the list, too. I’m excited about that. I’mĀ  hopeful that I’ll have no cause to leave the house after I return from my walk; it’ll be utter chaos “out there”, being Mother’s Day. Looks like a lovely Spring Sunday ahead…

…60 doesn’t “feel old” to me and I sit with that thought for awhile,Ā  remembering my Granny at 60… my Mom… my Dear Friend… My perspective on age and aging has changed a lot over the years, as I’ve aged, myself. IĀ  was in my 20s when my Granny was 60. IĀ  was 40 when my Mother was 60. By the time my Dear Friend was 60, I was not quite 50. Time is catching up with me. lol 60 hasn’t really changed much…but my understanding of it sure has.

I’ll be 61 this year. I haven’t given it much thought. I have most of what I need in life, and a handful of pleasant luxuries besides. It’s a good life, and I am in a good place, and have to put real thought into it to come up with something to want “for my birthday”. Mostly I want my Traveling Partner to be sufficiently recovered to go out for a meal together, and maybe a drive in the countryside – perhaps a picnic lunch at a favorite spot, and some romance… something simple and ordinary.Ā  Modest wholesome experiences of life and intimacy and a wee outing together would feel pretty lavish right now. Fuck, that actually sounds quite delightful! I surely won’t hold it against him if he’s not yet up for it. Sucks to deal with an unexpected injury and the time it takes to recover, but it can’t be rushed, and it’s something most people eventually deal with. We’re in it together and that matters so much more than any birthday gift could.

My camping trip feels like a birthday present to myself. It’s planned for a bit longer than I might typically go, and I’ll be geared up for “glamping” thanks to my Traveling Partner. I’m super excited about it.

What love looks like to me.

I sit smiling, thinking about love. The other day I came home from a manicure appointment with glittery aqua-blue nails. My partner commented that they were cute but didn’t go with anything else I generally wear. I laughed that off and pointed out the sweater I’d been wearing as close enough. Hardly an hour later he had 3D printed me a super cute pair of earrings that were an amazing color match for my nails. I feel so loved. Earrings are the only jewelry I wear, generally. He knows and cares, and loves making me smile. I’ve pretty much been wearing them ever since. lol It feels good to be so loved.

The moments tick by as the sun rises. It’s already time to begin again.

Tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,
Categories Allegories, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, Spring, The Art of Being, turning 60

What’s Really Holding You Back?

May 11, 2024 //
0

I’m sitting at the trailhead,Ā  having just finished my walk. I feel relaxed, comfortable, and accomplished; 3 miles in one hour. This was an important bit of “backsliding” in my general fitness I was eager to overcome. It’s taken awhile and required a lot of persistence and new beginnings. My bad ankle generally begins to ache noticeably around one mile mark, these days. My fitness being what it has become, by the time I get myself two miles down a trail, my back is often aching, too. I still want to go on, but some days it’s hard to push past the inconvenience of my pain. IĀ don’t want pain to make all my decisions and determine all my limits. I’ve got a lot of living still ahead of me at 60.

Sunrise on a misty morning.

When I headed down the trail, the sunrise had inflamed the morning horizon with fiery hues of peach and orange, and Mt Hood was silhouetted against that bold background, still and dark and large on the horizon. Every picture I took of that vibrant scene somehow diminished it. I stopped trying and just stood watching for a while.

Mists on the marsh.

As I crested a low hill near a favorite stopping point, the view of the marsh below, mists clinging to the meadow grasses and the water spread across my view. What a gorgeous morning to be on this trail! I  don’t have it all to myself this morning, and that’s not a surprise. Pleasant summery sort of morning on a Spring weekend? Of course there are other people here, most of them with fancy camera gear, heading to those favorite spots for capturing a view or for bird watching. Nice morning for it.

Lupines in bloom.

I pass by a hillside covered in lupines. The lupines in my garden are this same variety of wild lupines indigenous in this area. Mine are not yet blooming; they have more shade than these on this sunny hillside.

I  walk with my thoughts and my pain. I listen to the thoughts, and mostly disregard the pain. This pain, particularly,  has nothing much to teach me, beyond the resolve to overcome it. My thoughts on the other hand? My thoughts are as a playground for my spirit this morning. I walk and think, and consider the things in my life that may be holding me back, and what choices, changes, or practices could make the most positive difference…? The thinking, ideally, precedes the actions. lol I find value in self-reflection and “rational meditation”.

…In spite of the beauty of the morning, my thoughts this morning are mostly pretty practical…

The rising sun, a fitting metaphor.

As I turn back down the trail the way I came, I catch a glimpse of the rising sun. It illuminates the heights of the big oaks trees. I fill my lungs with the fresh morning air as I walk. The day ahead is filled with promise. The warmer weather is pleasantly encouraging, and I think about my upcoming camping trip. It would be nice if this weather continues.

…I think about getting into the garden…

I reach the car and notice the parking lot is quite full now for so early. I’m glad I took the less traveled trail! There’s new signage in the park, cautioning “no running” and “no dogging”… I chuckle, fairly certain that the intention is to indicate dogs are not allowed… but… “dogging” has a specific other meaning in English slang, and although I am certain that activity is also prohibited, I’m equally certain it’s not the intended meaning. lol

…What a lovely morning for new beginnings…

I feel the sun warm on my face. I sit sipping my coffee, listening to birdsong, and the traffic on the highway beyond the park. Loud voices of rude humans interrupt my reverie – maybe they’ll just go away? No. I  guess I will, then. lol

It’s time to begin again.

Tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,
Categories Allegories, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, inspiration, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, solo hiking, Spring, The Art of Being, turning 60
« Older Entries
Newer Entries »