The sunrise was over by the time I reached the trailhead this morning, but I watched it as I drove. Beautiful. The bold orange streaks of cloud seemed gilded, the golden edges feathering across the baby blue sky. The mountains on the horizon were a lavender silhouette, and the colorful scene evolved, changing hues as the sun rose. Tangerine. Magenta. Pink. Lemon yellow. It was lovely.
I chose the farthest of two trailheads for the park; it’s usually empty. Not this morning, there’s only one parking space left. I get it. It’s a beautiful morning for a hike. The meadow flowers fill the morning air will the scent of Spring. The birds fill the air with their songs and chirps and screeches. The gravel trail crunches beneath my steps. The sunlight illuminates the meadow grass and the leaves of the trees.
I walk and keep walking, until I get to my preferred halfway point and stop to write and reflect. I listen to the sounds of the Tualatin river from my convenient vantage point, reflecting on this and that. Breathe, exhale, relax…
One point of view among many, one moment along the way.
“What’s the point of any of this?” I find myself wondering, and sitting with that thought for awhile. It’s a question. I don’t have an answer, really. I guess there’s a chance that there’s no point at all… We’re born. We live our finite, ordinary, mortal lives. We learn what we can. We accumulate objects and mementos that we will inevitably leave behind. We eventually die. Some of us may make some profound mark on society or advance human progress in some way – most of us won’t. Some few of us will pass on, unremarkable, unremembered, and unnoticed. So… What is the point? I breathe the Spring air deeply, listening to the breeze and the birdsong. Is this enough? Is it enough simply to be?
I think about it for awhile. Even recognizing that the journey itself is the destination, I sometimes do wonder what the actual point of it is… Perhaps there isn’t one. Maybe we simply live and die and there’s no point or purpose at all? If that’s the case, any purpose in life is one we choose for ourselves, each of us, having our own experience, and deciding for ourselves what the point may be. This isn’t a grim thought for me, and it doesn’t cause me any stress or agitation, I just sit here on a Spring morning wondering for myself what that point may be.
There’s time for wonder, and wondering, and asking questions. Maybe that’s even the point? I smile and wave at a passing stranger who calls out a “good morning” as they pass.
Sunshine through the trees.
It’s a new day. I wonder what I’ll do with it? I wonder where this path leads? I breathe, exhale, and relax. The clock is ticking, and it’s time to head on down the trail and begin again.
Progress is progress – even in small barely noticeable steps. Incremental change over time says nothing about the size of the increments, or the length of the timeframe. Your growth, change, and forward progress in life are yours to pursue, to limit, to choose, to determine, to embrace or resist… No one else really gets to tell you how, when, or why to take a particular step on your path. Doesn’t stop folks from trying, sometimes, or thinking themselves in some way the moderator of your experience.
(One note, before you jump ahead, I’m not presently considering experiences such as childhood, incarceration, or military life, all of which do indeed include a considerable amount of one’s time being “told what to do”, for reasons outside the parameters of this discussion; this is not about that.)
I woke early this morning, a sunny, somewhat chilly Sunday. I woke feeling rested and eager to embrace the day. Feels good. A hot shower, meditation, and my first coffee were enjoyed without waking my still-sleeping Traveling Partner. Instead of bustling about on housekeeping chores or gardening (that would require rattling some things on the deck to get at tools and such), I head out for a short walk and to pick up donuts, hoping to start my partner’s day well. I arrived home to find out that he woke with a severe headache, and a request to be very gentle with him this morning. My greeting is quiet and less boisterous than usual when I open the front door; headaches suck.
We enjoy coffee together and hang out for a few minutes. Pleasant and agreeable moments, shared, are a lovely way to begin a sunny Spring morning. 😀
The garden begins to take shape.
I sit down here with thoughts of gardening and a smile. I’m eager to face even tasks like weeding this year. My vision of our garden is slowly coming together, just as our life here in our own home takes shape a bit at a time. It’s lovely. I wrote myself a gardening “mission statement” for this year’s endeavors (a suggestion by Huw Richards that I found especially helpful for focus and a sense of purpose).
To connect the garden to the kitchen through beautiful edible landscape, and create an oasis of flowers for passing butterflies, hummingbirds, and artistic inspiration.
I reflect on this each morning (and weekend) when I consider what to do next, and how I want to see the garden develop – and what matters most about each plant and seed. The thoughts feel more connected with each other, and I have been less prone to just going nuts with new plants that won’t thrive, or vegetables with cool pictures that I won’t actually eat, or may not be well-suited to the growing conditions here. It’s also helped me refine my thoughts about questions regarding raised beds, additional trees, and placement of objects – all things I sometimes tend to be rather haphazard about, resulting in unsatisfying chaos, and unmanageable workload for the likely return on my time and effort.
I have seedlings coming up in grow bags outside. Seedlings coming up in seed trays on the windowsill in my studio. Seedlings coming up in the front flower beds. Recently planted herb plants establishing themselves in the front beds are thriving – all but the pineapple sage, which I can tell has not been happy about the unexpectedly frosty handful of recent mornings. Looks like it will bounce back, though. I purchased some additional seeds for later sowings, with the eventual return of winter in mind. Planning ahead will ideally mean I am never scrambling to complete the next seasonal task. Somehow having this small “seed bank” of open-pollinated, organic, (often heirloom) selection of seeds that don’t have patent-protecting limitations on reproduction has me feeling more prepared for potentially worsening supply chain issues that may make buying produce challenging. It may be an illusion, but… I like having a garden. I like feeling secure. Having seeds on hand feels good. The time and consideration of each choice – and each source – feels well-spent.
Seeds – the planting, the nurturing, the harvesting of the results – are a fond metaphor, for me. So much of life’s quality is in that “we reap what we sow” sort of place. The idea that “we get out of it what we put into it” appeals to me. I think it is likely a bit more accurate to observe that regardless of circumstances, how we deal with those circumstances is key to the outcome over time and our subjective experience of living our lives. Sometimes the circumstances are garbage. Sometimes “the hand we’re dealt” is pretty fucking crappy. We don’t always choose the shores on which we stand – but we get to choose the direction in which we proceed, do we not? 🙂 So… planting a seed is a small beginning on a new adventure – what we do once that seed is planted has a lot to do with how things turn out, once the fruits of our labor begin to ripen. I sip my coffee and follow the threads of this favorite metaphor as I look out the window to the pear tree beyond the fence, and the small bright yellow bird looking back at me. (I think it is a Yellow Warbler…)
I make a couple notes about things I want to do today, out in the sunshine… place a couple lovely large river rocks that were once part of my aquarium decor… tie the pea trellis more firmly… check in with my Traveling Partner regarding potentially adding a raised bed out front… weeding (and sketching & photographing weeds for later identification)… it’s a lovely morning to plant a seed – and begin again. ❤
This morning I am looking ahead in life, just beyond the completion of a major life project that I am at long last preparing to undertake quite seriously. Scary. Verbs. Tons of verbs. Also…a very significant requirement to sort out the tasks from the projects. My way of thinking tells me that any given project is made up of any number of tasks on which completion is dependent. Tasks are easier – do the steps, take the action, follow through on a detail; there are verbs involved, and often not so very many. Do the thing. Done. Projects seem…bigger. So many tasks. So much time. So much timing. The order tasks are completed in may matter for a project. Some are dependent on each other…often not immediately recognizably so.
I’m pretty decent with task management, and doing the verbs on small things – do the thing. Done. I’m pretty strong there. Having a routine eases the impact of having many tasks, and gives an illusion of skillful project management, sometimes this is a very nice thing that provides me a sense of fulfillment and achievement – I get so much done one task at a time, over many tasks! Unfortunately, until I break a large project down to tasks, sorted in an effective order, and begin handling things task by task, I can find myself feeling quite incredibly overwhelmed by the details, or sucked in by a method of organizing the work, and not making real progress toward project completion. Frustrating. It matters to take my time, and to be reminded that incremental progress sometimes feels quite slow, but it does keep things moving forward.
The forest and the trees; perspective matters.
Today, I find myself really committing to two projects that will need to be managed in tandem; they affect each other’s outcomes over time. I got excited about both, then as the magnitude of workload starts to sink in, I feel… afraid. Yeah. Wow. Insecurity speaks up. Excitement and dread feel too similar for this to be effortless; I suspect there will be many opportunities to practice good practices, to breathe, to take care of me, to be patient with myself, to be mindful. Today I am practicing taking steps – and since steps are not quite tasks, but still move each project forward, I’m on my way! Step one – identify the tasks needed to complete each project.
I enjoyed the morning over coffee with my traveling partner, and talked about shared and individual needs regarding one of these important life projects. I sat down at my desk feeling clear-headed and sure of purpose, a very nice feeling, and begin listing all the tasks involved in the project that I could think of off the top of my head. It’s a start, and today a start is all I really need – once I have the tasks sorted out, doing them seems an easy (ish) thing. 🙂 Yep. There are still verbs involved. I’m doing some today.
Walking my own path, one step at a time.
Today is a good day to do the verbs, step-by-step, task-by-task, moment-by-moment. Today is a good day for a new journey.
Evening Light 