I woke groggy, struggling to fully wake, and feeling clumsy. My sleep was oddly restless, my dreams filled my mind to overflowing. My Traveling Partner communicated his own poor sleep as I prepared to leave for my walk. No harsh words or raised voices between us, just sharing. Uncertain that I really had the wherewithal even to walk a well-maintained and partially lit trail, I picked up coffee on my way.
[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]
I reached the trailhead still feeling so ridiculously groggy, I reclined the drivers seat, and closed my eyes for a moment, “just a quick power nap” I thought to myself as I closed my eyes.
… I woke an hour later, just as daybreak began to yield to the rising sun…
The dawn of a new day… I rub the sleep from my eyes, swallow about half of my now-tepid coffee. It’s not great. I grimace at the aftertaste and step onto the trail.
The eastern sky is a pale wash of peach and orange fading into blue overhead, swept with gray clouds. I keep walking until I reach my halfway point. My mind doesn’t wander far from the path this morning, and I’m still sleepy. Wtf? So groggy…
A cloudy morning, no rain.
The western sky is cloudy, with nothing much to see. A little like the clouds sweeping across the eastern sky reached the western horizon and hit a wall, crumbling there and piling against each other. I yawn unexpectedly, although predictably, still groggy. Thursday? Thursday. I’ve got a doctor’s appointment and later a dentist appointment, too. Another yawn. For fucks sake, there’s an entire day yet ahead of me and I’m still struggling to wake up, a mile down this trail! I laugh to myself, grateful for a new day.
Watching the striped layers of clouds changing colors as the sun rises.
I yawn again and get to my feet. I may as well finish this walk and enjoy it. There’s more coffee on the other side… and I can begin the day from there.
A new day is dawning. The morning is cold and misty. The trail is slick with lingering dampness from rain. No frost, but the winter chill reminds me how quickly conditions could become icy.
My eyes see shades of gray, the camera shows me blue hues. The oaks stand silent on the question of colors.
A mist develops, and begins to thicken and spread. Daybreak arrives with the fog. The day begins here, now. What will I do with it? One thing I won’t do with it is sit here for long minutes reflecting on life and watching the sun rise. First; it’s a foggy gray morning, and there won’t be much to see sunrise-wise. Second; it’s cold! I don’t prefer it for lingering outside, still and quiet. I’m already feeling the cold in my hands and in my bones. It’s a good morning to keep moving.
…I do like the walk through the fog, though. It brings mystery to the mundane and wonder to the familiar.
I breathe, exhale, and relax, as I stand and stretch. It’s as good a time as any to begin again. I look down the path into the fog. Where does this path lead? I’ll know when I get there, I suppose. The clock is ticking.
It is morning. Daybreak seems to come early, but it’s only the end of Daylight Savings Time here in the US. In terms of reality and the nature of time, or the timing of various celestial events, nothing actually changed. I walked the trail in the gloom as daybreak came, wrapped in autumn fog on the marsh, and grateful for my warm sweater and the soft fuzzy fleece I threw on over that.
Halfway to somewhere.
The trees form from the mist as I approach them. The morning is spooky and magical, and very quiet. I don’t hear any traffic on the nearby highway, only my footsteps and my breath. I keep walking, heading for my halfway point, and a moment to pause, meditate, and watch the dawn become a new day, before walking on down the trail and out of the fog.
At my halfway point, I stop. I sit. I write. I think. I observe. As day brightens, I see a small cluster of shapes out at the edge of the meadow. Deer. I think it’s likely to be the same small herd I often see here, when I walk this trail. Two mature does resting in the tall grass, partially hidden, and their young born this year, already losing their spots, are accompanied by a buck who stands alert and watchful a short distance away. He seems less concerned with me than whatever may be unseen in the trees beyond the meadow. I watch quietly. Color slowly becomes part of the view, as daylight begins to brighten the meadow and marsh. I see fall colors on the trees, now. The buck raises his head and changes his posture. Something has his attention, and his movement communicates something to his family. They rise from their resting place and join him, as he walks away. They move along quickly, quietly, and disappear into the fog.
I sit where I am, perched on this fence rail, awhile longer. I’m in no hurry. There is, sadly, war going on in the world, and where there is no clearly defined war going on, there may be conflict with less clearly defined sides. In both cases, the outcome for many innocent noncombatants is unchanged: violence, chaos, trauma, suffering, and possibly death. I sigh quietly. Humanity could already be beyond warfare if we chose to put it aside as an artifact of more primitive times. War is ugly, destructive, and there are no actual winners besides those who profit from it. Everyone else loses. War has no positive outcome that could not be more easily obtained (with greater value) without bloodshed. We’re pretty fucking stupid about some shit, as creatures go.
I breathe, exhale, and relax, and pull my awareness back to this moment, here, in the middle of this meadow, alongside the foggy autumn marsh on a November morning at dawn. There is no war, no conflict, here. Just the quiet and the fog, and the steadfast oaks standing nearby, partially obscured by the fog. It feels rather as if anything could be out there in the mist, waiting to be discovered. I swing my feet contentedly, breathing the chilly autumn air, filling my lungs with it, and releasing my wartime worries into the fog with each exhalation.
I remind myself to make self-care a priority.
I spend a few minutes thinking about the day ahead. There is housekeeping to do, later. I think about my untidy personal space at home. It is my office, my studio, my meditation space, and my getaway when I need a quiet moment. The relative orderliness there (or lack of it) often signals my general stress level and state of emotional health. It’s a bit less tidy than I’d ideally like, right now, and it reflects my background stress level pretty accurately. Maybe today I’ll spend some time sorting that out? I know I’ll feel better once I do, that’s just real (and a tiny bit funny).
I sigh as I get to my feet. I take a big deep breath of the cold morning air on the marsh and look up the trail where it disappears into the fog, so mysterious, so promising. I glance at the time. Just as I thought – it’s time to begin again. 😁
Foggy morning. I walk in it, wrapped in it, trail and trees obscured by the autumn fog. The closer I get to the creek, the more dense the fog is. There is no view at this early hour, anyway, but that’s even more the case this morning.
… I am lost in my thoughts, in the fog…
The fog adds a feeling of mystery.
My head is stuffy this morning, and I’ve used most of the pack of tissues I have with me, already. A sneeze catches me by surprise, and I step off the trail without noticing immediately. The sneeze sounds loud, but also muffled in the fog. I stop on the trail for a moment to dig around in my pockets for the other pack of tissues I think I recall being there. Yep. There they are. My fingers touch the plastic of the pack, and I relax. I also stop sneezing, and only need a single tissue, as it turns out, never even opening the other packet.
It is the time of year for autumn allergies and headcolds, and for back to school activities to expose more people to more contagion. I remind myself to take care of my health, to be considerate of others, and to practice strict hand washing and appropriate social distancing (these practices are an effective means of limiting the spread of common respiratory infections, so why wouldn’t I?). My thoughts wander back to the rude man-child in the university library yesterday with the horrific sounding hacking cough – I was grateful to be seated well away from him, with multiple barriers between any viruses or bacteria exiting from his face with every cough, but also, as a human being, I was concerned that he would even be putting himself through the additional stress on his mortal body to be trying to do work in the state of ill health he was clearly in. Why don’t people just fucking stay home and focus on getting well?
… I know, I know, “reasons”…
My mind continues to wander here and there. It’s a payday. It didn’t exactly catch me by surprise, but I’m still getting used to the changes that have come with the new job. This one is “military style” pay, twice monthly, on the first and the 15th, on whatever day of the week those happen to be. The previous one was every two weeks, on alternate Fridays. It might seem like very little difference, but twice monthly is 24 paychecks, and every two weeks is 26. It does change the cash flow and the way bills map to pay cycles. I think about that sort of thing for a little while as I walk, still wrapped in fog. I walk and think about all the many kinds of payroll systems I’ve participated in… weekly… monthly (that was hard to adjust to)… part-time… full-time… salaried… hourly… employee… contractor… commission… “The house always wins,” I think to myself before putting thoughts of payroll and paydays aside.
I keep walking.
The work day ahead feels busy in advance. It hasn’t even started, and I haven’t looked at my calendar. I feel prematurely a bit frazzled, and this annoys (and amuses) me. It’s such a human thing to get wound up over shit that isn’t even happening yet, if it ever even will. Typical bullshit, unnecessary and unproductive. I let it go and walk on.
The trail ahead of me is a bit shiny where my light hits it. It rained during the night. The fog reflects the light of my headlamp back at me. It’s a little bit irritating, and I turn it off, pausing on the trail to let my eyes adjust. Daybreak yet? Can I see the trail without my light? Not quite, not out here under these trees. I don’t really want the artificial light in my eyes anymore, though, and leave it off. I look around for someplace to sit – it’s not my usual stopping point. Where am I, actually? I look around in the gloom. Nothing looks familiar in the fog. There’s a bench nearby. Convenient. I sit down and write these words.
I sit with my thoughts awhile, watching each exhaled breath become part of the fog, until it is time to begin again.
I tossed and turned a bit during the night. My sleep was disturbed by surreal dreams that seemed real enough in the moment to confuse me when I woke. My silent alarm woke me gently, but I woke feeling quite groggy and went through the motions of getting ready for the day feeling a little numb and disoriented. It all ended up pretty routine, anyway. Easy commute into the city. Gray clouds filling a dim pre-dawn sky as I parked. Sparse lights here and there in condo towers as other early risers get things started for another new day.
…I find myself wishing, again, that I weren’t in so much pain…
I make coffee in the office after I get my laptop set up. I catch up on email and pings and look over my day plan. I sip my coffee.
Still feeling sort of foggy and stupid, I step outside to breathe the cool raining morning air for a minute. It doesn’t really change anything, but it is pleasant. That’s enough. I breathe, exhale, relax, and do my best to let go of my steady awareness of my arthritis pain; it’s not helpful to allow it to be the focus of every moment. I stretch, and sigh, and go back into the office. My coffee is tasty and hot and it sort of anchors me to the moment. Stabilizing. Comforting. I think of my Traveling Partner, and hope that he is still sleeping and getting good rest for the work day ahead.
…I kind of want to just go back to bed…
Autumn. Funny season, and my favorite, but as the day length changes with the calendar, and the weather turns rainier, I find myself yearning for long lazy leisure days of morning naps and afternoon coffees, and evenings by the fire. I think ahead to the end of the day, and remind myself to have a soak in the hot tub if it isn’t pouring down rain. Mmmm… that sounds delightful. 😀
The local murder of crows passes between the buildings beyond the window, very near by. I wish I’d had my camera ready for that shot. They settle in the trees in the park below. The sky begins to lighten, reminding me that a new day has started… and it’s time to begin again.
Evening Light 