I woke early, confused about what day it is, remnants of troubled dreams clinging to my waking consciousness. I wasn’t even certain whether it was a work day, and if it were, where I’d intended to be working. I slowly sorted things out as I dressed, and headed to the trail in the predawn darkness. I took (and used) my headlamp for the first time in many weeks. The season is changing. The clock is ticking. The wheel is turning.
Another day, another mile.
The dawn came while I walked, hazy, pearly pink, and mild. The forecast says cooler today, although it is summer and still expected to be hot. The arthritis in my spine tells me (by way of the amount of pain I’m in) that cooler days and probably some rain are imminent. In spite of the pain, I’m looking forward to the rain.
I stop frequently, just leaning on my cane today. “Walk!” I snarl at myself silently. I walk on. Pain pulls me down, emotionally, and tends to make everything a bit of a struggle. Be kind to the people you know who endure chronic pain – trust me they don’t need more bullshit or drama. lol Those frail elders slowly making their way, maybe “slowing you down”? That’ll be you one day, so maybe don’t be an impatient dick about it, okay? (I used to be so frustrated by slower elders out and about doing their own thing, now I admire their endurance and see that as something to aspire to.)
Another step on the path, another breath, I walk on, watching the sunrise reach distant hills on the horizon.
My thoughts are still filled with remnants of unsolved questions and concerns of the past, all tangled up with existential dread, stale grief, and memories of other times. Occasional tears fill my eyes, but I’m not really sure why I am feeling so… What even is this feeling? Blue? Displaced? Some peculiar blend of sorrows, regret, and nostalgia that resists my attempt to name it. I’m annoyed by that more than I am troubled by the emotion. I sigh quietly, still walking.
I breathe, exhale, and relax. I think of my Traveling Partner at home, probably still sleeping. I’m grateful for his love and steady presence in my life. I think about the life we share. I’m grateful for that too, and feel fortunate to be where we are. My anxiety suddenly flares up, and I am momentarily overwhelmed by “what if” scenarios and self-doubt. Another breath, and I exhale, letting that go. It’s not a good practice to be consumed with worries about things that are not happening. I keep walking, until I get back to the car.
I sigh to myself as I change back from boots to soft shoes, and toss my cane into the passenger seat. My mind is still full of chaos, and I feel like I’m dragging around a lot of baggage and slowed down by ancient pain… but it’s a new day, and a new chance to begin again. Time to get started on that…
I got my walk in this morning, around the neighborhood where the office is located. It’s a pretty middleclass neighborhood, with few sidewalks and lots of lovely landscaping. The summer air was still and smelled of flowers, exotic and vaguely tropical. Very summery. The sun was up and the morning beginning to hint at the heat of the day to come by the time I got back to the office.
…The entire time I was walking, I had a favorite “big beat” track in my head, Fatboy Slim’s “Weapon of Choice“…
It was less about the music, this morning, than the words. I kept turning the phrase over in my head, “weapon of choice”… I’d always heard that as meaning “preferred choice of weapon”. This morning it hit me that it also means… choice, as a weapon (or tool). Huh. Words are fun.
We have a ton of choices in life. The menu of the Strange Diner is – in a practical sense – almost unlimited. (Limits we observe are often self-imposed.) Choice is an important tool in our toolbox, whoever we are, regardless of our circumstances. Volumes are written about choice and choosing and how to make choices. What are you choosing? Are your choices taking you where you want to go? Do they make you more the person you most want to be? Are you trapping yourself with foolish choices? Do the choices you choose to make tend to make the world a better place, generally, or… not? I don’t need the answers to these questions (from you) – but maybe you do? (I know what my own answers are, and I ask myself these questions often.)
…Are you even making your own choices, yourself, or are you following some talking head on the internet, or an app, or an “AI”? Are you aware that it matters?…
I sip my coffee thoughtfully. I think my thoughts, grateful for another day to make choices and to practice practices. Grateful that I was finally able to get my Ozempic refilled, and my “sense of things” feels quite ordinary once again; I’ve clearly grown used to the changes it makes in my headspace (the increased impulse control demonstrably extends even to my ability to manage my temper, as it turns out). I breathe, exhale, and relax, feeling filled with contentment and a certain feeling of internal comfort that only seems to come from feeling very “at home in my own skin”. No anxiety, and for the moment no physical pain (which is a pleasant change). No headache. No allergies. Just a pleasant summer morning and a good cup of iced coffee, and this lovely quiet moment that is all mine.
…I am momentarily distracted by the awareness that a lot of my life is captured in words: emails, fragments of unfinished manuscripts, a rare bit of surviving journaling here or there, letters written in the days of snail mail as the only option, and this blog. I find myself wondering if I should be giving thought to preserving any portion of that (the internet may not actually be “forever”, considering current world events, generally)…
I sigh to myself, and my thoughts move on. Who am I? Who was I “then“? What relationship does she have to me, now? Memory is a thin thread that connects our past selves with our present self, and a bit unreliable at times. Does it even matter? Strange thoughts on an ordinary summer workday morning. There’s value in self-reflection, though, and asking the worthy questions is worthwhile whether I answer them or not. They demonstrate thoughtful curiosity and a regard for the unknown. They light the path ahead in some way I can’t easily describe or explain. They hint at what I don’t know, even about myself. Hell, sometimes they stave off the existential dread and doubt that sometimes accompanies awareness of how precious and limited this mortal lifetime is. I hear that metaphorical clock ticking.
The weekend is coming. What will I do with it? I’ve got a camping trip planned for a couple weeks from now. What will I do with that? I’ve got choices. So do you. What will you choose?
Every choice is a new beginning – even if you choose to stand still and do nothing.
One day I will not wake to begin again… It’s how mortality works. There is much to savor in each waking moment, and less to struggle with than I sometimes choose.
People can be so matter-of-fact about their opinions. We treat them as facts. We get so spun up over differences between our own opinion and the opinion of others, we forget that relationships and people matter more. Many of us express opinions – strongly – for which we have limited actual knowledge or data with which to support some opinion that is often little better than a sound-bite we snatched from a social media feed, and become pushy when people we value disagree, in spite of our lack of any actual knowledge. It’s messy. Humans are complicated, and we regularly over-simplify what is happening around us, seeking to reduce every discussion to a very basic either/or dilemma, instead of embracing uncertainty and nuance and approaching the world with curiosity – and compassion.
Why am I on about this, this morning? Because the media and big corporate advertisers and our own elected officials are constantly trying to manipulate our opinions, not to get at “the truth”, but primarily for profit. Are you being bamboozled by bullshit? I saw a headline in my feed this morning that read “we asked 5 chefs what their favorite vanilla ice cream is, and they all said this” and laughed out loud. In what way is a sample size of 5at all significant? It isn’t. That wasn’t news – it was barely sponsored content (and almost certainly AI generated) – it’s just an unoriginal narrative intended to sell a particular brand of ice cream, nothing more. Five people think it’s the best vanilla ice cream? Out of how many people who eat ice cream? Insignificant. This isn’t even the most ridiculous example of the mockery of truth on display for everyone to see (and potentially be mislead by).
If you want to see an example of massive manipulation of public opinion, I suggest the ongoing saga of the crimes of Jeffrey Epstein, which more and more looks (to me) like a very direct actual no-foolin’ cover-up of possible past crimes of our current president. No kidding – why else would he fight so very hard to redirect our attention? Ghislaine Maxwell went to prison for 20 years for “enticement of minors and sex trafficking of underage girls” – for Jeffrey Epstein and his friends. Doesn’t look like anyone but Ghislaine is going to see a conviction for their part in the crimes against Epstein’s victims. I promise you, he wasn’t the only person abusing those girls – there are too many photos of too many parties, and too many people, and too many stories. Trump himself is in too many pictures with Epstein, friendly, partying, laughing together, for him to be immune from scrutiny. They had history together socially. So. Here we all are, being lied to and mislead. (My opinion.)What are you going to do about it? Anything at all? Or is it just easier to allow the rapist-in-chief to redirect your attention?
Hollyhocks blooming. This is not an opinion.
I sip my coffee and let it go. People are what they are. We excuse and justify the bad acts of people we favor, but seek to harshly penalize anyone we “other” and look on with disdain. I don’t get how rapists get a pass, but immigrants willing to work hard seeking a better life for their families are criminalized. It’s a very peculiar thing, in my opinion. Our justice system and our government are broken and we don’t seem competent to fix them. Hell, we can’t even take care of the planet we live on, or our own sick or poor or elderly. We’re too busy chasing some illusion of happiness and scapegoating anyone we think may be in our way, while we disagree over who deserves what amount of pay for what sorts of labor and pretending that billionaires “earned” what they have.
I breath, exhale, and relax, and let it go – again. I’ve got my opinions. Clearly. You’ve got yours. That’s a certainty. Maybe humanity will eventually figure this shit out – or go extinct, another failed species, too stupid to survive. Wow. That sounds grim. I look out the window at the clear blue summer sky and sigh. I’m human, too. I’ve got my opinions, some of them suck and are wildly ill-informed, others demonstrate my potential as a human being in a more positive way. Sharing them is mostly pretty fucking pointless; most of humanity is standing around waiting to talk – or to be told what their opinion is by someone they assume knows more than they do, themselves. I’m not even in a bad mood this morning… I’m just annoyed by a headline that suggests a sample size of 5 matters at all, and I’m disappointed by the painful awareness that many people won’t even give that a second thought; they’ll just go buy the ice cream.
Potted geranium blooming. Also not an opinion.
My coffee is pleasant, well-made, icy. I slept well and deeply and woke feeling rested. Hell, I’m not in any pain right at the moment, none at all – not even my almost-ever-present headache! I take a moment to be present in this moment, aware of my lack of pain, savoring this experience long enough to really enjoy it. I don’t doubt it will pass, at some point, that’s the way moments work – but here, now, in this moment? I feel pretty good. It’s a lovely day. There are no bombs dropping here. No annoying voices in the background. The workday ahead looks routine and the work in front of me manageable. The bills are paid. The pantry is stocked. I’ve got a full tank of gas. I’ve got a Traveling Partner who loves me dearly and does a lot to make feel feel appreciated and wrapped in this enduring love we share. He makes all sorts of little things to delight me and make life better. I’ve got a nice little house. My stepson does everything he knows how to do, most days, to be helpful, to deepen his emotional intelligence, and to improve his “life skills” such that he’s a valued family member in our household – no small thing. My commute was pleasant and easy, in spite of there being much more traffic (due to timing). The office AC is working efficiently.
It is a better experience to appreciate the view than to be angry about the traffic.
There’s much to be grateful for, and I sit with those thoughts awhile. It’s unhealthy to stew in aggravation, bitterness, disappointment, and vexation with “humanity” – and it is a corrosive practice, generally, that never got me anywhere good. We become what we practice. Practice bitterness and cynicism, and life becomes characterized by the terrible things going on in the world, chronically disappointing, and we lose hope. Practice gratitude – authentically – and we become appreciative of the good things in our lives, and more easily able to be resilient in the face of terrible times, and potentially more able to find solutions, because we are clear-headed, and grounded in the things we know work. Or something. It works for me. I share these thoughts with you, because maybe you’ll find value here (for some values of “value”)… or be inspired to do more/better, or simply to begin again and make some small change for the better in your life. I smile to myself at the thought; these are my experiences, and also my opinions. Maybe they’re worth something, maybe they aren’t. I don’t even know that it matters to anyone but me…but I can hope.
I glance at the time. The clock is ticking. Are you ready to begin again? I am.
I get so much peace and clarity out on the trail. Any trail, really, whether new or familiar, it’s more about the walking, the seeing, and the thinking. Moments spent on self-reflection and contemplation are precious and often useful for finding (or creating) depth and breadth in my perspective.
… I keep walking…
A clear blue summer sky.
The tangerine sunrise gave the morning a lovely golden color, and as I drove to the trailhead I watched it develop, stretching over the horizon. The sun took me by surprise, briefly blinding me, seeming to pop up from behind distant hills without warning, a fiery orange. I arrived at the nature park, surprised by the dense mist clinging in the low places; it didn’t seem to have gotten cool enough for that, but there it was.
I walked with my thoughts until I reached a pleasant spot to linger, watching the Tualatin River flowing by. I don’t generally stop at this viewpoint, it’s often “crowded” (for some values of crowded, it’s a popular spot). I’ve got it to myself this morning, and I’m grateful for the shaded little bench. Comfortable. Protected from the heat of the day that hasn’t yet arrived. I remind myself not to linger too long – I plan to make banana bread before it gets too hot to have the oven on.
The world is a mess right now. People with power or vast sums of money are pretty commonly quite terrible and working aggressively to increase their power, clout, standing, or hoarded wealth as quickly as they can pry resources away from people who already have too little. Grim. America keeping immigrants and refugees in cages. Israel planning concentration camps for Palestinians who have (so far) survived genocide. Russia willing to slaughter every Ukrainian to the last standing in order to expand their real estate holdings. Chaos and bloodshed everywhere, and every single time there is some profit making endeavor involved. It’s grotesque. We could do so much better as human beings.
… I think about small ways I can do better, myself, to be the person I most want to be…
Who are you? Where does your path lead? Are you living a life that requires a ton of excuse making and rationalization? Are you defiant when someone knows more than you do? Are you smug when they know less? Are you kind, pleasant, and approachable? Are you building bridges or destroying them? Are you even paying enough attention in your own life to know who you are and why? These are questions worth answering – or at least asking and giving some thought to. You tell the world what your values are with your actions, wouldn’t it be wise to have some understanding of what you may be saying?
Are you being an unpleasant dick because you can’t be bothered to take a moment for human decency and basic consideration? (You’re not alone, if you are, but it’s a choice with consequences, and also likely to degrade the quality of your relationships.)
What are you doing to become the person you most want to be? Who is that? Have you figured that out?
The future is unwritten.
The sunshine of a new day stretches across the meadow. I look down the path ahead of me and consider the steps along this path. The journey won’t make itself. I have choices. My results will vary – but it’s my journey, my path, and my choices. Every step and every moment is a chance to begin again and to do better. I breathe, exhale, and relax. It’s time to walk on. Time to begin again. I smile to myself and tell the woman in the mirror to go take a hike. The clock is ticking.
I missed a day of writing, yesterday. I think. Did I? I did.
Yesterday’s sunrise
I went walking on a familiar local path, yesterday, enjoying the mild summer air, thoughts on other things, and returned home to work. The work day was busy, routine, and relaxed. When I finished with work, I played a video game for a little while, enjoying that with undivided attention; the Anxious Adventurer would make dinner, as is the practice on Tuesdays. A pleasant day that passed quickly without much to say. It was a good day.
This morning I slept a little later, and hit the trail at a similar time, noticing that already the sunrise comes a little later and the days are a little shorter, as is the way with changing seasons.
A new day
As I walk, I realize I don’t recall the details of the sunrise, this morning, though I am certain I saw it. I chuckle to myself. It’s not as if my mind is on weighty matters this morning, I’m just walking and thinking, and listening to birdcalls. The weeds along the edge of the meadow are quite tall in spots left unmown. They are peculiarly dry and brown in places where herbicides have been applied, near the edge of the vineyard.
I get to a convenient picnic table, not quite halfway, and I sit down to write, which is when I notice that I didn’t write yesterday. It’s fine. It’s not like I write because I am required to do so. It’s reasonable to skip it when I’ve nothing to say, or, as was the case yesterday, I’m simply too caught up in living life, present in the moment.
I’m trying to avoid looking at the news. It’s a shit show of human cruelty, these days, and I just don’t need the stress and anxiety that comes with being immersed in endless repetitions of the same reports of people being horrible to each other, and the wealthy and powerful continuing to profit from the misery created by the current administration. It’s all pretty grotesque and I just don’t need to fill my awareness with that crap in every moment. So… I don’t.
A small squirrel approaches me hesitantly as I sit, still and quiet, meditating. It approaches close enough to place a tiny unfelt hand on my pant leg, looking into my face as I look back, before darting away. I laugh out loud with real delight. My morning is made in this one brief moment.
I hear voices, loud but distant. Farm workers in the vineyard, calling conversation or instructions to each other in Spanish. I am unavoidably reminded of the current trauma and day-to-day anxiety being experienced by America’s immigrants and migrant workforce due to constant threats of raids and fears of deportation. Sometimes I think the wealthy really deserve to experience the sudden loss of available day laborers and domestic staff that would certainly be one direct outcome of these horrible attacks on humanity, but realistically I know the amount of suffering that would be inflicted would devastate those of lesser means, who would also be affected. I smile grimly to myself, although it isn’t funny, as I wonder just who exactly these rich fuckwits think is going to take these jobs (that often pay very poorly for hard work in poor conditions) if we cut ourselves off from the immigrants and migrant workers who fill them now? Are folks ready to pay citizen workers what Americans demand (and require for a living wage) for their labor? I sure don’t think so.
… One might almost think the very wealthy want slave labor, and might not even pay minimum wage if there were no legal requirement to do so. Human greed is some ugly shit…
I sigh and watch the morning sunlight through the leaves of the oaks along the path. Human beings can be pretty terrible, and it’s quite disappointing that we haven’t yet risen above our worst characteristics as beings, though we’ve had hundreds of years to do so. Very disappointing. I frown as an off-leash dog runs past, in this “dogs must be on a leash” area. I’m sure the owner has found some crappy excuse for this, a way to justify exempting themself from the rules. This. This is why we can’t have nice things. It’s a small thing, but the small things add up until we become terrible people.
I sit thinking about that. It’s not an “other people” thing… I think about my driving. I could do better. Every day, there’s something I could be doing to be more the person I most want to be. To be a better person today than I was yesterday. The clock is always ticking on this journey of discovery, healing, and growth.
Our choices have consequences. The journey is the destination.
… It’s already time to begin again. I can do better – can’t you? Small changes over time can make big differences. Maybe we can change the world?
Evening Light 