Archives for posts with tag: be kind

We’ve all got to walk our own mile. Sometimes it is a difficult journey. Sometimes we’re fortunate enough to share some portion of the journey with other travelers. The company we keep matters. A lot. Walking a difficult path alone may be a better choice than sharing the journey with those who wish you ill ( or even those who simply don’t care whether you stumble).

The way ahead may not be obvious. Conditions may be bleak.

I’ve never understood why someone would choose an unforgiving path in the company of the hostile, mean-spirited, cruel, or other ill-intentioned souls on life’s journey. Sometimes we happen upon such folk, our paths may cross, but why choose to endure miles shared alongside them? What value does it add beyond painful lessons learned? Won’t circumstances deliver enough of that without seeking it out?

Isn’t being alone and walking a solitary mile better than sharing the journey with someone who would mistreat you?

Walk on. Choose the company you keep with care.

It can be a cold and unforgiving journey without also sharing your hard miles with those who wish you ill, or who would misuse your gracious presence for their own ends.

We’ve all got to walk our own mile, whatever the weather. (It’s a metaphor.)

My steps on the trail make a crunching sound as I walk over what’s left of the snow. I feel the snow compress and yield beneath my weight with each step further.  The air is clean and crisp, and feels strangely warm for 36°F. I feel comfortable in my warm sweater and my fleece. My steps feel purposeful as I walk through the fog along the marsh trail. Daybreak has come and the gray of the foggy morning changes hue. No colorful sunrise this morning. I have the trail to myself and I walk with my solitary thoughts, content to be alone.

I am grateful for a partnership that gives me such easy freedom to embrace solitary joy. My Traveling Partner has a standing invitation to join me on my morning walks, any time. (He’s more of an afternoon walk in the sunshine guy.) He doesn’t grudge me this solitary joy, and isn’t inclined to be out here on the foggy winter trail. I’m grateful to share the journey with such an understanding traveler.

My thoughts accompany me through the oak trees along the trail…

My thoughts wander. I smile recalling a time when I wore a favorite T-shirt that said “I don’t f* mean people” – and it was true then, and is still true now. I mean, why would I? Why would anyone? Isn’t it better to be alone? It’s a question I ask myself often, because I see so many people who seem uncomfortable with solitude. I don’t understand that, at all. Even my inner demons are better company than mean-spirited, cruel, or petty people. (I enjoy my own company quite a lot.)

Winter oaks, a foggy trail, and solitude.

I get back to the warmth of the car. Write a few words and reflect awhile on the quiet joy of a solitary mile in my own good company. The company we keep on this journey matters a lot. If you find you’d rather endure ill-intentioned companions than spend your time alone, that may be something worth reflecting on. You could be your own best friend. You could even walk a joyful solitary mile instead of enduring an unforgiving path in poorly chosen company. Isn’t it worth thinking about?

I breathe, exhale, and relax, sitting with my solitary thoughts, contentedly. It’s enough. I find quiet joy in this moment of solitude.

It has been worth it to step off the unforgiving path to walk a very different mile in well-chosen company – or solitude. Worth it to begin again.

How do you light your way when you must pass through darkness? Do you use matches? A cigarette lighter? A candle? An oil lamp? A big flashlight filled with D batteries? A headlamp? A portable camp lantern? Do you flip a switch? Count on public streetlights? Maybe you just wait for the sun? You’ve got choices and the choices to vary in suitability and effectiveness. Some are too dim. Some are unreliable. Some won’t last long enough to get you through the darkness. These days there seems to be a lot of g’damned darkness, doesn’t there?

It’s a metaphor. You already caught on to that, didn’t you? How will you “light your way” through the darkness as a new “dark age” begins? Do you sense the darkness falling? What will you do to bring light to the darkness? Your results may vary, but you do have choices. Don’t let your voice be silenced. Don’t stumble blindly through the darkness, persuaded that it isn’t actually dark at all.

In practical and clear terms, as information is pulled off the Internet and made less available, it’s time to make a point to buy, read, and share bound books.  Check and double-check the sources of the information you consume. Be wary of hidden agendas.

It’s necessary – urgently so – to “speak truth to power”, and the powerful aren’t going to make that easy. (It’s already no longer possible to directly email many elected officials who “represent you”, including the White House.) Use snail mail. Pick up the phone. Write letters to the editors of newspapers (while those still exist). Gather with others and raise your voices together. You may need to make a real effort to be heard. It’s important that you do. (Me too. All of us.)

The darkness is coming. Lighting a match is less likely to be useful than a headlamp on the trail, but you may need spare batteries. Flipping on the lights makes sense in a dark room, but you’ve got to pay the electric bill.

… Still a metaphor…

I’m just saying, don’t wander in darkness. Seek Illumination. Find enlightenment. Make a point to light the way for others, too, when you can. Don’t trust that it’ll be fine to wait for the sun; we never know when we’ll see another sunrise.

… Maybe don’t share your journey with people who tell you that it’s better that you should live in darkness…

It’s likely to be a long four years, and we’re all in this together.

It’s time to begin again. How will you light your way, until the sun rises again?

I overslept this morning. Of course. I have an important meeting on my calendar, early. Not early enough to change the flow of my routine at all, just early enough to “feel different” and be on my mind, in the background. I dreamt strange dreams before I woke.

I dreamt that I worked somewhere quite different than I do, and that we worked uncomfortably alongside each other, me, “the boss”, and a bunch of classic stereotypical “mean girls” (basic bitches one and all with french tip manicures, heavy perfumes, high heels, and carefully sprayed hair-dos) – and “the other coworker”. She was a pleasant competent woman going through some difficult times, and in my dream I remember feeling affronted and dismayed to hear “the boss” making dismissive comments and giving her side-eye over absences to do with child-care and medical care. It was disappointingly real, and rather than endure more of that bullshit, I left for the day.

In my dream I struggled with my car seeming to go “too slow” – like, really slow. No traffic, it just went slower than I expected. At some point I noticed I wasn’t driving my car – I had taken someone’s scooter by mistake?! Weird. I don’t ride a scooter, never have. I found myself lost on what should have been a familiar route home and began to worry that I might be sufficiently late to worry my Traveling Partner. I called home and tried to explain about the terrible day, the mistake taking the wrong vehicle, getting lost along the way, and how I ended up in a strange town with a familiar name, but where nothing at all looked the same – and no gps. I was on foot by then, near an elegant restaurant, where I had parked the scooter planning to call the colleague whose vehicle that was to explain what had happened. I couldn’t reach her. I woke with a start, and realized I was dreaming, and looked around me to take stock of where I was.

I walked on, unaware that I was still dreaming. Everything around me was destruction and chaos. Desert (and deserted) communities flattened by warfare, all the way to the distant horizon. Pinkish-beige desert sands and remnants of stone buildings, and an eering silence broken by suspicious sounds of things scurrying unseen, and I walked on feeling a strong sense of dread and sorrow. A man approached me suspicious and angry, demanding that I identify myself, as I clearly wasn’t from around there. He refused to give me directions – or hope or reassurance. I kept walking. I was approached by another man, aged and twisted, who demanded I turn over my credit cards. He was pointing some kind of weapon at me. I burst into tears claiming not to have any credit cards, and starting to tell him all about my terrible day, which he clearly had no time for. He let me walk on rather than deal with my emotional bullshit.

I wandered into some sort of town-ish area, noodle shops and small restaurants, decorated with banners and signs in a language I did not understand, just opening at dusk, lights filling the cramped narrow streets. Cobblestones? I continued toward what looked like a main avenue, maybe somewhere familiar? I saw a road sign suggesting the freeway was somewhere ahead. I saw a lovely peculiar park, filled with irregular steps leading down into a verdant lush garden, with a small lake, candles everywhere. No leaves on the trees – winter? I tried to take a picture (to share with you) unaware that I was dreaming. I couldn’t get it to turn out, from any of the angles I tried. I turned to find my Traveling Partner arriving to help me find my way home. I felt incredibly reassured to have him by my side, and started to tell him about my strange day… He laughed, and held me close and wispered in my ear “you’re only dreaming, Baby, and it’s time to wake up, time to begin again…”

I woke from my peculiar dream, still not quite sure which was the more real circumstance… the here, now, or the dream? I went through my morning routine in a most routine way, and the commute was quite relaxed and there wasn’t any traffic; I’d hit the quiet pocket between batches of commuters rushing along on their usual timing, perhaps. The office is cold and quiet. My calendar is waiting for me – no surprises. Real life feels quite ordinary, and looking beyond the window, I see my car parked in the usual place. No scooter. No “mean girls”. My head aches ferociously – also quite ordinary and routine. A new day dawning, a chance to begin again. I sip my coffee grateful that I am not surrounded by the detritus and aftermath of war, but dismayed that this isn’t true everywhere, for everyone. There are whole communities left in rubble, unlivable, destroyed, and people struggling to survive there, any way they can. Those places just don’t happen to be here. Not yet. Maybe not ever (I can hope to be so fortunate, but I don’t think I can count on that).

Strange dream, I think to myself, reflecting on the details and wondering what I might learn from it. Am I trying to tell myself something, or was my brain just “taking out the trash” as I slept? I often wonder about dreams. I breathe, exhale, relax, and take a moment for gratitude and self-reflection before I begin the day in earnest. I have choices ahead of me. I hope to make only the most wise, most ethical, and most helpful choices I can – and to contribute in some small way to truly making the world a better place for everyone who lives in it. We’re all in this together, in spite of each having our own experience. I can do better than I sometimes have. I can begin again.

…So can you. It’s time to wake up.

When I left the house for my walk this morning, it was a mild, almost warm, morning. Everything was soggy after a night of rain, but it wasn’t raining. I got to the trailhead and got going down the paved local trail I favor, in the pre-dawn darkness. I stepped along contentedly, well rested, and not in much pain at all. Nice start to a merry Giftmas eve day.

Now I’m sitting in the seat of a convenient piece of construction equipment, waiting for a surprise downpour to pass before I continue. It’s raining quite hard. The sun is not yet up, and I listen to the rain in the darkness, pounding the top of the cab of this… bucket loader? I think that’s what it’s called. I don’t remember with certainty, but sitting here I am reminded of a very different time in my life, in a different place. I’m grateful that the cab wasn’t locked. I’m warm and dry. Waiting.

On my way to the trailhead I saw Santa’s reindeer prancing down the road. Not really, but it sure gave that impression to see a group of men running together, decked in holiday lights over their reflective vests, and some wearing fun headgear that looked like antlers. The guy in front was wearing a light-up red nose – very Rudolph. I grinned with delight as I passed. They were singing carols. I sang along as I drove on by. I fucking love this holiday!

… I wish I had a cup of coffee…

Merry Giftmas, y’all! Don’t kill anyone today, please, nor tomorrow. Actually, while we’re talking about it, maybe just don’t kill anyone, ever? Just don’t let your anger or despair get out of hand in that unacceptable fashion, please. Enjoy the holiday. Sit back with a hot cup of something and be merry, sharing comfort, and yes, joy. Phone a far away old friend. Send holiday greetings to people you remember and miss. Share tales of Giftmases past. Give a gift. Give a moment of kindness. Be the change you wish to see in the world. It’s too easy to do better to pass up that chance. ‘Tis the season, after all.

The rain stops. I smile in the darkness and wonder where I might go for a quiet holiday coffee, or whether to simply return home to enjoy the morning in the festive glow of the merrily lit Yule tree? …Or maybe even crawl back into the warm tangle of cozy blankets as my Traveling Partner sleeps, and nap a little myself…? It’s Giftmas eve (day), and I have options. Time to begin again! I finish my writing, and adjust my headlamp and get back on the trail.

Odd morning. Not a bad one at all, just a profound departure from the routine. For one thing, I overslept my artificial sunrise, and woke to the full brightness of the lights in the room, 10 minutes or so later than intended, and far later than typical. I woke in considerable pain, and very stiff, feeling like I’d been sleeping in the same strange position “all night”, with a stiff neck and back. Awkward. I moved slowly through my morning routine, almost leaving the house without putting my shoes on. I arrived at the trailhead emotionally prepared to walk, but feeling less than ideally eager to do so – the crick in my neck was still really super painful (and still is). Rough. I got a short walk in, then headed to the office to… work?

First I sipped coffee. Then I read my email. I watched a couple videos without really paying attention, then listened to some music. It’s been a weird morning. I pulled my attention back to work, and got some things done, now I’m distracted and a bit irritable because somewhere, someone is vacuuming something rather loudly, and the noise is carried through the building – a high pitched whine that I could seriously do without. What a peculiar morning.

I make another cup of coffee. The noise of the vacuuming finally stops. My neck still aches, but I’m not in a bad mood over it. I look at the picture of the Giftmas tree that I snapped this morning on my way to work for some reason – just pure childlike delight, I suppose. I grin to myself happily in spite of the pain in my neck. It’ll pass, eventually. I breathe, exhale, and relax. Only two days to the Winter Solstice. Only a week until Giftmas. Just 13 days to an entirely new year year. Wow. 2025 already here? How the hell did that happen “so fast”? Was I just distracted with the work of worrying and caregiving all year long? Damn. Life feels pretty good right now. This moment right here? Quite a nice one. I smile and take it all in, and sit with these positive hopeful feelings awhile. Soon enough, it’ll be time to begin again, practicing practices, and walking my path. For now though, this moment is enough.