Archives for posts with tag: do the verbs

I’m relaxing after my morning walk on a nearer more local trail. I slept in this morning, and slipped out of the house after daybreak, leaving my Traveling Partner to sleep awhile longer. I’ve got a plan to make waffles later, and for now these quiet moments of morning watching the sunrise become a new day are mine to enjoy alone.

A new day, a new beginning.

I am sitting on one of the picnic tables that sit along this stretch of the trail, watching small birds and reflecting on past and current commitments to myself, and my successes and failures over the years. I consider progress I’ve made over time, and how different “a good life” looks to me at 60, compared to 14, 23, 30, or 45… My thinking and my understanding of what I want in life has changed quite a lot over time. Certainly, at 14 I had no idea how much pure effort is involved in “living well”, let alone how I would come to define that after I had experienced some living.

I still find myself yearning for “easy”, far more than I ever yearn(ed) for recognition or fortune, and it amuses and humbles me to finally find myself having to acknowledge that, like a lot of life’s sweet treats, “ease” is best taken in moderation. The more of it I have, the more often I indulge, the more likely I may also find myself struggling later on to maintain my wellness or health in some other area of life. There’s a balance to be struck.

I sit feeling the effects of physical exertion. Feeling the rising sun on my face. Breathing the cool morning air. A small bird stops on the table, very near to me. I hold quite still to avoid startling her into flight. She looks me over and picks at unseen crumbs while I wonder how hard birds must work just to survive. I think I must have it relatively easy, by comparison. Useful perspective.

I’ve been working towards increasing the amount of effort I put in day-to-day, without exhausting myself or breaking down this fragile vessel. This isn’t new; I’ve “been here before”. I’m hoping to improve my fitness and my wellness, generally. I’d like to be around a good long time more… In spite of the chaos of the world, my own wee slice of suburban paradise is rather nice, and I enjoy life and love and time spent with my Traveling Partner and my friends. I’m not interested in “going out with a bang”, nor do I want to quietly fade away. I want most to live well, and live simply, and enjoy the life I live for all the days I can. Recent reminders that we are mortal creatures are less depressing than they are simply a reminder that the clock is always ticking.

… I wonder what the future holds, as I take off my hiking boots and put my sneakers back on. I think about the garden and wonder if I would do well to pick up a watering can for watering the seedlings in the veggie bed. These questions strangely seem to have similar significance and magnitude for me on this relaxed Sunday morning. I suppress a laugh and the little bird flies away.

… I remember that I’ve planned to drain and clean and refill the hot tub today and wonder if I actually will… Have I got it in me? Should I give myself a break and do it next weekend?

I take a breath and exhale with a sigh and a smile, and prepare to walk back to the car, wondering if I have everything I need to make waffles…? I know I have what I need to find satisfaction, joy, and contentment in my life. There are verbs involved…

… And it’s time to begin again.

It’s still dark here at the trailhead where I am waiting for daybreak. It’s a pleasantly mild morning and expected to be a warm sunny day. I’d hoped to sleep in, but woke at my usual early hour, and did my best to slip away quietly so my Traveling Partner could get the rest he needs, too. So here I am, thinking about life and waiting for the sun.

I watched an excellent perspective piece on YouTube last night with my Traveling Partner, discussing what makes a “good life”, and what a life well-lived consists of, generally. That’s an utterly inadequate summary. It sort of describes “how the sausage is made” with regard to all the media crap we cram into our brains that tell us we could or should do more or live differently. You could just watch it. I found it a worthwhile way to spend 11 minutes. Inspiring in a wholesome way. I don’t think I could have said it better.

Daybreak comes. Mt Hood is backlit by a broad strip of a relatively bold orange. It’s a lovely morning to be on the trail early, alone with my thoughts. Time to wrap this up and get going…

Is this a “boring” life because I don’t travel to exotic destinations or do amazing adventurous things? No. It’s a quiet life built on contentment and sufficiency, doing things I truly enjoy, and spending time with people I have real fondness for. It’s not only not boring, it’s very much the life I have been working towards for so long. 🙂

… And it’s time to hit the trail and begin again.

I’m sipping my morning coffee and thinking my thoughts. The weekend was a pleasant one, comforting, healing, and nurturing. The time spent with my Traveling Partner in his steady comforting presence has gone a long way toward processing my grief over losing my dear friend. I’m still stricken with a moment of sadness when I think about the loss of her presence in my life, but it’s more poignant and less acute, and that’s progress.

A little March snow.

The peculiar March weather continues, with occasional passing snow showers, and strangely icy mornings, and mild rainy afternoons. I never made it into the garden over the weekend. Between the pain of my arthritis, and a rather long list of other shit also needing to get done, and also wanting to spend time with my Traveling Partner, I chose differently, although I did get the compost I need to get started with Spring planting. The days are noticeably longer, already, so perhaps one day after work this week…?

I’m not feeling any sort of regret over not getting into the garden. I spent plenty of time there “in my head”, thinking about flowers, and roses, and vegetables, and Spring. Time well-spent. Time planning the season ahead is still time “in the garden”, and besides, I got quite a lot done this weekend, and I’m coasting on that sense of accomplishment as the new work day (and week) begins. (I finally got all of my laundry folded, hung up, and put away that had piled up – ignored – after my Traveling Partner was injured and needed a lot of my “spoons” to be available to care for him. Laundry in a basket was not my highest priority!) Being able to put so much attention and energy on quality-of-life-maintaining tasks without finishing the weekend completely exhausted was a win. I’ll take it.

…Do the things, when and if you can. Yes, there are verbs involved. Yes, your results may vary. For sure, you may not always achieve your goals, or get the outcome you were hoping for, but the doing itself is a worthy achievement, and the clock is always ticking…

Last night, after a day of doing load after load of laundry, and even putting it all away, and also finally properly and fully unpacking from my last trip away from home, I cooked a proper meal at home. No cheats. No convenience foods. Real home-cooking. Hell, my lunch today will be leftover stir-fry from last night, and it was yummy. 😀 I’m pushing myself harder on the trail when I go walking, too; more distance (a little at a time) and picking up the pace. One byproduct of saying goodbye to my dear friend was the visceral reminder of how fragile this mortal form actually is, and the unfortunate potential to lose an ability over time through lack of continued use. One injury, one prolonged period of recovery, can become a major fitness setback – to the point of potentially losing the ability to do something basic like walk easily, or pick myself up off the floor. Scary. As was the case when my Mother died, I’m feeling a renewed sense of commitment to my own fitness and wellness – and I don’t plan to waste that momentum. I’d like to be around for a long time more, enjoying life with my Traveling Partner, seeing and doing new things, and enjoying the things that I love.

Do something. Keep doing things. Fail or fall, and begin again. And again. It’s just another practice…

…My legs ache this morning, from yesterday’s efforts. I’m okay with this, and I’m feeling it in the context of progress. I raise the sit/stand desk to standing height and get on my feet for awhile – it’s time to begin again.

I’m taking a minute after my walk, this morning, sitting quietly with the sensations of leg muscles taxed by my pace, and skin chilled by wintry winds, slowly recovering in the warmth of the car. Switching back from my boots to my sneakers with fingers numbed from the morning chill felt awkward and clumsy, and being mildly out of breath from the modest uphill bit of trail back to the parking lot was uncomfortable, but I also feel exhilarated by the freshness of the crisp morning air, and the sense of purpose that lingers even now that I am no longer in motion.

The day looks likely to be a chilly one, but the garden continues to beckon me, and as much as I do love sitting around hanging out with my Traveling Partner, it’s not healthy to overindulge in that favorite activity. lol I consider stopping at a nursery on the way home for some bagged compost to add to the garden before I plant Spring seeds… No reason to let a drizzle stop me; it rains a lot around here, and it’s often the wise choice to go ahead and do things anyway.

Do the things! (There is longevity and wellness in the effort, and far too much of who and what we are functions on a “use it or lose it” basis.) I remind myself how much fitness truly is packed into the many small day-to-day tasks upon which good quality of life is built. I remind myself to treat sitting around indulging in sedentary pleasures as I might treat indulging in sugary treats; very sparingly. Do more. Keep at it. Finish something and move on to doing something else. There are verbs involved, and sometimes the effort doesn’t seem “worth it”, but avoiding the effort is potentially a slow slide towards being unable to do when the time comes that I must. These are not new thoughts. I find value in repetition for reinforcing the need to do the verbs, is all.

The crisp damp morning aggravates my arthritis. I’m looking forward to a luxurious long hot shower and clean dry clothes. There’s laundry to do, and I have a plan to make stir fry for dinner tonight. It’s not always easy to push past physical pain to stay moving and active… But it’s worth the effort.

I sigh quietly. Finish my coffee, and get ready to begin again.

I’m having a restless sort of morning. I’ve stepped through the details of my morning routine, my commute, the start of my work day, and I feel… restless. Like there’s “something more” “out there”, or as if I am unsatisfied with life, generally. It’s an illusion, as much as it has any basis in reality. Emotional weather. I breathe, inhaling deeply, and exhaling slowly, feeling my subtle anxiety lurking in the background fall away ever so slowly with each breath. It’s a practice that works to reduce my anxiety, before it can get out of hand, but it does nothing much to change this strange feeling of restlessness.

…I could plan a camping trip… It’s a bit early in the year for (me to be) sleeping on the ground, but I enjoy the exercise of planning, and I don’t mind planning well in advance – in fact, some places I might wish to camp require quite a bit of long range planning (they’re just that popular, I suppose). On the other hand, I’m not feeling any sort of urgent need to be away from home (quite the contrary). This feeling of restlessness is inconveniently timed. I sip my coffee and think about it for some minutes – what am I “running from”? Something? Anything? Am I tussling with unaddressed urges? No doubt I’ve got my share of those…

The morning sky has clouds, and broad streaks of blue between those. The sunrise surprised me with it’s earliness, and was gone before I gave it much thought. It’s definitely morning, bathed in daylight diffused by the cloudy sky. Pretty. I gaze out the windows awhile, watching the streetcar make the trip around the block, from one stop to the next, heading the other direction. As early as it is, there are already people in the park below me, walking, sipping coffee, sitting on a bench. The water features are bland brown blocks of earth tones, not yet reflecting the sky above in any visible way from this distance (and angle of view). I wonder to myself when the Koi fish will be there, again, and where they go when they are not in the pond. I don’t care enough to look into it further, I’m just momentarily curious.

I breathe, exhale, and relax, taking stock of my pain and considering how best to manage it. I sip my coffee, and pull myself more upright, correcting my posture (again). I think about my Traveling Partner, his recovery, and how much I adore him. It’s hard being injured and being patient with the tediously long time recovery can sometimes take. Some injuries don’t heal quickly. I feel for him and kind of regret coming into the office, when I could be working from home where I could easily do things to care for him and make life easier. I sigh and shake my head when I realize I’d also very much like to just go back to bed and maybe nap awhile… Fucking hell? Really? The day has hardly begun…

…I hear a flurry of negative self-talk comments begin to develop in my thoughts, and put myself on pause; there’s literally nothing whatsoever wrong with wistful thoughts of sleeping in and napping, especially for a woman who struggles to get adequate healthy sleep! I laugh out loud in this quiet room and remind myself silently to “be nice” and treat myself with care and kindness – to do otherwise puts me at risk of losing sight of how I treat others. If I’m a dick to myself, how can I expect to treat others gently and with compassion? It’s something I’ve been working on a lot, lately.

Another sip of my almost-cold-now coffee, and my thoughts slide towards far away friends, and a dear friend struggling with mortality. Maybe that’s really the thing driving my restlessness, I realize; I miss far away friends, and I know I will regret not making time to see them (more often than I do). I find myself wondering if I should simply plan a trip to see my ill friend, and make a point of doing so while I can. It clearly matters enough to fuck with my head. I think that over quietly, and the restlessness begins to ease. Okay, so I got there, eventually. Now to do something about it, I suppose…

…I finish my coffee and get ready to begin again.