Another new day – I’m grateful. For the moment I am existing in the space between acknowledging the pain I’m in, and moving on from that awareness to living the day. This, too, is a practice.
The sun was rising as I reached the trailhead. I’ve been walking in the promising glow of early morning, a clear blue sky overhead, and a strip of orange on the eastern horizon. Lovely. It’s chilly but not really cold, about 5.5C (40F).
The tangle of oaks along this trail reach for the blue sky above.
Spring is coming. I see it in small growth buds on branches that will soon become leaves. Green stems of flowering plants and grasses are pushing through the matted decaying leaves. In the distant hills, I see snow in pockets of shady high places. In the lowlands I see mist and fog. Nice morning for walking.
A nice morning, generally.
I breathe, exhale, and relax. I meditate here among the trees, near the creek bank. It’s lovely. When my mind wanders, I pull it back to this moment, here, now. There is time to begin again, a little later. This moment is worth enjoying.
… Isn’t that the way of most moments? They’re worth enjoying or worth changing, and regardless of their worth they are fleeting. Quite temporary. I sigh to myself, grateful for pleasant moments in all their variety. Appreciative to have so few truly unpleasant ones (most of the time). Grateful to have choices when change is the wiser path.
Milky white clouds, formless and diffuse, high above, begin to move in, covering the beautiful blue of the sky. There’s a dense bank of storm clouds to the south, too. My arthritis agrees that more rain is coming. I sigh, reminded of the pain I’m in. Peculiarly, for the time of year, I hear thunder in the distance. How strange. I decide against lingering any longer. I get to my feet to finish my walk.
It was sprinkling when I left the house, but it had stopped by the time I got to the trailhead. I walked down the wet trail, through the oaks and between the vineyard rows, as daybreak became a new day. A Tuesday, and an ordinary work day.
I make my way down the trail, around the bend, and along the creek. Gray morning. Looks like winter, feels like Spring. I meditate as I walk, stopping to write a few words along the way. I’ll resume walking soon. The morning feels shorter somehow.
… Shorter than what? I’m not certain…
I’ve got an entire new day ahead of me. It’s already time to begin again. I sigh to myself and get ready to finish my walk and get started on work. The clock is ticking…
… I sit a moment longer, enjoying this quiet moment, and wondering where this path leads…
It’s raining. The sound of the raindrops on the roof of the pickup truck sounds like someone’s fingers flying across a keyboard, typing out the words of some dramatic narrative very quickly. It’s just rain.
…It wasn’t raining when I left the house…
Change is. I sip my coffee, enjoying the moment as it is. Later, work, still later than that, contractors at the house for a maintenance task. Routine enough, not at all exciting.
This morning I woke to blazing bright lights; I had slept until my silent alarm went off (rare). The morning has felt a little surreal so far, as though it is only a template for an ordinary day, a placeholder for choices not yet made, experiences not yet determined, or… something.
My arthritis is bad today. My tinnitus is loud. My left shoulder hurts with fresh pain, recent but I don’t know what I may have done to injure myself there. My left foot vexes me, now that I think I know what’s up with that (a worn out boot), it just annoys me. It’s a difficult morning for pain. I look grimly out over the vineyard and sip my coffee. It is what it is, and it’s not new that the rain and chill make it worse. I shrug in response to the thought, and feel pain shoot through my left shoulder. A strained or torn muscle? Certainly possible. Meh. I let my mind move on.
Yesterday evening, my Traveling Partner commented that he thought he might have a fun solution to my challenge finding time and energy for painting, and a creative outlet that might satisfy my yearning to paint. He hands me a tablet with a stylus and an app on it specifically for digital art. I haven’t explored digital art much… Curious, I take it up a bit timidly, but I definitely did find some joy and creative satisfaction there. I’ll be exploring this more. It’s well-suited to “artistic tinkering” and has a lot of potential for more. My beloved was right; it really suits the way I approach early drafts of new ideas.
I breathe, exhale, and relax. The morning still feels like a placeholder for some other day or time, or some moment anticipated but not yet here. Funny. Strange. I stretch and sigh and prepare to begin a new day.
Yesterday was lovely. Oh, not without a brief moment that was less than ideally harmonious, but we are human primates after all, the emphasis being on “primates”. Sometimes communication is more difficult than we’d like it to be, and in any household that includes me, this is complicated by both PTSD and brain damage. Still, generally speaking it was a lovely day spent in my Traveling Partner’s good company, and the rare moment of irritation or discord resulted in a better connection and clearer understanding of each other. Useful.
I make it a practice to focus on the positive, to reframe conflict in terms that allow me to grow and become more the person I most want to be over time, and as a means of allowing me to appreciate each finite mortal moment with my beloved. We’re both quite human. There’s no doubt we love each other deeply, and it truly matters to both of us to to heal, to support each other, and to move on from moments of conflict. Yesterday didn’t require much effort in that regard; it was a lovely day in good company.
I spent a good while reading, yesterday, which I enjoy quite a lot. I spent time writing and enjoyed sorting the many stickers my beloved Traveling Partner had gifted to me. (So fun! So delightful!) He worked on a project nearby, and we hung out together, each contentedly doing our own thing, together.
Today begins well. I get to the trailhead at sunrise, feeling well rested and merry. The walk down the marsh trail is pleasant, if a bit “squishy” from prolonged recent rain. It is sprinkling this morning. I don’t really care about that. I do care about the pain in my left foot (which I have been thinking was a flare up of tendonitis or maybe plantar fasciitis), which slows me down a bit. It becomes obvious as I walk this morning that it may be something much more practical in nature; I think the heel in these boots has some kind of “air cushion” or similar design, and I think the left side has blown out from wear. I’m annoyed by this because these boots can’t be re-soled. Well shit. They’re three, maybe four years old, and I’m probably due to replace them. I don’t really feel like dealing with that, but the path ahead will need sturdy boots, eh? That’s not even a metaphor; good boots make a lot of difference in the quality of a walking experience. I mean, okay, it’s also a metaphor.
…But I guess either way, I need new boots…
I stop a little farther on from my “halfway point”. I’m in no rush. It begins to rain a little harder and lacking overhead cover from the trees, I walk to the photographer’s blind grateful to find it unlocked, and unoccupied. It is a good spot to write and to take shelter from the rain.
What about the day ahead? No idea, really. Yesterday was lovely. There is no shopping to do, no errands on my to-do list, nothing on my mind. I’ll walk, and maybe do a bit of boot shopping before I head home to do some routine housekeeping and such. Maybe bake some bread if I have the energy later? Seems a good day for it. Maybe chili for dinner? I remind myself to check that I have all the ingredients.
Life being lived. Nothing extravagant or fancy, all pretty ordinary stuff. Where it gets complicated is that it is too easy to become wound up and twisted over some moment of disharmony or disappointment, and overlook all the joy and contentment. Savor the joy! Be present for the moments! Appreciating the pleasant moments and the small joys with the same focus, commitment, and energy we seem to save for arguments creates emotional resilience and a more accurate implicit sense of who we are and the life we lead. It’s also simply a very nice way to experience life fully; be present for each moment. That’s a pretty useful practice.
The rain stops. My Traveling Partner pings me a good morning greeting as he wakes. A large flock of geese passes overhead. There are more storm clouds on the horizon. The sky is a homogeneous milky gray. I sit with my thoughts and this quiet feeling of joy, and prepare to begin again.
A new day is dawning. The morning is cold and misty. The trail is slick with lingering dampness from rain. No frost, but the winter chill reminds me how quickly conditions could become icy.
My eyes see shades of gray, the camera shows me blue hues. The oaks stand silent on the question of colors.
A mist develops, and begins to thicken and spread. Daybreak arrives with the fog. The day begins here, now. What will I do with it? One thing I won’t do with it is sit here for long minutes reflecting on life and watching the sun rise. First; it’s a foggy gray morning, and there won’t be much to see sunrise-wise. Second; it’s cold! I don’t prefer it for lingering outside, still and quiet. I’m already feeling the cold in my hands and in my bones. It’s a good morning to keep moving.
…I do like the walk through the fog, though. It brings mystery to the mundane and wonder to the familiar.
I breathe, exhale, and relax, as I stand and stretch. It’s as good a time as any to begin again. I look down the path into the fog. Where does this path lead? I’ll know when I get there, I suppose. The clock is ticking.
Evening Light 