Archives for posts with tag: ACT

I checked the weather while I dressed. Looked like more of the same mild autumn weather we’ve been having. I stifled excessive feelings of merriment before it turned into whistling or song, to avoid waking my Traveling Partner. I woke feeling pretty good.

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

I grabbed terrible coffee on my way up the highway, not intentionally, it’s how things went is all. I got used to it, I guess. I must have; I kept drinking it. There’s something to learn there about the critical importance of being aware that one’s prized adaptability may undermine necessary self-care. I ponder that as I drive, still drinking this terrible coffee. (It’s not bad meaning tainted in some way, it’s simply poorly made, of poor quality beans, and stored in an air pot that likely doesn’t get cleaned thoroughly between uses.) Industrial. Still a learning opportunity worth contemplating.

At the trailhead I’m surprised to see the ground wet from recent rain. It’s cooler, too, and my cozy fleecy shirt doesn’t feel like potentially too much, at all, the way it did when I dressed. I forgot to put on a fleece or my cardigan. Didn’t seem necessary at the time. I shrug it off; I’ll warm up as I walk.

…

Now I’m sitting, half crouching, in the photographer’s blind on the marsh. It was closer than the parking lot when the rain started. It’s not yet daybreak, and rushing down the marsh trail slick with mud, in the rain, in the darkness, didn’t seem like a good idea at all. So, I slowed down, and thought better of it, choosing the shelter of the blind until the rain passes. In some distant oak, I hear the sound of a bird of prey calling into the night with a dissatisfied sounding screech at regular intervals. I hear an owl hooting. I listen to the rain drumming on the roof of the blind. I prop open one of the “windows” and sit looking out over the marsh toward the east, listening to the rain fall. I’m in no hurry.

Yesterday was strange, strained, and difficult, but ended well. I’ll leave it there and let myself move on. Today is new. I’ll do my best. I slept well, and mostly without dreaming, which was a nice relief. Lately my sleep has been unsettled, filled with disturbing images and fragments of painful memories. It was nice to wake gently this morning. I’m pretty well done with the headcold I was fighting all week. I sigh quietly to myself thinking about the housekeeping I’m behind on. Vacuuming and laundry today, I guess. Maybe some time in the studio if my energy holds up. I remind myself of errands – a pharmacy stop, and some returns to drop off, feeling prematurely pleased to remember them without a reminder.

I think about my beloved Traveling Partner sleeping at home. I hope he’s sleeping well and deeply, and wakes to a new day with a smile. We might not have chosen each other as long term partners if circumstances had been different (or if we’d known in advance how deeply complicated this could be), but we did, and it works in an intense, passionate, and also really peculiar way. We “get” each other, love each other deeply, and choose each other again and again. It’s not any sort of testimony to being “easy”, but “easy” doesn’t appear anywhere in the contract. Worth it? Yes, definitely. Sometimes it’s still a lot of work and demands more growth from me than I think I can achieve… but here we are. I’m okay with it. I don’t doubt I am loved and safe.

… He’s more able to vex me than anyone else...

I sit smiling, thinking about my beloved. I’m very fortunate. I feel an acute and unexpected pang of intense loneliness and separation, just being here, while he is there. How strange that I adore this one human being so intensely. No, it isn’t always easy… I am loved, truly, and that’s what matters most. The loving.

Daybreak comes to the marsh. The rain stops. No colorful sunrise this morning, just cloudy sky and occasional streaks of blue showing through. I sit thinking how easily we allow a moment – particularly a painful or angry moment – to take us over and turn us into someone we don’t recognize. Being human, and doing a skillful job of it, is not effortless. It’s got more than a reasonable number of frustrating bullshit moments to deal with or endure. There’s going to be a lot to apologize for in one human life. I sigh, momentarily feeling the full weight of a lifetime of mistakes and failures and… humanity. Sometimes it’s hard.

I get to my feet as I exit the blind. I grab the edge of the plywood roof as I stand, to avoid slipping in the mud. The rain has stopped. Sometimes life is hard. Love, too. Sometimes I have to begin again. I smile as I gaze out over the marsh. I’m okay with that. I get started down the path a step at a time, watching fog deepening in the low places with some surprise. It’s as good a beginning as any.

I consider writing an amusing anecdote about my deeply shitty, complicated day, yesterday, but I don’t really feel like soaking myself in that bullshit this morning. It’s a new day.

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

The pizza I came home to, and the love it represented, are by far more important now. I was exhausted. It was late by the time I got home. A detail as small seeming as not having to handle dinner meant a lot. I ended up staying up later than usual, just to enjoy feeling so loved for a few minutes longer, at the end of a long day that had been aggravation stacked on an unstable ziggurat of meaningless corporate bullshit, and soaked in small misadventures and inconvenient circumstances. It was all much. It meant so much to wipe it all from my thoughts with pizza, and my Traveling Partner’s loving good company.

This morning, I feel largely over my head cold. I hope I’m right. (Time to get my flu shot.)

So…now what? I guess a routine work day, and then a weekend. It’s enough. I yawn. Star gaze awhile. No moon, but I spot Jupiter without her. Bright white clouds, illuminated by lights from below, begin to cover the western sky. I wonder what the weather holds?

I sigh contentedly, enjoying the peace out here on the trail. Soon enough I’ll have to begin again.

I could see the moon rising as I left the house this morning. It is presently a thin crescent, seeming to cup Jupiter in an unearthly embrace. It is rising in the eastern night sky. I try to get a picture from the trailhead parking lot.

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

Honestly, if I were using AI, the picture might have turned out a little sharper. 😆 It wouldn’t really be the picture I took, then, would it?

The crescent moon and Jupiter in the night sky.

Tuesday. I sigh to myself, grateful to face another day, in spite of my background irritation over the state of the world more generally.

…Rape is in the news again. How many times do we have to go over this shit? Damn. The ignorance and malice are astonishing and it’s hard to believe it just keeps coming up. I’m sure a lack of education plays a role in some sexual assaults, but I feel similarly certain that in most of them the perpetrator is very much aware of the terrible nature of their crimes.

I frown to myself in the darkness and sigh quietly. Some wounds don’t heal easily. (Or well, or… maybe ever. Yeah, it’s rough every time this shit comes up all over again.)

…A man or a bear?..

I have the trail to myself. There’s nothing much to fear alone out here. One individual man approaching would be enough to make me wary and put me on high alert, scanning for escape routes, weapons, and potential threats. Rape rarely seems to have any consequences for the rapist, even in the 21st century. It reliably has consequences for the survivor. That lost trust is a big one.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. It’s a mild autumn morning. I’m in a ridiculous amount of pain today. It makes me cross and gloomy. I’d very much prefer to just go back to bed, but it’s a work day, and I’m halfway down this trail…

… Shit. I forgot my radio, my water bottle, the returns that need to be dropped off, and also? I’ve used up my last tissue and I feel like I may be coming down with a cold. Right. “Okay, Tuesday, you’ve had your fun,” I think to myself.

Can we each simply commit to not being fucking vile today? I blow out my breath impatiently. I’m feeling a little overwhelmed (by life, by work), and overextended. Acknowledging the feeling is a necessary step towards resolving it, but doesn’t make doing something about it any easier, and I’m pretty certain it’s largely (if unintentionally) self inflicted.

I had a choice opportunity to relax at home, quietly, alone, last night and I fucked it all up by tackling some needful tasks that became hours of working. By the time my Traveling Partner had returned, I’d gotten a few useful things done, but hadn’t relaxed at all. My dreams during the night were filled with… more work. Passwords that hadn’t saved. Spreadsheets with strange errors I’d never seen before. Presentations that were openly mocked and files that wouldn’t open. I was glad to wake to a new day, even if it is a fucking Tuesday.

… The weekend feels so far away, in both directions…

I watch the moon continue her climb. It’s almost daybreak, almost time to begin again.

The foggy marsh trail feels like a liminal space, this morning. There is only “nothing” in the distance ahead of me, and behind me, and I walk along this portion of the trail in the predawn darkness with my headlamp on its dimmest setting to enjoy the sensation of being between moments.

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

It’s still dark on the foggy marsh trail.

Did you click on the picture, anyway? In spite of the not quite featureless darkness? This moment feels like a decision to click on something partially obscured from view. Life is defined by those decisions. We’re choosing our experience all the time.

I sigh to myself contentedly. The halfway point on this trail is near the Tualatin River. I can’t hear it, but the scent here is different than on the portion of the trail near the highway and the marsh ponds. The strange feeling of being between places or experiences persists. Is it the autumn fog or the moment itself? I can’t tell.

… Don’t feel like hearing me bitching about chronic pain? Skip the next paragraph…

I woke in pain. I’ve taken medication. Stretched before I headed down the trail. Did my PT stuff. Doesn’t matter, the pain accompanies me every step this morning and sneers at my meds. Today it is limited to head, neck, shoulder, and it is exceedingly clear that my neck is the source. I grimace, massaging my neck as well as I can. It’s not an especially helpful effort. I remember some things from the appointment with the specialist yesterday and try something he had recommended and demonstrated with me. It helps. It’s not perfect, but it’s definitely better. Better is good. An acceptable outcome.

New pastels arrived yesterday from a reputable brand with a long history (a characteristic I really value is that feeling of “legacy” provided by distinguished old brands). I hope to spend time painting today, pain permitting. I stretch and feel joints popping and pain easing a bit. I rub my hands slowly, gently. The arthritis developing in my thumbs vexes me. (How many more paintings are left in these hands?)

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I sit with my thoughts awhile. I am unbothered by the ticking clock of this mortal life, this morning. It’s Saturday and for the weekend, my life is not limited by clocks. That feels better than what seems reasonable.

Daybreak comes to the foggy marsh. I get to my feet, ready to begin again.

Yesterday’s sunrise was beautiful. Maybe I’ll paint that sky this weekend.

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

Every sunrise a new beginning.

I spent yesterday taking (Rx) drugs and wracked with pain, mired in irritability, working, and listening to Bauhaus, NIN, and The Stooges. Not exactly cheerful stuff, but infused with a dark moody energy that just seemed to fit. I was even wearing black, though the choice was unintentional.

… This morning is better, so far…

I enjoyed a quiet evening with my Traveling Partner, though I still don’t understand why he took a chance on my company last night; I wasn’t in a good place at all. We both made the necessary effort and it was a relaxed, generally pleasant evening.

This morning? New day, new beginning. I walk the familiar trail in the familiar darkness, grateful it is largely an external experience of circumstances – it’s still too early, not yet daybreak. Nothing like yesterday, when the darkness seemed to ooze from my being. I breathe in the mild autumn air. We haven’t yet had our first frost.

I breathe, exhale, relax. I meditate under the stars. It’s beautiful. I hear something loud, not too far away. The sound of impact, of things breaking, and a short time later, sirens. Someone else is having a bad morning today. Every one of us will, eventually. Very human. Our results may vary, whatever our circumstances or our practices.

“Maybe a shorter walk in the morning?” my beloved had suggested to me. It was a good idea. I sit with my thoughts another minute or two. Self-reflection is a useful tool for gaining perspective.

The sky takes on a hint of blue, and I stretch a gaze at the few stars I can still see. Short work day, and an appointment with a specialist later about this fucking headache, then the weekend. I hope to spend a substantial portion of it in the studio. I’ve got a playlist ready…

… I get to my feet, and hit play, before I walk on. “….Bela Lugosi is dead…” And it’s time to begin. Again.