Archives for posts with tag: basic self-care
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Showers and Chills

April 22, 2025 //
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This morning is a chilly one. Not quite freezing. There was a meteor shower peaking last night, but I didn’t stay up to see it, in spite of the likelihood of a clear night. It didn’t actually freeze overnight, and there was no frost on the ground where I live. When I got to the trailhead, I found a pleasant spot to watch the sky and enjoyed seeing Venus shining brightly, a beautiful crescent moon, and even a couple shooting stars. Worth a few minutes of time outside on a chilly Spring morning.

One unrepeatable moment of many.

I breathe, exhale, and relax, and head down the trail as daybreak begins. Nice morning to put another mile on these boots. I think thoughts of Spring, and of camping. It’s still too chilly for sleeping on the ground (for me). It won’t be long before camping is a fun way to get a couple days of solo time. I’ve got reservations at a new spot, too, in July. I’m hoping to get a couple days of painting on the coast in June.

I feel restless and a bit distracted.

I sigh and keep walking to my halfway point, and stop to write and reflect. Hard to keep my mind focused on this present moment, here, now, this morning. I wonder why, before letting my thoughts wander on. I’m in pain on this chilly morning. I’m distracted by the lingering recollection of strange surreal dreams from which I woke just before my alarm. I feel sleepy and I’m certain I could go right back to sleep, but it is a work day. I watch the sky change colors.

I shake off my sleepiness. I get to my feet and look down the trail, past the vineyard. The clock is ticking. The sun is rising. It is a new day and it’s time to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Practices, solo hiking, Spring, The Art of Being

Waiting Time

April 4, 2024 //
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I’m waiting. It’s quite early, before daybreak. I’m parked at a local trail near home. I’m waiting for enough daylight to walk. I’m waiting for the grocery store to open. I’m waiting for my Traveling Partner to wake and start his day. I’m waiting to begin my long weekend and short trip to the coast. It’s not a bad time for waiting. The world seems quiet and peaceful, and although that’s an illusion (the “peaceful” bit is very local), it’s a pleasant moment with which to begin the day.

My head aches ferociously. My neck, too, aches horribly. It’s more likely than not a byproduct of yesterday’s physical therapy, which isn’t unusual but is usually less intense. Progress? Hell, I don’t know.

Subjectively, I feel as if my range of motion is improving. The symptoms of occipital neuralgia seem reduced in frequency and intensity. Those are promising changes, but g’damn the pain persists, it’s just located differently. lol Learning to deal with pain emotionally has been as important as anything I’ve done to attempt to reduce it. I fully expect pain to continue to be a thing that is part of my day-to-day experience, and it’s no good letting it call the shots (anytime I have a choice to do otherwise). My results vary.

The ringing in my ears is… loud. I’m looking forward to being by the ocean. The sound of ocean waves and seaside breezes is one of the very few things that drowns out my tinnitus almost entirely. It’s a delightful break from the maddening din that no one else hears. For a couple days it’ll be rather as if there’s no tinnitus at all. This experience is one of the reasons I go to the coast when I need some time to myself, the chance to escape the noise of my tinnitus for a short time. Another is the feeling that being oceanside connects me more closely to my Granny and my recently departed dear friend,  both of whom felt a strong connection to the sea.

It won’t be long now until mountain and forest places are warm enough for camping and hiking, too. I enjoy the forest most of all,  myself, and that’s a lifelong love. I enjoy the seaside places. I enjoy the broad plains and vast expanses of high desert skies. I love the forest. My reluctance to camp in early Spring is to do with physical comfort, only. My arthritis makes sleeping on the ground in chilly weather uncomfortable, and the more frequent Spring rains make hiking muddy and more treacherous, so I just don’t. Choices.

…I sit quietly for some moments, feeling grateful to have the luxury and privilege of choices…

Daybreak comes. The morning sky stays pretty dark, and streaks of blue hint at daylight to come, through stormy clouds. It’s not raining though, and it looks like a good morning for a walk. I remind myself to check my paint box for blues and grays and colors I might use for stormy skies…

Soon there will be enough light to walk the trail. I grab my boots to make the change from sneakers, and get ready to head down the trail. It’s already time to begin again.

Walking my own path, I start where I am.
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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, Spring, The Art of Being

Now

February 1, 2024 //
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The day began earlier than it needed to, and I am okay with it. I’m waiting for daybreak to get a walk in while my Traveling Partner sleeps. Afterwards, I will make a trip to the grocery store to stock up on things he likes (and can make pretty easily), and then do a bit of tidying up before I finally finish packing, load the car, and hit the road for a couple quiet days of (hopefully) restful downtime.

I spend a few minutes meditating. I look over my packing list for obvious omissions. I update my to-do list. I sit quietly, taking note of how my body feels, and “where my head is at”.

My tinnitus is loud today and I am in more pain than usual. I’m physically uncomfortable, but I also feel pretty good emotionally, and generally quite merry and eager to face the day. Learning to hold space for these very different experiences at the same time took a long time to learn, and longer still to recognize the value in doing so, but so worth it. Being able to acknowledge and enjoy what’s going well in spite of what’s going poorly is a way of preventing shitty experiences or feelings from wrecking my entire moment (or day). Handy, considering how often I am in pain.

I take a breath and sigh as I exhale. It’s early, but I go ahead and take something to help manage my pain. Self-care is important to my own well-being, sure, and it’s also something I can do to support my relationships; miserable people make other people miserable, too. I’m not miserable with pain yet, but I could easily become so, and that’d be a crappy way to start off on a few days solo.

I’ve packed my paint box. My camera is ready, too. I’ve put the Lord of the Rings “Return of the King” in my bag, planning to finish it. There’s very little packing left to do (my CPAP, my pillow, things I was using during the night mostly). I’m really down to doing things to maximize my Traveling Partner’s comfort and convenience while I am gone. I take a moment to sit in quiet contemplation; I am so grateful to have a partner who is comfortable with me taking a few days solo now and then, and who truly supports my emotional wellness.

I smile, thinking about how much I know I will miss my partner, even though I am choosing to be away, and really need this time. I also know I will return home eagerly and happy to see him, and to love and be loved. It’s useful perspective to miss each other now and then.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. Soon it will be daybreak. Soon it will be time to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, art and the artist, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, inspiration, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, The Art of Being, winter

Savoring the Good Moments

January 21, 2024 //
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I’m sitting at a trailhead on a Sunday morning before daybreak, waiting for the sun and sipping an iced coffee. It’s a chilly morning but not freezing, and I am warmly dressed, suitable for the weather. There’s a steady misty drizzle falling, but not the sort of rain to keep me off the trail this morning. I feel satisfied, calm, and content. Perhaps even happy.

I sit with this feeling, sipping my coffee and listening to the traffic as the occasional car goes by. At least for now, there’s nothing more important to do than to savor this moment.

Yesterday began well, and was quite a lovely day throughout. I hung out with my Traveling Partner. We watched movies and shared the day gently. I didn’t really get much done and ended up completely forgetting about the laundry I had started. The thing is, though, the laundry is less important than the time we spend together, and I definitely needed the restful day. Win, all around, really, especially if I don’t punish myself for “slacking off”, which I have not.

…Maybe I’ve grown? 😁

I sit, relaxed and ready, contemplating the value in savoring the small pleasures in life, and the gentle moments of joy. It’s made a huge difference for me, this one simple practice.

“Additive” changes tend to be easier to make (for me). Learning to make a specific point of also “wallowing” in the good moments – even ridiculously small pleasant moments of no consequence – has done so much more, so much faster, to improve my sense of the quality and character of my very human life. It’s been one of the most profound (and positive) changes I have made to the way I face life. It’s hard to overstate how useful this has been.

It’s easy to the point of being default behavior to wallow in a moment of pain, misery, or aggravation, which tends to blow it out of proportion in my implicit memory of my experience, generally. Doing so, over time, creates a fairly profound sense that “life sucks” more commonly and deeply than it truly does. For years I struggled to “not do that” without understanding that a “subtractive” change of behavior like that can be incredibly difficult to make.

If you’re just generally feeling miserable and as if that is always the way of it, I definitely recommend savoring the smallest of pleasant moments as a regular practice; it can do a lot to open your eyes to how common those are. 😁 Over time, doing so has so much potential to thoroughly change how life feels, generally.

Daybreak has come and the trail is clear in the dim blue-gray early morning light. I smile and finish my iced coffee. It’s time to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, Anxiety, Brain Injury, breathe, Despair, Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, inspiration, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, The Art of Being, winter
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