I’m taking a minute after my walk, this morning, sitting quietly with the sensations of leg muscles taxed by my pace, and skin chilled by wintry winds, slowly recovering in the warmth of the car. Switching back from my boots to my sneakers with fingers numbed from the morning chill felt awkward and clumsy, and being mildly out of breath from the modest uphill bit of trail back to the parking lot was uncomfortable, but I also feel exhilarated by the freshness of the crisp morning air, and the sense of purpose that lingers even now that I am no longer in motion.
The day looks likely to be a chilly one, but the garden continues to beckon me, and as much as I do love sitting around hanging out with my Traveling Partner, it’s not healthy to overindulge in that favorite activity. lol I consider stopping at a nursery on the way home for some bagged compost to add to the garden before I plant Spring seeds… No reason to let a drizzle stop me; it rains a lot around here, and it’s often the wise choice to go ahead and do things anyway.
… Do the things! (There is longevity and wellness in the effort, and far too much of who and what we are functions on a “use it or lose it” basis.) I remind myself how much fitness truly is packed into the many small day-to-day tasks upon which good quality of life is built. I remind myself to treat sitting around indulging in sedentary pleasures as I might treat indulging in sugary treats; very sparingly. Do more. Keep at it. Finish something and move on to doing something else. There are verbs involved, and sometimes the effort doesn’t seem “worth it”, but avoiding the effort is potentially a slow slide towards being unable to do when the time comes that I must. These are not new thoughts. I find value in repetition for reinforcing the need to do the verbs, is all.
The crisp damp morning aggravates my arthritis. I’m looking forward to a luxurious long hot shower and clean dry clothes. There’s laundry to do, and I have a plan to make stir fry for dinner tonight. It’s not always easy to push past physical pain to stay moving and active… But it’s worth the effort.
I sigh quietly. Finish my coffee, and get ready to begin again.
It’s March in the Pacific Northwest. I’m sipping coffee at a trailhead, waiting for a break in the… rain? Rain. At least, it’s raining here; a sort of steady drizzle, barely enough to discourage me from walking.
No tears this morning, I’ve got the rain.
When I woke and dressed for my walk, I hadn’t checked the weather. I kissed my Traveling Partner, and went to the door. I was surprised to see everything dusted with snow when I opened it. I stood there rather stupidly for a moment, stalled by my astonishment. I turned back to my partner and commented that perhaps I could not go… I must have sounded disappointed (I was), because he reminded me I could just take the truck; this small amount of snow would be nothing for the truck, at all. Of course. Totally made sense and I grabbed my other keychain and left, stopping to grab my hiking boots and cane from my car.
For a short distance, I enjoyed a basically very ordinary drive, aside from the dusting of white everywhere. Within minutes the snow started falling heavily, filling the sky with fat snowflakes, dense and visibility-limiting, but that didn’t last, and I reached the trailhead safely just as the snowfall stopped altogether, becoming this drizzly rain. It’s a rather ordinary rainy March morning.
I think about the garden and the work I am hoping to do this weekend. There are seeds to plant, weeds to pull, and I’d like to get a fresh layer of compost down on the vegetable bed. Weather permitting. I’m thinking about adding a rose with my dear friend in mind… perhaps missing her will be just a little less painful if I honor her memory in my garden… some lovely spot, where I can “sit with her awhile”, now and then? I think about beautiful roses and which of the many I had grown or shared over the years she liked the most or commented on most often… Or perhaps entirely new-to-my-garden roses that somehow capture my dear friend’s sense of style and creative nature? A splash of contrasting colors… A relaxed informal habit… I think about her fondly with roses, flowers, and fragrant herbs in mind. No tears, just love and fond memories. Progress. Even grief is a journey.
… My dear friend loved my roses, and even more she loved that I love them, myself. We spoke many times about the risk of slowing down and doing less, and the unfortunate “use it or lose it” nature of physical ability as we age. I keep walking, in spite of pain, in spite of “laziness”, in spite of fatigue – and it’s because I am so painfully aware that if I stop, and my fitness falls behind, it will become progressively more difficult over time to get it back. The physical effort in the garden is very much the same sort of thing. I sigh quietly and consider the garden and what I would like to do there this year. It saddens me for a moment that my dear friend, this year, won’t be around to share it with…
The rain stops. It’s daylight. The trail awaits. It’s time to begin again.
I’m a slow learner. I mean, I’m often “quick to understand”, but it can take a surprising amount of time and repetition before something I’ve been exposed to as an idea actually becomes part of my enduring thinking. I need a lot of repetition, and practice. Which is sort of good, from the perspective of potentially protecting me from succumbing to momentarily appealing dumb shit, but it also kind of sucks, because it just takes a long fucking time to get even long-studied knowledge past my impulse control challenges or resistance to change. Pretty human, honestly. It frustrates me. I’m thinking about it.
This Hallowe’en season I succumbed to my impulsivity with regard to noshing on goblin snacks far more often than is heathy for me. I did notice (that’s not nothing). It was definitely not “good for me” – and I’m making a point of paying attention to it. I found myself vexed by my impulsivity once or twice, even as I popped a tasty sweet into my mouth that I didn’t even actually want. Wild. Thought-provoking. So. I was thinking about it and found my way around and about to asking myself a couple questions pre-sweet, and mentally insisting that I ask & answer, every time. Every temptation (food-wise, I mean):
1. Do I need it to survive?
2. Do I need it to sustain my current activity level?
3. What need does this try to satisfy?
4. Is there a healthier or more nutritionally suitable choice?
It may seem rather facile or silly – or just fucking obvious. It also worked (for me). I more or less immediately cut out the nibbling or grazing on sweets (the sugar is really not good for me). Feels like a win. I’m hoping to hold on to this bit of progress, and maybe see where it takes me. Small wins matter a lot more than we tend to give them credit for. 😀
…Time passes too quickly to wait for New Year’s Day to make a change!..
It’s a big day, today – just a Saturday, but a new business machine makes its way into the shop tooling today. I can tell my Traveling Partner is excited. He’s practically vibrating with anticipation. I’m excited, too; I have “a thing” for interesting machines.
…The machine arrives. My partner confirms it when I ask. There it is on the dining table, quite real, sitting there after the initial unboxing, taking up space (it’s not yet a familiar sight). My partner asks me to bring him his smaller flashlight, and to open the curtains for better light, and for help with picking up the packing material that is strewn about. I open the curtains, bring the flashlight, and pick up the packing material (putting it back into the shipping box, just in case there’s any reason it may need to go back). I get back to my own doings, and these musings, shortly afterward… it’s a pleasant day for another cup of coffee, so I made one. But… it’s pretty late in the day (after 4 pm), and I’m probably more thirsty than truly wanting a coffee, so I also get a big glass of ice water, and wander back to my studio. I quickly find myself drinking the water, ignoring the coffee.
…Which brings me back to those damned questions! LOL
A full moon setting one recent frosty morning.
It’s never too late to begin again. I mean, if there’s life left to live, there are choices and opportunities ahead. Don’t like things as they are? Do something differently. Maybe it won’t change the world, but it can certainly change your experience of it. 😀 Sometimes, that’s enough.
…I didn’t say any of it is easy. Some of the questions are hard questions. Sometimes I don’t like the answers. Sometimes the choices are complicated. Sometimes the opportunities seem limited. Sometimes I feel trapped by my circumstances (although often it’s only my own thinking holding me back). I just keep at it. I mean… what else?
I take a sip of my rare 3rd coffee, and recall a time in my life when I pretty much drank coffee all day, from the first cup after waking, until I finished a final after dinner coffee sometime much later. I had coffee at my desk while I worked, and coffee in my canteen (when it should have been water). I had a favorite mug at home, and a favorite table in the nearest cafe in every town I lived in as an adult. It’s not about the coffee. It took me awhile to understand that. It’s always been about the moment, and coffee just happened to be the handy vehicle for living it, for me personally. The obvious reason to take a break. The good excuse to sit down for a minute. The excellent opportunity to get together with friends. The very mundane process I could use to anchor myself to reality in a moment of emotional crisis.
This is an excellent cup of coffee. It’s a very pleasant moment. I breathe. Exhale. Relax. I’m here. Now. It’s a good place and time to be this woman I’ve become over the years. I’m good with it. It’s enough.
So… about that next new beginning…? I wonder where this path leads?
I woke this morning peculiarly unaware that I was tethered by my CPAP and airline to the machine perched on the bookshelf near the bed. It feels strange to have become so thoroughly used to this thing that is my “new normal”. I woke, showered, made coffee, and joined my Traveling Partner in the living room. After a handful of his observations about my “energy”, my facial express, my relative state of relaxation (or, more to the point, his perception that I was appearing tense in some way), I took my coffee into the studio to chill and wake up without encroaching on his chill time. I’m pretty sure he hadn’t been awake long, himself.
After I have my coffee, I’ll most likely put on clothes more suited to the weather and go for a walk. Whether or not I have energy to burn, it’s a good practice, and contributes to my wellness. 😀
Pleasant morning so far. I eagerly did the pre-registration for my upcoming camping trip, and surprised myself that I’d reserved the space for one more night that I thought I had… I could go on Wednesday, if I wanted to (I do, but… work, money, expenses… etc etc etc; adulting is full of compromises). This does mean, though, however early I arrive on Thursday, my space will be ready for me to set up camp. 😀 I’m excited. The car is mostly packed and ready. I’m even taking the portable fridge and a small solar set up, and glamping in style, even planning to cook real meals (instead of my usual practice of snacking on grab-n-go whatever and eating freeze-dried backpacking meals)! I remind myself to check the air in the tires, and turn on the power to the portable fridge sometime on Tuesday so that it is cold and ready-to-go when I leave on Thursday morning. I probably won’t depart before dawn (though I easily could), but I’ll likely head out after morning coffee with my partner and some chill time together.
…I’m so excited about this trip…
I’ve got my gear together. I’ve got my camera, my sketchbook, my yoga mat, a book to read… and I definitely need this solo time. 😀 I sip my coffee and smile to myself; I’ve still got to pick up some grocery items for the trip, although some of what I need I’ve already got here at home. Preparedness feels very good.
…I think that last sentence over again, “Preparedness feels very good.” – It definitely does. How did I get here to this place where I’m mostly prepared for most of what I want or need to do, most of the time? Was it my survivalist-ish, prepper-y, upbringing? Was it the emphasis on self-reliance in crisis that I learned at home? Was it the Army and those Army ways and practices? Was it hard lessons learned in life over time? Was it this partnership that is so thoroughly grounded in practical means of supporting good quality of life over time? Probably all of that. It’s not something that’s out of reach for anyone else. It’s a matter of understanding what you want, what it takes, and ensuring the basics for those needs are generally available, or within reasonable reach. It takes time to get there. It takes self-reflection (because it can be astonishingly easy to slide from “prepared” to “hoarding”, and that’s not a good end result). It takes practice, and efficiency, and knowing what matters most. It takes patience. It takes a certain commitment of mind, will, and action. It’s not “all that”, though, and I suspect anyone could be “more prepared” if they choose to do so, and make the necessary actions common practices.
…An example? All summer long our camping gear is basically ready-to-go – we load it into our vehicle, pick up any desired perishables, and head out. When we get back, we launder clothes, clean gear, and repack everything and put stuff away for next time, but conveniently so we can easily grab it for the next trip out. When our season ends (neither of us really enjoy cold weather camping), we put it all completely away in storage until next year. New season? We get everything out of storage, do a “gear check” and examine every tent and line and tent spike for damage, repair or replace items that are too worn for safe use, and restock any non-perishable consumables that we’ve run low on. It’s a cycle that works for us.
For me, having a reliable practice (or many) helps me stay on track of this busy life. I chuckle, looking around my studio; my pocket of chaos in a life that is mostly pretty orderly. LOL I could do better. It’s within reach. I just need to begin again. 😀
This journey just isn’t about perfect. It’s always practice. My results vary. That’s fine – I know they will. I just stay on the path… and begin again.
Weird weekend. (I could stop right there, honestly…)
“Baggage” is a tough challenge for people who have been traumatized. It can be super hard to put that shit down, and properly “begin again”. Our baggage tends to linger in our hidden corners, tucked away carefully where it’s difficult to see how problematic our thinking has become. We struggle with decision-making and outcomes that create an unpleasant experience or prevent us from thriving in our lives. It’s hard sometimes.
I’m hopeful that a particularly painful and difficult conversation with my Traveling Partner really does have the promising positive outcome it appears that it may… I’ve just got to set down some baggage and back away from it, then do some things differently going forward. Him too, I suppose, although in this instance the focus was for sure on me and the chaos and damage I sometimes struggle with.
Love and words. So many words. So much love.
Once we were “on the other side” of that difficult conversation, we enjoyed our evening together. I woke this morning feeling loved (and hopefully he did too). I’ve got a massive headache, still managed to enjoy a cup of coffee with my partner before I left for the local co-work space I sometimes work from. So far a promising start to the day and week. Nice.
Moving back into my studio was a sort of mix of manual labor and thoughtful work and careful selection. Now that it’s finished, I can’t fathom why I stalled for so long. I find myself returning to my studio again and again, thinking about creative projects. I’ve rekindled my eagerness to finish a particular manuscript that has been languishing in a file on my hard-drive for awhile – almost a decade. Long overdue, and I did not understand that two things were holding me back: 1 poem I had included that I had serious second thoughts about, and those journals tucked away in a bin. Funny; I took care of the journals, and now project after project that had been stalled seem to percolate to the surface for their moment.
What’s holding you back? When will you tackle that?
How much baggage are you dragging along every day? How much can you “just set down” and walk away from? Are there things you could let go of, that you… just don’t? What is that doing for you? (Seriously, you probably wouldn’t cling to some of that sticky bullshit if you weren’t getting something out of doing so, if only the strange comfort of familiarity – which is totally over-rated.)
I’m no therapist, just saying – lightening the load makes for an easier journey. 😉
I sip my coffee and think my thoughts. There’s a garden to plan. A life to live. Love to embrace and nurture. Already time to begin again.
Evening Light 