It’s late in the day. The edge of evening, and not quite afternoon. I started my day at the usual time, and instead of going straight to work, I went for a walk and let my Traveling Partner sleep awhile longer. I caught the sunrise, just as I got to the start of the trail I planned to walk, and sat on a nearby picnic table and just… watched. Gorgeous sunrise. The morning’s cloudy skies quickly gave way to a sparkling-clear azure blue sky. Lovely.
…Work was work. It was fine. I enjoyed the day, and it was productive and fun. I can’t really ask for more than that, you know? It’s a sufficiently demanding (of my time) sort of job, and I quite like it, and I find I get pulled in sooner and for longer than I otherwise might. It’s important to remember to prioritize other things. 🙂 So… here I am, writing. Listening to music.Being.
I feel right on the edge of having something to say… like, something worth putting on paper… just at the edge of my thoughts… there… right… there. Nope. It’s gone. I let the music take a bigger piece of my attention and start the song over as I raise my sit/stand desk to standing height, so I can more easily dance with the part of my brain that isn’t writing. lol Feels good. So good.
…Even restarting a favorite track can be a new beginning…
There’s dinner to think about… tomorrow to plan… a camping trip coming up in just a few days (about 10 days)… things to think about, things to do.
I woke too early. I got into town earlier than necessary, filled with first day eagerness. I love this feeling! First days hold so much promise, and seem infused with the glow of future successes.
I start the morning with coffee, of course.
… Okay, Boomer… 😂
It was easy to find parking this morning. A fortuitous start to the day. I walked through a wee park on my way to the only cafe in the neighborhood that was already open. As I said, I’m here too early. lol
The ducks don’t mind my presence.
Where does this path lead, I wonder? Seems like a very nice day for beginnings. I guess I’ll finish this coffee and begin again. 😁
I’m starting the day grateful. Feels like I’m finally over this cold, and my interview yesterday went very well. I may be back to work quite soon… interesting to contemplate. The morning began relatively well, and I find myself in a good mood, feeling contented and somewhat merry. Hopeful. Steady. Centered. A good beginning to the day, indeed.
I’ve got my second cup of coffee and a bit of time until my next call (a follow-up with the hiring manager for the company I interviewed with yesterday). I sat down expecting I’d write awhile, but I am finding I’ve little to say. It’s a good moment for observation and for presence… but I’ve little to say about it. I am here. The moment is now. It’s enough.
…In a moment like this one, there’s no need to rush headlong into the next moment. I sit quietly with my coffee and my thoughts, until it is properly time to begin again.
I’m sipping my coffee and taking a break from reviewing an unexpectedly long list of new opportunities to consider. It’s a Monday, and for now the “new normal” in my work day is about looking for new work.
An earlier than necessary start feels consistent with an adult lifetime of working, and both gives me a leg up on the day, and an opportunity to slip out of the house well-before my Traveling Partner awakens. Ideally, this let’s him sleep in a bit, and that thought fills me with joy. (Human primates need to be able to rest even at the best of times, and we’ve both been ill for days and earnestly need as much rest as we can get.) Rest is not exclusively about sleep, though, and I make a point to take a short break from compiling job leads and catching up on various other job search tasks. I take a short walk around the block in the morning air under a soft gray rather featureless sky, then sit down to write – with a fresh cup of coffee.
I sip my coffee and sigh quietly out loud in this co-work space that will soon no longer be available. It’s hard to make a small business thrive in tough economic times. The shifting culture with regard to work, and whether that is in-office or remote work for many roles that lack a clear actual need to be “on site” for some legitimate business purpose, makes operating a co-work space a less than ideally secure business prospect in a small town, and the one I frequent is closing. For me, the convenience of a co-work space near to home has been a handy luxury that I appreciate – I’ll be sad to lose it.
I take a moment for gratitude – for this convenient space, and also for the ease with which I’ll be able to pivot to a different approach, a new routine, a new normal, after this final week in this quiet place. I’m fortunate. I’ve got a career that works well with remote work, and an approach to work that allows me considerable flexibility personally as to whether I work in-office or remotely in the first place. I’ve got a partnership at home that supports my freedom to choose from my options in the fashion that best suits me at the time, and a partner that “gets it” about why I might choose one thing or another. I enjoy another sip of my still-hot second cup of coffee as I reflect upon my good fortune, knowing it may not last, enjoying it while it does.
One of the challenges, for me, on life’s journey, has been finding myself distracted from “here and now” by yearnings for… something else. It’s not particularly helpful to become mired in what isn’t on this journey from where I am to where I will be later on. It’s a bit like trudging through ankle deep sticky mud; it may not stop me from making progress, but it will surely slow that progress considerably more than if I were simply moving forward on my path, step by step, with presence, care, and commitment. “Be here, now” is a powerful recommendation and reliably good starting point for a new beginning. “We become what we practice”, and there is a notable difference between desperate yearnings to become or to transform, and actual practices that result in authentic changes – and real progress toward a goal. Then, too, there’s the goal-less forward momentum of honest self-evaluation, freed from the constraints of the expectations and demands of others – which also grinds to a halt when I find myself mired that sticky mud of yearning to be something or someone else. “Yearning” hasn’t seemed to get me very far in life. It’s a peculiar sort of getting in my own way, by setting up the dream of something better, investing deeply in fantasies of that dream, and then… being frustrated that the dream never comes to life, all without noticing that the time spent dreaming the dream is at the expense of taking any actions to proceed down a path that could actually lead in that direction. Most peculiar. “Yearning” is interesting as verbs go; it seems to prevent actual action. I sip my coffee and consider it further.
…And here I am, at 60, still wondering what I want to be “when I grow up” lol…
…There is time to slow down, and enjoy the day. Time to write. To enjoy another coffee.
I don’t spend much time yearning these days. I don’t want for much. It’s less about “having it all” (hell, right now with no job and limited cash-flow and savings, I’m particularly alert to how finite my resources are), more to do with approaching life from a position of perspective, mindfulness, and sufficiency. It could be so much worse. I’m not yearning for fame or power or wealth. I’m content with living simply, with having enough, and I find adequate joy in the small things that work for me. I’ve got enough bullshit and baggage to work on without creating more headaches for myself by chasing other people’s daydreams for what I could have or who I could be. Yearning doesn’t fit into my day plan. LOL Still… Gnothi seauton. Self-reflection is a worthy endeavor. Getting lost in a labyrinth of yearnings seems less so.
I sip my coffee thinking about “being”. It isn’t always easy facing the woman in the mirror and some of her difficult questions (or painful accusations and burdensome disappointments). Reliably, however, I’ve found it far easier to make progress if I am making where I presently stand (and who I authentically am) as my starting point on any new beginning. Going from “here” to “there” is definitely simpler when I understand where “here” is.
…Funny thing… and a serendipitous coincidence… these themes are deeply explored in the sci-fi “space opera” that my Traveling Partner and I have been enjoying together while we’ve been ill. Babylon 5. Being vs yearning. Power and the consequences of seeking it. The corrupting influence of greed. The importance of love and compassion. Our very human journey of self, over the course of a lifetime. The heroic and the mundane, and this very human journey we call life. I’m sure immersing myself in the skillfully created fictional universe of Babylon 5 has done much to infuse my self-reflection with additional depth… posing new or old questions that very much want to be, if not answered, at least well-considered. So… I consider them. I consider me. I consider this moment in my journey, and where I presently stand with myself. I consider life and love and partnership. I consider what matters most, and how best to serve my mortal purpose.
I consider. I ponder. I muse. I wonder. I sip my coffee and prepare to begin again.
I slept poorly last night. Restless dreams, wakefulness, and frequently having to get up to pee, along with being in pain, made for a difficult night. My Traveling Partner woke up in a shitty mood, in pain, and cross with me as his default approach. Not my favorite way to start a day. I dressed and headed out as soon as I woke. “Later” will be soon enough to return home, hopefully some time after my partner has had his coffee, done some yoga and stretching, and taken whatever he can to manage his pain and allergies.
I’m sitting on a fence rail next to a marshy expanse of still water favored by all manner of water birds. There is seasonality to the view. I enjoy this quiet place, although on weekends it is often crowded with bird-watchers and camera nerds. It’s a nice place for perspective.
God damn, it would suck if this otherwise beautiful relationship were to fail over our inability to sleep in the same place. I think about that briefly. Tears well up, and I brush them away. We’re not there yet and there are still things to try. My sleep study got moved up from mid-August to… tomorrow. I’m not exactly excited, just hoping something helpful comes of it.
A woman and child walk past me. I hear the child ask “Mommy, why does that lady look sad?”, and the woman’s kind careful reply “Sometimes being a grown up is hard honey. It makes Mommy sad sometimes, too.” For real, Lady, you’re so right. Sorry, Kiddo, it’s not always easy.
I sit quietly awhile. No plan. Just stillness. I check the hours for the pharmacy near home in order to time my return such that I can pick something up for my Traveling Partner. I try to do enough sweet things, kind things, helpful things to offset the unpleasantness of our shared challenges. It’s not “enough”, but it is at least something. I find myself making a silent promise to refrain from talking about my own pain, and fatigue, and stress, and anxiety… Hoping to be more easily able to make room for my partner to feel heard, even if I can’t do much about it. Again, it’s not everything, it’s just something.
… I have to trust that after 13 years together he does understand that I am chronically struggling with pain, myself, and that he has the affection for me and the emotional intelligence to hold space for that awareness day-to-day, in spite of his own pain and fatigue. That’s hard sometimes. It can be a very “fuck your pain, what about mine?!” kind of world sometimes. I think I can do better… But how best to do better without being a dick to myself and undermining my own emotional wellness? It’s a puzzle.
… Sometimes being a grown up is hard, and it makes me sad…
I think about a dear friend tearing up a bit as we discussed age, aging, and the inevitable loneliness of feeling “cast aside”. Fucking hell, that is some real shit. Sometimes being grown up is hard. I watch a small flock of birds take flight, appearing to chase a larger bird. They don’t pay me any attention at all. I’m not part of their experience.
We’re each walking our own path. No map. Sometimes we get lucky on the journey and have some companionship along the way for some distance. It’s not a given that we will, and ultimately we’re in this alone, regardless how or whether we surround ourselves with people or creatures. These are individual journeys. Nonetheless, we’re also all in it together. It’s a puzzle. I remind myself to try to be kind. Always.
Evening Light 