Chilly morning. It’s not seriously cold, but at 4.4C (40F), I definitely feel the air as chilly this morning. The morning feels darker than it has been at this time of morning. (Time for America’s idiotic attempt to force daylight to follow a new schedule. Ridiculous.) None of this matters much. I’m rested, more or less over my cold, and feeling merry.
It’s Monday.
I started down the trail in the darkness, the light from my headlamp bobbing along with the steady beat of my footsteps. The feeling of merriment percolates within me. A new day is ahead of me and I feel loved and encouraged, which is a great way to begin a day (and a week).
There’s a new (muddy) temporary detour on this trail due to construction (and agriculture). I step carefully, avoiding slipping or falling. I’m grateful I knew the detour would be where it is. Unexpected muddy detours in the darkness are a more serious hazard than those detours I know to expect. This is true in life as well.
As I walk I think ahead to coffee. I pull myself back to this moment here, and immediately find myself reflecting on the weekend. I pull my focus back to this moment, again, and walk on. Eventually I reach my halfway point and write a few words with stiff fingers. Chilly morning. I’m okay with it.
… and if I weren’t okay with it? What then? 😆
I reflect awhile on the challenge of finding balance between simply being and self-awareness. I watched an interesting (and deeply considered) video about self-awareness yesterday. It provided food for thought and a lot of nuance to something I hadn’t considered so deeply before, myself. I’ll probably watch it again.
Daybreak finally touches the sky. I can make out the trail now, without my headlamp. A useful metaphor for life and experience, I suppose. I smile to myself and prepare to begin again.
I breathe, exhale, and relax. I sit quietly along this trail, appreciating a new day, a good mood, and having enjoyed a good night of rest. Small things, and still worth appreciating. A lot of small things have joy and wonder and plenty of value worth appreciating.
One moment, and the dawn of a new day.
The western sky is taking on some lovely pink hues along the edges of the clouds. I hear voices coming up the trail, rather loud for so early. “…use this trail almost around the clock, so we….” They come into view as they round the bend. I call out a cheery “Good morning!”, hoping to avoid startling them. “Morning, Young Lady!”, one replies. “We’re going down to put up caution tape and cut off a section of this trail for safety,” says the other. I ask if I’ll still be able to walk the loop all the way around with a detour, and they reply that I will. They walk on. I wave as they depart and they return the gesture. Human beings, being human.
Our words matter. Our gestures matter. Our ability and willingness to include others and to communicate matter. We have so much to offer each other and the world. Good things. We choose, and act on our choices. The consequences of our choices are our own to endure, and to be responsible and accountable is not something we can dodge or defer indefinitely. The bills will always come due. Worth thinking about.
Choose wisely. Speak gently. Act with intention.
The clouds roll past overhead, and it’s a gray sort of dawn. For a moment I catch a glimpse of a luminous fat full moon peaking through clouds and tangled bare branches. Pretty. It doesn’t last. Moments are brief. Impermanent. There’s something to be learned from that. I sigh quietly. I am wrapped in contentment and not eager to move from this place or this moment. The clock is ticking, though, and moments don’t last, even when we linger.
I stand and brush some damp leaves off my jeans and look down the path. New day. New moments. Time to begin again. I smile to myself and set off down the path.
“Keep walking,” I tell myself silently. Over and over, step after step down the trail to my halfway point. This morning I got an early start, and I get to my halfway point just at daybreak. That’s fine. I just wish those persistent steps had carried me past this shitty mood.
Here. Now.
I sigh irritably and let it go. I didn’t get here by myself, but that’s the way of human primates; we are social creatures, and easily pick up feelings from each other. It’s not personal, it’s how we’re wired. I try again to let it go. I’m cross with myself, with my Traveling Partner, and with the fucking world. “Do better, Assholes”, I mutter to myself feeling seriously cranky.
Another sigh. I’m grateful to have remembered to shove a pack of tissues into my pocket. The tears vex me, and now my nose is running. I feel like a ticking time bomb, which seems like an unreasonable overreaction, honestly. Sitting here alone I can more easily evaluate that, and maybe gain perspective and soothe myself.
Could my seriously shitty mood be a byproduct of changes to my medication? My doctor prescribed something different to help manage my neuropathic pain, things like my headache, my occipital neuralgia, and other pain that is linked to my spinal injury. It has definitely helped with that – it even seems to have “turned down the volume” on my tinnitus, which was unexpected… but this new medication also reduces the need for other prescription pain relief, and reducing the amount of that comes with known difficulties – “the down” is rough. Is my shitty mood coming from (or aggravated by) withdrawal symptoms? It could be. Useful perspective.
I find perspective and reframing very calming. It’s a useful practice.
The Anxious Adventurer is supposed to be doing something or other for his days off, to give my Traveling Partner and I some time alone to enjoy each other. He came down with a cold, but doesn’t say anything about whether that has affected his planning. It’s honestly one of the most vexing characteristics of cohabitation with him; he’s not at all “open”, not out of meanness or any sort of reserved nature, it’s more that he seems to lack basic communication skills and has little will to improve. I still have no idea when or if he’s going somewhere, nor where that might be. He seems clueless why such things matter. (I like to plan, that’s part of the fun for me, and I discuss my plans freely, even seeking other perspectives and suggestions when I am planning something. I know that isn’t everyone’s thing, but fucking hell say something enough in advance for people around you to also plan!)
….Comfortable cohabitation generally needs shared values. Without that, someone is generally not comfortable…
I breathe, exhale, and relax. I meditate as dawn becomes day. A new day, another sunrise, a new beginning… I rely on being able to begin again.
A different “now”, a new perspective.
… Fucking hell, it’s a work day, too… I can’t say I feel like it, I definitely don’t. At all. I inhale the cool morning air. It smells like Spring. It feels warmer than I expect for early March. Fog begins accumulating, oozing up from the creek bed on the other side of the trees. It’s 7C (45F) and feels comfortably mild. There are early Spring flowers blooming: crocuses, daffodils, hyacinths. The air is sweet with the fragrance. I focus on that.
… And I’ve definitely picked up another head cold…
Fucking hell being human is complicated and annoying sometimes. No wonder we do such a shit job of simple communication or managing our emotions with care, or being considerate of others. It’s hard sometimes. It takes practice, and we mostly don’t bother to teach this shit.
We become what we practice.
The clock is always ticking. I get to my feet, reluctant to deal with the world, but recognizing the necessity. It’s time to begin, again.
My walk this morning began at sunrise. Beautiful. Worth the drive. Feeling rested and eager, I headed down the trail at a brisk pace, but with the spare trekking pole from my gear bin, instead of my usual one that functions as my outdoor all-purpose cane. (I forgot about grabbing it from my Traveling Partner’s pickup.)
Every sunrise is a new beginning.
The brisk pace was foolish. It’s a chilly morning, and I’m warmed through from walking when I get to my halfway point and stop to write and reflect. My ankle and left foot are feeling the adverse effects of my enthusiasm, though, and remind me why my plan today includes shopping for new boots.
… I’m not annoyed to be replacing these boots over any perception of poor quality. It’s not that at all. It’s that this pair of boots turned out to be “single use” in the sense that they can’t be re-soled. The built-in cushioning air pockets designed into the molded (or extruded, I don’t know) soles can fail through wear (obviously), and can’t be repaired. Crappy design not intended for durability. I dislike designed obsolescence, and find it to be a pretty shitty sales tactic. Still, I’ve had (and worn) these boots for almost 3 years and they’ve lasted pretty well…
The bare trees are full of little birds.
I sit awhile watching a variety of small birds hopping about and flitting among the bare branches of the oaks that dot the meadow. There’s a hint of soft green beginning to show like a haze when I look at the trees from a distance. Spring is coming. I think about the world for a moment, more worried about war than I’d like to be. It feels real and potentially imminent in an uncomfortable way, and creates a sorrow deep within me. I thought we were past this, but no. Evil still exists in the world. Human primates are neither fully domesticated nor are they “civilized”. Am I prepared to deal with it? IÂ sigh to myself grateful for a full tank of gas and my gear in my car. Even recognizing how little that really prepares me for, it gives me some comfort.
… I definitely need boots I can walk in comfortably over a long distance…
The Chaotic Comic wants to get together for brunch. Maybe tomorrow? I’d enjoy that. I sit awhile longer, letting my foot and ankle recover a bit before I head back to the car – at a slower, more considerate pace. I think about my choices, and what I look for in a sturdy boot, before I begin again
Yes, the boots, and the shopping, are metaphors. Choose wisely; how you equip yourself for the journey matters.
Yesterday was lovely. Oh, not without a brief moment that was less than ideally harmonious, but we are human primates after all, the emphasis being on “primates”. Sometimes communication is more difficult than we’d like it to be, and in any household that includes me, this is complicated by both PTSD and brain damage. Still, generally speaking it was a lovely day spent in my Traveling Partner’s good company, and the rare moment of irritation or discord resulted in a better connection and clearer understanding of each other. Useful.
I make it a practice to focus on the positive, to reframe conflict in terms that allow me to grow and become more the person I most want to be over time, and as a means of allowing me to appreciate each finite mortal moment with my beloved. We’re both quite human. There’s no doubt we love each other deeply, and it truly matters to both of us to to heal, to support each other, and to move on from moments of conflict. Yesterday didn’t require much effort in that regard; it was a lovely day in good company.
I spent a good while reading, yesterday, which I enjoy quite a lot. I spent time writing and enjoyed sorting the many stickers my beloved Traveling Partner had gifted to me. (So fun! So delightful!) He worked on a project nearby, and we hung out together, each contentedly doing our own thing, together.
Today begins well. I get to the trailhead at sunrise, feeling well rested and merry. The walk down the marsh trail is pleasant, if a bit “squishy” from prolonged recent rain. It is sprinkling this morning. I don’t really care about that. I do care about the pain in my left foot (which I have been thinking was a flare up of tendonitis or maybe plantar fasciitis), which slows me down a bit. It becomes obvious as I walk this morning that it may be something much more practical in nature; I think the heel in these boots has some kind of “air cushion” or similar design, and I think the left side has blown out from wear. I’m annoyed by this because these boots can’t be re-soled. Well shit. They’re three, maybe four years old, and I’m probably due to replace them. I don’t really feel like dealing with that, but the path ahead will need sturdy boots, eh? That’s not even a metaphor; good boots make a lot of difference in the quality of a walking experience. I mean, okay, it’s also a metaphor.
…But I guess either way, I need new boots…
I stop a little farther on from my “halfway point”. I’m in no rush. It begins to rain a little harder and lacking overhead cover from the trees, I walk to the photographer’s blind grateful to find it unlocked, and unoccupied. It is a good spot to write and to take shelter from the rain.
What about the day ahead? No idea, really. Yesterday was lovely. There is no shopping to do, no errands on my to-do list, nothing on my mind. I’ll walk, and maybe do a bit of boot shopping before I head home to do some routine housekeeping and such. Maybe bake some bread if I have the energy later? Seems a good day for it. Maybe chili for dinner? I remind myself to check that I have all the ingredients.
Life being lived. Nothing extravagant or fancy, all pretty ordinary stuff. Where it gets complicated is that it is too easy to become wound up and twisted over some moment of disharmony or disappointment, and overlook all the joy and contentment. Savor the joy! Be present for the moments! Appreciating the pleasant moments and the small joys with the same focus, commitment, and energy we seem to save for arguments creates emotional resilience and a more accurate implicit sense of who we are and the life we lead. It’s also simply a very nice way to experience life fully; be present for each moment. That’s a pretty useful practice.
The rain stops. My Traveling Partner pings me a good morning greeting as he wakes. A large flock of geese passes overhead. There are more storm clouds on the horizon. The sky is a homogeneous milky gray. I sit with my thoughts and this quiet feeling of joy, and prepare to begin again.
Evening Light 