Archives for posts with tag: don’t take anything personally
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A Different Perspective on a Familiar Path

April 12, 2025 //
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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.

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Categories Allegories, anger, Brain Injury, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, inspiration, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, Spring, The Art of Being

The Complaint Department

April 5, 2025 //
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I stop along the trail for a message from my Traveling Partner about a housekeeping detail. I’d rather it would have been a greeting or a love note, but it was not. It was a complaint (phrased as a request for action). It’s not an unreasonable request, not at all, and I add it to my list of shit to do without further discussion.

It’s a new day. What will you make of it?

Once upon a time, I was often the most negative person in most groups or conversations. I was cynical, irritable, easily angered, frustrated, and disappointed with people and circumstances, and I found very little joy in life. I complained a lot, about a lot of things, often. I told myself I was funny but that couldn’t have been much fun to be around. I sip my coffee and reflect on how much less often I complain about things these days and how much joy and contentment I find in life, generally. I’m in a very different place. (It took work and practice to get here.)

It isn’t that there is actually less in the world to complain about (I mean, seriously? We’re basically watching the world burn). I don’t find value in complaining as a form of communication, in my relationships. It has its place, I suppose. The negativity of it grates on my nerves. There are better ways. Kind frankness and gentle words are more comfortable to receive and more pleasant to act upon, day-to-day. My Traveling Partner, long ago, asked me to be less negative, and since then I’ve walked a very different path – and I’m glad I did (although it turned out he meant something different by it). I enjoy my life so much more. That’s the thing about negativity; it’s emotionally corrosive, and undermines joy, limits satisfaction, and creates discontent. Who needs that?

I get it, though, it’s so easy to be negative about unpleasant experiences and circumstances. So satisfying to complain – like picking at a scab (and it has about as much real value). A constant stream of negativity and complaining isn’t pleasant to be around, though, and it may result in the loss of relationships or connections with people who just don’t have the energy or will to endure it. Something to think about, eh? Certainly my own relationships have improved greatly since I gave up chronic complaining as a “feature” of my character. I still make an occasional complaint or negative observation; I’m very human. I don’t live my life in that place, emotionally, though. Complaining rarely improves anything; it is action that creates change. I get more done by embracing change, taking action to make my life what I most want to live, and by seeking out joy. It takes far fewer harsh words and frankly just feels better as an experience. I didn’t change the world; I changed the way I experience it. Worth it.

Walk on. It’s not personal.

I smile to myself. I’m having my own experience. It’s a lovely morning. I get to my feet and back on the trail. It’s a good day to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, Anxiety, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, Frustration, gratitude, Healthy Living, inspiration, joy, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Practices, Relationships, Spring, The Art of Being

Stumbling, Getting Back on the Path

April 1, 2025 //
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I’m sitting in the artificial twilight of a lamppost at the edge of my preferred local trail. It’s not yet fully dawn, but there’s a hint of daybreak in the changing color of the sky. I caught myself scrolling through the news headlines, though there is nothing there worth reading. Nothing new. Mostly intentionally distressing – or selling something. I put it aside. I don’t benefit in any way from becoming sucked into that garbage.

I think about stumbling on the trail a few moments ago. I caught myself, didn’t fall, but it was a moment of inattention and the outcome could have been worse. There’s something to learn there. It’s a metaphor. In a sense, scrolling through the news feed mindlessly is another sort of stumble. Disregarding healthy portion control when I struggle with my weight? Another stumble. Skipping a planned walk or a workout when I have specific fitness goals? Stumble.

Other lives, other challenges, other ways to stumble on a path. An addict in recovery having “just a little, this one time…”. Stumble. Someone making an important lifestyle change yielding to an old habit. Stumble. Important financial goals overlooked for a little “retail therapy”. Stumble. Giving that toxic relationship another chance. Stumble. It’s so very human to stumble, but we really can catch ourselves, and get back on the path. We really can acknowledge our failures and begin again.

I sit with that thought watching daybreak come, turning the sky blue beyond the dark clouds overhead. It’s okay to fail and begin again. It’s okay to pause on the trail to rest or to reflect. It’s okay to be human. It’s a journey. The journey is the destination.

I think of a far away friend admitting to me that she hadn’t been reading my blog. I was surprised by the admission, not because I expect all my friends and people dear to me to read my writing, but more because she found the admission embarrassing or awkward at all. I’m pretty sure it’s a near inevitability that any one reader will eventually stop reading and move on to other things. lol I see “this place” as a resting point on a journey more than a path. Once my point is made, the rest is perhaps noise. Repetition. I certainly wasn’t hurt by her admission. I’m here. You’re here now. For a moment we travel together whether through coincidence or intention, and we nonetheless each have our own experience. I rarely cross paths “in real life” with someone who reads my writing. She’s rare and delightful in that way. I cherish the experience, but don’t expect it. Our Dear Friend connected us, here, through their conversations about my writing. I was fortunate indeed to eventually sit down with them together over coffee. What a joyful day! When our Dear Friend neared the end of her life, we shared that too. I’m grateful.

Dawn. A new day, and the path ahead is clear. When I see the path and walk it mindfully, I’m less likely to stumble. It’s a very human experience, though, and the path is uneven in spots. There’s still a chance I may stumble, or even fall. When I do, I get up, consider my missteps, and begin again.

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Categories Allegories, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, Frustration, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, Spring, The Art of Being, weight loss secrets

The Clock Ticks On

March 29, 2025 //
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It was already daybreak when I reached the trailhead this morning, partly because the season is changing, partly because I slept in a bit (for some values of “sleeping in” lol). I got my boots on straight away and hit the trail. Quiet morning. Cloudy sky. It rained during the night and the trail is wet, muddy in spots. I walked with care, grateful to have my cane, annoyed by my pain with each step: ankle, knee, back. I persisted. I walked on.

A first look at a new day.

I’ll do this bit of writing. Meditate. Then run a couple errands before I head home to help my Traveling Partner with some paperwork. I suspect he could do it himself, if he chose to (although I’ve no doubt it would be unpleasant, difficult, and awkward), but it is easier to ask my help. I’d rather be helpful than deal with his discomfort and lack of enthusiasm for the task, but I honestly also hate doing this sort of crap (and somehow end up doing it in every relationship nonetheless).

I breathe exhale and relax. Sometimes things need doing, and it is important to get them done and see the process through. Like pulling weeds in the garden, it’s real work, often repetitive, and sometimes the payoff is not immediate, nor the value obvious. Still has to be done as a step on a path.

… I think about that a lot when I am walking. Steps on a path eventually make the journey…

The meadow this morning is dotted with tufts of greenery as the lupines begin to stand out from the grass here and there along the path, and in patches on hillsides. They are one of my favorites, and I’m eager to see them bloom again. I’ll paint them with soft pastels, as I have with watercolor, oil, and acrylic. I smile when I recall yesterday’s discovery of three new lupine seedlings coming up in the flower bed beneath the kitchen window.

As I sit at my halfway point, I watch the clouds drifting rather sluggishly across the sky. Less wind today. My headache worsens from looking up, and I frown at myself. I know better, I just like looking at the sky, and watching the clouds. Is it worth the pain? Maybe. Maybe it is; how long will I have the opportunity to see the sky overhead? We never know when the clock runs out, and it is always ticking. I’m not being gloomy, nor feeling the weight of my years, just aware that this mortal lifetime is finite, and that pain is inevitably part of the experience (but not the whole of it). I can choose differently.

I sigh to myself. Some moments I almost hear the ticking of the clock. It vexes me to be aware of the passage of time. I breathe exhale, and relax. I let that go and turn my attention to the flowers blooming on the marsh, the sweetly scented Spring air, and this delightful moment. It’s enough. I’ll begin again later. For now the moment is mine to enjoy, as I sit here beside the meadow trail.

A gray Spring morning, suitable for self-reflection.
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Categories Allegories, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, inspiration, joy, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, pain, Perspective, Practices, solo hiking, Spring, The Art of Being

Taking a Break From the Chaos

March 18, 2025 //
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There’s a hint of daybreak on the eastern horizon. I’ll see the sunrise from this local trail near home, this morning. This is the first morning of several days off work, a whole week. I breathe, exhale, and relax. I’m in no hurry and have nowhere to be until later. It’s a nice feeling.

I sigh quietly, contentedly, and put my boots on. I savor the moments as they tick by, feeling both quite routine, and also infused with this feeling of “ease”. The morning is a chilly one, no great surprise; it is quite early in the Spring. Cold mornings followed by mild afternoons are common. It may rain.

I smile to myself, thinking about my garden. There are radishes and chard already coming up. The peas should sprout soon, too. I am impatient and excited about every small new thing in the garden. Spring has its own timing though, and won’t be rushed on my account. My smile persists. I enjoy Spring.

I take note of the Spring weather and consider my plans for each day in the week to come. I’ll definitely want to dress in layers. I’ll need the added warmth of a cozy fleece and a heavy sweater in the morning, but the afternoons may be far too warm for all that. I remind myself to get water to take with me, for making coffee, tea, or hot noodles for a quick bite. I’ll be going to some new places to hike and to paint. I’m eager, and I want to be prepared (and comfortable).

The sunrise begins, with hints of pale lemon yellow, and delicate apricot. My boots step onto the pavement next to the car with a soft crunch of unnoticed leaves left behind from the autumn. My thoughts are my own, and my stress falls away as I take the next step toward beginning again.

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Categories Allegories, breathe, Free Will, gardening, gratitude, Healthy Living, inspiration, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Practices, solo hiking, Spring, The Art of Being
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