Archives for posts with tag: breathe

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.

Just as I reached the trailhead the rain began. It’s not falling hard, but steadily. I waited a few minutes before yielding to the practical details of walking in the rain, and just did the thing. Boots, cane, rain poncho: I’m ready for it, so why not? My aching back yesterday is no surprise now; my arthritis reliably responds to specific changes in the weather. I ache today, too, and I am cross and moody, even out on the trail.

I started walking, and kept walking until I returned to the car, not soaked but finding myself struggling with pain and irritability. Less than ideally pleasant as morning walks go, and more a matter of will and practice than delight. It’s okay. There’s nothing really wrong and this crappy mood will pass.

Tedious discussion of health stuff follows, skip this next paragraph if it’s “tmi”!

I breathe, exhale, and relax. It is “shot day”. Sunday is the day I’ve set for my weekly Ozempic shot and my weigh-in. Actual weight loss progress is very slow now after an initial 8 months or so of fairly steady losses. Here’s the thing though; I’m using it to control other health conditions and it’s doing that exceedingly well (I’ve been able to discontinue medications aside from my thyroid and pain medication). I’m continuing strength training, and building muscle (heavier than fat) along with having gotten very near the weight my current caloric intake supports means it’s harder to change the number on the scale – but that’s an inadequate measure of health improvements overall, and I try not to fret over it. Instead I seek to walk further, faster, and to continue to advance my weight training (ideally without injury). I consider additional calorie reduction, at this point it’s probably necessary. I’m not unhappy with my progress, generally, just saying that the Ozempic is not a magic trick, a cheat code, or a guarantee of getting to a size 6 again. It’s just a tool and a means of dealing with my problematic blood sugar that happens to also improve my health in a number of ways.

I check the grocery list. Practical stuff, and healthy foods and ingredients, nothing to trim from the list, it’s all good stuff. It’s easier to commit to healthy eating when everyone in the house is in on it. I’m fortunate in that regard. It still requires practice, and attention to details – and a measure of will and impulse control.

I sigh to myself and think about my birthday in June. What sort of “birthday cake” might I enjoy? Cheesecake? A fruit tart? Something creamy? Something light? Definitely not chocolate – too rich, and too dense, it’s just not my favorite. Something fruity might be nice… Something not too dreadfully sweet. Sugar isn’t so appealing these days. Maybe something subtle and a little “fancy”? Lemon-y and spongey and creamy with a hint of lavender or blueberries? Something like that might be nice… but I’d probably be the only one enjoying that. lol My thoughts wander on… and I’m feeling less irritated just indulging the thought of birthday desserts. Human beings are strange creatures.

Looks like it may be a cloudy, rainy day all day. I guess I’m okay with that; there’s considerable housekeeping to do today. I smile to myself thinking about the two small hardy fig plants I planted in large pots yesterday. Eventually I may put them in the ground, if they are truly suited to our climate, but I don’t yet know where. It’ll be a couple years before it really matters, and I’m delighted to have the figs in my garden; I’ve wanted fig trees or bushes since my first garden. It’s to do with a lovely memory of my Granny and my first experience of fresh from the tree sun-warmed figs. I smile. Pleasant memories are a beautiful mood-lifter.

I frown a little impatiently at the foreboding gray sky. I guess it’s time to begin again.

I woke rested and feeling comfortable and awash in a feeling of contentment. I got through my morning routine without making some sort of loud noise. I made it to the trailhead before sunrise, but just after daybreak.

I caught a glimpse of Mt Hood and the beginning of a colorful sunrise.

It’s a beautiful morning. I sigh contentedly and lace up my boots. The trail is dim but not dark. There are little birds everywhere, and the air smells of flowers. I’ve got my cane, my camera, and this moment. It’s enough. There’s a work day ahead, but that’s later. I need to remember to water the garden, but that time is not now. I’ve got an appointment to keep in the afternoon, but that requires no attention from me, yet. It’s just me, this trail ahead of me, this moment, and a glimpse of the sunrise.

I grin happily to myself and grab my cane to get started. The clock is ticking and it’s time to begin. Again.