Something Like Silence

September 5, 2024 //
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I arrived at the trailhead before daybreak. It’s still quite dark. The season is changing. Yesterday morning felt very much like autumn as I waited for the sun. This morning it feels like a midsummer morning, warm-ish, humid, and still. The morning is almost silent, aside from the chorus of peeping frogs and chirping insects down in the meadow grass, or away along the riverbank. I hear a rooster crow some distance away; it’s farm country on the other side of the river. (This side, too, and all around this county, taking into account the many vineyards, actually.) I sit with my thoughts and wait for the sun.

Yesterday was a good day, a lot got done. Funny thing about getting shit done though… there’s somehow nearly always something more to do. That’s true today. I’ve got quite a few things on my list, and work and caregiving besides. Some days it feels like a heavy burden, other days not so much. This morning I feel a bit tired, and I am enduring an amount of physical pain that may become difficult to manage as the day wears on. Life. Struggle (and pain) is part of the human experience. It’s not so bad… I need to wrap up the last details of yesterday’s project, which involves washing all my cherished breakables before placing them back on shelves. I need to do some returns. (I sit for a moment thinking about how much “shopping” has changed with the rise of e-commerce.) That’s really it, for “the big stuff”, and from this vantage point it doesn’t seem all that big. lol Perspective.

It’s still quite dark. Daybreak comes some time after 06:00 a.m. these days and sunrise after 06:30 a.m. The workers employed on the construction site adjacent to this first stretch of the trail are starting to arrive. I change my shoes for my boots. It won’t be long now… An owl silently swoops low, passing over the car, seeming huge and menacing overhead, before dipping lower still and disappearing into the meadow grass. I wonder what she found there?

Daybreak soon, and a new day ahead.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I take my morning meds a minute before my reminder goes off, feeling pleased by my timing and memory, and happy to silence the alarm without having to hear it. My tinnitus is loud lately, so loud. More than a mild distraction these days, and sometimes enough to drive me to tears of aggravation and annoyance. Inescapable. Ceaseless. Irritating. I focus on the distant rooster, the nearby traffic, the sound of my own breathing – any distraction from the tinnitus is welcome and helpful, however briefly.

I probably bitch about aging and wellness-related crap more than is necessary or in any way interesting. In part, it’s simply that this is my lived experience, and that’s what I write about. There’s also an element of wanting to handle such things differently than my elders did; a lot of this shit frankly came as a huge fucking surprise to me when “my turn” came to experience it, and I resented the fuck out of not having some idea what I might be facing (sometimes still do). A “culture of silence” or secrecy, or even well-intentioned excessive discretion only serves to leave us all ignorant of the realities of aging, and ill-equipped to improve the state of things for ourselves or anyone else. So. I talk about it.

The sky begins to lighten. The clear starry night begins to fade, revealing a gray hazy morning. Feels like it may be quite a hot day today…

Another day, another chance to begin again.

Daybreak arrives. It’s enough light to see the trail. I’m eager to get to my feet and get going. I feel a certain sense of satisfaction and contentment and… fitness; I’ve lost about 25 lbs since I started on the Ozempic back in April. I don’t say much about it day-to-day, but it’s certainly a piece of the puzzle these days. Losing some weight takes some pressure off my reconstructed spine and my wrecked ankle. The walking is easier because of it. The easier walking has me enjoying it more, which encourages me to do more of it, going farther at a faster pace. I can’t turn the clock back, but these seem like worthy results nonetheless. I keep at it. Improving my nutrition. Getting better rest. Undertaking more exercise. Practicing my practices. Walking on. My results vary, and for now they’re mostly pretty good. I enjoy that and hope to enjoy it all the way to my weight and fitness goals. It’s not about perfection or mastery. It’s a journey, and the journey is the destination.

I glance at the sky, in the direction of the rising sun. It’s a new day. Definitely time to begin again.

Walking my own mile. Where does this path lead?
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Taking a Moment

September 4, 2024 //
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It’s a quiet start to the day. The morning air feels subtly autumnal. I find myself regretting that I didn’t wear my fleece hoodie. The walking warms me up though.

One perspective on the morning.

There’s a low mist clinging to the ground along the river when I begin my walk. It drifts over the meadow adjacent to the trail, becoming a thin fog. It’s very quiet this morning. I don’t hear any birds, or traffic, only my footsteps and my breathing.

It is a routine work day, possibly a busy one. There is a project to be done, later, and later still an evening meal to prepare. I sigh quietly as I walk. The to-do list is long. Having the Anxious Adventurer in the household lifts a measure of the everyday housekeeping burden, but greatly increases the “mental workload” and emotional labor landing on me day after day, on top of the increases associated with caregiving for my Traveling Partner. I’m less physically exhausted than I had been…but… I often find myself very much “over” dealing with people at all, far sooner than I typically might. It’s a struggle to get enough time alone, unbothered by what everyone else needs moment to moment, and undistracted by pings, questions, or requests for my thoughts on the various topics. I often end up feeling like a bitch just trying to get a moment alone with my thoughts.

… I’m grateful for this solitary time in the mornings (and I am pretty certain it’s keeping me sane).

I turn the last bend on the trail and sit down for a moment to think and to write. “This too will pass,” I remind myself. I breathe, exhale, and relax. It’s time to begin again… I head down the trail towards the car, and the beginning of the work day.

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Categories Allegories, Anxiety, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, Frustration, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, Love, meditation, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, Summer, The Art of Being, War and News of War, Words

Savoring Each Moment of Joy

September 3, 2024 //
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Here it is, a Tuesday. First day back to work after a long weekend that actually felt long. It was a delightful weekend in the company of my Traveling Partner. Evenings shared with the Anxious Adventurer, too, after his work days were done. It was pretty nice all around. It is satisfying to see my partner continuing to improve and recover after surgery (though he is less satisfied, because progress feels so slow).

A new day begins now.

I am starting the day with that “song in my heart” feeling. It’s quite wonderful. I made a point to set things up for my partner at home to make his morning easy, and slipped away into the pre-dawn darkness. The Anxious Adventurer has an early start at work this morning, and has been making great progress with being quiet and considerate in the mornings. I’m hopeful that my Traveling Partner will be able to sleep in and get more of the rest he needs. He’ll have a quiet house for a few hours.

As soon as there is enough daylight, I hit the trail and get a short walk in. Short this morning because I’ve got work and getting an early start gets me home earlier…

…An early ping from my Traveling Partner upends my careful planning. He woke, and can’t find his glasses. Recent experience suggests they may have fallen into a gap between the mattress and headboard, and if so he won’t be able to see or reach them. He asks for my help and if course I don’t mind working from home; I prefer it. I assure him I’m on my way and head back up the trail to the car.

… It’s time to begin again. Change is.

No, seriously – change is a thing. Reliably.

Later…

I’m at the office. Funny story… well, not really, but for context; my Traveling Partner found his glasses. He’d knocked them to the floor, but they were within reach once he spotted them. Difficult, but not (apparently) completely outside the realm of possibility… because he got it done. He alerted me. We chatted awhile, and I resumed my plan for the day with minimal delay. Hilariously, I still feel “more than connected” with him, presently. I feel alert for his outreach, sensitive to the idea he may yet need me, and I’ve got a persistent sensation of having “half an eye on my phone” for incoming messages. My full (very – it’s a Tuesday) meeting calendar today limits the ease with which I could promptly return home (following an almost hour-long commute), but I settled my nerves by alerting my work team of the potential, and then I just… let it go. It’s fine. Routine. Human.

…Fuck I love my Traveling Partner so deeply and so enduringly that even my lingering hang ups and baggage regarding time and timing are nothing compared to my love, and my willingness to come to his aid on a moment’s notice.

Change is. The journey is the destination. There’s no point getting overly invested in the details of a plan, or in expectations or assumptions about how things may go or what the future holds. Breathe. Exhale. Relax. Roll with it. Practice non-attachment and practice not taking shit personally, and life becomes so much less prone to OPD (Other People’s Drama) and disappointment. Go ahead – be daring – just be.

Isn’t right now a fine time to begin again?

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Categories Allegories, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, Summer, The Art of Being, The Big 5

Shades of Gray

September 2, 2024 //
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There’s a dense misty rain falling this morning, here at the trailhead. It’s not enough to keep me off the trail. I’m grateful for the rain poncho that I keep in the car with my boots and gear that I like to have on hand “just in case”. I’m not in any particular hurry. It’s a holiday Monday and, with the drizzle this morning, I have the trail (and the park) to myself. I take my time enjoying it.

The grays and greens of a rainy summer morning have their own beauty.

The scents of the park are different on a morning like this. Petrichor. The birds are more plentiful and a bit noisier. I hear a different assortment of birdcalls. The minimal traffic on the highway nearby creates a hushed background noise, tires on wet pavement, that sounds almost like the wind in distant trees, or waves on an unseen shore. The tiny misty raindrops make no noise. They cover everything quietly, silently soaking surfaces, and making everything more damp than actually wet. “Good for the garden”, I think to myself, but it may not be raining there; it wasn’t raining when I left the house.

I listen to the sound of my breathing, and my tinnitus. There have been pretty clear signs lately that I may be developing a real hearing impairment. I’ve made an appointment with an audiologist. I find myself wondering if all of this head and neck shit is related… the hearing, the tinnitus, the headache, the degenerative disk disease, the eustachian tube dysfunction, the weird whatever the fuck is going on with my collar bone… Probably not, but g’damn – I’d very much like to get it all sorted out and at least have a clear accurate understandable diagnosis. It would be something to work with.

… These fragile fucking meat suits in which we reside are disappointingly unreliable and prone to failure over time…

I just keep walking. Breathing. Practicing. Living my life has become a thing I have learned to embrace with a certain joy, in spite of pain, aging, and whatever bullshit and baggage I am dragging along. There’s always plenty of that to go around, I can at least enjoy my life and treat myself with kindness.

I enjoyed a pretty splendid day with my Traveling Partner, yesterday. We shared the day shopping online for a tool he was wanting. It was tremendous fun. When the Anxious Adventurer returned home from work, I made a hearty fairly healthy dinner for the three of us (although I went a bit overboard on the portions). It was well-received and there are leftovers for lunch today. None of this is particularly noteworthy by itself, it’s just lovely to feel life returning to a more comfortable commonplace emotional “atmosphere” as my partner continues to recover from his surgery. Encouraging and a huge relief; we humans too easily assume that whatever things are like in this moment now somehow says something about future moments or represents some kind of ongoing state of being. That’s rarely the case, good or bad. Change is.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. My arthritis is griefing me hardcore this morning. No surprise; it’s rainy. Damp. Humid. Of course I hurt. I check the time and take appropriate medication. Best to get ahead of it, so I can more easily enjoy the day with my Traveling Partner once I return home.

… It’s still raining. Daybreak has come and the sun has risen, though the only confirmation is the lighter gray of the sky and the visibility, limited only by the misty rain and not at all by darkness. I’ve got my boots on. I’ve got my cane by my side. I’ve got my rain gear ready to put on as soon as I step out of the car. Nice quiet morning to walk a favorite trail along the river and the marsh. I guess it’s time to get on with it…

It’s a good time to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, solo hiking, Summer, The Art of Being, weight loss secrets

Uplifted and Inspired

September 1, 2024 //
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It’s a new day. The sunrise has started. The trail ahead is revealed. The morning air is sweet with the scent of meadow grasses and wildflowers. The weather is pleasant and the temperature mild. It is, to be brief, a beautiful summer morning.

A new beginning.

I could have started down the trail earlier, but chose instead to sit quietly for a little while, enjoying this lovely moment. Worth it. It’s not that anything particularly noteworthy or interesting happened, quite the contrary; it’s just a pleasant quiet moment. Still, it’s been a very nice way to enjoy it, simply to sit quietly and be.

A lovely moment.

I put on my boots feeling relaxed, refreshed, and uplifted. The sunrise inspires me. Perhaps I will paint today, between loads of laundry? No grand agenda in mind, and the day ahead has no firm plan. It’s a long weekend, too, suitable for hanging out with my Traveling Partner and enjoying our precious all-to-brief mortal lives together. Maybe some gardening? I smile, feeling at ease and comfortable in my skin.

Breathe, exhale, relax.

I hit the trail happily with a goal in mind. 5 miles. Seems a good morning for it. The trail is not crowded yet. The sky flares boldly with shades of orange, peach, and pink, with hints of soft mauve and lavender. My mind visits my pastel box on the sly, recalling colors I have that would be useful to capture this colorful sunrise. I sigh contentedly and walk on.

So many colors, but can I capture a sunrise?

At the halfway point of my walk, I sit with my thoughts, looking out across the summer meadow. In winter, much of this broad meadow becomes marsh, and the migrating birds have it to themselves. I enjoy the view in all the seasons. I have not always been able to get this far down this trail. It’s very satisfying when I do, and worth stopping to enjoy the view – and the achievement. Someone else might not think this relatively modest success truly amounts to an “achievement”, I get it, but… I am living my experience, not theirs. lol

… Our small joys matter too, savor them!

I remind myself to be kind to people. I can’t really know what they might be going through, or how hard life is for them. It costs me nothing to be kind, it only requires consideration and practice. The “payoff” in goodwill (and a feeling of decency and civility) is very much worth the modest effort required.

I meditate for some little while, until I hear voices coming down the trail. I stand and stretch and prepare to finish my walk. The journey is the destination. It’s time to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, art and the artist, Brain Injury, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, inspiration, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, solo hiking, Summer, The Art of Being, weight loss secrets
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