Begin again. Seriously, whatever it is that’s just not working out well, take the morning as a starting point, and begin again. Do over! Be the person you most want to be – today. Now. The very next conversation. It may go very well, it may go very poorly – it may take practice to be who you most want to be, as a human being. The distance between one human being and her goals varies by human being. We are each having our own experience.

Begin again.

It may go well, it may go poorly – you can even begin again tomorrow. Again. Don’t like who you are, when you think about the person in the mirror? Make different choices. Use different words. Begin yet again. Do you. No one else can be the person that you are, yourself. There is so much more to being and becoming than school-job-car-career-marriage-house-children-retirement-death, isn’t there?

What about that story you want to tell?

What about that place you yearn to go?

What about that idea you have?

What about that skill you want to develop?

A novel doesn’t write itself when I am not looking at the keyboard. The beautiful poem in my  head doesn’t make it to the page without assistance. The walk toward the distance on which I might see many things isn’t going to unfold ahead of me without my also taking the steps. The painting I can see in my thoughts won’t hang on my wall – on any wall – unless I paint it.

This is my life. There are verbs involved. Every day, every moment, every choice, becomes an opportunity to be and to become more the woman I most want to be. I may never be a well-known author; I write nonetheless, and it is part of who I am. I am unlikely to be a famous artist; I paint, a lot, and the joy in it is the painting, itself. Over time I have come to accept as a given that it is the journey itself in which the value lies; destinations being so finite and limiting, are of far less importance. When I become focused on an outcome, committed to a result more than an experience, I lose my way, mired in bullshit, drama, and tedious details – and forgetting this is my life, worth living.

Is love a journey or a destination? Or... is love a verb?

Is love a journey or a destination? Or… is love a verb?

I spent last evening wrapped in love. I’m still so soaked, so saturated, so imbued with sacred sentiment it’s harder than usual to use practical language, clear simple words, sentences with proper grammar and form; my heart soars, and my thoughts are poetry. I love. I am loved. It’s so much more than enough…

…I am not so easily able to love like this, fully, reciprocally, tenderly, openly, and with great consideration, without loving the woman in the mirror, first – and with a very similar enthusiasm and passion as what I might show a lover. Of course, there’s always more to learn. I reach for “How to Love” for today’s studious reading, and “More Than Two“, also. Today seems a good day to study love, to give it the serious support and earnest dedication to learning that one might give to a college course needed to graduate. What could be more important to study than love, and loving? It’s certain that I could be better at it, however good at it I may be in some one relationship, or some one moment.

Today is a good day for love, for loving, for being the woman I most want to be. There are verbs involved. My results may vary. That’s all okay, too; love is enough. 🙂

Morning comes. I’ve not experience one morning yet that hasn’t arrived precisely on time. Each new day is exactly that, new. We can begin again – every morning, if we need to.

One new day, approximately infinite possibilities.

One new day, approximately infinite possibilities.

The smallest of my choices still matter, if not to the outcome of my circumstances, then at least telling of who I am. I think that over for a moment; even if the choice I make, action I take, or words I express don’t actually appear to change what’s going on around me, they are a reflection of who I am. I take time to consider who I want most to be, what my values truly are, and how I can best express them.

What matters most?

What matters most?

Last night as I opened the patio door to cool evening air, and closed the screen door, I noticed a young praying mantis hanging from the inside of the screen, about to be trapped inside. I gently coaxed her onto my hand and slowly carried her outside. I did my best to be quite gentle and move slowly to avoid stressing her out more than necessary. Initially, she sought escape, then held very still, watching me from my hand. I placed her with great care in the taller roses in the patio garden – plenty to eat, and seeming relatively safe, I took her picture while she continued to watch me. I looked for her this morning, but she had gone, or had hidden herself too well for my pre-coffee eyes.

It doesn’t matter much at all what I say about how I feel about life. (You either) Words are words. It is our actions that reflect our values. Our rhetoric is meaningless next to our vote. Our keywords are  not relevant to our choices. The books we read are not the human beings we are. We become what we practice. There are verbs involved.

Every day, I can begin again. 🙂

I woke early this morning. I considered going back to bed. I didn’t end up making that choice; I made coffee, instead. Yoga. Meditation. Then I took my coffee into the studio with the intention of writing. I found myself staring out the window, watching the sun rise. As the morning turns to day, I see cats, here and there, in the tall meadow grass, watching and waiting. Crows walk awkwardly about in the playground on the meadow hilltop. It’s an ordinary sort of morning, preceding what is likely to be a very hot day. All the windows and doors are open to morning breezes.

A sunny summer day.

A day ahead, ready to enjoy.

I sip my coffee, and think over a conversation with a dear friend, last night. Anxiety is a major demon for both of us. I understand how bad it can get [for me] and he has my sympathy, my compassion, my affection… and my frustration. How do I effectively communicate that some things have really helped reduce my anxiety, generally, and also resulted in the bad moments I still have being notably less horrible? Is that truly possible, or are we such that we must truly walk our paths utterly alone? Do I have any cause to expect that what works for me will work for anyone else? How do I force the understanding into his brain, give him hope, encouragement, shake him free of his suffering? I can’t, actually, can I? We can share our ideas… but the verbs involved are our own. When it comes to growth, it’s not possible to “grab the mouse” and say “look, move over, I’ll just do that…” – and it wouldn’t work, if we did.

This one’s for you. Yes, you. Here are some things that help with my anxiety, and they might help you, if you practice them. (It does take practice.) (No, seriously, you have to actually do them.) (More than once.) (Maybe a lot.)

  1. Breathe! No kidding. I can’t tell you how often my anxiety affects my breathing, which stokes my anxiety, with causes my chest to feel tight, which affects my breathing, which… yeah. Stop. Just stop. Breathe deeply. Feel your breath.
  2. Anxiety is a liar, and thoughts have only as much substance as we give them. Stop “thinking it over”, get out of your head and into your body – walk, dance, run, bicycle, lift weights – whatever physical activity you can connect with, really get into, and just be in that moment, doing.
  3. Meditation – we become what we practice. When I practice calm, I am calmer. Not only that – a regular meditation practice has, over time, become lasting calm, generally, and lasting contentment. I have bad days, bad moments, sure – they are days. Only moments. Weather, rather than climate.
  4. Connect with someone, talk, share an experience, or have a profound conversation with a friend – or a stranger.
  5. Allow yourself – or even reach for – an engaging intellectual distraction. Learn something new. Read something that takes your thoughts a different direction entirely.

I’m not a neuroscientist, or a doctor, or a therapist – just a person. A person who has struggled – does struggle – with anxiety. I don’t tend to have to struggle so much, or with such painful intensity, or as often these days… something is working. I’m pretty sure it’s a verb. 🙂

As for that other matter… the issue of self-loathing, feeling unworthy… you are loved. I know some of the people who love you (specifically you… and maybe also you, over there…), and they’re awesome. Why do you doubt? I mean… besides being human, and the anxiety and whatnot. 🙂 No, we haven’t overlooked some invisible flaw only you can see; we love you as you are. You are uniquely you, and as far as I know, each of us who love you earnestly desire to be in your good company. I don’t know better words to say you matter to me, that you are loved… Maybe you haven’t been there for  yourself as often as you’ve been there for those of us who love you so? It’s okay to change that. It’s okay to look yourself right in the face, just you and the mirror, and see some of what we see in you, and share that joy. It’s a new day. You can begin again. You can join us – and love you.

I sip my coffee, and think of my friends… each so valued. Each so human. I have friends who struggle with depression. Friends who struggle with anger. Friends who struggle with jealousy. Friends who struggle with ennui. Friends who struggle with anxiety. Friends who struggle with feeling unworthy. Friends who struggle with feeling a fraud. Friends who struggle to be their authentic selves. I also have friends who don’t struggle so much, at all. We are each having our own experience. Growth requires a hearty helping of verbs, of practice, and the patience to observe incremental changes over time.

Today is a good day to ask a friend if they are okay. Today is a good day to be there for someone. Today is a good day to change the world. ❤

I’m home. Gear unpacked, cleaned, put away for future use. There’s still the matter of sorting out thoughts and photographs; it was a peculiarly eventful trip out to the trees, but there’s little I can do about the matter of finding the words for it, at least for now.

The trail at Saddle Mountain bested me utterly, and by that I mean I didn’t make it to the top. 🙂 I’m okay with that, still counting it among life’s successes – it’s often more about showing up than whatever the outcome may be. I managed a half mile up the trail, and back down, and learned more about how having a clear-seeming destination can alter the characteristics of a journey. I enjoyed a day out among the trees, and returned home with only 17 mosquito bites. 😀

When I arrived with the sun there was just one site available.

When I arrived with the sun there was just one site available.

I secured my camp site early in the morning on Friday with the intention of staying the weekend, and I was surprised that the camping was basically full. I quickly learned it generally is so full that incoming travelers quickly grab every vacancy as departing campers make their exit. (The posted rules are ‘check out by 1 pm, check in begins at 4 pm’, but there is no actual gap between 1:00 pm-4:00 pm during which tent sites are actually vacant.)

Heading up the trail.

Heading up the trail.

I hadn’t planned to attempt the trail the first day, but the enticing coolness of the forest drew me in, and I found myself walking. The brochure describes the trail as a ‘continuous incline’ (it is) that is very steep in places (not an exaggeration) and recommends it only for fit, sure-footed hikers, in proper footwear (wise). I went anyway – great footwear, at least, and feeling prepared, if not ‘sure-footed’. lol

...Just keep walking...

…Just keep walking…

I took very few pictures on the trail. Many that I took didn’t turn out. I was amused to find one reminder of the trail difficulties turned out only too well…

The obstacle that stopped me reaching the Humbug Mountain view point.

The obstacle that stopped me reaching the Humbug Mountain viewpoint.

Life’s journey has obstacles and detours. Part of finding my way is making wise decisions regarding which to overcome, and which to walk away from. I was finding this small side trail enticing and lovely – and relatively easy, until I reached this point. It was clear that hikers had been scrambling around this (tree trunk? branch? snag? fallen-down-something-or-other-that-once-was-tree); in doing so, over time, the path itself had crumbled away. Looking things over, I couldn’t determine with the needed certainty that the bit of tree clinging there to the hillside would truly support my weight sufficiently well to swing over the gap to the other side… and honestly didn’t come prepared to splint a broken leg and drag myself to help from the forest floor below, so I turned back, reminding myself it hadn’t been my intention to hike the entire trail today, anyway.  🙂

I returned to camp after hiking further up the main trail. It took me almost an hour to reach the 1/2 mile marker, and I contentedly headed back to camp. I’d taken some lovely trail pictures – many of which I didn’t yet know hadn’t turned out at all. I’d find that out after I returned home. lol But it isn’t about the pictures, is it? Life, I mean? It’s more about the living of each moment with exquisite awareness…and that doesn’t require a camera, at all. 😀

There are small things of great beauty surrounding us; we only need to look for them.

There are small things of great beauty surrounding us; we only need to look for them.

Moments to be savored don’t really need a camera. “Pictures or it didn’t happen”? That’s no real concern of mine. I don’t need to prove I live; I am living. 🙂

Perspective comes in all shapes and sizes.

Perspective comes in all shapes and sizes.

I had come hoping to see the meteor shower, figuring the remote location and high elevation would work in my favor. I hadn’t counted on the dense forest. I found two likely locations for good viewing, though, the parking lot, and the mostly dis-used ‘day use area’ on the other side.

The best view of the sky I could find near camp.

The best view of the sky I could find near camp.

I contentedly checked out the somewhat haunted seeming “picnic area” that had fallen into disrepair. It was a rare bit of quiet off the beaten path, at least in those moments that I was fortunate to explore it all to myself. Searching for a specific picture, of a specific moment, I happily discovered that I’d paused syncing on my Dropbox, and ‘found’ quite a few pictures I thought hadn’t turned out. Nice moment. I smile, sip my coffee, and enjoy it.

Once upon a time...

Once upon a time…

I had found what seemed a likely place to watch the meteor shower, and a reasonably easy & safe walk in the dark (even with a headlamp or flashlight, anything up the trail would be too risky in the dark). I spent much of the afternoon in this strangely forgotten timeless place, content with the stillness and solitude, beyond the sounds of voices and automobiles.

Beautiful day for a picnic.

Beautiful day for a picnic.

I spent the day whiling away hours in meditation, wandering, breathing in the scents of summertime, and naming all the shades of green; it was a day well-spent.

How many shades of green are there?

How many shades of green are there?

The night passed less comfortably, and my astonishment at how discourteous and inconsiderate people can be was quickly exhausted. Weary travelers arriving past midnight, disappointed to find no obvious vacancies didn’t just turn around and drive on, instead they illuminated the night forest with high beams, certain that if only they had the light of day to work with, they’d surely see the tent site they need… The regular interruption of the darkness was accompanied by a soundtrack, too, the cacophony of loud voices, strident, frustrated, insistent – tired people wanting rest who did not plan to arrive “early enough” to secure a tent site didn’t generally put the onus of their failure on their own shoulders, and seemed to seek silent validation from the rest of us, by shouting their tale of woe to each other across the dark parking lot and into the trees. Quiet hours after 10 pm? The park was actually noisiest from 11 pm to well past 1 am.

On the one hand, I didn’t sleep. On the other hand, the periodic interruptions that woke me also ensured I was indeed awake between 1 am and 4 am, and enjoyed a decent view of the starry night sky, and got to observe the meteor shower for some little while, although the experience suffered for the regular arrival and departure of visitors seeking a place to lay their heads for the night (see my earlier remarks on discourtesy and inconsiderate decision-making).

Even a day later, I am more than a little bit irked by hike/camp travelers who arrive on site past darkness, unprepared, and making a crap ton of noise. Surely planning is a small investment to arrive at a destination in a timely fashion so as not to intrude on the pleasant experience of others? I’m pretty sure most people approach that from a ‘fuck you, your experience doesn’t matter to me’ position these days… that sure seemed to be the case from the perspective I had from site #9 at Saddle Mountain. That’s a trivial matter, and it’s behind me now… seeping into my awareness of other circumstances and experiences, and I hope that I will take it to heart, myself, and act such that while I am out in the world enjoying my experience, I’m not wrecking the pleasant experience others are having around me. A small amount of consideration goes a long way. 🙂

I woke early yesterday, and dithered through my morning coffee… stay or go? Stay? Go. Stay. Go? One cup of coffee. Stay. Stay? No… go. Another cup of coffee. I’ll stay. It’s cooler up here. I’m not sleeping, though… I’ll go. Back and forth. I started heating water for oatmeal… and noticed I’d packed most of my gear in the car without really planning to in any specific way. (Trip to the rest room; take a bag to the car… Trip to get more water for coffee; take my hydration pack to the car…) Apparently, I had decided to return home – and the decision felt comfortable, natural, and relaxed. No pressure. No stress. I was ready to go home and didn’t need any other reason.

It was a lovely bit of time away, and I returned home with plenty to think over. Today is a good day for thinking thoughts, and preparing for the week ahead. 🙂

 

 

Everyone needs some down time now and then, and I’ll take some this weekend. A vacation more than an escape, and as much because I have the short-term convenience of having a car for the weekend – and there’s a meteor shower to see! I will be away, offline, in the trees, for a couple days. Back again soon. 🙂

We each have an idea of what feels peaceful. :-)

We each have an idea of what feels peaceful. 🙂

I hope you enjoy your weekend, whatever you choose to do with it. 🙂