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Summer Heat

July 9, 2024 //
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This morning I woke early, watered the lawn before sunrise, and enjoyed coffee with my Traveling Partner. I left the house at more or less the usual time. Instead of an iced coffee, I picked up a bottle of water on my way to the trailhead, because I stupidly forgot to refill my water bottle. It’s going to be another hot day and I didn’t want to end up dehydrated walking the trail as the sun rises.

As I drove, the sun breached the horizon, a demonic angry red, seeming larger and more intense in the sky than on other mornings. It was such an astonishing sight that I grabbed my phone as I drove hoping to snap even one blurry picture – because that was some unbelievable shit right there! Wow. So huge in the sky and such a fierce relentless hue, it seemed as if disaster must surely be imminent. I failed to get a picture. I succeeded in not causing (or becoming victim of) a collision.

As I rounded a later curve in the road, I saw the sun, now fully above the horizon, still looking massively large in the sky, and only slightly less strange in color, a bold deep orange slowly rising in a hazy summer sky. It’s going to be another hot day for certain. I’m glad I took time to water the lawn and the garden.

Summer heat ahead. A strange mist clings to the low places.

I hit the trail and walked my miles. Returned to the car still thinking about that crazy sunrise. Climate change? Distant wildfires? Summer heat and haze?  I find myself wondering if I will ever see such a sunrise again…or will a day come when every sunrise seems to herald possible disaster or appear on the horizon as some sort of dreadful sign of worse to come? I hope not…? But what a sight!

…We may yet have a chance to avoid destroying our planet… We might want to do something with that, eh?

…It’s already past time to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, Anxiety, health, Healthy Living, inspiration, meditation, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, Summer, War and News of War

Time is Short

June 15, 2024 //
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This mortal lifetime is a fleeting and all too brief experience. We haven’t yet defeated aging or death, and we inevitably face both those experiences in turn… if we’re fortunate enough to enjoy some longevity in the first place.

I’m not meaning to sound grim, just putting a bit of self-reflection and perspective into my morning. It just seems to me that there is no time for petty bullshit, taking things personally, or chronic negativity. We’re human, though  and pettiness, bullshit, negativity, and taking things personally often seem to be default settings for human primates. It’s unfortunate. Life is filled with wonder and potential joy and delight, and when we give ourselves the opportunity to experience those qualities, they have incredible potential to lift us up.

…We become what we practice…

I often wonder what keeps some people so invested in unpleasantness and negativity, when it is possible to choose differently? I’m forced to reflect on my own journey; it’s the one I know best. It wasn’t that long ago that I took a lot of shit personally (that wasn’t, at all). I was a chronically pessimistic, cynical, fairly miserable traumatized human being disappointed with life, feeling weighed down by futility and despair, struggling to find any relief, purpose, or joy. I began making other choices, setting off on this profoundly healing journey some 14 years ago, around the time I reconnected with my (now) Traveling Partner. Shortly before then, actually, but at the time I didn’t really understand the nature of the journey ahead, nor where it could lead me (I was only beginning to understand the necessity and ask the important questions).

Like a road trip without a map, through fog.

…If I had known how far I would need to go, how long the journey ahead would be, and how much work, study, and will would be required, I doubt I would have understood that I had it in me to undertake it at all, and I might have given up on myself (I almost did)…

I’m just saying that it is possible to get from “there” to “here”, and it has been worthwhile a hundred times over to make the journey. So worth it.

I’ve read books and studied mindfulness and relevant cognitive research and developments in neuroscience. I’ve given thought to the advice and recommendations of friends, family, lovers, colleagues, and mental health professionals, and taken so many of their suggestions for a test drive, looking for changes that could improve my experience. I’ve pulled myself back from the precipice of despair a thousand times. I’ve practiced a multitude of practices, adopting some as permanent features of the way I live (meditation, non-attachment, and “taking in the good” being among those). I’ve pursued honest self-reflection and committed to better self-care. I’ve sought (and found) perspective, and embraced change. I’ve begun to thrive in life, instead of merely surviving it.

…Powerful stuff…

I’m sitting here with my thoughts on a rather stormy morning as summer approaches, watching the clouds drift by. The sun is up. I’ve got this trail to myself. It’s a pleasant moment and I am grateful to have this quiet solitary time.

I can only walk my own path.

I’m a bit frustrated by one thing as I sit with my thoughts… It’s this; I can find success and joy in life through all the means I’ve named, and I can share all that with you here, and with people dear to me, but I can’t make anyone else follow this (or a similar) path. We’re each having our own experience. I can’t actually make someone else abandon their negativity or pettiness. I can’t make someone embrace joy, or cultivate contentment. I can’t do the work for someone else or even convince them of the necessity or likely improvement that could follow. We have to walk our own hard mile. I had to walk mine, and I walk it even now. You have to walk yours, and the consequences of your actions (and your words) are yours to bear.

I sit with my thoughts awhile longer. It’s a lovely morning. A blue jay hops about in the weeds near my feet. The large rock beside the trail that I’m sitting on is firm beneath me. I feel grounded and comfortable in my skin, in spite of the pain I’m in. I feel sure of my path, and my worthiness to walk it. I am grateful for the many opportunities I have had to grow and change and begin again. Learning to forgive myself has been hard. Learning to forgive others has been harder. Both have been worthwhile and I am less burdened thereby.

This very human experience is an interesting and complicated thing, and I often wonder what the real purpose of it is, or whether it has one at all.

Maybe it’s enough to enjoy the journey?

There is a lot to forgive in one lifetime, but there’s also a lot to enjoy, and a lot to celebrate.  The storm clouds regroup, and the sky darkens. Rain drops begin to spatter the trail and the blue jay has flown away. I stand and stretch, and get ready to head back to the car. It’s time to begin again.

…Where does your path lead? Is that where you really want to go? The clock is ticking; choose wisely.

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Categories Allegories, anger, anhedonia, Anxiety, Brain Injury, breathe, Despair, forgiveness, Free Will, Frustration, gratitude, grief, Healthy Living, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, Spring, Summer, The Art of Being, War and News of War, Words

A Struggle With Discontent

May 8, 2024 //
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I woke feeling vaguely irritated and feeling discontented and annoyed in advance of any annoyances. Rude start to the day. I woke feeling dissatisfied… with… life? That seems pretty fucking silly, all things considered, and I spent the drive to the office turning it over in my head. There’s a song that somehow seems to fit, though I haven’t yet pinned down why that is. It’s not a new song, nor a song I’ve listened to recently… it just “speaks to me” in this peculiar moment of discontent and aggravation.

…There’s nothing “wrong” with the moment or day, so far…

…I’m just feeling annoyed. It would be much easier to deal with this and put it to rest if I understood why.

I sigh and take a breath, and exhale, and relax, letting my shoulders drop, and my jaw unclench. Weird morning.

This life of mine is perhaps not the problem at all… could be I’m just feeling the weight of the world this morning. That’s baggage no one can carry for long. I sigh again, burdened by this all too human struggle. I reach for a song that sings to a different tune, hoping to change my mind. Feelings of discontent can become corrosive, left to build and become attached to something real… That’s not an experience I enjoy. I keep “setting down my baggage” and trying to restart my moment from a new perspective.

…I find myself missing a dear friend I’d have gone to for conversation and perspective in a moment like this, and my eyes fill with tears. …There’s a hole in my heart… We are mortal creatures. I suddenly feel “wrapped in loneliness” on top of feeling discontented. Shit. That’s not what I was going for at all. (Change is.)

G’damn… I guess I really need to get away from “all of it”… except… I’m relentlessly aware that I’ll be dragging the shit griefing me most right along with me wherever I go. Fucking hell. I guess I’m just feeling low this morning. 😦 I wipe the tears off my cheeks and remind myself “this too will pass” – change is.

I sigh again (it’s just that kind of morning, I guess), and hope that my Traveling Partner got the rest he needed, and hope to get myself sorted out before the day ends – I’d definitely rather not drag this shit home with me at the end of the day.

I’m looking forward to my camping trip. Life is feeling way too busy and complicated lately, and I’m exhausted on this whole other level. Wrung out from day-to-day routine effort and the emotional burden of being a human being in a world of chaos, violence, and petty ugliness – I need a break. What do I even do when I’m camping to get that “break”? I sit quietly a lot, listening to the breezes and watching small creatures living their lives. I sit watching the leaves flutter and the changing light filtered through the trees as the sun moves across the sky. I let my mind sort of “empty out” and “catch up” on all the shit I didn’t have time to consider more fully. I walk. I wander. I take pictures of things that catch my eye, and perspectives I might like to see again, some time later. I write, mostly poetry and bits of self-reflection. I read. I meditate. It’s not fancy, and it’s not complicated by “activities” in any planned way. I’m not trying to “occupy my time” – quite the opposite, actually, I’m trying to “rest my mind” and calm my heart. I don’t know a lot of ways of doing that, or any ways more effective than just… getting away, and giving myself time.

…Soon…

Isn’t it odd that we human creatures can find so much silly bullshit to feel vexed by or annoyed over, even in the context of a generally good life? It strikes me as quite strange and rather stupid that this is the case, and I find myself wondering what purpose such a thing may have served when we were more primitive creatures seeking to make our way in the world? I make a note to ask my therapist for his thoughts on these vague feelings of discontent, and how I can potentially make use of them more constructively – with fewer tears, less sorrow, and a whole lot less aggravating stupid emotional bullshit to wade through. I roll my eyes, even as I recognize that I’m being a little hard on myself; human is human. Sometimes it’s messy, and we don’t exactly teach “dealing with emotions” to children skillfully, such that they grow up with the tools to do the job well. I’m still learning… and somehow, I persist in thinking I should be past that by now… then remember, again, that the journey is the destination, and that the point seems to be the learning, itself.

…Another sigh. A sip of coffee. A glance at the clock. Well, shit. It’s time to begin again…

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Categories Allegories, anger, Anxiety, Brain Injury, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, Frustration, grief, loneliness, meditation, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, solo hiking, Spring, The Art of Being, War and News of War, women

America Hates Women

April 26, 2024 //
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I’m sipping my coffee, and trying my best not to be bitter. Too much anti-woman garbage in the news, and it inevitably filters into my consciousness. I put on music to soothe my soul, and remind me that the path ahead is not reliably smooth or paved.

I don’t prefer to pour my anger onto the page, spilling like the blood I’ve already shed, wasted like the time it would take to try to argue the point that women are fully human, conscious, with agency and their own reasons to live beyond being brood mares or objects to be used for sexual fulfillment. Fucking hell, I hope you’re at least not surprised to learn that there are many decision-making individuals in the world who don’t see women as fully human conscious beings with rights and agency… because, yeah, that’s a fucking thing. Unfortunately. Second-class. An after-thought. Hell, there are people who disagree with women having the vote – or the right to withhold their consent. No shit. Wild, right? Disappointing, certainly – and yeah, I’m angry about it. Are you kidding me? Ohio just criminalized marital rape – it’s 2024 – until now, it’s been just fine to go ahead and rape your wife. Hell, if that’s too much work, go ahead and drug her, then rape her, totally legal. Gross. We can’t do better than this?

…A lifetime of seething impotent rage, just waiting for an opportunity. I’m an American woman…

I take a breath and a sip of my coffee. These aren’t abstract concerns for me; I’m a woman. Lacking the option to willfully choose not to bear children would have changed my life dramatically. My educational options would have been diminished (because that was a thing, and not so long ago). My career options, too, would have been very different, and very limited. My leisure hours could not have been spent on art – I’d have been forced to devote my time to child-rearing. That wasn’t the life I wanted, at all. Nothing about me is particularly “maternal” beyond having a vagina and a uterus, and by the time I reached adulthood, my chaos and damage were so profound that any child of mine was going to have a rough fucking go of it – it takes a long time for trauma to heal, even with persistent self-work. I knew when I was just 14 that I did not want children. That’s still true. (I am fond of my stepson; I met him shortly after he finished high school. He’s a good guy, doing his best, and he’s come so far since I first met him. I enjoy being a bystander on the relationship my Traveling Partner shares with his son – and that’s close enough to motherhood for me.)

I breathe, exhale, relax – and remind myself not to allow my anger to poison me. “The way out is through”, for sure, but no need to be ridiculous about it. Tantrums and lashing out don’t help anyone understand things more clearly, and don’t help me feel better. Hell, tantrums and lashing out don’t even give me momentary relief. You know what does? Knowing that my Traveling Partner, the person I go home to each day and wake with each morning, doesn’t hate me, doesn’t hate women, and understands us to be wholly human people. There’s comfort and healing in that. I’ve come a long way from that angry young woman who stood on the threshold of adulthood wanting vengeance.

I sip my coffee, and watch the dismal rainy gray dawn unfold on an America that hates women. You know who you are (although you’re probably not reading this). Do better, for fucks’ sake. There are little girls everywhere each trying to become the woman they most want to be – give them a fucking chance.

I sigh quietly. I’ve gotten caught up in a moment of pain. I breathe, exhale, relax, and let it go – again. I watch the little brown birds in the park, and the traffic making the trip around the block below, looking for parking. The rain falls softly. It’s an ordinary day, and there is no cure for pain – just a new moment, and a chance to begin again…

…Let it go…

…Begin again.

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Categories Allegories, anger, Anxiety, breathe, Despair, forgiveness, Free Will, grief, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Rape, Relationships, The Art of Being, War and News of War, women

Humans Are the F*ing Worst

February 14, 2024 //
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I glare at my iced coffee for a moment. It’s a half-assed attempt at iced coffee, really, and I’ve already had enough coffee this morning. Still, I had a full cup of still very frozen ice, so I made a cup of strong coffee, let it stand until it was lukewarm, and then poured it over the ice. Simple enough. I haven’t even taken a sip of it yet, so I’m not sure why I made it.

The commute in was… fine. Traffic was light. Most of the people on the road drove safely, purposefully, and at the posted speed limit (maybe a couple miles per hour over it). It was fine. The few exceptions tended to be timid drivers staying in the right lane of two available lanes, and the occasional agro ass-clown driving so significantly over the speed limit as to be setting themselves up as “jack rabbits” – targets of attention making it possible for everyone else to just relax and drive knowing that asshole will be the one getting the ticket, if anyone does. Humans being human.

Human beings lie. Human beings cheat. Human beings act based on greed and entitlement. Human beings lash out violently in anger or based on a subjective feeling of having been transgressed upon. Human beings abandon children. Human beings bomb civilians. Human beings commit acts of violence against other human beings they claim to love. Human beings steal. Human beings attempt to stack the deck in their own favor without regard to the consequences to other human beings. Human beings rationalize and justify their worst behavior with convenient half-truths and bullshit. Human beings are too stupid to refrain from destroying the one planet they live on.

…Human beings are the fucking worst…

We could each (and all) do so much better than we commonly do. Just saying. Do better.

Yes, me too. Yes, you too. Yes, them over there? Them too. 100% of everyone could do better, I feel fairly certain, with the one possible exception of… babies. They’re doing their best every day just developing their cognitive skills, their sense of self and place in the world, and their ability to communicate – maybe help them out with that, and while you’re at it? Teach them ethics and critical thinking skills. Help them growing up knowing to do better – and knowing how.

…I make that sound so easy, right? lol I know, I know – how the fuck do we teach what we clearly don’t know? Tough one. Good luck. I know you’ll do your best, if it matters to you at all. Maybe it doesn’t matter to you? (See “human beings are the fucking worst”, above – I won’t be surprised if it doesn’t matter to you.)

G’damn that cup of iced coffee seems so unappealing now. Why did I even make that? I sigh out loud and wonder why I am in such an irritable mood? Decent commute. Even got to see my Traveling Partner (awake, I mean) and say good morning, and enjoy a kiss before I left for work. I’ve got this quiet, pleasant, comfortable space to work in, that even has a pleasing view of the park on the other side of the street. I’ve got a lot to be grateful for. I drive a car I like. The bills are paid. I have a job I enjoy and coworkers who are skilled and pleasant to work with. The weather has been mild. I’m not in too much pain to manage it today. So… wtf? Why this sour mood? 

I watch the sky slowly changing from the dark of night to the paler, bluer shades of morning-yet-to-come. All the ingredients of a lovely morning, but… here I am. My tinnitus is crazy loud this morning. My headache is… bad. Could be enough to wreck my generally jovial outlook, I suppose.

…On the other hand, human beings actually are the fucking worst, and isn’t that enough to make anyone irritable?

I finally take a sip of my coffee. It’s cold. It’s… coffee. It’s fine. I mean… it’s bitter, and not a great cup of coffee, but if it were my first, I’d be totally okay with it and probably find it entirely unremarkable, mostly. Probably wouldn’t complain about it at all. The complaining isn’t to do with the coffee, I recognize, it’s to do with the complainer – me. The human in the room. Like I said, we’re the fucking worst. lol It’s kind of a shame we’re what became the species acting as steward of this planet. We’re not very good at it, and we bitch about dumb shit way too fucking much.

I didn’t sleep well. Weird dreams. I went to bed at more or less my usual time, and woke shortly afterward from a nightmare that there was a spider in my CPAP mask (there wasn’t, but I did have to wake up and actually check). Later I had a nightmare that I’d forgotten all my passwords and none of them were saved. Later still, I had a nightmare that my Traveling Partner was… gone… and I was alone, penniless, unemployed, and quite old. I woke feeling chills all over, tears pouring down my face, and shivering from imagined cold in a room that was quite a comfortable temperature. (I was super glad to see my Traveling Partner awake in the living room when I got up!) Maybe the difficult night is the source of my poor mood? I guess that makes some sense.

Dreams are dreams, and emotions are not realities. I breathe, exhale, and relax, and work on letting all that go. It’s a new day. There were no spiders in my CPAP mask. My passwords are saved and I do remember those that I need most often, without difficulty. My Traveling Partner is very much a part of my life and I’m eager to see him at the end of the day. I’m alone, for now, but only because I am in this quiet work space, quite a bit earlier than my colleagues tend to start their days. As for being “old”, that’s pretty fucking subjective; I am the age I am. I don’t feel particularly young, but neither do I feel “old”. I’m somewhere in the middle. You know, like… literally “middle-aged”. LOL I shrug off the lingering affect of my poor night’s sleep… and begin again. 😀

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Categories Allegories, Anxiety, Brain Injury, breathe, Despair, Fiction, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, Logic & Reason, loneliness, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, The Art of Being, turning 60, War and News of War, winter
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