I’m sitting at the edge of the meadow along a favorite trail. It’s a Sunday morning. I slept in a bit and by the time I arrived here, the sun was well up. I’m trying to organize my thoughts regarding dinner much later, and go over my list of housekeeping tasks I’d like to get through, today (just basic stuff, nothing overly demanding or complicated).
A place, a moment, a feeling.
Yesterday was weird. I was so tired and sleepy. I went home, ran an errand for my Traveling Partner, and then crashed out for a nap. I slept deeply for four hours. I more or less slept the entire day away. 😂 I must have needed the rest. I had no trouble sleeping last night. I feel fine this morning.
It’s a lovely morning. Suitable for beginnings. The neighbors were partying late into the night. They’re generally pretty quiet, so we shrugged it off, though much later I thought I heard my partner calling to them out the window. I couldn’t rouse myself enough to ask. I managed to wake feeling quite rested in spite of the noisy night.
Grateful for the mild summer morning.
I breathe, exhale, and relax. From this beautiful place, it’s hard to imagine that life is ever difficult, but sometimes it is. Perspective is helpful, so is having a break. I smile thinking about my upcoming camping trip next weekend. I hope the weather is pleasant and mild like it has been this weekend.
It is a pleasant summer Sunday, well-suited to beginning again. I should get on that; the clock is ticking.
I’m sipping my coffee and looking out the window on a gray, somewhat rainy, morning. It rained all the way to the office, although calling it “rain” may stretch the point a bit; it was more of a sprinkle, but steady, occasionally becoming a brief shower. I enjoy summer rains. The fragrance is amazing. My back doesn’t care for them so much, the pain of my arthritis is similarly “amazing”, at least as a measure of severity. lol
What a lovely productive weekend. I reflect on the time spent in my Traveling Partner’s good company. There were occasional moments of discord, “wrong notes” in our otherwise lovely symphony. I’m okay with it – there’s gonna be a little rain now and then, however pleasant the climate, in most circumstances. It wasn’t even anything that amounts to a big deal, just little moments where we were ever so slightly “out of step” with each other, and moments when I took some little thing personally that wasn’t at all. It’s quite possible that I was simply cranky because the timing of my Ozempic was a little off due to the kerfufle with the fucking pharmacy and the lack of reliable availability of this medication. When things went a little awry, we made suitable apologies and took steps to restore harmony, though the evening seemed to end on a somewhat frosty note. Here too, I think it’s likely just me, reading something into the circumstances that maybe isn’t there at all. Small stuff can stay small, not gonna worry about something that likely doesn’t need that kind of “cling wrap” – no reason to keep it fresh. lol
Another Monday. 24 left in this calendar year. The time is passing quickly. I breathe, exhale, and relax, and prepare for a new day. I’ve got an errand to run after work that will take me down the commuter-crowded highways and freeways, about an hour in traffic, then turn around and make the longer-still trip home for the evening. It’ll be a long day. My Traveling Partner needs some shelving for a project, and honestly I’m so happy to see him back on his feet doing projects that I’m happy to run errands to keep that going for him. Then I remember the huge box full of styrofoam forms that is in the back of my car waiting to go to the drop-off point for such items, and wonder if I can even get the shelves into the car… I sigh to myself, and go to the website to have a look at the dimensions. I’d rather not even bother my beloved with my sudden doubts, and I have the resources to sort it out myself. Shit. I need the entire cargo space. What to do about the damned box now that I’m already at the office? Another sigh. I feel more than a little stupid not to have remembered the box while I was home, I could have just unloaded it. (Would it be reasonable to do that here, at the office, and then put it back in the car tomorrow?) (I can’t even inquire until much later; I’m alone in the office until after 09:00 a.m. most days.)
I sip my coffee, distracted by the practical details of an errand that doesn’t even become “a thing” until later today. Aren’t human beings strange creatures? We struggle to let things go once we’ve turned our attention to them (at least I do), even when there is no immediate need to sort things out. The only reason this fucking box is even in the car instead of already gone is that it is for an appliance we have not decided yet to keep. (Difficult to return without the packaging!) Another sigh. It’s a small problem to solve, and if I keep fussing over it I’ll neither solve it (reasons) nor enjoy my peaceful morning moment (due to not being able to solve it or let it go). Fucking primate brain. I chuckle to myself and look out on the rainy morning.
Gosh I hope my Traveling Partner has a good day today! He’s got a lot going on with his current project to rearrange his work and personal spaces to better suit his current needs. It requires quite a lot of moving of furniture and some heavy objects from where they sit to a different location, and of course all the smaller items that fit into or on those heavier pieces have to be moved first (and then again, last). It’s a lot to tackle. Over the weekend, I helped as much as I could, when asked. I also know doing the work himself is meaningful for my partner. There’s a balance to strike, and I often struggle with that sort of thing. Good practice, I guess. I sip my coffee thinking about love and partnership. And peaches. For some reason I am also thinking about peaches. lol
The rain spatters the window. My email pings me. It’s a new day and time to begin again.
I get so much peace and clarity out on the trail. Any trail, really, whether new or familiar, it’s more about the walking, the seeing, and the thinking. Moments spent on self-reflection and contemplation are precious and often useful for finding (or creating) depth and breadth in my perspective.
… I keep walking…
A clear blue summer sky.
The tangerine sunrise gave the morning a lovely golden color, and as I drove to the trailhead I watched it develop, stretching over the horizon. The sun took me by surprise, briefly blinding me, seeming to pop up from behind distant hills without warning, a fiery orange. I arrived at the nature park, surprised by the dense mist clinging in the low places; it didn’t seem to have gotten cool enough for that, but there it was.
I walked with my thoughts until I reached a pleasant spot to linger, watching the Tualatin River flowing by. I don’t generally stop at this viewpoint, it’s often “crowded” (for some values of crowded, it’s a popular spot). I’ve got it to myself this morning, and I’m grateful for the shaded little bench. Comfortable. Protected from the heat of the day that hasn’t yet arrived. I remind myself not to linger too long – I plan to make banana bread before it gets too hot to have the oven on.
The world is a mess right now. People with power or vast sums of money are pretty commonly quite terrible and working aggressively to increase their power, clout, standing, or hoarded wealth as quickly as they can pry resources away from people who already have too little. Grim. America keeping immigrants and refugees in cages. Israel planning concentration camps for Palestinians who have (so far) survived genocide. Russia willing to slaughter every Ukrainian to the last standing in order to expand their real estate holdings. Chaos and bloodshed everywhere, and every single time there is some profit making endeavor involved. It’s grotesque. We could do so much better as human beings.
… I think about small ways I can do better, myself, to be the person I most want to be…
Who are you? Where does your path lead? Are you living a life that requires a ton of excuse making and rationalization? Are you defiant when someone knows more than you do? Are you smug when they know less? Are you kind, pleasant, and approachable? Are you building bridges or destroying them? Are you even paying enough attention in your own life to know who you are and why? These are questions worth answering – or at least asking and giving some thought to. You tell the world what your values are with your actions, wouldn’t it be wise to have some understanding of what you may be saying?
Are you being an unpleasant dick because you can’t be bothered to take a moment for human decency and basic consideration? (You’re not alone, if you are, but it’s a choice with consequences, and also likely to degrade the quality of your relationships.)
What are you doing to become the person you most want to be? Who is that? Have you figured that out?
The future is unwritten.
The sunshine of a new day stretches across the meadow. I look down the path ahead of me and consider the steps along this path. The journey won’t make itself. I have choices. My results will vary – but it’s my journey, my path, and my choices. Every step and every moment is a chance to begin again and to do better. I breathe, exhale, and relax. It’s time to walk on. Time to begin again. I smile to myself and tell the woman in the mirror to go take a hike. The clock is ticking.
I’m grateful for the warmth of the car after a chilly walk through Portland’s Rose Garden. It is beautiful here, and the rain drenched rose bushes are covered with buds, and even a handful of blossoms. It is quite early for roses here, and only the hardiest and most eager will bloom until warmer weather – but it’s close. I made the trip to see the sunrise over the city below the garden, but the once spectacular view is now obscured by trees, and it is a gray and rainy morning besides.
A glimpse of the city is all that remains of the view from this place.
I’m not disappointed. It is time well spent in a delightful formal rose garden and the air is heavy with the scent of spring flowers and petrichor. Wonderful! Azaleas and rhododendrons and wisteria are blooming. There are uncountable hues and shades of green splashed with the many colors of various flowers.
Beauty in every direction I look.
I’m grateful for the ramps around the garden these days, where once I took the stairs without hesitation – a hint that I’m not the young woman I was the first time i visited this place, some 28 years ago. I grin at my recollection. It was summer that first visit to this rose garden, and everywhere the roses were blooming. It was disappointingly crowded (it’s a very popular place), and I was distracted much of the time (no camera, and one hand on my bee sting kit all the way around the garden), and I rushed myself. I was “checking off a box” on a mental list of things one simply must see/do in Portland, as if a tourist rather than a woman who would spend the next 27 years in the area. lol I hadn’t yet moved here.
…To be fair to the woman I was, then, I was only up for the weekend, and had no idea that I’d move here some few months later.
Moments are fleeting. Let them take the time they take. Be present. There are no “do overs”, only new moments, each unique.
I breathe, exhale, and relax. My feet are damp from walking through rain-soaked grass in spite of my boots and I’m grateful for the dry socks I keep in my pack, in the car. I smile knowingly, recalling less well prepared younger versions of me. I have little in common with her, now. We’re quite different, even down to how we experience moments of joy and the inevitable passing of time. I lack her energy and ferocity, but also her impatience, emotional distance, and suppressed rage. This version of me has quite a few “upgrades”, I realize, in spite of the wear and tear on some of the parts. lol
However skillfully we plan, there’s really no knowing where the journey may lead, and stairs that are easy now, may one day feel almost impossible.
My thoughts wander to yesterday. My Traveling Partner and I worked on a garden project together. It was fun, satisfying time spent joyfully in good company. He made me a hydroponic tower garden, intending for me to grow things out of reach of the deer, using a small solar pump to circulate the nutrient solution. We tested it yesterday.
Another perspective on love. A precious shared moment.
I sigh contentedly, feeling grateful and fortunate, even content and hopeful. Satisfied? Happy? Those are good words for this feeling, too. I savor the moment, and notice with delight and a measure of awe that I happened to park the car next to a 100 year old rose. Wow.
R. canina, “Dog rose”, 100 year old specimen.
Yes, the world is a fucking shit show of idiots and monsters, and the United States is being turned into a dumpster fire by a turd driving a clown car full of trolls – but none of that has to prevent each of us from enjoying the beauty we find around us, or stop us from savoring (and nurturing) what is good in our own lives. It’s important that we fill up on small joys and simple pleasures. These experiences fortify our hearts for hard times that inevitably come. It’s a very human experience. The journey is the destination. We become what we practice.
Don’t let monsters make you monstrous.
I listen to the robins singing for a while, and watch a small squirrel (who is also watching me). Lovely morning. Soon enough it will be time to begin again. I wonder where this path leads?
I went to the usual trailhead of my favorite weekend morning hike. Pretty morning, but… the trailhead is busier than usual. A parked vehicle (vacant but with hazard lights left on), an especially disreputable looking old van (windows covered by foil), and an old RV with signs of being someone’s long-term dwelling, are in the parking lot. My skin crawls, and I experience a sense of “stranger danger”. I could be overreacting, but by the time I could be certain that I am or am not, it could easily be too late, eh? I move on, and go to the western trailhead of the park, on the far side, nearer to my usual “halfway point”. I’ll walk the trail in a different direction, approaching the views from the other side, and I’ll take a route that doesn’t approach the other trailhead at all (skirting the marsh instead of crossing it).
A calm sentinel.
It’s a lovely morning, and I’ve no regrets over the change of direction. I walk the trail contentedly. I see geese, and nutria, robins and squirrels. I walk along the river for a while. I look across a different bit of meadow, at a different stand of trees on the other side.
A change of perspective.
The morning is chilly but not cold, and I am warm from walking. I feel relaxed and rested, and my (quite minor) seasonal allergies are not vexing me; I remembered to add allergy meds to my morning medication. I feel comfortable in my skin and merry as I walk. I am supported by my cane (it’s actually a very strong, lightweight Leki trekking pole with some shock absorbtion), and my ankle does not yet ache from the walking, nor do my feet hurt. I would be walking in spite of those things, but it’s nice not having to fight that pain, this morning.
I think about the day ahead, but my thoughts are scattered, fractured by distractions: birds, flowers, movement in the underbrush. I walk on, enjoying the scents of Spring. I try, briefly, to recall whether I have errands to run, but I fail, and for the moment I don’t actually care. I’m wrapped in this moment, now, and it’s quite enough.
I walk, thinking about my beloved Traveling Partner, sleeping at home. He’ll likely be quite sore today after physical therapy yesterday. I resolve to keep myself occupied until he alerts me that he’s up and about for the day, to do what little I can to ensure he gets the rest he also needs. I smile. My heart is filled with love and my thoughts with fond memories. He is so much part of my life and experience after 15 years together. May 1st is our anniversary, but “that moment” that he truly became part of my life and my future was actually on his birthday, in December, at the end of 2009. By February we were the best of friends, by June he had moved in with me. Even then, I don’t think either of us anticipated marriage being part of our journey (less than a year later), we were both pretty sour on the notion from our past experiences. Still, here we are. Feels almost as if we’ve “always” been together. It’s easy to forget what a short time it has been. I grin to myself as I walk. He could not be more dear to me, nor further entangled in my heart. I am wrapped in his love every moment of every day. I sigh happily, and keep walking.
An enormous flock of Canada geese pass overhead. I think about my Granny, and wish that she could have met my Traveling Partner. I think she would have liked him. I know my Dad would have. I chuckle over the ways of men, and wonder what it might have been like had my Dad and my partner had a chance to enjoy each other’s company? I walk on wondering when I stopped being angry at my father? When had I truly forgiven him? It’s clear that I have… How strange. I once thought I never could.
Time passes, and the passage of time heals a lot of hurts, given a chance. Forgiveness isn’t for those who have hurt or wronged us, my Traveling Partner was right about that; forgiveness benefits most the one who forgives. Forgiveness is a letting go of the terrible weight of lasting pain and lingering rage. Forgiveness is another way to begin again.
My footsteps on the path are regular and even, steady like the tick of a clock. The clock is ticking. I walk on, with new perspective, toward the next curve on the path, the next opportunity to begin again. It’s time. It’s always time. I’m okay with that.
Evening Light 