This morning is a chilly one. Not quite freezing. There was a meteor shower peaking last night, but I didn’t stay up to see it, in spite of the likelihood of a clear night. It didn’t actually freeze overnight, and there was no frost on the ground where I live. When I got to the trailhead, I found a pleasant spot to watch the sky and enjoyed seeing Venus shining brightly, a beautiful crescent moon, and even a couple shooting stars. Worth a few minutes of time outside on a chilly Spring morning.
One unrepeatable moment of many.
I breathe, exhale, and relax, and head down the trail as daybreak begins. Nice morning to put another mile on these boots. I think thoughts of Spring, and of camping. It’s still too chilly for sleeping on the ground (for me). It won’t be long before camping is a fun way to get a couple days of solo time. I’ve got reservations at a new spot, too, in July. I’m hoping to get a couple days of painting on the coast in June.
I feel restless and a bit distracted.
I sigh and keep walking to my halfway point, and stop to write and reflect. Hard to keep my mind focused on this present moment, here, now, this morning. I wonder why, before letting my thoughts wander on. I’m in pain on this chilly morning. I’m distracted by the lingering recollection of strange surreal dreams from which I woke just before my alarm. I feel sleepy and I’m certain I could go right back to sleep, but it is a work day. I watch the sky change colors.
I shake off my sleepiness. I get to my feet and look down the trail, past the vineyard. The clock is ticking. The sun is rising. It is a new day and it’s time to begin again.
Yesterday was delightful. All the way to the trailhead this morning, I thought about the gardening yesterday. As I walked, I continued to reflect on my garden, noticing the various wildflowers and grasses growing along the marsh trail and among the oaks on the meadow. I think about the bit of space yet to plant with… something. I keep walking.
Nice morning for it
Yesterday evening I got very excited to consider adding a potted rose to my still developing west side garden. This morning I admitted to myself that my eagerness was carrying me enthusiastically beyond my good sense; roses won’t do well in that location. Not enough hours of sunshine. I chuckle to myself when I fall back to my thought of perhaps putting a citronella geranium in that pot? Good grief, those get huge; it’s a small space. What am I thinking? So human.
For a time, I distract myself from those yearnings by contemplating the front flower bed, where I decided to fill in more area with the primroses that are doing so well. I’m eager to divide them and spread them out. I laugh at myself; it’s not yet time for that. They’re still blooming. I am so eager to proceed. Waiting on timing is hard.
It can be so difficult to approach plans and eagerness with discipline. It’s not impossible. It takes practice. Commitment. Something else productive to do is helpful, too. I smile as I walk, shaking my head at my foolishness. There’s plenty of weeding to do. Fact. There’s no shortage of work to be done. It’s just not the exciting stuff: the planning, the shopping, the planting. Not just now. The work that needs doing is weeding. The garden version of housework. Removing the wild geraniums that appear in the lawn. Digging out the occasional dandelion, too. Pulling out stray lawn grass where it tries to encroach on a flower bed. It even turns up in my raised beds. So much weeding. Manual labor of a rather unsatisfying, less than ideally fun sort. lol Still needs doing. Like the housework. There’s no actual end to it, and there’s nearly always something that needs to be done to live well and comfortably. Clutter to reduce. Tasks to be completed. Order to create out of chaos. It’s all worthy and worthwhile.
The garden as a metaphor; the work that needs doing isn’t exciting or glamorous. Still needs to be done.
… Sometimes it’s hard to want to do the actual work…
When I stop at my halfway point to write and meditate, I notice how much my legs ache. My back, too. My head is kind of stuffy; allergies. As if on cue, I sneeze several times. Oh, but the flowers do smell so good! I add Claritin and pocket tissues to my shopping list for later.
My Traveling Partner has already pinged me a loving greeting this morning. I smile, feeling his love. Yesterday he showed me how the new Hue Forge software works. Exciting! It makes me think about color differently. He did a small project from a photo I had taken, with me “along for the ride”. It was a lovely shared moment. I sit quietly reflecting on love and life together. 14 years married, on May 1st – it doesn’t seem so long, but at the same time feels as if we’ve “always been together”. It’s a nice feeling.
Sky through the trees, rendered in Hue Forge and 3D printed.
I breathe, exhale, and relax. This “being human” thing takes so much practice to do skillfully without doing a lot of unintentional damage. Like learning new software, or developing a new skill, there’s more to it than there seems to be, given an opportunity to explore the nuances more deeply. lol I reflect awhile longer, on my garden, on love, on becoming the person I most want to be. There are so many verbs involved. So many opportunities to choose, do, fail, and to begin again. I’ll keep practicing – and walking my own path. I sigh contentedly, and get to my feet. It’s already time to walk on. Time to begin again.
All along the trail, flowers are blooming. Mostly trees and shrubs, it is too early for roses and other summer-flowering things. The sunrise begins as an orange smudge on the horizon, Venus very bright in the morning sky. I catch a glimpse of what I think was the ISS, and smile. What an amazing feat of science, technology, engineering, professional commitment, and diplomacy! I guess, considering the way things are going these days, it makes sense that it is nearing the end of its expected usefulness.
Pear blossoms (at the edge of my garden)
Holy shit, when did human beings become so terrible? Has humanity always been actually awful, or has it been just those few monsters in our midst making things dreadful for everyone? We’ve really got to stop electing terrible people with malicious intentions to powerful positions. It’s not a reliable means to creating a good world in which people can thrive together. It’s frankly unpleasant and horrifying. We should probably really consider what we teach young people that so many arrive at adulthood lacking critical thinking skills or basic ethics.
I shake my head and keep walking.
Cherry blossoms and hedge flowers.
The trail takes me past a small chapel. This part of the path passes by a parking lot, and is paved and lit. It wanders through tall oak trees. These grow tall and quite narrow, being so close together.
Oregon White Oaks
I keep walking until I reach my halfway point and sit for a little while, avoiding my thoughts, spending time simply taking in my surroundings. I breathe, exhale, and relax. I listen to the robins singing their morning songs. I can hear the nearby creek and the distant traffic. A chipmunk approaches hesitantly before darting away. The sky is filled with the light of dawn and sunrise, and the hills to the west are hues of subtle blues. The rows of grape vines in the vineyard that the trail wraps as it heads into denser trees towards the creek are becoming more visible and the artificial lights I can still see from here are beginning to go out, section by section. The air smells of Spring. It’s a lovely quiet moment and I have the trail to myself.
Here comes the sun.
I sit awhile longer with my thoughts. Too soon the world will catch up with me; it’s a work day, and a busy one. I already know my calendar is full and my task list is long. I sigh quietly. Could be worse. I’m fortunate, and I am grateful for my opportunities. I’m not complaining about the burdens that come with them. I’m just not ready to get started. I’m enjoying this moment.
Enjoying the moment
I smile to myself when I remember (again) that I am working from home today. I can take my breaks in my garden, and enjoy lunch with my Traveling Partner. The clock is always ticking, and it’s important to enjoy the moments we have together. There’s no knowing what the future may hold. I take another breath of the Spring-scented air. It’s time to begin again.
The drive to the office was relaxed and routine. My coffee isn’t bad (neither is it actually good, it’s just coffee). The view from the office window at dawn hints at a warm afternoon, later. A good day to be in the garden.
I’m in the office.
The waning “pink moon” setting as the day begins.
I sigh to myself. Breathe, exhale, relax. I take a few minutes for meditation before work begins. I plan the day ahead. I do a thoughtful body scan, and consider how best to manage my pain and the stiffness that results from the combination of sore muscles and arthritis. I seek the one, and try to avoid the other, but ultimately pain is pain; managing it as well as I can is a good practice. Not letting it run my life is an important choice. They both require a committed effort; there are verbs involved, and a steady willingness to care for this fragile vessel with a full measure of consideration, and my whole heart. I stretch and sigh again, before wondering “at what point is a sigh just a deep breath?” I let all that go and watch the moon set.
Yesterday was lovely. My appointment with the surgeon I was referred to went well, I guess, for some values of going well; I got referred to a different more specialized surgeon. lol Progress? I guess so. The Anxious Adventurer set up two more of the small raised beds for me in my new “west side garden”. It’s small space, and sure, it’s narrow, and limited, and the big A/C unit is right there, but… it’s also just outside my office window, and rather private (not visible from the street the way the front garden is). The first bed is already planted in strawberries, and since I started those from mature plants in 4″ pots, there are already flowers. I smile at the thought and yearn to feel the soil under my fingers as I fill the other two beds with soil and plant them with… something. I don’t know yet. It’s a spot that only gets afternoon sun, and I haven’t yet decided what else to plant there. Maybe just more strawberries? Something with flowers? Perhaps a clematis in that extra large black plastic nursery pot left over from when all my roses were potted (so many years, so many roses)? I smile, feeling my shoulders relax. I get so much joy from my garden I easily forget how I loathed the time I spent gardening as a kid. It felt like an obligation. A demand. Manual labor, nothing more or less, and I was sure that I had better things to do with my time. It felt like indentured servitude, then, and I longed to be 18, and master of my own affairs and decision-making.
What have you planted? How well do you tend your garden? (It’s a metaphor.)
…I’m grateful now for the time I spent in my parents’ garden; I use those experiences a lot, in my own garden, now. I’m still doing most of the labor. lol I don’t resent it any more. I appreciate help when I have it, but I love the work and my only resentment is that aging has robbed me of considerable strength and endurance for it… I have to choose my tasks wisely, and plan the work thoughtfully.
I hope the work day passes quickly. I’m eager to be back in the garden. I think about love and gardening awhile longer. I’d plant honeysuckle or jasmine instead of clematis, but either of those has serious potential to aggravate my Traveling Partner’s allergies rather a lot. I’ll miss them, maybe, but clematis offers lovely dramatic flowers, and will be less likely to be unpleasant for my beloved. I would not willfully choose to harm him. I think about how much I adore him. How my love is returned in equal measure; everywhere I turn in my home I see his love in the little things he has done or made for me. Even yesterday. New work skills, hobbies, creative endeavors, tools and materials, are often tried out or put to use the first time in some new something or other for me. I feel so loved.
A token of his affection, 3D printed, using Hue Forge.
The journey from being mired in trauma, sorrow, despair, or ancient pain is not an easy one. There’s no map. There is no sherpa to carry the baggage accumulated over a lifetime. There’s no handy tutorial. It’s a hard mile and we have to walk it ourselves, but every step, every moment, every sun rise is a chance to walk on, and to begin again. We become what we practice. We have choices. Sure, it’s a lot of work, and it’s often slow going. We stumble. We fall. We fail. It’s human – all of it, so very human. When I began this journey years ago, I only wanted to “be mostly okay” – to feel something good, at least as often as not. I wanted to manage the chaos in my head and to silence my nightmares.
I find myself, now, in a very different place – mostly thriving. Contented. Joyful. Even happy, rather a lot of the time. I wasn’t trying to get “here” – but once I got there, I just kept on walking. Kept working at healing. Kept practicing practices. Kept making better choices and slowly becoming someone more like the woman I most want to be. The journey is the destination – this isn’t new-age-y bullshit, although it is as metaphorical as it is practical – it’s quite real and you can make the journey yourself, from wherever you are now, to that place you most want to be, or at least someplace much better than where you feel you are. Keep walking. One day at a time. One practice at a time. One moment of studious self-care at a time. Making the decisions that the journey requires isn’t always effortless or obvious or even “painless”. Sometimes adulting is hard. I’m not telling you how to do the thing – I’m just saying it can be done, and hoping to provide some measure of hope and encouragement on what is admittedly a difficult journey. Life. Healing. Becoming. It’s not a journey of miles or moments, or hours or days – it is a journey frankly measured in years and decades. A lifetime. But the time does pass, and the miles do add up – and we do get somewhere as we go. Incremental change over time adds up. We become what we practice.
What are you practicing?
If I stopped writing today, I don’t know that it would be missed. There is so much life to live… I enjoy taking a moment to reflect on it, though, and doing so brings me great joy and peace. What about you? What are you doing to cultivate contentment? To find joy in your experience? To build emotional resilience? To become the person you most want to be? It’s not too late to make that journey – you only need to begin again.
I had a moment yesterday. Feelings of loneliness and despair began to well up seemingly out of “nowhere”. It wasn’t “nowhere”, of course, these are troubling, baffling times for ethical compassionate people who want (and work) to see good in the world. I took a moment to shed some private tears and regain my balance, to self-soothe, and step back from thoughts of things I can’t influence directly or change in any practical immediate way.
“Breathe, exhale, relax.” I reminded myself. It helped and the evening moved on.
There’s still blue sky overhead.
If you’re hurting and struggling with the strange terrible times we’re in, you’re not alone, I promise you. Be kind. Be considerate. Be your best self in spite of seeming to be surrounded by a world of monsters. Look with scorn on terrible people, but don’t let them transform you. Don’t become the thing you find detestable. Don’t let the bad acts and cruelty of the world make you cruel, yourself. Resist the poor choices your own anger and fear nudge you towards and stand firm on your resolve and your convictions. Be the person you most want to be, not whatever facsimile of humanity it may seem that you are expected or encouraged to become by circumstances, systems, or corrupt individuals. Be honest. Be real. Speak truth to power. Make the wisest choices you can for the greatest good within your family, tribe, and community. Be the change you wish to see in the world. It’s not a platitude if you make it real in your own experience.
Remember that the goblin king has no power over you. He is a farce. He is a fiction. Make your own choices. Use your own words. Be the main character in your story, instead of an NPC in the game of life.
It’s a new day. A new beginning.
This morning I watch the sunrise. I listen to birds singing cheerily along the trail. No tears. I am okay right now. Sometimes shit gets hard because I actually do care, and all by itself that can be a hell of a burden to bear. It’s an interesting path I’ve chosen in life, and it isn’t paved, and I don’t have a map. Sometimes the going is easy, sometimes it is difficult. Regardless, it is a worthy journey of being and becoming, and I walk on.
I sigh quietly as I walk. Trolls and monsters and lines on maps – it’s a strange and sometimes scary world, but the journey is the destination and it isn’t really “about” any of that. Those are worldly distractions. I remind myself to be present, here, now. To be kind. To be the woman I most want to be. To make wise choices. To listen well and deeply, and to love with my whole heart.
I listen to my footsteps on the trail. The clock is ticking. It’s time to begin again.
Evening Light 