This bit of downtime is giving me quite a lot to reflect on. I’ve caught myself chuckling over that more than once, since I got here with plenty upon which to reflect, as it was.
It’s been a lovely day.
I slept badly last night, restless and wakeful, dreaming that I was awake even when I did manage to sleep. I was cold for a long while, in spite of a warm sleeping bag, blankets, and layers. I was too tired to do anything much about the sensation (and I was pretty sure it was mostly in my head). I lay awake, often, thinking about other cold nights in tents. lol Fucking dumb, and pointless. Definitely not helpful.
I finally managed a deep restful sleep after the Party People at the site next to mine stopped drinking and fucking, sometime around midnight. I knew what I could expect when they rolled in: two cars, two couples, one tent and a cooler, no gear, and three shopping bags of grab-n-go snacks, and many six packs of hard cider. lol Based on the coughing and giggling, they were probably also getting high af. Don’t misunderstand me, here, I’m not criticizing the choice to spend a night outside partying with friends. I just found the lack of preparedness for a basic outdoor experience a little funny. And also… they were keeping me awake. lol
…I pause to put more wood on my camp fire…
So many lessons to be learned in one mortal lifetime. I wonder if I will ever get through them all? What does a passing grade look like on life’s final exam? What would it mean to be the best student “in the class”?
I watch the fire crackling away, feeling the heat of the fire and the chill of the evening depending on which way the wind is blowing. There’s a metaphor there, and something deeper to understand. I sit with my thoughts awhile.
The edge of the Oregon dunes.
My morning coffee was so good, warming and welcoming, I made three cups before I hit the trail for my morning hike along the lake, to the edge of the dunes. The views were splendid. I am camping in time to see the wild rhododendrons in bloom! I hadn’t expected that. Delightful.
Wild rhododendrons
I’ve pushed myself so hard getting prepared, packed, and getting set up once I got here, I ended up taking it pretty easy today. One mile and a half walk along an easy trail at a very relaxed pace, taking pictures of flowers, and the rest of the day mostly meditation. I got a bit of the rest I needed in the quiet hours between check-out time and check-in time, napping while the sun warmed the tent. It was wonderful and felt quite luxurious.
I took time to prepare for the rain the forecast says is likely tomorrow… Maybe we’ll get another solar storm and some warmer days instead? (Wishful thinking.)
I sit quietly. Contented, if a bit chilly. I think about adding a sweater and base layers, and making a cup of tea… the journey is the destination – and I’m here, now.
I woke with allergy symptoms this morning. Sinus headache, stuffy nose, that sort of thing. I think I almost managed to leave the house for my walk without waking my Traveling Partner… then realized I left my purse in another room and had to trek back down the hallway, past the bedroom door. Did that wake him? I tried to be quite quiet…
…Then, as I was putting on my shoes to leave, I knocked over my cane which hit the floor with a loud “bang!”. Why the hell had I left it there?? Super annoying. I sat still, listening… did I end up waking my partner after all? No obvious way to tell. I head out.
Weird morning. Traffic was surprisingly heavy for Sunday before dawn. It was fine though and the drive was routine. I even remembered to get gas before I left town (good thing I did, gas tank was almost empty).
So… a new day begins.
A rather gray sunrise.
Daybreak came and went. Sunrise, too. It’s a gray morning and looks like rain, maybe. I head down the trail lost in my thoughts, just walking and thinking and doing my best impression of not being in pain. It’s not a great day as far as this physical experience goes. I’ve already taken an Rx pain reliever, and OTC allergy medication, on top of my regular medications. Fucking hell, aging sucks sometimes.
Yesterday I planted the rose “Bolero“. I think I’ve probably planted as many roses as my garden can hold, now, and this one is a fitting final addition to a garden themed on love and memory. Last year (has it already been so long?) I had an interesting experience with my Traveling Partner and the piece of music “Bolero“, which now holds a deeply sentimental place in my heart. I walked enjoying the recollection and a feeling of deep and enduring love and connection for a moment. I listened to the birds and smelled the fresh Spring air, scented with flowers.
I’ve stopped for a few minutes along the trail. I have it to myself again this morning, which is lovely. I take time to meditate, then to write. I look at the sky overhead. Definitely stormy. I remember the unfinished laundry, before my mind wanders to the very good dinner I cooked last night. My thoughts skip around like the little brown bird near my feet, as I sit on this bench catching my breath and enjoy the moment.
Today will be my second shot of the Ozempic. No idea yet if it’s “working”, at least not based on test results or some clinical evaluation. Anecdotally, based on my subjective experience, I seem to be getting some benefit from it, and some of the changes are subtle and difficult to describe. It’ll be interesting to see lab results for things like my A1c, and my blood pressure over time. I don’t yet have words for some of the subtle changes to my thinking or emotional experience but those exist, too. Weight loss? I expect to see some results, but I am not “chasing” that outcome with my whole attention in an unhealthy way. I am more focused on my overall wellness, on eating nutritious, calorie-appropriate meals and getting enough exercise to make gains in fitness. This seems like a better approach for me than spending my time focused on numbers on a scale. (I am way more interested in how my clothes fit and the eager look in my Traveling Partner’s eyes.) So far, no obvious undesirable side effects.
I breathe, exhale, and relax. Beautiful morning, in spite of pain and allergies. I glance back down the trail the way I came. Another hiker approaches in the distance; my reminder that this lovely place is not my own. It’s time to wrap this up and begin again.
We’re more divided than ever. More diverse in the specificity of our intersecting identities. More willing than ever to set boundaries and make it a fight. We do more out grouping, in spite of being more aware that out grouping is a thing – and that it causes harm. We’re very inefficient creatures as far as making social progress that benefits us all, are we not?
So… What do you really stand for? Whose side are you really on? In life? In love? When you “take a side”, are your eyes on a shared win for humanity – or are you hoping to “win an argument”, based on individual values, special interests, or some particular selected weird bit of dogma that you’ve become fixated on, or perhaps adopted when you were so young you mistake it for “natural law”? I mean, we’re all human, our biases are very real, and our cognition has legitimate limitations and… quirks. We aren’t even all reliably decent people (still people, though). It’s not just about global conflict – it gets right down to individual relationships. We’re human.
…What do human beings mean when we say “equal”, or “fair”, or “morally right”? How do we define the value of a human life – and what does it take for any one of us to turn on another human being and decide that their life lacks value? I don’t have answers to any of these questions, aside from my own answers that I trust with a certain amount of skepticism (being wholly aware how human I am, and how prone to error). I do think these are questions we should be asking, and discussing in an honest and vulnerable way, open to changing our thinking for the betterment of human kind. For the betterment of the planet, and of life itself. Yeah, and as individuals, too.
I was reading an article recently, about healthy relationships (I have to work at mine, in spite of our deep love for each other; love doesn’t come naturally to me, I think). The article identifies some things that I hadn’t thought about in quite the way they suggest – I won’t break it all down, because you’ll no doubt have your own thoughts, but these things seem worth considering necessary in a healthy relationship – and I suspect this applies to how we relate to “people” more broadly, too:
You’re actively interested in each other’s lives.
You’re aware of your “attachment style” – and what other attachment styles exist, and how those function – and you’re working to develop a healthier attachment style, yourself.
You don’t avoid conflict, but you don’t “fight” – you work as a team to solve problems, and achieve suitable compromise when necessary.
When you address conflict, you’re open to discussing, facing, and resolving big fears and issues, not just small ones.
You support each other without scorekeeping.
You have your own identity and understand that other’s do, too.
You create emotional safe space for each other and hold space for growth and change over time.
Incomplete work-in-progress. “Toxicity”, 11″x14″ acrylic mixed-media on canvas
Hmm. I sit with my afternoon tea and a half-finished painting in progress (a mixed-media trauma portrait), long overdue to be completed. It’s been holding me back now for… almost 8 years. Has it been so long? Wow. Too long to let pain fester. She smirks back me as I work, but her gaze is less commanding as I work out my hurt, my anger, my aggression, my doubt, my sorrow… a brush stroke here, a small bit of story-telling debris inserted into gel medium over there, another touch of glow… I smile to myself. This feels good. I don’t have words for this – but I have paint and canvas, and time to begin again.
I sip my tea and reflect. I watch the paint dry and consider the next step – like spell-casting or prayer, this is heart-felt work, and my heart feels it. I feel heard. I feel inspired.
…I’m out of small canvases. LOL
I think about my most important relationships over the years, and how I fit into those. Where I got something right. Where I clearly got it wrong. Where my nature and my character put things right… where they contributed to how wrong things were. Where wanting things to be “easy” made it so much harder to build a healthy relationship. Where my chaos and damage broke things down. Where it wasn’t that at all, but I still got it so very wrong. It’s a lot to take in, but… isn’t love worth the work?
I don’t need to take sides, I’m not arguing. I sip my tea, breathe, and begin again.
I was walking a dark trail before dawn on a foggy misty morning and came upon a solitary woman, also walking. As she approached me in the mist, I recognized her stride and her visage; she appeared to me to be some timeless other version of myself. She walked easily, neither young nor aged. Her steps were as confident as if it were fully daylight, relaxed and easy. She wore faded denim jeans that fit her well , and a knee length wool coat which she wore open, over a white cotton blouse. She wasn’t lean or heavyset, but wore womanly curves over muscle I knew must be there; she radiated strength. In fact, she had a subtle glow, as if illuminated from within.
As we approached each other on the path she looked me over. No laugh lines defined her expression, no frown lines distorted her gaze. She had a certain eternal seeming calm, marred by a slightly world-weary smile, barely hinted at, and a tired look in her eyes. She halted her progress and took an easy seat on a fence rail as I neared her, watching me.
As I drew closer, I realized she was carrying a thermos of something steaming hot, though I hadn’t seen it in her hand before. She nodded at me and extended the other hand in my direction; a paper coffee cup. “Coffee?” She asked in a voice very much familiar to me. I accepted the offer silently. It didn’t seem the time to speak.
We sat side by side on the fence rail in the predawn mist. She set down the thermos, or so I figured must have been the case, and began picking out a poignant tune on a guitar I hadn’t noticed her carrying. “Destination”, I said. “You know it?”, she asked without looking up. “The Church”, I replied, “1988?” I wondered out loud. She smiled back and played on, humming softly as if trying to remember something. “… It’s not a religion, it’s just a technique…” she sang, softly, looking into my eyes. She played on, as we sat waiting for the dawn.
The song, and my memories, unfolded as the sky began to lighten ever so slightly. Shapes in the mist began to be more defined. “It’s like the theme from Mahogany, isn’t it?” she asked with a smile, “an important question wants an answer.” I turned to answer her…
In the pale gray mist of dawn, I sat alone on a fence rail, chilly fingers jammed into the pockets of my faded denim jeans. The world was silent around me. I listened to the music in my head and slow tears slid down my face.
I woke from a sound sleep and my strange dream when the room brightened with my silent alarm. It was morning. Not yet dawn. I dressed and headed out for a walk on a misty foggy morning, without a clear destination, alone with my thoughts. .
I’m sipping my coffee and contemplating the weekend rather happily. I learned a new skill (making scented “shower steamers“, a fun DIY project for a weekend) and improved my cognitive health (so the science says) and also my quality of life.
My Traveling Partner gave me a very nice gift of shower steamers over the winter holidays. I’d never tried them before and I was completely delighted. I quickly used them up. He bought me more. I used those up pretty quickly, too. I could see where this was going, and it was going to get expensive (and potentially annoying; I could already anticipate being unable to find the scents I enjoy most when I wanted them).
Small luxuries, shower steamers rarely go for less than $1 each (and you “get what you pay for” when it comes to items that are scented, sadly) and easily as much as $8 each for fancy ones from specialty boutiques. They seem to average about $2 each online…but they’re also pretty easy to just make. I found lots of video tutorials on YouTube, and some good DIY content on various websites. I already had most of the equipment I’d need, and some of the ingredients!
My first batch – lavender.
This all sounded like a tremendous opportunity to learn something new… so… I did that. 😀 Making them at home ends up much cheaper, and I get much more freedom of selection with regard to the scents! I enjoyed the process, and learned that – like a lot of things that “look easy enough” – there’s more to be learned that often isn’t stated in a description of the process. My first batch were very irregular in size. (I later weighed the one I thought looked “the right size” and began weighing the mixture before putting it into the mold.) The potency of the fragrance wasn’t quite as strong as I’d have liked; scents vary in strength (and often by brand), and there’s a bit of testing and experimentation required to get that detail “just right”. The second batch was cucumber-melon, and turned out beautifully.
Cucumber melon shower steamers. Yum!
I guess I’m saying it was a weekend well-spent. There was so much going on! In the shop, my Traveling Partner was also learning; the resin printer he added to the shop equipment was ready to use, and he’d begun making test prints. He also printed a cute set of Barbie dishes for me (I’m looking forward to painting them)! Later, after a discussion of the shower steamers, and what I’d learned so far, I made a point of saying that while I enjoyed the manual process just fine, I was less than thrilled with the results of using the moon cake press to make them; the very fancy designs are super cute, but a bit fiddly to get them to turn out well. I mentioned that I’d be content with a clean unadorned puck of some kind, or a cube, and wondered out loud if I should be thinking about getting a “proper press” and machined molds or dies for this project? We ended up at his computer together, drinking coffee and designing a resin-printed hand press that would produce a simply round puck (wow!) and then another that would produce a cube shape (with beveled corners so it would release from the mold most easily).
…My partner regularly blows my mind with all the many things he can do…
It’s fun doing these kinds of projects with my partner. 😀
Here’s the extra cool thing about this one; the shower steamers help me “put down some baggage”. I have shower-associated trauma that makes it super difficult to want to get into a shower. When my mental health is at its worst, this can result in poor self-care and degraded hygiene, and when my mental health is well-managed, I still find myself having to “drag myself” into the shower most days, with quite a bit of reluctance. These shower steamers completely change that; I’m not just willing to shower daily… I’m enticed. I’m eager. I’m looking forward to the next shower. LOL Win.
…What scent shall I make the next batch becomes the bigger question… followed by a cascade of little ones: sourcing the best supplies for the making of shower steamers. Which fragrances are the best value? Which smell the best in the shower? Which last longest and store well? How will I store them? Display them? Make them easy to reach when it is time to hop in the shower? I smile and finish my coffee. These are all very pleasant questions.
Day breaks beyond the window. I haven’t been sleeping well, but this morning I’m not thinking much about that, and I feel merry after spending a few minutes thinking about the weekend making shower steamers and hanging out with my Traveling Partner. I didn’t get everything done I’d planned to… there’s a package yet to drop off at UPS that I forgot about, and the freshly laundered towels did not get folded and put away. lol We probably ate too much fast food. But… I was where I wanted to be (at home) hanging out with this human being who I adore (my Traveling Partner). Hard to bitch about that.
Aging is its own thing, though, and the weekend was also fraught with those challenges. I was in a lot of pain pretty much all weekend, on top of the poor sleep. My Traveling Partner was also sleeping very badly. We were cross with each other over that, and some small dumb stuff, too. I felt my years. I was moving slower, and I felt stiff. My blood pressure was a bit higher than I’d like. I’ve begun to feel as if my life is counted off in Rx pills for this-n-that, instead of minutes or hours. lol I’m not saying it’s worse than some other person’s circumstances; I don’t have it that bad. I’m just beefing about approaching 60, because from the inside of my perspective… I sure don’t feel 60, but g’damn my body sure feels every minute of those years. LOL
I sigh out loud in the quiet of this mostly empty room, and look at the time. It’s already time to begin again… 🙂
Evening Light 