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Missing a Friend

June 11, 2024 //
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This is the sort of morning I would happily spend some time emailing my recently departed Dear Friend…

The sunrise from the trail this morning.

I would certainly share a picture of the sunrise, probably commenting on its beauty.  Recent years found my Dear Friend to have very limited ability to get around without help, and she wouldn’t see such a sight without pictures shared by friends. She often asked for details and anecdotes about my unassuming local travels. (I miss her, greatly.)

Tomorrow being my birthday, and having already received (and opened) gifts from my Traveling Partner, I would share those details with her, too. The context, the sentiment, why each gift delights me so, and the “back story”, if there is one, would all be shared and talked over together. She’d tell me why celebrating this birthday matters more than I think it does, and remind me that I am precious to her. She’d embarrass me a bit with praise, and point out how easily we can lose our abilities through disuse. She would encourage me to do more and go further. She would cheer me on and share my joy. If I were feeling beat down or defeated, she would laugh at my dark angry humor and give me her own wise perspective.

…She would slyly say nothing about some handmade delight she had sent my way, that would surprise me the day of my birthday with something more to open…

…Fuck I do miss you, my very Dear Friend…

Of the roses I planted this Spring with my Dear Friend in mind, one has bloomed. I grinned to see the colorful flower. I took a picture to share with her, forgetting for just an instant…    I shared it, instead, with another friend who was similarly close (closer, for years longer) with my Dear Friend, hoping it might bring her a smile, too.

“Rainbow Happy Trails” blooming in a corner of my garden.

I walked the trail this morning, watching the sun rise and the morning take shape. I breathed in the scents of Spring flowers and meadow grass as I walked along between river and marsh. I’m not really “sad” this morning, and the moment of poignant recollection passes without tears. I honor my Dear Friend through these memories and I am okay with missing her; she meant a lot to me, and our friendship got me through some hard times when I sometimes felt I had no one else to turn to. We could count on each other’s good will and affection, and we were there for each other through joy and hardship. That’s a beautiful thing.

…61, tomorrow… it is a bit weird not sharing it with her…

I walk on down the trail. I’ve got it to myself for now. I walk with my wandering thoughts. The work day will begin soon enough. When it does, I’ll begin again. Soon enough. Soon enough. No reason to rush. In the meantime, I walk with my thoughts and my memories, stopping at my halfway point to meditate, reflect, and write a few words about a very Dear Friend of mine. Time well-spent.

I finish up my writing and sit quietly awhile.   Photographers coming down the trail purposefully remind me that this is a work day. I check the time, happy to see I’ve got time to spare. Lovely morning.

…It’s the last day of being 60…

…I guess I’ll begin again…

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Categories Allegories, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Practices, Relationships, Roses, solo hiking, Spring, The Art of Being, turning 60, women

Pain and Planning

April 20, 2024 //
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I got a great walk this morning, watching the sun rise as I walked. My allergies, which typically flared up only rarely but seem more likely to be seasonal these days, were bothering me from the moment I woke. I’ve been dealing with them since, taking OTC remedies and walking back to the car with the pockets of my hoodie filled with used tissues. I’m also in a ferocious amount of pain this morning, and having already taken a prescription pain reliever, on top of the allergy meds, I feel stuffy and a bit stupid. Didn’t stop me from getting a walk in, but likely slowed me down a bit.

…It’s 4/20… Saturday. Once upon a time this “counter culture holiday” would have had great meaning for me, and my day would have been planned around it. Not so much these days, though my Traveling Partner made a point to wish me well with a holiday greeting and I returned the merry sentiment. My plans just aren’t built around this anymore, and cannabis is legal here and it’s use quite commonplace. So… yeah. Happy 4/20, though. 😀

My plans today are mostly to do with tidying up the deck and draining, cleaning, and refilling the hot tub, and I am hoping to do it all in spite of the pain I’m in… I hope I can. I’d really like to be using the hot tub.

…It’s sort of peculiar, I think, that I don’t easily account for pain in my planning. I would benefit from being more skillful about that. I’ve learned not to over-commit when I do plan tasks and projects, but I seriously underestimate the limitations pain may place on my abilities. This may be a product of routinely trivializing my pain, to attempt to prevent it from “getting the upper hand” or defining my experience. It’s a real limitation though, at its worst, and the result is that failing to account for it realistically sometimes fucks with my planning (or more specifically, my execution of said planning). I sit with my thoughts for a few minutes…

…fuck pain…

I sigh to myself. Drink some water. Look over my grocery list. I guess it’s already time to begin again…

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Categories Allegories, breathe, Free Will, health, Healthy Living, meditation, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Practices, solo hiking, Spring, The Art of Being, weight loss secrets

One Moment

April 17, 2024 //
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Chilly morning. It’s near freezing this morning. The local trail I chose for my walk is slick with frost in places, and the air is crisp and quiet. The sunrise is gold and orange, with hints of deeper shades of red.  I’ve taken today off and for now my time is my own.

The colors of a new day.

I walk and think, until my steps bring me back to the car. I’m in quite a lot of pain this morning, which is annoying, but I’m managing in spite of it, so far. The sudden cold snap causes my arthritis to flare up. Nothing much to do about that besides complain and take something for it. It could be worse, and I am grateful that it isn’t.

…Funny how the many pretty little flowers that adorn the meadows and the ground beneath the oaks along this trail would be weeds in my garden…

I sigh quietly to myself. This headache is vexing me. I’m hoping it will diminish once the pain medication I took for my arthritis kicks in. I’d mutter something to myself about how much aging sucks, but I’ve had the osteoarthritis since I was about 25, and this particular headache for going on a decade. I remind myself, again, that it could for sure be so much worse. I take a breath and let my vexatious notions go as I exhale and relax. New day, new moment, new chance to begin again, eh?

I sit with my thoughts awhile longer, reflecting on my good fortune to have a partner who cares about my wellness and is supportive and kind, and careful with my feelings. He’s been very open to supporting my decision-making and goal-setting as I start new medication and reflect on changes I need to make to my diet and fitness plan. He knows it isn’t easy and doesn’t cast me as a villain, blame me, or nag or criticize me. He listens and offers suggestions when I ask for help or for his insights. So different than what either of us saw modeled by our parents. It’s a relief and I am appreciative and grateful.

…Changes do need to be made, though. There are no shortcuts or magic pills. I have to do my part. “Eat less and exercise ” is trite and basic, and probably a bit oversimplified, but… it’s trite and basic because it’s pretty foundational and reliably true, generally. It’s just how the biochemistry of our metabolism works. So, I am back to logging meals for a while, while I recalibrate my awareness of my calorie consumption and improve on the nutritional quality of what I eat. I’m back to weekly weigh-ins, holding myself accountable and staying aware of progress and setbacks. I’m back to pushing myself a little harder every week on the trail and at home to do a little more, go a little further and sit still a little less. It’s a journey. Like so many of life’s journeys, I have to walk my own mile, and I am my own cartographer. No shortcuts.

…If you’re thinking that Ozempic and other medications that may aid weight-loss for some people are somehow “shortcuts”, at all,  I gently suggest reconsidering that as a thinking error. How is medication for a medical condition any sort of “shortcut”? (And if you’re only taking or considering one of these new drugs so you can drop a couple pounds to soothe your vanity, maybe think about how that may reduce the availability of these drugs for people who actually need them.?)

Meh. Do you. I’m not your mom nor your babysitter. Maybe just don’t be an asshole to people who have challenges you don’t personally share?

The sun is up. It’s shining in my eyes, golden and bright. It’s a new day, a new moment, and there’s so much further to go. I guess it’s time to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Practices, solo hiking, Spring, The Art of Being, weight loss secrets

Finding Encouragement in the Mirror

April 16, 2024 //
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This morning I woke feeling kind of down. I had replaced the batteries in the bathroom scale last night, and did an honest weigh-in to get a clear understanding of the journey ahead. That number was bigger than I expected it to be. Bigger than I thought it was. Bigger than my most comfortable self-deception suggested it would be. I woke up feeling a bit depressed about it.

I drove into the office thinking about my weight. The journey ahead. My desire to live a long healthy life enjoying the companionship of my Traveling Partner for many years to come. The clock is ticking. The challenges with my health, my weight, my fitness, and my emotional wellness; they’re all tied up in knots with each other. I’m sipping my (black) coffee, thinking about the mental math I did on the commute, trying to figure out realistically how many pounds I want to lose to get to properly healthy place… and how long that may take, trying to stay very honest and real with myself, no games, no bullshit, uncompromisingly honest with the woman in the mirror. Harsh. With no missteps, no failures of will, no injuries that limit my ability to exercise… I’m still looking at (at best) a 2-year journey, and a lifelong commitment to change. Fuck that sounds like… a lot. 😦

…How do I get from here to there, and do it without being a complete jerk to myself? What tools are in my toolkit, and can I use them more skillfully than I have? I know I can rely on my Traveling Partner to be kind, supportive, encouraging, and to hold me accountable in an honest and compassionate way… I feel less sure of being able to provide that to myself. I know from experience that treating myself poorly leads to problematic outcomes, and generally limits my success. It’s just not the best approach. So… now what? How do I avoid the slide into despair over this mess? I feel like self-sabotage is around every corner…

I think about my mother’s challenges with her weight. I think about my Granny’s challenges with hers. I think about my recently deceased dear friend’s challenges with her weight. It’s not easy. It’s likely that each one of these women lived shorter lives than they otherwise might have, had they been more successful at managing their weight and maintaining their fitness. There are lessons here. Lived examples. Things to think about. I sigh out loud and sip my coffee; all the powerful examples in the world do nothing whatsoever to create change. There are verbs involved and no fucking shortcuts result in long-term change. It’s necessary to commit to action… then act. Do the fucking verbs.

I remind myself that it’s hard to go from Detroit to San Francisco if I’m standing in Baltimore. Having an honest awareness of the number on the scale now is useful perspective. I make a point to share it with my Traveling Partner, and with my physician. It hurts to own up to it, but… this is where progress begins. I can’t start in a place where I’m not standing. It’s not as if it isn’t obvious that I’m well-over a healthy weight for my age, height, and body type, just at a glance. It’s not as if I weren’t aware of how difficult it can be to keep moving and to eat healthy – and I can’t claim I didn’t know how important these details are. So. Here I am. Ready for a next step. Ready for a new journey. Ready to make real progress.

…Ready to begin again…

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Categories Allegories, anger, Anxiety, Brain Injury, breathe, Despair, forgiveness, Free Will, Frustration, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Spring, weight loss secrets, women

Walking the Talk

April 9, 2024 //
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It’s just now daybreak. I’ve got my boots on, and I’m at the trailhead for this morning’s walk. I try to put a couple miles on these boots every day. It’s not everything I need to do to get (or stay) fit, but it’s more than nothing.

I’m thinking about success and failure and the effort involved either way. I’m thinking about the difference between “saying” and “doing” – it’s an important difference. It’s pretty easy to find some measure of success and then, slowly, over time, begin to fail oneself ever so quietly while still rather loudly proclaiming the value of prior successes. It’s very human. The proof is in the results, though. Sometimes it’s necessary to begin again, because I have somehow stopped doing a verb. It’s not on my mind for any particular reason, aside from gratitude that I’ve kept at it with the walking and I’m still on my feet and able to.

Have you given up on some effective practice, maybe without really noticing, or in spite of continuing to talk about how well it works for you? Do you miss it? Will you begin again?

I breathe in the mild Spring morning air. It’s scented with flowers. The trees are in bloom all around. Storm clouds are bunched up overhead, looking a bit like a quilted comforter that has been improperly dried, and left lumpy. The idea of “lumpy clouds” makes me giggle out loud.

I’m in less pain than yesterday and in a much nicer mood so far this morning. I’ve got a bit of a headache and it’s the one I most closely associate with my neck pain, but my arthritis isn’t so bad this morning,  and the bone graft site on my left hip isn’t aching ferociously the way it was yesterday. I am so grateful just to hurt less this morning. The walk can become real drudgery when I am in a lot of pain. I generally still do the walk, but it’s certainly less pleasant when my pain is unmanaged.

…soon…

The sky is light enough to walk the trail now. It’s a lovely mild morning for it. I stretch and yawn, grateful for the moment, the opportunity, and the ability. I grab my cane from the passenger seat of the car and begin again.

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Categories Allegories, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, meditation, Metaphors, Moments, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Practices, solo hiking, Spring, The Art of Being
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