I woke early, confused about what day it is, remnants of troubled dreams clinging to my waking consciousness. I wasn’t even certain whether it was a work day, and if it were, where I’d intended to be working. I slowly sorted things out as I dressed, and headed to the trail in the predawn darkness. I took (and used) my headlamp for the first time in many weeks. The season is changing. The clock is ticking. The wheel is turning.
Another day, another mile.
The dawn came while I walked, hazy, pearly pink, and mild. The forecast says cooler today, although it is summer and still expected to be hot. The arthritis in my spine tells me (by way of the amount of pain I’m in) that cooler days and probably some rain are imminent. In spite of the pain, I’m looking forward to the rain.
I stop frequently, just leaning on my cane today. “Walk!” I snarl at myself silently. I walk on. Pain pulls me down, emotionally, and tends to make everything a bit of a struggle. Be kind to the people you know who endure chronic pain – trust me they don’t need more bullshit or drama. lol Those frail elders slowly making their way, maybe “slowing you down”? That’ll be you one day, so maybe don’t be an impatient dick about it, okay? (I used to be so frustrated by slower elders out and about doing their own thing, now I admire their endurance and see that as something to aspire to.)
Another step on the path, another breath, I walk on, watching the sunrise reach distant hills on the horizon.
My thoughts are still filled with remnants of unsolved questions and concerns of the past, all tangled up with existential dread, stale grief, and memories of other times. Occasional tears fill my eyes, but I’m not really sure why I am feeling so… What even is this feeling? Blue? Displaced? Some peculiar blend of sorrows, regret, and nostalgia that resists my attempt to name it. I’m annoyed by that more than I am troubled by the emotion. I sigh quietly, still walking.
I breathe, exhale, and relax. I think of my Traveling Partner at home, probably still sleeping. I’m grateful for his love and steady presence in my life. I think about the life we share. I’m grateful for that too, and feel fortunate to be where we are. My anxiety suddenly flares up, and I am momentarily overwhelmed by “what if” scenarios and self-doubt. Another breath, and I exhale, letting that go. It’s not a good practice to be consumed with worries about things that are not happening. I keep walking, until I get back to the car.
I sigh to myself as I change back from boots to soft shoes, and toss my cane into the passenger seat. My mind is still full of chaos, and I feel like I’m dragging around a lot of baggage and slowed down by ancient pain… but it’s a new day, and a new chance to begin again. Time to get started on that…
It’s rare to put things in order such that some need of my own really “comes first”. I usually put specific key responsibilities at the top of my list, obligations to home and hearth, family or colleagues, because doing the needful matters, and people are counting on me. Last night I chose to play a current favorite video game for a little while, instead of tidying up or hanging out with the family. This morning I’m writing before I do the budget (it’s a payday). Choices have consequences, and as I sip my coffee I find myself feeling like a jerk for putting myself first last night; I forgot to make tuna salad for my Traveling Partner, which he had specifically and fondly requested (he really likes the way I make it).
…Well, shit…
I sigh to myself and make a note to include an apology with my morning greeting, later. I could do better. Very human; my results vary. But, it’s also not helpful to kick myself over it for any length of time, once I’ve acknowledged my error, commit to making amends, and am ready to move on contrite over the miss, but also grateful that I did take a moment to treat myself well. I’ve just got to do a little better at balancing such things.
…I’ll keep practicing…
I sip my coffee listening to a bit of music, and getting my thoughts organized for the day ahead. The weekend is almost here. It’s a lovely summer day. I feel a peculiar pang of nostalgia for long lazy summer days of adolescence, hanging out at the edge of the woods with my boom box, listening to Atlanta Rhythm Section or Van Halen. Funny to feel it so sharply from this office desk, simultaneously feeling the gratitude and joy of living a substantially better life than I knew in those earlier times. Humans are weird. We cling so tightly to illusions of what was, forgetting for the moment the realities that hurt us so deeply. I guess it’s better than being mired in sorrow. I smile to myself, as I listen to a favorite song from a long gone time ago.
Another day, another set of choices, and new steps on this journey to becoming the person I most want to be. I know I can count on my results to vary, and I’m grateful for each new opportunity to begin again. Change is. This path definitely leads somewhere. I guess it’s time…
I’m sipping my coffee and reflecting on my journey, and things generally. My sleep was restless and filled with peculiarly realistic dreams of places, people, and circumstances that were in no way actually real in my own life. It was a bit unsettling to wake as if from an altogether different life into the life I live. It’s not the first time I’ve had such dreams, and I doubt it will be the last.
I made the drive to work watching the night sky transform at daybreak. Venus was bright above the horizon, and the sky was smudged with orange and rusty hues. I caught glimpses of Mt Hood from a couple vantage points that don’t offer a convenient place to stop, and struggled a bit to avoid being distracted by the beauty. Safety first! I have places to be, and loved ones who would like to see me again when I return. That was a pleasant thought in the moment. Something about the morning kept reminding me of “home” – not my home, now, but some long gone time and place that I can’t return to. It only exists in my memory. A spring afternoon, the buzz of insects, a screened in porch, and the hum of a fan, Easter shoes that pinched. A summer morning, the heavy scent of southern blossoms, the thick humid air, the clink of ice cubes in cold glasses, and sweat that doesn’t dry. Only memories, now – even most of the people are…gone. I sighed to myself as I drove, letting the thoughts drift through my mind like clouds. Nothing to be concerned about, just the morning of a new day, and some thoughts to get me started. It’s funny – I often “do my best writing” while I’m driving, and can’t jot down the words. lol An interesting challenge is finding them again, later. I rarely do. I find other words, other thoughts.
Strange journey, life, isn’t it? We each walk our own path. We’re each having our own experience. We persist in sharing our advice with other travelers as if they could ever truly make use of what we have learned ourselves – maybe, sometimes, in rare instances we really can learn from the experiences of others. I often wonder how true that really is. We are our own cartographers, and these “maps” we make aren’t very helpful to anyone else, generally. The moments and the journeys are uniquely our own. What do you actually get from reading these words? When I point out that we become what we practice, do you understand what I’m pointing out to you? How it applies to your own practices? The ways it could be useful to change your experience? How easily leaving dishes in the sink “now and then” becomes dishes in the sink more often? How difficult it can be to adopt a new better habit without committed practice? How easily anger becomes a character trait instead of a moment of emotion, when we yield to our anger and relish “venting” our frustration instead of steadily practicing some other approach? When I suggest practicing self-care, do you consider it and take action? When I observe that my chronic device use quickly became hard-to-resist doomscrolling and that I had to change my practices to preserve my emotional health, did you reflect on your own, and the effect it has had on you? You have a moment to make a change, to become the person you most want to be. What will you do with it?
I’m not telling you how to live – I’m just wondering what you get from my observations over time, or if it is merely an entertaining distraction?
We’re each walking our own path. Each tending our own garden. (These are metaphors.)
I’m just one human being, walking my own hard mile, facing my own trauma, and even the consequences of my own actions and choices. I’m grateful (and fortunate) to be where I am now, but there are no promises I’ll “always” have it like this – I’ve lived through far far worse. We are mortal creatures. We’re fortunate any time we can share the journey. I sip my coffee and think about love. Our choices in life only get us so far; some of it is also pure luck and the timing of circumstances. Each moment is precious – and unrepeatable. I reflect on Ichi-go ichi-e, and vita contemplativa – useful concepts. I practice non-attachment, and seek a sense of contentment and sufficiency. Along the way, I’ve found (often but not always) real actual no bullshit happiness. This surprises me, and I embrace the moments as I find them. Chasing happiness never got me there. Funny how that works.
Each moment as temporary as a flower.
My coffee is almost gone. The waning moon is faint in the cerulean blue of the morning sky. I’m okay right now – for all the values of okay – and I’m grateful. Nice moment. I breathe, exhale, and relax, and think about weekend gardening to come. There are strawberries to water, and arugula to plant. There are radish seedlings to thin, and a clematis vine to plant in a pot. There are new moments to live, and new thoughts to think. I smile to myself, grateful to have the chance to share words with you over my coffee, however you choose to use them. I wonder for a moment where your path may lead? Then, I get ready to begin again.
I woke up feeling cross and headache-y. I rolled up the road in the foggy darkness after making coffee for my beloved Traveling Partner and putting out a fresh glass of water and some morning snacks for him to wake up to. Hopefully his night was better than mine. I get awfully annoyed with him when he’s stupidly cross or frustrated with me, particularly when it is over something I don’t have a lot of control over, or something that isn’t about me at all in any reasonable way. He’s human too, and recovering from a serious injury is difficult and frustrating on its own. That’s not made easier by the medications he is taking to ease this or that symptom. I remind myself often that it isn’t personal, that he’s doing his best, and that he loves me. Doesn’t always make it any easier to endure.
Last night he was pretty crabby, in general, and I was “over it” almost immediately. I have needs of my own, and I definitely didn’t feel supported, cared for, or held in high regard. Didn’t help that I hadn’t slept well the night before, and knowing that was true for him, too, I suspect poor sleep was the biggest piece of our shared experience. I called it a night early and tried to get the rest I needed. That was a mixed success and my night was interrupted and not ideally restful. I’ll get over it.
I remind myself not to be a jerk to people; I can’t really know what they’re going through, and most people mean well, and generally try to do their best. Choosing to do anything else than my own best, to treat people well and kindly, with patience and understanding, comes with real predictable consequences. I know that’s true in work, family life, and love. People have a finite amount of nastiness or disrespect that they’ll endure before they lash out or just walk away. That’s reasonable, too. There’s no need to put up with someone’s bullshit rudeness, mistreatment, or drama, at all – there are other (better) options.
I think about my behavior, and I think about my beloved’s behavior, too. We’re walking this path together out of love, and I’m grateful for this deep and enduring love we share – but I’m no fool; we both have options. There’s no reason either of us should settle for each other’s worst behavior, ever. We have a mutual obligation to each other (and to the love we share) to do our best every day. Sure, sometimes our results may vary, and human is human. Still, it’s worth the effort, and certainly if we give up making the effort, love will bear the consequences. That’s just real.
I sit in the pre-dawn darkness out on the marsh. The fog is dense this morning. My head aches and my tinnitus is louder than the traffic on the nearby highway. I sigh quietly and see the steam of my breath become part of the fog. The VA says I need hearing aids now. I guess I’m not surprised. I haven’t really processed that yet. I don’t know how much it really matters. I hope they’re easy to wear and use and that they help. It’s been frustrating to have to be face-to-face with my beloved to be certain of hearing what he’s saying to me, and it’s clearly been frustrating for him, too. The doctor suggested, kindly, that there’s a chance the tinnitus will seem less loud when I’m hearing voice frequencies at a normal volume once again. That’d be a nice change. I’m grateful for the chance to have this technology available. Pretty amazing.
I sit with my thoughts awhile. It’s a chilly morning. Thanksgiving tomorrow, and I’ve much to be grateful for. I focus on the gratitude. It’s pretty hard to feel annoyed and grateful at the same time. lol Useful cognitive trick.
I get to my feet. It’s time to begin again. I’ll do my best.
It’s been a month since I was laid off. Shortly afterward and largely unrelated, I took time to go through a large storage tote of odds and ends I’ve been hanging on to. It was a mix of military memorabilia and war mementos (why do people hold on to this shit??), and various employment-related paperwork items from past employers (decades of old reviews and accolades, exit paperwork, offer letters…). My purpose was to pare things down to just those items I really did want to keep. (I’ll make a point of observing that having kept the contents of this bin since the last time I went through these items some 10 or so years ago, I haven’t gone through them or needed/wanted to access any one item in this bin. Ever.)
The tl;dr on the process itself? I cut that bin of stuff down to about 30% of its original contents, with the remaining kept items being limited to a small assortment of military mementos, including 1 complete uniform from my war time deployment. The project seems to live on in lingering intentions to contemplate what I found and learned along the way; I had saved a quick draft with some notes.
about letting go of the past, tossing out mementos, old work papers, moving on from trauma, learning to truly let things go, shit like that
impermanence & non-attachment
fresh perspective on the woman I once was contrasted with who I thought I was at the time, and what it can teach me about getting to be that woman I most want to be
the value in keepsakes, the value in not keeping them
the added challenge in growing/changing if also clinging to reminders of what was
draft notes from the blog post draft of 9/12/22
This morning, I sit with my now-cold coffee, thinking about time, thinking about change, and thinking about how peculiar it was to actually read those old reviews and coaching notes (and yes, reprimands). It had been so many years, my own recollection of that time and those events was pretty firmly skewed toward me-as-hero-of-my-narrative. Fucking hell I needed a bit of work. LOL For one thing – I was 100% wrong every bit as often as I was 100% correct, and I was neither as awesome as some reviews make me out to be, nor as problematic as some of the warnings suggest I was. I was sometimes a liability and a headache, just by being myself, and probably quite difficult to manage, having both cPTSD and a TBI creating noteworthy cognitive quirks and emotional volatility.
Please note, I’m thinking back on events of the early ’00s, and well-before any legitimate push in the direction of “authenticity” in the workplace! Wasn’t a thing, yet, and quite often people really were punished or held back for the sole “crime” of being themselves and being different than the approved corporate drone template – which still goes on, but now we’re more likely to be offended by that. Progress? I’m just saying; I wasn’t always the “good guy” I saw myself as being. Very human. Also? Sometimes quite angry and kind of a bitch. Impatient. Inconsiderate. Smug. Rude. “Basic.” Unsympathetic. Lacking in compassion. Not a good look.
Sounds like I’m being pretty hard on myself. I mean, giving myself some credit …in spite of all that, I managed to find love…so..? Not a “lost cause” among human beings, surely. 🙂
The “truth of who we are” is more complicated that one perspective, even when that one perspective is our own. I know myself pretty well. I’m deeply acquainted with the woman in the mirror, but… until I really sat with a calm heart and new eyes to read those old reviews, coaching notes, and warnings, and really heard the messages, I did not understand the perspectives those Others were sharing with me. It must have been frustrating for people that it could be so hard to get through to me. I’m not into “taking it personally”, particularly at this late date; I am not the woman I was then. Still… I was that woman then. I understand her better now, not because of these old papers, but because I’ve gained so much new knowledge and perspective since then, generally. These old papers filled in some gaps, made sense of some “errata” that crept into my recollections over time. It was a great opportunity to loosen my grip on my existing personal narrative to allow that to be deepened and to become more nuanced through the addition of some really complex outside perspective.
I made a point of being open to listening to those past voices with more vulnerability, and willingness to learn as I went through all those papers. Does it change who I am now? Possibly not. Helps me understand who I was then more deeply, and provides a better understanding of how/why my journey over the years has had some of the complexities and challenges that it has had. Useful. Forces on me some useful and necessary humility, and if I’m being wholly honest, I need that. It also served to give me a moment to really put down some baggage and let go of some pointless bullshit that had lingered far too long. Needful.
If you spend your life thinking that you are Superman masquerading as Clark Kent, your choices (and words, and actions) are likely to be quite different than if you understand that you are Clark Kent daydreaming of being Superman. This is something worth thinking about. 🙂 Is there something so wrong with being an ethical person with a good heart, who is kind and who cares – but totally lacks any super powers at all? Just saying it’s something I think about.
Strange how I worked so hard to hold on to those papers over the years. They served no purpose besides taking up space… until I sat down and reviewed them, read them, and gave them real thought without taking any of it personally at all. And now? Having done that, I don’t need to keep them. What did I do with all that waste paper? Shredded and recycled. Gone. And then? Time to begin again.
Evening Light 