Archives for category: women

I woke early, but after daybreak, and headed down to the beach to walk as the sun rose. The tide is going out, and as it recedes, rock formations and tide pools are revealed. As I begin, everything is in shades of gray, the foam crests of each wave seeming luminous on the opaque gray of the ocean. As I return, the sky is lit with shades of pink and edged with pale blue. There are gray clouds on the horizon. Feels cool enough for rain, but my bones say “not today”. I return to the room too early for a better coffee in town, and settle for the coffee in my hotel room. It’s enough.

[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]

I sit down at the table with my coffee and this lovely view, ocean waves below, sky streaked with pink and blue above, horizon beyond. I could sit with this view for days and never miss television or videos at all.

Another sunrise.

As I sip my coffee, I notice a detail on one of the new paintings that I am not ideally satisfied with, and since I still have all my pastels out, I get up and make some final changes. “Finishing touches.” I listen to the wind and the waves, and watch the tide recede.

…I’ve still got to pack…

An hour, minimum, to a better cup of coffee, or a bite of breakfast. I don’t feel like going out, then coming back to the room, though… I sigh to myself thinking about the packing. A shower. Reloading the car. I can feel my eagerness to return home beginning to replace my enthusiasm for this place. When I notice I’m lost in moments that are not now, I pull myself back. It is worth it to enjoy here, now, just as it is, awhile longer.

…I’ll be home soon, I’m here, now…

The waves approaching the shore appear quite a bit larger than previous days, and I find myself wondering whether it is an illusion. As if on cue a tiny man down on the beach below walks into my view. Assuming he is of average height, the waves are larger than they have generally been. They appear almost surf-able, aside from the flesh-shredding bone-breaking truth of the multitude of jagged rocks unseen, barely covered by the ebb tide. This would not be safe location for surfing, I suspect. I chuckle to myself; Oregon beaches are not known for being great surfing locations, as far as I know. Not my sport, though, and I know only that I would not myself be interested in surfing here, nor even swimming in that icy cold water.

I sip my coffee, watch the tide go out, and think about art. This has been a nice bit of time away. I’ve gotten some beautiful pictures, and a lot of inspiration for future work in pastels. I’ve gotten a few miles on my boots, and spent some time “hearing myself think”. I finished reading Jurassic Park, which was much better than the movie adaptation. I slept in. I took naps. I felt the burden and stress of work lifted from my shoulders and from my thoughts. I have had a chance to miss my Traveling Partner for a little while – and I’m eager to return home. It’s time to get “back to life“.

The sun begins to light the crests of waves further down the beach, but I know they’ll reach the section of beach directly beyond my window shortly. I put on a playlist with a good groove for dancing and packing things up. It’s time to put the finishing touches on this coastal getaway, meditate, and think about better coffee and a bite to eat.

Wind, waves, a ticking clock.

…I’m definitely missing my Traveling Partner. Of all my choices in life, the choice to travel through life with this particular human as my companion on this journey is probably one of my best. I grin into my empty coffee cup. It’s for sure time to begin again.

I’m sitting on a bench over looking the Pacific ocean. It’s a bit after sunrise, but the sun hasn’t yet cleared the hilltops to the east. The sky is a pearly pink and a delicate pastel gradient blends it into the blue morning sky overhead.

[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]

Wind, waves, and a sunrise.

I listen to the gulls and sip my coffee. I’m in no hurry. It’s Sunday and I’ve got a couple relaxed days of painting ahead of me. I breathe, exhale, and relax. Each time work surfaces in my thoughts, I make a point of letting it go. Now is not the time.

I reflect on the crazy amount of pressure at work lately. I have to admit, a lot of that pressure is internal, and self-imposed. I reflect on the many times my Traveling Partner has cautioned me to slow down when I’m panicking over work stress, and how often he has helpfully pointed out that I’m the one putting myself through all that. Sometimes it’s hard to accept that I cause so much of my stress myself.

…He hasn’t been wrong about that; most of the pressure I’m under is reliably self-imposed (and unnecessary, and not helpful)…

Even this trip to the coast is intended, at least in part, to slow me down a bit and give me needed perspective. I reflect on that as I listen to the waves of the receding tide. I sigh to myself, grateful to have the opportunity to step back from work for a couple days. Grateful for a partner who supports and respects that need, even suggesting that I take the time.

I reach out to wish him good morning and to express concern about the heat and his wellness and to be encouraging in some way. My words are poorly chosen and don’t reflect awareness of what he wants and needs from me in the way of supporting and encouraging him. I get an unexpected blistering reprimand; he needs something different from me, and I feel like a jerk for the unhelpful outreach and poor timing. Shit. Failure sucks. I screenshot some of the messages to consider later (otherwise they may get lost in later conversation), and to share with my therapist for additional guidance.

I wonder what small birds practice?

I sit with my thoughts, watching the sea and gazing out at the western horizon. I missed my morning hike planned for Basket Slough this morning. I had hoped to watch the sunrise from there, rather than in my rearview mirror, but I had gotten the route confused for another. Basket Slough is in an altogether different direction (south) than the one I traveled this morning (west). I’ll hike the beach instead. There are miles of beach here, and about seven miles or so are walkable at low tide.

I sigh quietly, thinking about what matters most, what it takes to be (and become) the person I most want to be, and contemplating my obvious shortcomings in a way that is self-compassionate, kind, and useful. It’s a more difficult practice than the words imply. It’s easier to “drink the poison” and lose the useful details in the message, sometimes. The resulting festival of self-pity, guilt, shame, and emotional self flagellation may seem cathartic in the moment, but doing so would be mostly pretty poisonous, too. Better to lift myself out of the muck and sever the doom spiral neatly before it pulls me down. I can accept with sincere contrition and regret that I’m capable of errors in thinking, poor decision making, and poorly chosen words at precisely the wrong moment. Feels like a lot to work on. It’s a very human experience.

… Brain damage sucks, but there are useful workarounds for many of my specific challenges, they only require constant practice, and unlimited patience! 😆

I watch the parking lot here fill with folks in boots suited to mud, with buckets and shovels, heading down to the beach to dig for shellfish. This is a popular area for that. They are purposeful and well equipped for their task. G’damn I sure wish I felt similarly right about now. I definitely don’t. As with the crushing pressure of work, I suspect the feeling is illusory, and largely crafted within, built on my feelings of insecurity and doubt. Again, very human. This shit isn’t easy, or obvious, or in any way effortless – but it is possible to grow and change and improve over time.

I think about love, and notice that the blue hue of my glittery fingernails matches the sky. I listen to the wind whisper to me about practice and persistence, and learning from mistakes. I can’t know what the future holds – but I don’t have to. I can exist in this moment here, now. I’ll be busy enough with that, there is no need to become anchored to past regrets or future worries. “Now” has plenty with which to hold my attention.

I finish my coffee and grab my cane. It’s a beautiful morning, and it’s time to begin again.

Where does this path lead? The journey is the destination. Am I on the right path?

It is a new day. My birthday is behind me, and a new year waits ahead of me.

[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]

A robin greets the day as I water the garden.

I get to the more distant trailhead for the marsh trail that travels past the Tualatin River. Yesterday was the trail at Spring Valley. Tomorrow the trail at Basket Slough. After that, a couple days of painting on the coast. What an extraordinary birthday celebration. I love how much it has been more about presence and experiences than presents. I didn’t go without gifts, happily, and I’ve got quite a delightful stack of new books to read.

Software upgrades for a human primate.

63 was a good year, generally speaking. I wonder what awaits me in the year ahead?

Finally learning to play chess.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. It’s a beautiful morning. The clock is ticking. It’s time to begin again.

A new day – where does this path lead?

The morning mist caught me by surprise. No reason it should, I suppose; the temperature warmed in the wee hours after several cool Spring days, and today is expected to be hot (27C/80F). Tomorrow is forecast to be even hotter, and there is an extreme heat advisory.

[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]

The sunrise began with a ferocious heat-threatening diffuse orange. Pretty, although I’m not looking forward to the heat or increased wildfire risk. I remind myself to drink plenty of water.

Beautiful sunrise, hot day ahead.

The mist clings to the low places, gathering in near the rivers and creeks mostly. It envelopes me as the trail turns to wrap around the vineyard, leading me down closer to the creek that runs adjacent to the trail. As I walk I wonder if maybe I should have worn a fleece or my cardigan? It’s not hot yet. 😆 I’m chilly, in spite of walking.

I get to my halfway point and stop to write and reflect. It is Thursday. (Already?) Tomorrow is my birthday, 63. (Already?) I’m taking a few days off, an entire week. My Traveling Partner is in the middle of an important work project. He encouraged me to consider fucking off for a couple days, and I make plans for a couple nights on the coast. It’s nice to have that kind of freedom. I feel very loved. So far this is an extraordinary birthday celebration. Yesterday he gave me another book – and I’m thoroughly delighted – Barbara Walters “How to Talk With Practically Anybody About Practically Anything”, which I’ve wanted for a long time. It was a surprise that it is also a first edition in excellent condition.

There is so much more to find within the pages of a book than mere words on pages.

… I’ve got a lovely stack of books to read…

…63?

I don’t “feel my age”. I’m not sure I gave much thought to what being 63 would feel like, though. I feel more or less as I’ve always felt. The feeling of age or aging only hits me when I notice my capacity for manual labor is less than in my twenties, or I happen to take a longer look at my hands. “Aches and pains” don’t signal age for me; I’ve lived with serious chronic pain since my twenties. There’s some gray in my hair. Arthritis that was limited to my damaged spine for a lot of years turns up in my joints now, too. But, generally speaking, 63 feels like any other year. I will probably enjoy it every bit as much as I’ve enjoyed 62. 😆 The clock is ticking, but mostly I don’t notice.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. Pretty morning for meditation. The morning sun lights the trees along the trail. The mist begins to thin and fade away. There’s a whole new day ahead, then my birthday.

I happily contemplate a couple days on the coast as the weekend wanes… I’ll set off early, after I water the lawn in the morning. I’ll pack light, maybe bring my pastels, and load the car the night before. I’ll be gone just as the sun rises, probably, and I know my Traveling Partner will miss me – that’s part of the point. Having that chance to miss each other prevents us taking each other for granted, over time. I anticipate the joy of walking miles of beach in the cool morning breeze, and enjoying an iced coffee at some choice spot to sit and listen to the waves caress the shore, and the gulls calling to each other overhead. There’s a fantastic bagel shop near a beach I like, and I look forward to a fantastic bagel on the beach. It’s the kind of small delight that I savor. They add up to an immense quantity of joy, over time.

I smile contentedly. The best part about a couple days of solitary time away is returning home to a cozy life filled with love. I’ll never be wealthy but I feel rich; I have love.

I take a deep breath of the cool morning air and taste the scent of flowers. Summer is coming. I look down the trail amazed by how far this journey has taken me. 16 years ago I could not imagine being actually happy, like, at all, ever. I figured settling for surviving my life would be the best I could do. I’m grateful to have given myself a chance to continue on. I would not trade this life as it is for any other. My first real glimpses of happiness left me more confused than appreciative; I was ignorant of real lasting love, and certainly had no skill at being happy when happy moments turned up. It took practice just to accept the possibility of happiness. There was still so much chaos and damage to sort out. So much to learn about love and loving. There’s still more to learn even now. I’m okay with that. The journey is the destination and I’m traveling in very good company.

I glance at the time and the clear blue sky. It’s time to walk on. It’s time to begin again.

I woke early, but later than usual. I didn’t sleep deeply through the night, but I got the rest I need and I feel pretty good aside from a predictable amount of arthritis pain; I woke to a rainy Spring morning, no surprise. I reach the trailhead delighted that the rain is still a sprinkle that won’t slow me down.

[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]

… What an excellent weekend…

My beloved gave me a couple more birthday gifts and I’m feeling so loved by this twist on a birthday celebration (instead of gifts all at once on the actual date that is my birthday, a gift every day of the 12 days leading up to it). It’s been lovely to receive some books, too – one replacing a book lost when I left an ex, one to instruct me on the basics of chess, others that I’ve been wanting very much to read. Books are an amazing gift for anyone who enjoys reading. I make a neat stack of the books I haven’t yet read. They’ll be properly shelved once they are read, one by one.

New software for my operating system. 😆

Seriously, I really like books. I read. I definitely find it more useful to read from bound books. Reading on digital platforms and devices doesn’t seem as effective for learning or comprehension, somehow, at least not for deep learning. It’s more a quick lookup resource suited to answering a question or finding information. From there, if I’m interested in a deeper dive, I go to bound books.

As I walked I reflected on the books that have meant most to me over the years. I have most of those, on one shelf or another. My books are among my most cherished possessions.

There’s more to life than what can be found between the pages of a book.

I get to my halfway point still smiling. The sprinkle of rain threatens to become more then gives up. It’s an ordinary enough Monday. I smile thinking about the weekend. I got in some lovely miles on beautiful trails. I enjoyed them so much I’m planning to make each of these my routine on the weekends for some little while, maybe through the summer.

… Variety and novelty keep things interesting…

The sun rises, shining golden through a gap in the clouds, and illuminating the oaks along this trail. Pulling my attention back to here, now, and this moment.

It’s a pretty good moment for a beginning.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I enjoy a few minutes of meditation. I feel calm and capable, and ready for the day. I sigh contentedly, feeling a momentary (and entirely temporary) feeling that it never has to be more complicated than this. Feels good. It’s not a feeling that lasts, and I’m okay with that. Emotions are impermanent. As with moments, they are brief and often pass very quickly. Love is one of the few that tends to hang around, if made welcome. My heart fills with love and gratitude when I think of my beloved Traveling Partner. I feel fortunate to share so much of life’s journey with him.

Take it at your own pace. Incremental change over time adds up. We become what we practice, however slowly.

I sit awhile thinking about change and this personal journey that is one human life. There’s been much to learn – and somehow that never really changes. There’s always more. This adventure isn’t about mastery at all. It’s more to do with endurance and becoming something more over time than who we were at the start. This journey changes us. That’s the point. The journey is the destination. Where does your path lead? Is that where you want to go?

What you find along the way may depend a lot on what you’re looking for (or at).

I take a deep breath and exhale slowly, tasting the hint of rain on the Spring air. It’s time I got going. The clock is ticking and this path isn’t going to walk itself. 😆 I stretch and get to my feet. My next steps are waiting.