Archives for posts with tag: choose wisely

I woke early, in spite of wanting to sleep in. I got up, dressed, and left the house. Filled my gas tank. Got coffee on my way up the highway to the nature park to walk the marsh trail, more meadow than marsh at this point in the summer.

[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]

Scene from a summer walk, we choose what we pay attention to. Mostly.

I sigh to myself as I walk. My left ankle has decided for me that this spot, right here, is “halfway”. It isn’t. Not at all, but it is definitely where I am stopping!

There is a convenient viewpoint with a bench only a little further. I take the next few steps slowly and carefully, grateful for my sturdy trekking pole that is my outdoor cane. I sit down, grateful, relieved, and content to be here in this place. I have the trail to myself – or did when I got started (first to arrive, pulling in just as the gate opened with a screech). It is quiet and cloudy. Looks and feels like maybe rain later… the forecast disagrees. Another heatwave soon. I am reminded to add a “hose” to my shopping list to replace a section that split and began to leak just a couple days ago.

The meadow grasses are dry and brown, with the white flowers of wild carrot or maybe Queen Anne’s Lace seeming to float above the waves of brown. The yellow clusters of wild St John’s Wort here and there add a bit of color. The wild roses are mostly done blooming, but don’t yet have hips. The lupines are long gone, even the seed pods have split and spilled their seeds, and withered. I breathe the scent of the summer meadow, exhale, and relax.

… It’s a good thing I’m not in any hurry today, the walk back will be a slow one…

I think about the day ahead. There’s housework to be done. I can probably fill the day with it. I feel myself shrug, an involuntary gesture of acceptance. I guess I’m okay with it. I’ll put on a playlist and dance through the chores until my body just can’t do more, and maybe get caught up a bit.

My mind wanders to RC cars, N scale railroad, Barbie dolls, and painting cast figurines… “hobbies”, past, present, and considered once or often. The clock is ticking. How do I pass my time, find joy, and indulge in play as an adult? A healthy life isn’t built on chores, wage earning, and sleep – there’s more to it. Isn’t there? I have choices and options.

…We shape our experience with our choices…

I breathe, exhale, and relax, and think about the way I have shaped my life, and what shape it might take if I choose differently. Small changes add up. It’s a lot to stay on top of, seeking to make willful changes… Verbs. Choices. Repetition. Reminders. Self-reflection. Incremental change over time, moment by moment, experience by experience, action by action. We become what we practice. (This is serious and powerful, because it is true both of what we want to become, and also of what we loathe, but persist in practicing.)

I’ll finish my walk. Do some grocery shopping, and head home to shape the life I want to live through the use of some well chosen verbs (meaning to say, doing some housework). Where the path may lead me from there, I don’t know. It is the path I choose, but I’ve still got to walk it. I have to begin again.

I walk with my thoughts. The sky is hazy from distant wildfires. The western United States burns (somewhere) every year now. I don’t recall that being a thing at all when I was a kid. I think about the likelihood that we’ve broken our planet, and whether there is any hope. Gloomy thoughts.

[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]

The weekend stretches ahead of me shrouded by a fog of uncertainty. I have no specific plans. I’d like to paint, but there’s quite a lot of housekeeping that wants doing. I feel tired, vexed, and generally annoyed with… Something. I don’t know. Probably biochemical bullshit,  nothing more. Feelings. Sand in my metaphorical oyster. Another work day and then… something else. I don’t know. I don’t even know what is bothering me or what might resolve it – but, hey, at least I’m aware that there’s something here I don’t know and which isn’t a certainty. That’s something, I guess.

… Embracing uncertainty is helpful, there is always uncertainty…

My back aches. I grief myself over “whining about it”, though I haven’t actually said words aloud. Well… Okay, there’s this, here, a handful of words. I remind myself that I chose this. I chose to live, not die. I chose the uncertain outcome of potential injury over the certain outcome of being stabbed and beaten to death in my apartment. My injuries were serious. Life changing. I am, however, quite alive. So far, I have even survived myself, and the ebb and flow of circumstances. So… there’s that.

I watch the haze on the western horizon become pearly pink, and developing a gradient fading into pale orange and then blue overhead. I sit at my halfway point – on this trail, and possibly in life (depending on genetics, lifestyle, and quality of medical care over time). I sift through my thoughts looking for fragments of optimism to stitch together into a properly good mood. I’m not finding much, but I keep looking.

“Emotion and Reason” 18″ x 24″ acrylic w/ceramic and glow details

One cannot rationally argue with emotions. They have their own purpose, and their own way. Arguing about how another person feels is completely pointless; people feel how they feel. What I do find, at least for me personally, is that it is possible to gently interrogate my emotions to determine what may be causing the feeling. This morning it seems rather likely that my mood is heavily influenced by the physical aftermath of a really heavy conversation with my Traveling Partner last night, and not really about this moment here at all. (Messed up chemistry from the strong emotions themselves, mostly, and dehydration from crying, feelings of uncertainty and sorrow that linger; human stuff.) So… self-care and self-reflection are on the menu today. (Shouldn’t they be part of every day?) I sigh to myself. Doing the work to build a healthy relationship is challenging, and more so perhaps between partners who both endure chronic pain, and both have PTSD. Worth the effort and the tears, it’s just hard sometimes.

…I think about what works, what doesn’t, and how annoying it is that it can be so difficult to be certain which is which…

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I reflect on this mortal life and the clock that never stops ticking. I think about what matters most. The sun rises on a new day, and new opportunities to be the woman I most want to be… and I think about beginnings.

Odd morning. Quiet. It’s fine. There’s a beautiful fat luminous full moon to greet me when I leave the house. It is slowly setting. By the time I reach the trail, it appears tangled in the tall oaks.

[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]

I try to get a picture of the moon as it sets. The composition is ruined by the placement of a streetlight relative to my angle of view.

There really is a full moon there.

I sigh to myself and just enjoy the sight of the full moon setting, before I set off down the trail.

I try again, zooming in closer.

The moon quickly disappears in the clouds as it sets. I start walking down the trail. Nice morning for it, clear skies overhead, mild, streaks of clouds here and there and a dense bank of clouds low on the western horizon.

I yawn as I walk, still shaking off the sleepiness of the night. I wonder if my beloved Traveling Partner managed to sleep through my departure this morning?  I hope so.

“Nothing to see here”, I think to myself as I walk.  I reach my halfway point and stop to write and meditate. Uneventful isn’t a bad thing, at all. I smile to myself. Breathe, exhale, relax; I make time for meditation. Finishing that, I take up my device and write a few words about nothing much on a pleasant, easy morning. I could skip it, but I don’t. It is a discipline, a practice, and also a means of reinforcing the frequency and utterly commonplace nature of lovely mornings such as this. It is far too easy to become mired in misery simply by not making a point to really be present for, and savor, beautiful quiet utterly ordinary moments.

…So here I am, doing the verbs…

…So many verbs.

The sunrise already comes later. I sit with that thought awhile. It’s not an uncomfortable thought. Change is. There is seasonality to life. It is a relatively comfortable morning, generally, aside from chronic pain that is, so far, mild enough to just ignore. I take notice of that, too, and make room in my awareness for it. It’s nice to be in less pain.

I sigh contentedly as I get to my feet and look down the trail. It’s a good time to begin again.

Today is a new day.

I woke to my alarm lightening the room. I switched it off, turned my lights to dim, and sat up. I took a minute to catch my breath and “get used to being awake”. I got up, dressed, and headed out, seemingly without waking my Traveling Partner. Nice.

[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]

On the trail at daybreak.

The air this morning has almost a hint of autumn to the scent and the feel of the morning air. I yawn sleepily and head down the trail.

As is generally the case, the morning’s discord between my partner and I yesterday was resolved before lunchtime. We enjoyed what little time there was of the evening after I returned home from work, but it wasn’t much. He is working a job that is reaching the finishing stages just before delivery to the customer. It keeps him busy. It worked out okay; I appreciated the time with my thoughts.

I get to my halfway point thinking about Impermanence, and non-attachment. Both ideas contain useful perspective. Non-attachment makes an excellent practice. Impermanence is another way of observing that change is. I’m grateful for perspective and resilience, this morning.

… This morning, no tears…

I watch the sun rise. It is the time of year when the western states catch fire. Scary how much is burning this summer. For now, the winds are pushing most of the smoke east. Here the sky is blue – for now. The wind may change direction any time, it is in the nature of both the wind and of change itself to do so.

There is a song in my head this morning that seems relevant. I sigh to myself, thinking about changes.

Another day, another opportunity to be the person I most want to be. It takes practice – and changes. I breathe, exhale, and relax, and make time for meditation by this trail on this pleasant morning. Changes. It’s time to turn and face the strange. It’s time to begin, again.

Sometimes I find a moment of peace through happenstance, sometimes I make choices that create a moment of peace. Either way, I enjoy the moment.

[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]

This morning is a bit of both, I guess. I chose to set my alarm for an early hour, in spite of being Saturday, and in spite of an interrupted night’s sleep. I chose this particular trail, in a small state park. It is pure luck that I’ve got it all to myself this morning: no other walkers, no dogs, no talkative children, just quiet, and birdsong. It’s lovely.

A new day, a path I chose.

I start down the trail as the sun rises. The air is sweet and spicy with that particular fragrance of Oregon wildflowers that I love so much. My steps feel comfortable, my stride feels relaxed and confident. For the time being my pain is minimal, and I’ve got my cane to steady me if my energy runs out, or I stumble. It’s a good beginning on a new day, and I savor the beauty of the moment as I walk.

Wildflowers line the trail.

I walk. Breathe. Exhale. Drink in the sights and scents of this lovely summer morning. Granted, it’s easier to create and enjoy a moment of peace in a place such as this, but I’ve found similar peace in some unlikely places. The success is in the outcome, not the setup. I sigh to myself; I’m not fooling anyone. It definitely is easier to find (or create) a peaceful moment in a place like this. I smile as I walk. I’m grateful for this lovely easy peaceful joyful moment of solitude on a carefree summer Saturday morning. Moments don’t last, so I savor it while it does.

Be present; every step counts.

I peer over the edge of an odd gap between trees off the edge of the trail. Something clearly uses this as a route to somewhere… but it is treacherously steep. I don’t test my agility; I am too aware of my limitations, cautious, and reluctant to be injured in a location where I might not easily be found. Choices.

I walk on. The sun lights up the tree tops, green and gold. I get to a favorite spot with a lovely view and stop to watch the sunrise.

A nice spot to reflect on a new day.

I’m not really thinking about the day ahead just yet. I’m enjoying the moment I’m in. That’s enough. This beautiful moment is as fleeting as any other – all too brief – it makes sense to enjoy it as it is, and soak myself in this delightful feeling of peace. It will pass. I chuckle to myself. Good or bad, the moments pass. The clock is ticking on this mortal life. I don’t let the awareness fret me. I just walk on.

I get to my feet, feeling content and merry and ready for a new day, wherever my path may lead. It’s time to begin again.