Archives for posts with tag: breathe

I’m sitting at the edge of the meadow along a favorite trail. It’s a Sunday morning. I slept in a bit and by the time I arrived here, the sun was well up. I’m trying to organize my thoughts regarding dinner much later, and go over my list of housekeeping tasks I’d like to get through, today (just basic stuff, nothing overly demanding or complicated).

A place, a moment, a feeling.

Yesterday was weird. I was so tired and sleepy. I went home, ran an errand for my Traveling Partner, and then crashed out for a nap. I slept deeply for four hours. I more or less slept the entire day away. 😂 I must have needed the rest. I had no trouble sleeping last night. I feel fine this morning.

It’s a lovely morning. Suitable for beginnings. The neighbors were partying late into the night. They’re generally pretty quiet, so we shrugged it off, though much later I thought I heard my partner calling to them out the window. I couldn’t rouse myself enough to ask. I managed to wake feeling quite rested in spite of the noisy night.

Grateful for the mild summer morning.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. From this beautiful place, it’s hard to imagine that life is ever difficult, but sometimes it is. Perspective is helpful, so is having a break. I smile thinking about my upcoming camping trip next weekend. I hope the weather is pleasant and mild like it has been this weekend.

It is a pleasant summer Sunday, well-suited to beginning again. I should get on that; the clock is ticking.

Oh. Wait… No sponsor, here. No advertiser (unless forced on you by the app, and if so, my apologies cuz that truly sucks). No AI used in writing this post. No monetization. (I don’t make money off of this writing, and money isn’t the point.)

… Welcome…

Sunrise

It is a Friday. An ordinary enough work day. The days are getting shorter, enough to notice the change in the timing of the sunrise. I set off down the trail feeling a certain settled contentment that I yearned for, for so long. It’s a lovely warm feeling a little like love, focused on just this moment right here. I breathe the summer air deeply, tasting the scents of meadow and wildflowers. I watch the robins scratching in the grass alongside the trail ahead. I think about the day ahead of me and the weekend just beyond. I keep walking.

When I get to my halfway point, I pause to meditate as the sun rises, and to write a bit. I sit with my thoughts trying to recall something I thought I’d write about, but it eludes me now.

I sit quietly with my feeling of contentment and soft joy. Nice moment, in spite of physical pain competing for my attention. Fuck pain, though. I breathe, exhale, and relax, doing my best to distract myself. It’s quite early and my meds aren’t yet doing their thing in full measure. Soon. It’ll be some better, soon.

The work day ahead feels uncomplicated, necessary, and appropriately limited by time. I think about maybe baking brownies and remind myself to pick up chicken for dinner, later. It’s an utterly ordinary day in a very average and largely unremarkable life – or so it seems to me. I’m okay with that. I don’t need something spectacular and extraordinary out of my day-to-day experience. Enough is enough in every practical way.

“Enough” is a matter of perspective.

I sigh to myself watching the sky change colors with the rising sun. Soon enough I’ll begin again, but for now, right here is fine. I’ll sit here on this picnic table and enjoy it awhile before I walk on.

I drove in to the office this morning baffled by how much the air felt and smelled of summer – but not necessarily my expectation of this summer, here, now. It felt and smelled like some long ago summer in a different place, at a different point in time, in another life. I was transported back to muggy childhood summer mornings in Maryland, near the Chesapeake Bay. Swim lessons. Lazy afternoons at Grandmother’s house, sipping ice cold rootbeer on the screened in porch, listening to the fan turn. Early mornings outside under the clear blue sky. Afternoons curled up with a book, in front of the air conditioner in my bedroom window. Pool parties and barbecues. Nostalgia triggered by the warm summer morning and air scented with summer flowers and mown grass. The recollections this evoked were clear and sharp and seemed more real than the commute itself felt in the moment.

I breathe, exhale, and relax, and move on from the moment of nostalgia to face the new work day (and week). It takes me a few minutes and an additional cup of coffee to gather my thoughts and feel more organized – being away for a few days can do that. lol Generally speaking, though, things are already quite routine and ordinary. Suits me fine.

The office ventiliation is already working pretty hard, and soon I’ll have to close the blinds on these big windows to prevent this small space from becoming uncomfortably warm. S’ok – I expect it from summer days. I smile, thinking of my Traveling Partner at home. I miss him – we’ve had quite a few lovely days just being together recently, and I enjoy that time we spend together very much. I yawn, unexpectedly tired – tired? Am I actually tired, or just feeling relaxed? I look out the windows into the clear blue summer sky. It’s a good day to laze in a hammock in the shade, sipping iced tea and trying again to read Proust. lol That’s not what is on today’s agenda, though; there’s just me and this work in front of me, and it’s time to get on with that. It’s time to begin again.

I’m sitting in the sunshine in a favorite spot along a favorite trail, at the edge of an oak grove, between meadow and marsh (although the marsh is less marsh-y and more meadow-y this time of year making the distinction less clear).

A nice quiet spot for a pleasant quiet moment.

I’m taking a few minutes for meditation, and writing a few words before I get to my feet and finish my walk. Lovely morning for it. I enjoy this time and often use it for reflecting on this or that, and sometimes just to relax, breathe, and “hear myself think”. This morning? No agenda. No errands. No necessary shopping on the way home. Just this pleasant summer morning, this sunny spot in an oak grove, and these quiet solitary moments. It’s enough. Feels almost luxurious.

What might you see if you slow down to look?

Yesterday, at my Traveling Partner’s suggestion, I drove over to the coast and enjoyed a couple hours on the beach, exploring tide pools and walking with my camera, my thoughts, and my eyes on the horizon. Time well-spent. I returned home quite tired and satisfied with the day. I don’t know what I’ll do with today. My finger is still healing, no longer wrapped in a cumbersome bandage and surgical dressing, just a bandaid, but it’s not yet healed enough for hard work, gardening, or household cleaning solutions and still needs to be kept quite clean and dry and protected from damage. Maybe I’ll read? Do a bit of laundry? I just don’t know yet.

I sigh to myself and let all that go; it’s not important in this moment that I know what I’m doing in some future moment. Not this morning, on this lovely summer morning, perched on a fence rail, feeling the sun on my back. I let myself just enjoy this moment right here, now, while it lasts.  Soon enough it’ll be time to begin again.

I’m enjoying a few quiet minutes while goulash cooks-down in the dutch oven. I didn’t write this morning, but honestly didn’t have much to say. The moment was its own thing, and I was enjoying it entirely as it was, and my contentment became the content of my day, which I spent mostly on housekeeping and hanging out with my Traveling Partner. It was a day well-spent, and worthy of some sort of comfortable, hearty, and nourishing evening repast. 😀

I can hear the conversation of my Traveling Partner and the Anxious Adventurer in the other room. They are beginning a game of cribbage. I can’t actually hear the details of the words shared between them, I only hear the merry hum of their conversation mixed with the music playing in the background. What a lovely evening!

If I had sat down to write “how to have a pleasant day”, I’m not sure I could have guided anyone else through this experience sufficiently well for them to share it, or craft such a thing on their own. I have a satisfying sort of “got this one right” feeling, and I’m doing my best to avoid over-thinking things or reading any kind of tempting steady-state of being into one day. It is, however, quite a nice day as days go, and I sit with that for a moment, really savoring it, thinking over what got done without being smug about it, thinking about what got fucked-off for some other day without beating myself up over it, just enjoying the day precisely as it is, and has been. It’ll be ideal to finish the day in good company, over a tasty meal, and I smile to myself. I know I have come far enough that if I were to “ruin dinner” somehow, it wouldn’t be anything more than a moment of aggravation, and pivot to “plan B”, moving on to continuing to enjoy the day, without a tantrum or freak out over something as small as dinner.

…The fragance of the smoked paprika, garlic, and onions fills the house slowly…

What a nice weekend. I sit with that awhile, too. I don’t have any solutions, but I do know it is helpful to give more attention to our pleasant moments and small joys that we often tend to do. Savor your best moments – they’ll pass. Don’t give up on them prematurely. Give less thought to your most difficult moments – they’ll pass. Let them.

It’s unhealthy to let Other People’s Drama (however near or far away) live rent free in our heads. Let small shit stay small. Let things so far outside your control that you are literally helpless to change them (or uable even to be an actual bystander), let that shit just not even be part of your moment-to-moment awareness for a time. The world with be what it is, regardless, and the most useful we can do – often – is simply to be our best selves, living our best lives, in the most kind, enouraging, and practical way possible. Understanding that others around us may be having a very different experience. Perspective and sufficiency can make so much difference to an experience! I breathe, exhale, and relax. “Feels like things are looking up,” is a lovely way to feel – but it is “only a feeling”. Emotion. It is its own thing. Enjoy or endure emotions, as they are, and be kind to yourself and the people are around you. It’s a very human journey. (And I’m not telling you what to do – your choices and actions and will are your own. Do you. I’m just sharing things that I’ve learned or have been helpful for me, personally. Do with that what you will. I just think these are better practices than some alternatives.)

The music in the background stops. The playlist has ended. The ventilation comes on, and the scents from the kitchen are carried further. Smells good. I glance at the time; the clock is always ticking. I remember the package the Anxious Adventurer brought to me earlier – forgotten, left where I suggested he put it. I haven’t even opened it yet, and don’t recall what it may be. lol What a lovely evening – and it’s time to begin again, anyway.