Archives for posts with tag: breathe

Rain fell during the night. The morning air when I stepped out into the predawn darkness was fresh and humid. The days are already noticeably shorter. Daybreak came and went, revealing stormy clouds that threaten the possibility of thunderstorms.

The first hint of a new day.

I put on my boots at the trailhead, my mind on my walk, my heart feeling light, and hoping that my Traveling Partner got a second night of really restful sleep after a change to his medication. These human bodies are so fragile and complicated, and lack a proper user’s manual.

Yesterday was a good day, productive and sufficiently restful to feel as if I got a bit of a break from the grind. Most of my day was spent supporting the Anxious Adventurer, sorting out his vehicle needs for work, and getting his hoopty sold and out of the way. Easy but time-consuming. I was glad I had gone to the store earlier, and that I had a plan for lunch. The day lasted well-past when I might usually go to bed, but we were having a good time hanging out together, and I went with it. There’s been stress and worry and struggle aplenty lately, and it was good to just enjoy a few moments together.

… I still woke up at 4 a.m. LOL

The stormy sky this morning delights me, as the luminous pink of an unseen sunrise shifts with the clouds. I snap a few shots, thinking about those pastels. Maybe today I’ll spend some time painting?

Like thoughts, shifting.

I walked the trail thinking my thoughts and listening to the passing geese overhead. The air smells like it may rain again. I sit at my favorite spot along the trail and listen carefully. Was that thunder? Makes sense that it could be.

… Definitely thunder…

I think about the day ahead. There are things to do to prepare for the week, and next weekend will see me heading down the highway to the coast for a couple days. I’m eager to go, knowing my Traveling Partner won’t be left home alone this time. That’s very reassuring.

My mind wanders. I don’t stop it. I let my thoughts drift as I drink in the fresh air, and this quiet calm moment. It’s such a small thing, but this is an important self-care practice for me, to simply sit quietly and be for some little while. No criticism or doubt, no negative self-talk or worry, just a few quiet minutes as my thoughts drift by like summer storm clouds. I am awake, aware, and grateful. I breathe, exhale, and relax, listening to the sound of distant thunder.

A fat, warm, unexpected rain drop hits my face, and then another, and another. Will it actually rain? Maybe. Maybe not. The “maybe” is enough to put my mind on finishing my walk, so I finish my thoughts, finish my writing, and prepare to begin again.

Yesterday had a pace and intensity I don’t generally prefer, but a lot got done, and what got done is behind me now. Some details in our living spaces are being refreshed and updated, partially triggered by the arrival of the Anxious Adventurer, but some of it simply completion of long-planned projects that had been delayed too long (life happens).

The dark somewhat monolithic secretary that has sometimes been a computer desk, sometimes a “mini office in a box”, and sometimes a cabinet to hold stray things is finally out. All the way out. It has served its time and I am grateful for all of that, but it didn’t really fit the aesthetic of any room it stood in. Glad to see it replaced with beautiful natural birch bookcases, into which the books have been unpacked. We had planned for this for four years. Overdue.

A finished project.

Other things got done, bathroom cabinets added, and things moved out of the way ahead of changes to come. It was a labor intensive day for everyone, each of us doing our best at maximum capacity. By the end of the day we were all exhausted, but also feeling quite satisfied with the outcomes.

Growth works that way, too. It’s sometimes necessary to dig deep, do more in a moment than we think we can, and push through the things holding us back. It’s often necessary to discard things that don’t work and begin doing something quite different. Growth can be incredibly uncomfortable, in spite of satisfying outcomes. It’s quite a bit of actual work and there are no guarantees of immediate success.

Another perspective on growth.

…It can be so hard to let go of things to which we have become attached over time…

Reassuringly, I find, incremental change over time is generally “the way”, and we definitely become what we practice. (What are you practicing? Will it get you where you want to go?)

… Let go of what does not work…

It is pleasantly cool on the trail this morning. I feel lighthearted and at ease. It’s Friday. It’s payday. The heat has substantially abated. Almost all of the work involved in getting the Anxious Adventurer moved in and settled has been done, now. He’s here. He’s unpacked. Now things can truly begin to settle into a new normal.

… There are still a handful of details, but my to-do list no longer scrolls for several seconds. Progress.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. It’s a lovely morning to begin again.

I’m sipping an iced coffee, perched on a stretch of fence, watching the sun rise. Another hazy warm summer morning that foretells of heat to come. I’ll be in the chill of an air conditioned office for much of the day. Right now I am sitting outside, along the edge of this trail that wanders betwixt marsh and river, looking out across an expanse of meadow, breathing summer air scented by flowers and grasses. It’s a pleasant moment and my being here, now, is mostly due to my Traveling Partner’s need to get some sleep in early morning hours, and the resulting habit of mine that has developed over time; I walk in the early morning hours (avoiding making a bunch of noise knocking about the house while my Traveling Partner tries to sleep).

Another summer morning. Another sunrise.

I smile and breathe the summer scented air. It would not be an exaggeration to place the “blame” for a lot of my current living situation and quality of life on my Traveling Partner. When he and I began to become close, I was in a very different situation (professionally, financially, domestically, medically, and romantically), and from the beginning he questioned (often) why I was in that place instead of living quite differently (and better). He suggested I could do more/better with the resources I had, with my background and experience, and with available options that seemed so obvious to him. He encouraged me to choose differently. It was 2010. He nudged me into getting my first smartphone. It started with that small change, and with the change in my outlook on life that developed and began to deepen through that first year together. He really “backed me up” and encouraged me in a way no previous partner had.

…He has reliably encouraged me to be my best version of the woman I would most like to be that I possibly can…

How I live my life is in my hands. My choices are my own. I am responsible for the consequences of my actions and my words and deeds. (Good and bad.) But… I likely wouldn’t have made many of the choices I did, when I made them, or pursued the results I have gotten, without the love and encouragement, and day-to-day confidence in my abilities that my Traveling Partner has shown me. I playfully “blame him” for much of my experience of success in this latter portion of my life. I doubt I would be in this specific here and now without him. I’m grateful, both for his enduring love and friendship, and also to be here, now, living this life. However long this lasts, it’s pretty pleasant and generally comfortable, and I hope I never take it for granted.

… I’ve done the work to get here, but I wasn’t alone on this journey; it’s been a shared experience. We’re in this together…

The sound of distant traffic reminds me this is a work day. I could happily sit here with my coffee, listening to birdsong and breezes until the heat of the day made it uncomfortable, but there’s work to be done, and it’s part of maintaining this pleasant life I share with my Traveling Partner (and the Anxious Adventurer, for some while to come). I glance at the time, on my cute wrist watch, a gift from my partner earlier this year. I’ve got plenty of time to make my way back up the trail, and my coffee is gone…

… Seems like a good time to begin again…

My choice of trail this morning is a bit crowded. Summer mornings often find me sharing the trail, even at this early hour. I can already feel that it’s going to be a hot day, too. Things cooled off during the night quite a lot, but it was warmer when I stepped out of the house than it has been, by several degrees. I’ve a few things I’d like to get done while it’s cooler, before the heat of the day settles in.

A new day.

I finally got started on my soft pastel adventure yesterday afternoon. A change of preferred artistic media is… complicated (at least for me). I’ve been a painter in acrylic for decades. It feels comfortable and natural to me. Pastels are new, novel, and unexplored previously. I’ve got my pastels ready, and for me the next step is study. This is much easier than it was back when I began with acrylic, or even further back in time, to my watercolor origins. Now I can easily queue up some YouTube videos of artists working in pastels and just watch them work. I sometimes find that even a very artistically “fluent” artist may not really understand what they are doing as they do it, and the discussion is a distraction. I finally turned the sound off and just watched various artists (whose end result spoke to me), while I listened to music. I greatly value watching an artist work in their chosen medium.

… I learned a lot through observation…

This morning the world “looks different” as I walk along the trail between river and marsh. There’s a mist clinging to the ground in the low land at the water’s edge, and the early morning sunshine is dazzling, illuminating leaves and stalks of meadow grass. I look at my surroundings in the context of painting the scene using pastels instead of acrylic. My perception and understanding of what I see is altered. I walk, eyes open with wonder and curiosity. “How would I capture that?” Is an unspoken question, repeated frequently.

… I keep walking…

The sun rises higher. The light becomes brighter, bolder, harsher. Shadows shift. Colors change. I walk and watch.

Voices approaching from behind me startle me from my reverie. I pause and let a small group of photographers walk past. I stop where I am to write and reflect, finding myself eager to “get on with things” in order to knock out my list of crap that needs doing, so I can get back to my studies and subsequently take advantage of this wellspring of inspiration welling up from within me. I’m eager to give the new pastels a proper exploration and see where they take me creatively.

More voices. More people. The trail is too crowded for a creature such as I. lol I stand up and prepare to head back to the car to begin again.

Lovely morning for walking, it is cool and there’s a mist clinging in low places. My thoughts wander here and there, and my musings are guided a bit by pain, which I mostly treat as “inconsequential noise”, trying to keep it in the background.

I find myself thinking about pain as a warning light on my “dashboard” in a driving metaphor for life. When we’re children, in a sense we aren’t even driving our own car, or managing the maintenance of it, at all. We’re dependent on the knowledge and care of the adults around us. Ideally, once we’re “old enough to drive”, we’ve also been taught what we need to know to be a “skillful driver” in life. We need to know when to refuel, what to use for that purpose, and what our vehicle requires for maintenance. Before we ever get on the highway, it’s helpful to ensure the vehicle is safe to operate.

… There’s no owner’s manual in the glove box…

On life’s journey, as the driver of our physical “vehicle”, we do well to pay attention to those dashboard lights… Do we have a full tank (enough energy and stamina)? Is our “check engine light” on?(Seems a suitable metaphor for mental health.) Is there some sort of warning chime pinging away to alert us that some physical detail is amiss? (Thinking about the seatbelt warning, or open door warning as metaphors for pain, perhaps.) I think you get what I am going for at this point, probably. There’s a lot involved in skillful driving before we ever get on the road… And it’s similar in life; before I can even begin again with a next step on life’s journey, it’s a good idea to make a point to check out the “vehicle” for readiness.

…It can be as simple as noticing my tank is on empty before setting off on a long drive far from the nearest gas station. Fuel up! Get enough rest. Eat healthy, nutritionally dense meals with an appropriate balance of macro nutrients. Drink enough water. Take medications on time.

…It could be more complicated… Is that check engine light on? Flickering mysteriously? Maybe it’s time to consider emotional health, stressors, and “work: life balance”? Maybe it’s a good time to see a therapist or spend quality time with a close friend?

…Has “routine maintenance” been handled properly? Good quality sleep, healthy exercise, and good self-care really improve the longevity of the “vehicle” we’re driving down life’s highway.

Once we’re no longer children, it’s a bit like being handed the keys to our first car. There’s a lot to learn and a lot of good practices to build. It’s more important to take good care of our vehicle than most of us understand when we first get behind the wheel. No owner’s manual. No map. For some drivers, not even a sense of where to go, until long after the journey is underway, and we’re many miles beyond and away from where we eventually decide we’d like to be.

Drive carefully. Pay attention to the road ahead. Check your fluid levels. And for fucks sake, do something about those dashboard lights! lol It’s a long drive, and you’ll want to be able to count on your car.

I sip my coffee in the morning sunshine, parked at the trailhead after my walk. I mostly got the rest I needed, but this broken down hoopty I have to rely on these days needs a bit of care. My “check engine light” flickers now and then, and there’s nearly always some warning indicator pinging at me to take care of something. It’s mostly pain and pain management, and I mostly treat it as though it’s the warning light that’s broken, rather than deal with the potential there’s some more serious shit going wrong. Putting it in those words, I find myself concerned that I am being stupidly short-sighted about something potentially serious that could eventually “leave me stranded by the side of the road”.

… I love metaphors…

I sigh quietly and sit with my thoughts, before making a note to communicate with my doctor about my pain and my persistent headache (again). I don’t want to waste time on detours, but I do want to count on this vehicle for a good long time. Self-care matters, but sometimes we need more.

… It’s already time to begin again…