Archives for category: turning 60
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Beginning Again is a Practice

March 23, 2024 //
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I’m at a favorite trailhead waiting for the sun, or at least enough daylight to safely walk the trail on this foggy morning. I’m also waiting for the park gate to open, which should be any minute now. Another early walker shows up, and just sits idling at the gate, instead of parking and waiting. I don’t take that personally; not my vehicle, not my choice, not my business. I’m ready to walk but not feeling impatient about it.

Yesterday evening my Traveling Partner and I enjoyed a lovely somewhat romantic very connected evening listening to music together, but it ended on a sour note. I wrapped up my day with some quiet time reading, hoping to avoid aggravating him further. When I woke this morning my head was still full of hurt feelings and irritation. Pointless and not constructive, over a moment that was just a moment. So… I used the drive to the trailhead to sort of sift through my feelings, supporting my emotional needs by acknowledging my feelings and developing an understanding of why I still felt hurt, and whether that had to do with some legitimate concern needing some follow-up, or perhaps just me holding on to shit because that’s what human beings often do. Having decided it was more “just holding on to shit” than anything else, I proceeded to just let it go. Yes, there are verbs involved, but it’s quite doable to let small shit go.

It’s a new day. For me, a new day is a sort of “cheat code” for moving on from shit I’d like to let go of. It’s a nice moment that draws a sharp line between some moment and this new day unfolding ahead of me. Useful. I breathe, exhale, and relax. The foggy morning envelopes the car. I wait for day light.

My Traveling Partner greets me when he wakes. We briefly discuss errands, and my plan for the day begins to develop: a trip to the store, a stop by a local merchant on the way home, waffles for breakfast, and some time in the garden later, planting spinach starts and kitchen herbs. It sounds like a lovely day!

Foggy, but fine for walking.

… But first? A quiet walk along river and marsh on a foggy morning. Then, I’ll begin again, again. 😁

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Categories Allegories, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, gardening, gratitude, Healthy Living, inspiration, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, Spring, The Art of Being, The Big 5, turning 60

Moments & People

March 22, 2024 //
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Another new day, and I’m feeling good about it. It’s a Friday, my calendar is pretty light, and it’s payday – all practical details that are a suitable foundation to a pleasant morning. It’s early, not yet daybreak. The office is very quiet, and I’m working with the lights out, letting me see the nuances of the sunrise, when it comes. I’m sipping my coffee and thinking of moments, and of people. I’ve got a song stuck in my head, which I woke with. It’s one that my Traveling Partner plays for me, and hearing it fills me with warm affection and a sense of romantic connection. My inbox is full of email from friends, replies to recent emails I sent to them. I’m eager to take time to reply to each one, but that moment is not now.

…Nice start to the day…

I sip my coffee, and consider the day, the moment, the upcoming weekend, the things that matter most to me, and dear friends (most of whom are quite far away, these days, others who are nearer… well… we all behave as though we’re far away, anyway, welcome to the 21st century).

I drove into the city wrapped in a soft misty rain. I smile thinking about it; it’s the sort of rain a garden full of tender sprouts and seedlings really loves. The thought carries me to my garden, and I think about the rose that has arrived, and is ready to plant, and I think about which seeds can now be sown (is it time to plant beans?) and reminding myself to get out there and weed the flower beds before the friend who cuts my lawn undertakes the task (being helpful) – he isn’t reliably good at telling the seedlings of young flowers from the seedlings of weeds (me either, sometimes, but I do know where I’ve put seeds). I grin at my eagerness to do this bit of manual labor; as a kid at home, it was one of my absolute least preferred chores to find assigned to me on a weekend day! Funny how we grow to embrace some of the things we hated growing up. Time in the garden as a kid was just a lot of unpleasant toiling with no value to me personally (that I could understand at the time). Now, time in my garden is my time, well-spent, appreciated, and thoroughly enjoyed – and not in spite of the work involved, but often because of it. My garden, my time, reflecting my thinking and choices, and done with love to be shared with my Traveling Partner (who isn’t so into it, but loves it along with me, because I love it so much).

…My thoughts about the garden carry me back to my thoughts about love, and friendship, and the moments we choose to share with those dear to us. I put the song that’s stuck in my head at the top of my playlist and hit “play”; it’s time to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, breathe, Free Will, gardening, gratitude, Healthy Living, inspiration, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Moments, Perspective, Practices, Roses, Sleepless Nights, Spring, The Art of Being, turning 60

Reflections

March 17, 2024 //
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I’m relaxing after my morning walk on a nearer more local trail. I slept in this morning, and slipped out of the house after daybreak, leaving my Traveling Partner to sleep awhile longer. I’ve got a plan to make waffles later, and for now these quiet moments of morning watching the sunrise become a new day are mine to enjoy alone.

A new day, a new beginning.

I am sitting on one of the picnic tables that sit along this stretch of the trail, watching small birds and reflecting on past and current commitments to myself, and my successes and failures over the years. I consider progress I’ve made over time, and how different “a good life” looks to me at 60, compared to 14, 23, 30, or 45… My thinking and my understanding of what I want in life has changed quite a lot over time. Certainly, at 14 I had no idea how much pure effort is involved in “living well”, let alone how I would come to define that after I had experienced some living.

I still find myself yearning for “easy”, far more than I ever yearn(ed) for recognition or fortune, and it amuses and humbles me to finally find myself having to acknowledge that, like a lot of life’s sweet treats, “ease” is best taken in moderation. The more of it I have, the more often I indulge, the more likely I may also find myself struggling later on to maintain my wellness or health in some other area of life. There’s a balance to be struck.

I sit feeling the effects of physical exertion. Feeling the rising sun on my face. Breathing the cool morning air. A small bird stops on the table, very near to me. I hold quite still to avoid startling her into flight. She looks me over and picks at unseen crumbs while I wonder how hard birds must work just to survive. I think I must have it relatively easy, by comparison. Useful perspective.

I’ve been working towards increasing the amount of effort I put in day-to-day, without exhausting myself or breaking down this fragile vessel. This isn’t new; I’ve “been here before”. I’m hoping to improve my fitness and my wellness, generally. I’d like to be around a good long time more… In spite of the chaos of the world, my own wee slice of suburban paradise is rather nice, and I enjoy life and love and time spent with my Traveling Partner and my friends. I’m not interested in “going out with a bang”, nor do I want to quietly fade away. I want most to live well, and live simply, and enjoy the life I live for all the days I can. Recent reminders that we are mortal creatures are less depressing than they are simply a reminder that the clock is always ticking.

… I wonder what the future holds, as I take off my hiking boots and put my sneakers back on. I think about the garden and wonder if I would do well to pick up a watering can for watering the seedlings in the veggie bed. These questions strangely seem to have similar significance and magnitude for me on this relaxed Sunday morning. I suppress a laugh and the little bird flies away.

… I remember that I’ve planned to drain and clean and refill the hot tub today and wonder if I actually will… Have I got it in me? Should I give myself a break and do it next weekend?

I take a breath and exhale with a sigh and a smile, and prepare to walk back to the car, wondering if I have everything I need to make waffles…? I know I have what I need to find satisfaction, joy, and contentment in my life. There are verbs involved…

… And it’s time to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, Brain Injury, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, gardening, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, inspiration, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, Spring, The Art of Being, turning 60, weight loss secrets

Being and Yearning

March 8, 2024 //
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As I came around the last bend in the road before I reached the city, the sunrise greeted me with a messy smudge of coral and orange, like badly applied lipstick. I so earnestly wished to make a right turn and chase that sunrise to wherever the day might take me…

The yearning hit me hard. I don’t find myself wanting to chase things like a bigger house, a more exotic car, Birkin bags, or Louboutin shoes. Sufficiency is generally quite enough for me, and I’m content with the occasional excesses of more modest scale, like garden seeds, or art supplies, or a new keyboard…but… I sometimes find myself faced with a very peculiar moment of yearning and discontent that is very much part of “who I am” (and has been for as much of my life as I can recall)… I sometimes earnestly and deeply want to be free of everything that defines my life – however it is presently defined. As though the constraints of habit and routine, and requirements and expectations, just get to be too much, and something within me spills out and I just want to… go. Somewhere. Somewhere else than wherever I am. I want to “chase that sunrise”. I want to sleep in and when I wake wander to some previously unvisited delightful breakfast spot and linger into the day over my coffee. I want to wander a beach or a forest trail, listening to the birds and the breezes. I want to be… untethered. I doubt this experience is unique to me, and it seems generally very human.

This morning, once my commute carried me to the city, and the car was parked in the usual place, and I frowned at the thermostat in the office on my way past it, as I often do, and made a cup of coffee (that has already gone cold), I sat down and did the payday stuff and the budgeting, like a proper grownup. No tears or terror, no stress, just regular adult shit that has to get done regardless of how lovely the sunrise may be. I’m okay with it. I don’t really need to drop everything and escape my existence, I’ve got a pretty comfortable life that I enjoy very much, and I’m fortunate to share it with a partner I love deeply, and who loves me back so wonderfully. Life is pretty good right now. I’m not objecting to that, or craving change – just acknowledging my restless nature, and maybe wishing it were already “camping season” (too chilly yet for me, personally). lol Funny creatures, human primates – give them everything they want and need in life, and still they find their way to discontentedness, wanting either more, or less. LOL

I sip my tepid coffee, unbothered by any detail of the morning, thus far. I’m okay. I breathe. Exhale. Relax. (Mutter something cranky about the broken heat in this office.) I stretch, and check my calendar. Set up my work day. Email the budget details to my Traveling Partner. There’s no particular stress to the day, so far. Hell, I’m not even in much pain; it seems very manageable so far. The sun continues to rise, and the buildings beyond the office reflect the golden glow and hints of orange and pink. Beautiful. I take a minute to enjoy it, before I sit down to write a few words.

It’s a Friday. I find myself missing my Traveling Partner greatly this morning, and wishing perhaps that I’d worked from home, but we’d discussed that yesterday evening, and he expressed a desire to make the day a quiet one, healing and resting, and to support that endeavor, I committed to the commute and the day in the office. Maybe a short one? I’d love to get the weekend started and get out in the garden again, or try a trail I’ve never walked before, or just… drive somewhere far. lol That restless nature nagging at me in the background almost makes me giggle – I’d be satisfied to spend the day in my studio, on an artistic journey, and as that thought crosses my mind, I realize that this is what I’m yearning for – some creative time in my own head, whether writing, or painting, or in the garden. Well, the weekend is here, and that’s easily done. I just have to begin again. 😀

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Categories Allegories, art and the artist, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gardening, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, inspiration, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Roses, solo hiking, Spring, The Art of Being, turning 60, weight loss secrets, winter

Feeling Hopeful

February 15, 2024 //
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The commute was ridiculously easy this morning. Very little traffic, and it seemed that every driver was alert, and driving safely. It was… amazing. My Traveling Partner is continuing to recover from his injury, and although there is more recovery yet to come, it seems he’s making good progress. This contributes a lot to my pleasant morning, this morning; it’s comfortingly encouraging. I got a good night’s sleep, and no doubt this is also contributing to my outlook on things as the morning unfolds. I’m grateful for the sleep, and the mood I’m in. My appointment, yesterday afternoon, with a new specialist, went very well. I felt heard. I felt supported. What is most unexpected for me, is that I walked away from that appointment feeling… hopeful. Encouraged. Positive. I feel as if real (physical) healing is not only possible, but also within reach. I haven’t felt that way in a long time.

I sip my cup of ice water (I’ve already had my coffee), and look out at the city, still wrapped in darkness. Hope feels good.

I remind myself to take care not to set myself up for failure by becoming invested in some particular outcome (whether it seems within reach or not). I take a deep breathe and exhale. I do it again. Then again. I feel the calm settle over my body. I’m in some pain today, but my headache does feel somewhat reduced in intensity. Placebo effect from simply being listened to and cared for? Perhaps – but why would I undermine this feeling, even if that were the case? Less pain is less pain. I take a moment to appreciate it. Another breath. Another exhalation. Another moment to relax, to reflect – to begin again.

Later today it’s off to an imaging appointment. More images will ideally mean more – or at least more recent – information about whatever is going wrong with my neck that could be causing (or at least contributing to) my persist headache. I feel cynicism, learned helplessness, and old medical trauma competing with the sensation of hopefulness. I breathe, exhale, relax – and remind myself that it’s okay to unpack some of that baggage, and let it go. I remind myself not to carry past pain into future experiences – often easier said than done, but it’s helpful to put into to words to be more aware of the possibility.

I sip my water. The morning will unfold, as mornings do, and the day will become whatever the day will be. It’s not at all necessary to control everything (it’s not even possible). I prepare to “ride the wave” of whatever the day will bring. I get ready to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, Anxiety, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, The Art of Being, turning 60, winter
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