Archives for posts with tag: breathe exhale relax

I got to the trailhead still seething with irritation. I didn’t sleep well. It’s raining, too, hard enough to discourage walking the marsh trail. I sit with my thoughts and my discontent awhile.

…Short work week and already off to a bad start. Shit…

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I work on letting small shit stay small. I remind myself that taking someone else’s emotional bullshit personally is counter productive – and also not necessary. I practice non-attachment, and letting all that go. I pull myself into this quiet calm moment, present with (and for) myself.

I remind myself that the “hard start” to the morning doesn’t have to become the whole day.

Another breath. A moment of perspective. An opportunity to reflect in a still, solitary moment. A chance to begin again. It’s enough.

… Let’s see where this path leads…

It’s a blustery unexpectedly mild morning after a night of steady rain, autumn in the Pacific Northwest. It’s Veteran’s Day, too, and although it is a Monday, I’m off work. The silhouetted trees sway against the gray sky in the pre-dawn darkness. It’ll be a little while longer until daybreak comes, and I’m in no hurry.

It’s been a good weekend thus far, and it’s a good moment now. Later, I’ll get some housework done, and maybe watch some anime with my Traveling Partner, if he’s not out in the shop with the new lathe. I smile in the darkness; good choice of birthday gift, and it’s good to see my partner on his feet and in the shop doing things. He’s still got quite a way to go recovery-wise, after his injury, and his surgery, but he’s getting there. I can’t walk that path for him, I can only walk my own alongside him.

The cars woosh by on the wet highway, beyond the trailhead parking. I sit quietly with my thoughts, enjoying the moment. It’s not fancy or particularly special, but it’s mine. I’m grateful for the mild morning, although I’m in tremendous pain in spite of the somewhat warmer temperature. I’ve spent autumn and winter in pain since about 1986 I guess? Something like that. This past couple of years it’s been all year, off and on, and this year so far more painful days than not. While that does generally suck, there’s not that much more I can do about it, without profoundly increasing my risk of addiction or substance abuse, or related bad outcomes, so I endure and do what I can.

One of the most important practices for enduring the pain I live with, without losing myself to it completely, is being present. Sounds simple, but takes a lot of practice. It’s easy to end up focusing on the pain itself instead of acknowledging it, doing what I can, and moving on to other elements of my experience in the moment. My results vary, but it’s definitely better than being mired in the pain of my arthritis and my headaches. So I sit in the stillness and quiet of a morning, listening to the traffic, and observing the lights of businesses and houses beyond the fields on the other side of the highway. I breathe, exhale, and relax, watching the sky slowly lighten as daybreak approaches on the eastern horizon. I write, meditate, and reflect. I enjoy the moment as it is, without giving much thought to the pain; it’s just one detail of many. Is it a perfect solution? Nope. Is it a cure? Not even a little bit. It’s just better than letting the pain become my world.

Daybreak at last. I hear the geese waking up on the marsh. I lace up my boots and grab my cane. One step at a time, I walk my path, and it’s time to begin (again).

“Stay on the path.” It’s an excellent suggestion. Do your best. Practice healthy practices that nurture you and help you be (and become) your best self. It’s not “easy”, and there’s work involved in the journey – a lot of verbs, a lot of choices, and frequent realignment of actions and intentions. Do your best. When you fail, begin again.

It’s a quiet Friday morning, before a long weekend. I’m eager to paint. I’m eager to walk this trail before work. My back aches. I don’t care about that. My head aches. I ignore that, too. I enjoy the living metaphor of walking this path and head down the trail contentedly, until I reach a favorite spot to sit a minute and write and watch the sun begin to rise beyond the highway.

Nothing fancy, just a sunrise.

I’m grateful for every sunrise I am fortunate to see. Some of them are crazy beautiful, amazing bold colors displayed across the sky. Others can barely be called a “sunrise” at all, particularly those persistently gray rainy Pacific Northwest mornings so common in autumn. Doesn’t matter; I’m grateful just to wake up to a new day and a new chance to walk my path, wherever it may lead me. Even on the worst days, being here is better than the currently available alternatives. lol

Watching, waiting, practicing, being.

Pretty sunrise this morning, though. I sit watching it evolve for awhile. Soon enough, I’ll head back to the car and on to the office. Soon, I’ll begin again. This path isn’t going to walk itself.

Breathe, exhale, relax.

In spite of an upsetting (for many) election, I am giving thanks, feeling grateful, and preparing to celebrate. The holiday season is approaching. In my house that kicks off with Thanksgiving, which isn’t about pilgrims, indigenous people, or genocide – it’s about feasting and gratitude. It’s an opportunity to sit down as a family, enjoy a great meal, and appreciate how fortunate we are to have all that we do. Then…on to Giftmas (and my Traveling Partner’s birthday in between).

The wintry weather I’ve come to expect this time of year is beginning to settle in. This morning was just at the freezing point, and there was frost on the ground and a thin layer of ice on my windshield. I wore a heavy sweater and a fleece, and wrapped a scarf around my neck before setting off down the trail in the pre-dawn darkness, a circle of light bobbing ahead of me as I walked. I don’t prefer to walk with a headlamp, but I wouldn’t be walking in the darkness without it, and I’m grateful to have it. The morning is cold and quiet. I laugh at myself; I bet I could have slept in this morning.

It took months to pick out a birthday present for my Traveling Partner this year, and it won’t be a surprise. Machinery for the shop can’t generally be a surprise, it’s specialized and he’s the one who understands what he really wants and needs. It arrives today – I’m excited about it (so is he). Neither of us find it awkward or problematic that it is arriving weeks ahead of his actual birthday. lol The timing doesn’t feel particularly relevant. I like the idea that he may actually be in the shop using it on his birthday. His recovery finally seems to be progressing in a way that is apparent and visible. As I think about that a tremendous wave of gratitude and relief washes over me. I’ve been consumed with worry and dread for much of the year. If I get nothing for Giftmas but the certainty that he’s “going to be okay”, it would be enough, and feel like a lavish holiday.

I’ve got a long weekend ahead, then a couple weeks later (the weekend before Thanksgiving) a short getaway to the coast to paint, then the long Thanksgiving weekend, which my employer gives us as a holiday. It’s nice. It’s been a good year for getting enough time off (although much of it was spent on caregiving, quite a lot was healthy restful downtime). I breathe, exhale, and relax. I briefly wonder what next year might hold before I let that go. No point becoming invested in some future outcome that is not yet.

I walk the trail thinking about life, love, and art. It’s a season for celebration and gratitude, sure, but also for getting things done that have lingered too long on my to do list. I think about the garden, abandoned in the summer as my partner needed more and more caregiving support and time in a day became insufficient to do everything; it would benefit from a quick clean up and preparation for the Spring that isn’t even on my mind yet. The hot tub had been shut down and drained in the late Spring so that my partner could more easily sleep. It could be refilled and made ready for winter use. I walk and think about finite time and energy, and how best to make use of it.

Life and circumstances aren’t always what I want them to be, but I’m grateful for the good life I have, and the opportunities and choices my circumstances put in front of me. I walk on, and get ready to begin again.

I see daybreak on the horizon…

Disappointment and sorrow are part of the human experience. So are misogyny and poor decision making, I guess. I feel sad this morning. It’ll pass. I breathe, exhale, and relax, and take time for gratitude.

I’m fortunate. I’ve got a nice little house in a good neighborhood. I’m married to a man I adore and who loves me unreservedly with his whole heart. I’ve got a good job and my health is better than it’s been in a long time. My commute each morning is a pleasant one, and I enjoy long walks on lovely trails nearly every day. The bills are paid. The pantry is stocked. My stepson helps around the house. It’s a good life and I am fortunate. Four years feels like a long time, but it will pass, and the future is unwritten.

It isn’t generally helpful to waste time on anger that can be better spent on joy. It isn’t generally helpful to grieve horrible shit that hasn’t actually happened yet. I do my best with it, sitting here quietly before my walk, thinking my thoughts.

Another breath. I lace up my boots. It’s time to begin again.