A for effort | Evening Light

I’m sitting in the car, parked at the trailhead of a favorite trail. I’ve got a cup of coffee, and I am sitting in the predawn twilight listening to the rain and feeling the wind rock the car. I’m hoping for a break in the rain as day breaks, it’s sort of the point of being here so early on a Saturday morning, but I don’t honestly care one way or the other. I’m mostly out here at this hour hoping my absence gives my Traveling Partner a chance to sleep in after a restless night, without me clattering about the house.

The winds toss the big oaks on the hillside and scatter their leaves. The rush and roar of the wind reminds me of other times and places. Strangely moving, although I don’t really get why. I sit here weeping quietly. The marsh birds seem to be enjoying the currents, eddies, and updrafts of the stormy winds. I’ve got a decent view and content myself with sitting quietly and listening to the rain fall, spattering the car.

It’s Veterans Day. I think about “then”. Complicated memories. I pause my thoughts to wonder if I am always so sad each year when it comes around, but I can’t recall with any certainty, and I’ve shredded all my old journals, and I don’t have many connections that have known me long enough to say. I did bring along extra tissues. If nothing else, I knew I would be feeling blue today. I let the tears come.

A huge flock of Canada geese passes overhead. I think of my Granny, and find myself missing her greatly right now. I miss her strength, perspective, and wise counsel. I miss her laugh. I miss long Sunday morning drives, and walks together down country lanes.

My head aches and the tears keep coming. I let them. Eventually I will either venture out for some time on the trail (if the rain lets up), or I’ll dry my tears and put on “my public face” and do the grocery shopping before I head home. My arthritis continues to feel “worse than ever” this year, but acknowledging that I am struggling with a bout of depression, I have to wonder if it’s just amplified by misery and sorrow? Would I feel better if I just felt better? Seems likely but I don’t know what to do about that.

As the sky lightens without any hint of sunshine, mumurations of migrating flocks rise up from the marsh into the winds. The car continues to rock with the strongest gusts. The grasses and shrubs flutter. Storm flung leaves fall onto the car along with the rain. It’s all very Autumn. I sit enjoying the stormy weather. It’s appropriate to my mood. I’m alone here, and no one will be made uncomfortable by my tears. They fall as steadily as the rain. I take them no more personally than raindrops, since I don’t even know why I am crying.

I sit thinking about how best to have a nice time with my Traveling Partner, without burdening him with my bullshit and baggage, or carelessly mistreating him because I am in a shitty mood. How best to comfort and support him, nurture the relationship, and look after hearth and home without denying myself the same care and consideration…? What to share and what to “save for therapy”? How to be kind when I feel wounded? How to work through the chaos and damage without creating it for my partner? How to refrain from taking things personally that sure feel fucking personal sometimes? I’d very much like to be a better person than I am. I know I am a better person than I once was. Like a child on a long walk, I find myself crying because it just feels too far.

… A harsh inner voice griefs me yet again over self-pity and catastrophizing utterly mundane real-life bullshit that everyone probably goes through at some point. I don’t stop crying, but I do take notice of how incredibly unkind my “self talk” often is. I should probably work on that. I’d feel better if I did, most likely. I know where it comes from, and I understand it to be all tangled up with my challenges with internalized misogyny – a result of so many crushingly cruel, diminishing, or abusive relationships of one sort or another with male human beings (and male-dominated institutions). I don’t know what guided the path I took that brought me here. Perhaps it just seemed easier to nod and smile and try harder to be one of the guys? There were (and are) some real benefits to being that woman. There has been a real price to pay. This shit isn’t unique to my experience.

… I could do better…

The rain keeps falling.

There’s grocery shopping to do. Meals to plan. Thanksgiving is coming and I’d really like to feel thankful when it gets here. The laundry has piled up – which should have been a clue that I was spiraling down. There are outside chores to prepare the house for winter, this weekend. There are paintings as yet unpainted and new recipes to try. There’s a precious relationship to work on and holidays coming. It feels like so much and I am fearful that I am not up to the challenge… I can only do my best.

I guess I’ve got to begin again.

This is not a travel post. I say so simply because the title might lead one to believe, for a moment, that it is – especially if stumbling on this blog for the first time, and being unfamiliar with my rather loose and abusive way with words. (Not abusive of other people, no, abusive of the words themselves, I’m afraid, exploiting them night and day for metaphors, and forcing them to behave in accordance with my will, and whim.) So, here we all are. It’s early, I’m feeling playful, and… right. Let’s begin, shall we? 🙂

Flowers are a lovely place to begin, with a deep breath, and a moment of wonder.

I’m still contemplating perspective. There seems so much to learn from that. My three foundations stones to becoming the woman I most want to be are rock steady, reliably serve me well, and can be counted on to be some part of ‘restoring order’ when chaos begins to take over. I have grown to count on them: mindfulness, perspective, and sufficiency. Perspective proved its worth yesterday, when my good mood slipped, in a moment of rather childlike feelings of loneliness, isolation, and distance, which overcame me in the evening. My internal insistence on gaining – and maintaining – healthy perspective in the moment, and being mindfully aware of my emotions, and allowing myself their utter humanity in a kind way resulted in writing, re-writing, considering, re-considering, drafting, editing, contemplating words in email form for some time, stripping out the drama, trying again…all to find my way to simply communicating to my traveling partner that in that moment missing him seemed almost unbearable, and I felt sad without that connection, not just of flesh but of heart as well. I suspect I failed more than I succeeded, but waking this morning I find myself content that I made such a solid effort, and managed to remain largely very positive, and found that emotional resilience exists, and that balance was possible. Still…A+ for will, for intention, for effort… perhaps a C, at best, for my imperfect results…and the outcome was off the charts for success, because Love is what it is, and does what it does, when we allow it.

What we see of a ‘bigger picture’ is rarely ‘all there is’…

It didn’t hurt that he phoned me straight away, reading in my email that I felt disconnected and lonely. It was lovely. A short call, a connection across the distance, a moment to hear each other’s voices.

…What matters to us, as individuals, in the moment, is as much as matter of choice as happenstance…

(Notice I say nothing about whether or not these are effortless choices. Choice generally does require some effort, some exertion of will, some intention.)

...our focus, where we direct our attention and our effort, change what we see and understand of the world. We are each having our own experience.

…our focus, where we direct our attention and our effort, changes what we see and understand of the world. We are each having our own experience.

What is important to a bee, on a summer day, in a field of flowers, does not set a standard in my own experience of ‘what matters most’, nor does the individual understanding of ‘what matters most’ held by any one other human whose experience abuts or overlaps my own; it’s more than a requirement that I set my own standard, choose my own course, follow my own map – it is unavoidable.

Taking a step back brings perspective; the small stings and stresses of life are small indeed viewed in a broader context.

So, this morning I am contemplating what I am learning about perspective. My current notions suggest to me it is essential to my long-term emotional health, and for living life from a place of contentment. My experience of life is something like an unimaginably vast jigsaw puzzle – with one piece missing. Over time, more pieces are gently placed in my puzzle, and I see more of the picture developing before me…and there’s more.

However lovely the picture in my puzzle, before it becomes a picture, the puzzle must be completed. It’s about the journey, more than the destination.

Today is a good day to practice what works. Today is a good day to reflect and consider how the pieces fit, and what I can learn from my experience. Today is a good day for perspective. Today is a good day to acknowledge my challenges as my own, cherish my efforts, and recognize my successes; the smallest success in life is worthy of celebration. Today is a good day to put down baggage. Today is a good day to laugh over common struggles. Today is a good day to change the world.

Another Day, Another Beginning

Notions, Sundries, and Baggage Claim

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Another Day, Another Beginning

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Notions, Sundries, and Baggage Claim

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