Short walk. My ankle aches. My back aches. My head aches. It’s okay, it’s physical pain, and aside from that the morning is a pleasant one. I sit listening to the sound of distant traffic through the buzz and whine of my tinnitus. The sky is a threatening assortment of stormy clouds, blues and grays, but the forecast has no rain in it, just a summer warning about heat and wildfires.
No rain expected today.
I sit quietly with my thoughts. Another work day. Weirdly, I simultaneously feel surprised that it is “already Wednesday”, and also annoyed that “it’s only Wednesday”. lol Human primates are hilarious and not wholly rational about such things. Time is kinda “made up” anyway; there’s only “now“. I chuckle, entertained by my own foolishness. It’s that kind of morning.
We’re seriously the sort of creatures that would think up some dumb shit like this. 🤣
I catch myself picking at my cuticles and make myself stop. I watch the clouds move sluggishly across the sky, colors shifting as the unseen sun rises. The leaves and branches of the trees within view are tossed on a lazy breeze that I don’t feel.
… I remind myself to go by the store on my way home, later…
I had the trail to myself. The park is still deserted. It’s just me, here, on a quiet morning. On the other side of the vineyards adjacent to the park, migrant workers are already working. I wonder to myself who would do all the agricultural work, if we stopped allowing migrant workers to come here for that purpose? I don’t know many people willing to work that fucking hard for so little pay. Another solution would be to pay farm workers a living wage… But I don’t know many people who could afford what groceries would cost then, and I am damned sure the big food conglomerates aren’t going to trim back their profits. It’s a hell of a problem. I think about it pointlessly for some minutes. I have no solutions to offer.
… Human greed is some ugly shit…
My mind wanders this morning and I don’t make any particular effort to be more disciplined. I sit quietly and let the thoughts pass through my awareness without interfering. (Breathe.) It feels good to enjoy the stillness. (Exhale.) These few solitary moments are so precious. (Relax .) I savor the quiet time alone with my thoughts. I try but fail to recall quite when my tinnitus developed and when it became so bad… I feel certain I didn’t have it as a child. I definitely had it when my Traveling Partner and I got together. My outburst of laughter makes me choke on my coffee – that’s “only” a span of some 35 fucking years or so to sift through! lol
… The clock ticks on…
Things are starting to settle down at home. The Anxious Adventurer is moved in. The household is pretty much restored to order. New routines are beginning to develop. I feel genuinely comfortable with taking a couple days away for myself, knowing my injured Traveling Partner won’t be alone. 11 days? 11 days left to wait. I’m counting them down. I’m excited to spend some time alone with my thoughts and my pastels and see what comes of it.
I breathe, exhale, and relax. It’s an ordinary enough Wednesday, and a pleasant summer morning. I don’t need much more than this; it’s enough. I glance at the time and think briefly of work. It’s not yet time…soon though. Another day, another beginning, another opportunity to be the human being I most want to be.
It’s a new morning. I hit the trail at sunrise, hoping to “walk off” this headache, this backache, the pain in my neck, and my general irritation with the day (which hasn’t even had a chance to get started)… but, as is often the case, all those things “follow me” down the trail and linger in my awareness.
Every journey begins somewhere.
…I find myself dreading the day, and feeling a bit trapped by my circumstances and choices. I remind myself how illusory such feelings can be, and to let shit go – let small shit stay small – and I remind myself to practice non-attachment, and to be mindful of impermanence. In the meantime, my steps carry me down this trail…
Pretty words and aphorisms don’t create change. My experience changes when I change my thinking or my actions, and it often takes some time. It’s a process. It’s important to understand that changing my own thinking and actions doesn’t change anyone else’s; it’s important to choose change based on what I want from the woman in the mirror. We’re each walking our own path, each having our own experience.
For many years I twisted helplessly within one relationship or another trying to be the person a particular partner wanted, and often lost sight of who I, myself, want to be. I suspect that’s not an experience unique to me. I try to approach things differently these days. I work on becoming the person I most want to be, myself, for me, based on my own values and sense of self. Taking the raw materials I’ve got, chaos and damage and all the messy broken bits, and practicing the practices that move me along my path in a way that causes no harm in my relationships, and creates harmony and connection isn’t reliably easy (or obvious), but I keep at. Seems a worthy endeavor and life is better for it.
…I am for sure not “perfect”… (there is no “perfect”)
Just as I walk this trail one step at a time, I walk my path in life one step at a time. The nice thing about this is that when I stumble (and I do), I can begin again – one step at a time. I set my goals. I measure my progress. I define my success (and my failure).
It’s been a challenging couple of days, for me. Caring for my Traveling Partner while he recovers from an injury has some difficult moments, bringing me to confront some things I would like to do differently and with greater skill. Requires practice. He’s got his own path to walk, and I can’t walk it for him – and it’s a poor choice to take that at all personally. His path is not about me. It’s more effective to focus on what I can do to be a good partner and care provider, and to be alert for opportunities to do more/better – or at least not make shit worse.
…I gotta say, my results vary…
The weekend is almost here. These days that doesn’t promise any great amount of actual rest, at all, there’s just too much to get done, and pretty much every day I already feel very behind on basically everything, more or less all the time. I’ll make a list of “must do” items and add things my Traveling Partner has explicitly asked me to take care of, and do my best to work down that list, task by task, until it’s all done… if I’ve got it in me. Some days I manage it. Others I don’t. “Everything I can manage” has to be enough.
I breathe the fresh Spring air as I walk. It’s a beautiful morning. I exhale each breathe grateful to have another day ahead to practice being the woman I most want to be. Who is she? How does she interact with the world? How does she handle her emotions? What’s her self-talk like? I see her as kind, considerate, experienced, and able to calmly deal with most of life’s chaos without losing perspective. I see her as someone helpful and understanding, compassionate and concerned for the state of the world (and her relationships). I see her being willing to listen, and honest without being unkind. I see her as comfortable setting boundaries, and respecting the boundaries set by others. I see her as a woman of great joy and enormous capacity for love. She’s hospitable, generous – but not a “sucker”. She walks through life with purpose, confident her path is right for her.
…Gotta have goals! Helpful to have a sense of self, both as I am here/now, and also where I would like to find myself. I walk on with my thoughts…
…Breathe, exhale, relax… walk on.
The day ahead seems more ordinary and routine, as I walk. I find myself more able to avoid taking my partner’s recent temper personally (or my own) as I walk down the path. Most of these moments of ill temper are a byproduct of injury or pain, and the ups and downs of medication taken to relieve discomfort or promote healing. An astonishing amount of the medication we’re given pretty commonly also happens to be mind or mood altering, though people rarely discuss it as being so. Even OTC stuff often has profound potential to color our thinking or the lens through which we view the world. I remind myself to be more patient and kind about such things, and to try to let petty aggravations just… go. It’s not personal. Hell, sometimes that shit is barely real.
I laugh to myself, thinking about my own moments of misplaced temper in life. No shortage of those. Perspective. I could do better. I keep practicing.
I also keep walking. I get to the bench at the turn around point and sit down to write for a few minutes. This is some of my most cherished time each day. These few minutes of self-reflection and writing help me focus on what matters most, and help me find my calm center, my sense of perspective, and my joy. Whatever else any given day throws my way, I’ve got this moment, pretty reliably. That’s something worth having. I savor it.
I breathe, exhale, relax, and take a moment to enjoy the Spring sunrise and the golden hues that filter through the trees. It’s a new day, and I’ve got the path ahead, and a chance to begin again.
This morning I am sipping my coffee by the warmth of the fire in my propane-fueled FireCan (linked, because I love this thing). It’s the titular can to which I referred. lol
Taking the chill off the morning.
The “can’t”, on the other hand is all the stuff either utterly outside my control (like the rain expected later today), or outside the limitations of my abilities, or prevented by some fundamental of reality itself. My thoughts are provoked simultaneously by the chilly morning and this warm fire, and the rangers who happened by talking about another recent hiker death caused by straying off a marked trail, and falling to their mortal end. (Not here, but elsewhere in Oregon.)
Stay on the path, people, stay on the path.
…There is something to be learned about living well in the mistakes people make that so easily send them to their doom over an out-of-reach desire… or a fucking selfie. Just saying, in life and on the trail, plan your journey with as much care as you can, tell your loved ones where you’re headed, prepare for the likely conditions, and stay on the fucking trail. It can still all go very wrong, but you’ll have done your best to prevent mishaps through bad decision making. Maybe.
My coffee this morning is very satisfying. I am drinking more than usual and until later in the day, while I’m camping. That’s not unusual for me. It doesn’t seem to affect my sleep out here. Noise definitely does. Last night was very quiet. I slept well and deeply waking once to pee, and later to the sound of creature wandering through camp, perhaps very close, perhaps some kind of cat. Depending on the specifics, I guess I am glad we didn’t meet on the trek to the restroom, earlier. lol
A beautiful moon rising after sunset.
The moon lit the night sky such that when I woke during the night and got up to walk to the restroom, I didn’t need my headlamp at all. The night was surreal and beautiful in my less than ideally awake state. I wondered at the beauty of it all. I gazed into the night sky, through the shapes of trees silhouetted against the starry sky. Night even smells quite different, some flowers are more fragrant at night. The quiet was so… quiet. I lingered long enough for the chill to catch up with me, before I returned to my cozy sleeping bag, still warm from my body heat.
A crow is cross with me this morning. I wonder what he thinks I should be doing differently? A massive RV pulls past, loud engines giving voice to the amount of power it takes to move an entire house up a narrow road. I chuckle to myself. There aren’t that many campers in my age group still tent camping, seems like; they mostly prefer a nice comfy house on wheels of some sort. I get it. I’m not criticizing at all. Tent camping is a bit of work. There’s manual labor in the set up and tear down (so much), especially for campers who enjoy being “well-equipped”. (I’m honestly more “glamping” than camping, but doing so is built on my own labor, and I enjoy the little luxuries.)
I make a bite of breakfast. Freshly scrambled eggs with some squash and mirepoix, and sourdough toast, toasted over the fire. Some time after breakfast dishes are done, I’ll hit the trail, striking out in some new direction, on a path I’ve yet to walk… but I’ll totally stay on the path.
My coffee is hot this morning, after weeks of taking it iced first thing in the morning. It’s just that I woke so very early that there was no coffee to be had on the route to work, and honestly it just didn’t really matter. I’ve been growing less dependent on having it with any “first thing in the morning” urgency, which is a nice bit of freedom. I brewed a cup of coffee when I got to the office, after a very relaxed drive (no traffic at all), and made myself a breakfast salad of fresh greens with a handful of cashews, and some lovely plump blueberries quite cold from the fridge. The combination of timing and circumstances has started the morning quite well. I heard from my Traveling Partner on my way into the city; he’s up early too, looks like.
The weekend was a lovely one. I got quite a lot done. My Traveling Partner and I shared an unfortunate bit of stress on Saturday, late in the morning; I’d managed to overlook taking medication that does affect my emotional volatility (or potential for it) if I don’t take it, and there we were dealing with my bullshit unexpectedly. I feel fortunate that I did notice relatively quickly, and grateful that he understood. He gets it. We successfully moved on from that moment, and the weekend was otherwise quite nice.
I got a few things done in preparation for my camping trip… just 5 days away now (okay, 6 if I count today). I do worry just a bit about how easily my partner can handle things and take care of himself while I’m gone. He’s recovering from his injury, and that’s been a slow process. He manages most stuff pretty well without much difficulty, but still appreciates help with a lot of things. I sip my coffee and think over ways I can “be there for him” while I’m gone. Things like making sure the bathroom is stocked with fresh towels, the linens on the bed are fresh, there’s plenty of iced tea made, and providing easy to prepare food options that don’t require a bunch of complex kitchen work or standing around, all seem like pretty standard things I can do… but… is it enough? Is there more, or other things, that I can do to make the experience a good one for him? The one inescapable challenge is that he’d definitely rather be with me than without me, even for a few days. At some point, I have to be okay with that, accepting, understanding, and grateful to be so loved. The away time is good for me, and I for sure need the rest and the solo time for meditation and self-reflection – I just want to also make sure it’s not a hardship for my beloved, as much as I can.
I didn’t see the aurora borealis over the weekend, though it was apparently visible in my community; too many of my neighbors have aggressively bright outdoor lighting on their homes and decks and the light pollution made it impossible to see the colors in the night sky from my home. The warm weather we’ve had (that may or may not be associated with the ongoing solar storm) certainly did splendid things in the garden! The salad greens are a dense and tasty assortment, ripe for harvest, the radishes are plump and spicy, and there are peas on the vines nearly ready to be picked. The roses – those mature enough to flower – have plump buds ready to bloom, and it looks like a good year for roses (if only the deer will please stop eating the tips of the new canes off!). “Baby Love”, a rose my Traveling Partner gave me after we moved in together back in 2010, is already blooming like crazy, and is nearly always first to bloom (and last to stop).
“Baby Love” in bloom.
One of the tasks on my list for the weekend had originally been to drain, clean, and refill the hot tub for the season. After the planning conversation with my Traveling Partner late last week, though, we decided to “decommission” the hot tub in favor of having it removed, repairing the deck (much easier without a 6 person hot tub standing on it!), and then replacing the hot tub with something more modern, quieter, and more energy efficient. I do love having the hot tub, and for just a moment I worried a bit that we might not ever get to that “replace the hot tub” place… it’s a costly sort of luxury, and resources are finite. That’s just real. I let myself think it over with greater care over the weekend days, and found myself comfortably acknowledging that I’m in a different place in life, in a more results-focused (and successful) partnership, with a human being who shares most of my values and goals. We both want this, and we planned the project together. Doesn’t seem likely to “just fail”, unless we change what we want to do, or what our priorities are. So. I drained the hot tub. It wasn’t a particularly poignant moment, just a bit of a chore that needed to be done to move on to the next step (which is to get it gone, ideally without destroying the lawn on the way out).
Change is.
“Benchmark-wise”, on my Ozempic journey, things seem… fine. It’s time to get a refill on the Rx. I’m still seeing steady (slow) progress, with no obvious side effects aside from mild acid reflux now and then (most often when I take other prescriptions on an empty stomach). I feel fortunate that this is turning out to be a “good fit” for me, as a treatment choice. I don’t yet see anything much in the mirror that looks any different, but my jeans are fitting a bit more comfortably, which is a win, and I’m not expecting to wake up a size 6 tomorrow with the blood pressure of a 21-year-old athlete, and the A1C of someone who’s never been at risk of diabetes at all. Incremental change over time is something I understand. 😀
…Another day, another sun rise. Another opportunity to become the woman I most want to be (with some practice). Another chance to begin again…
I had a peculiar thought about mortality the other day. Something along the lines of “you can’t take it with you”… but reconsidered. We also “can’t leave it behind” in a very particular sense; our memories and our experiences are ours alone. No one else has an identical experience of life to the one we each live, ourselves. Our memories – the record of those experiences, our perspectives, our thoughts and understandings – live in our own heads. There’s no real way to leave that behind for anyone else to enjoy once we’re gone. Sure, they have their memories of us, of shared experiences, of who they understood us to be, and what they recall of what we’ve said or done…but… this singular human experience that is mine? That is our own individual journey? That’s ours. Ours to keep. Ours to enjoy. Ours to attempt to share or communicate… but, ultimately, ours alone. Even for those prone to autobiographical endeavors, what’s left behind in those words on a page is filtered through edits, consideration of other points of view, and simply the limitations of seeking to share that are so difficult to overcome. Artists create art; the viewer sees it through the lens of their own experience. At some point, the artist’s own perspective is entirely lost. There’s so much of who we are that we can’t actually leave behind. What I’m saying is… enjoy your life. Do you. Be the person you most want to be. Keep practicing; the journey is the destination. You are here, now. It’s what you’ve got to work with – don’t let the moment pass, expecting your legacy to be something worth leaving behind. Maybe it will be. Maybe it won’t be. You won’t be here to know – or to share. Share while you can. Use your words. Connect. Love. Care. Choose your words and actions as though they will be what you are remembered by (because, mostly that’s what will remain; the thought of you, in the memories of someone else).
I sigh out loud and sip my coffee. I think of my Dear Friend, and other dear friends distant or who have passed. Time is short. The clock is ticking. Do your best to be the person you most want to be. Let go of petty resentments and bullshit and anger and hate – do you really have time for that crap? Love. Love because you can, and because it feels good. Care because it really matters. Make choices that improve your life, the lives of those you care about, and your community, your society, and the world. We’re all in this together, and this ball of rock hurtling through space is surprisingly tiny to support so many. Play nicely. Be a good neighbor. Apologize freely. Accept (and offer) help graciously. Do your best. Be kind.
…Keep practicing…
I think of far away friends and ticking clocks and how best to be the woman I most want to be. I watch the sun rise. I’ve no way of knowing how many sunrises I may have ahead of me. It’s time to begin again.
I’m sitting at the trailhead, having just finished my walk. I feel relaxed, comfortable, and accomplished; 3 miles in one hour. This was an important bit of “backsliding” in my general fitness I was eager to overcome. It’s taken awhile and required a lot of persistence and new beginnings. My bad ankle generally begins to ache noticeably around one mile mark, these days. My fitness being what it has become, by the time I get myself two miles down a trail, my back is often aching, too. I still want to go on, but some days it’s hard to push past the inconvenience of my pain. I don’t want pain to make all my decisions and determine all my limits. I’ve got a lot of living still ahead of me at 60.
Sunrise on a misty morning.
When I headed down the trail, the sunrise had inflamed the morning horizon with fiery hues of peach and orange, and Mt Hood was silhouetted against that bold background, still and dark and large on the horizon. Every picture I took of that vibrant scene somehow diminished it. I stopped trying and just stood watching for a while.
Mists on the marsh.
As I crested a low hill near a favorite stopping point, the view of the marsh below, mists clinging to the meadow grasses and the water spread across my view. What a gorgeous morning to be on this trail! I don’t have it all to myself this morning, and that’s not a surprise. Pleasant summery sort of morning on a Spring weekend? Of course there are other people here, most of them with fancy camera gear, heading to those favorite spots for capturing a view or for bird watching. Nice morning for it.
Lupines in bloom.
I pass by a hillside covered in lupines. The lupines in my garden are this same variety of wild lupines indigenous in this area. Mine are not yet blooming; they have more shade than these on this sunny hillside.
I walk with my thoughts and my pain. I listen to the thoughts, and mostly disregard the pain. This pain, particularly, has nothing much to teach me, beyond the resolve to overcome it. My thoughts on the other hand? My thoughts are as a playground for my spirit this morning. I walk and think, and consider the things in my life that may be holding me back, and what choices, changes, or practices could make the most positive difference…? The thinking, ideally, precedes the actions. lol I find value in self-reflection and “rational meditation”.
…In spite of the beauty of the morning, my thoughts this morning are mostly pretty practical…
The rising sun, a fitting metaphor.
As I turn back down the trail the way I came, I catch a glimpse of the rising sun. It illuminates the heights of the big oaks trees. I fill my lungs with the fresh morning air as I walk. The day ahead is filled with promise. The warmer weather is pleasantly encouraging, and I think about my upcoming camping trip. It would be nice if this weather continues.
…I think about getting into the garden…
I reach the car and notice the parking lot is quite full now for so early. I’m glad I took the less traveled trail! There’s new signage in the park, cautioning “no running” and “no dogging”… I chuckle, fairly certain that the intention is to indicate dogs are not allowed… but… “dogging” has a specific other meaning in English slang, and although I am certain that activity is also prohibited, I’m equally certain it’s not the intended meaning. lol
…What a lovely morning for new beginnings…
I feel the sun warm on my face. I sit sipping my coffee, listening to birdsong, and the traffic on the highway beyond the park. Loud voices of rude humans interrupt my reverie – maybe they’ll just go away? No. I guess I will, then. lol
Evening Light 