Archives for posts with tag: gratitude
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OMG Not That Too!?

May 30, 2025 //
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Oh hey there – you okay? How’s your day going? Are you stressed out by all the horrible shit going on in the world? Genocides? Wars? The possible end of American democracy? The return of fascism? The rise of global authoritarianism? Xenophobia, racism, misogyny, and violence? It’s a lot to consider and to worry about and endure. How are you holding up? What are you doing to take care of yourself and nurture your own good heart? What are you practicing? How are you giving yourself a break from all of that to focus on self-care, and tending the garden of your heart?

When was the last time you set aside all the stressful worrisome details to take a walk in the sunshine on a Spring morning, or sit in a garden watching the breeze stir the flowers and breathe the scent of them? Something to consider – don’t get so wound up in the cares of the world that you fail to take care of yourself. Do something nice for yourself – surely you deserve your own attention, affection, and consideration?

…”Put your own oxygen mask on first”…

Lemon-scented geranium on a drizzly morning in Spring.

It’s a lovely Friday morning. I haven’t yet gotten a walk in, my leg is still a bit twinge-y and aching, but I’ll get to it before the sun fully rises and the heat of the day begins. Yesterday was like summer, and got quite warm. Today looks like another summery day. The garden will love it, and I’m grateful to have the help of the Anxious Adventurer – the lawn is thriving under his care, and I am not stressed out about it. I breathe, exhale, and relax, and chuckle to myself about the deer – and the blue jays. The blue jay that follows me around the garden with such curiosity also appears to be the creature eating my strawberries. lol It’s hard to be mad about it. I enjoy the creatures as much as I enjoy the garden, and I’m fortunately not dependent on the garden to feed myself or my family – I take a moment of gratitude to recognize what a privilege that actually is, even in the 21st century.

“Whimsy” blooming.

More and more of the roses are blooming, and I delight in the knowledge that they will be what I see when I return home. I’ll “walk through the garden” as I come up the walk to the front door. I’m grateful to enjoy the little house I call home. My Traveling Partner puts so much thought and work into making things to improve our quality of life, and even simply to delight me. I’m fortunate to be wrapped in his love. Even in the office, everywhere I look there is some little token of his affection and high regard, from the mouse I use (which he recommended to me) to the little desk caddy (that he made for me) to the earrings I am wearing this morning (another item he made with me in mind). I sigh and smile, feeling contented and loved.

This new day is just beginning. I have choices how to spend my time, and where to put my attention. (So do you.) I could choose to doom-scroll the news feeds, and allow myself to get all spun up over terrible shit I can’t personally change. I could spiral into anger and despair over what a terrible place the world seems to be right now. On the other hand, I could choose gratitude, and allow myself the opportunity to embrace the small joys in my life right now, to appreciate my good relationships, and my good fortune, and to consider what sorts of small things I can do to make the experience of my coworkers, friends, and loved ones better in some small way, even if only by being the best human being I can be, with the resources at hand, and by not making shit worse in the world. It’s something. It’s not even a small thing, if practiced consistently. We can change the world by changing our corner of it. There are verbs involved.

…Speak truth to power…

Choose sides. Choose wisely. Become the person you most wish to be. Practice the practices that nurture and heal you. Follow Wheaton’s Law. Incremental change comes over time, and is the result of so many small choices. Maybe go outside and get some fresh air and sunshine, and watch the Spring become summer? I’m not telling you what to do, I’m just saying it’s a good time to begin again.

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Categories 2024 Election, Allegories, Anxiety, breathe, Despair, Free Will, Frustration, gardening, gratitude, Healthy Living, inspiration, joy, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Roses, The Art of Being, The Big 5, War and News of War

Roses and Memories

May 25, 2025 //
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I arrived at the trailhead, sunrise well underway. It’s a cloudy morning, but the sort that hints at a sunny afternoon to come, more than it suggests rain. I start down the trail thinking about roses. Everything is green and beautiful and the air smells sweetly of fragrant wildflowers and mown grass. Wild roses are blooming along the trail.

One of several varieties that grow in the area.

The scent of the roses is particularly delightful and (for me) evocative. I have so many memories that are triggered by the scents of roses. When my Dear Friend died I added a wee “memory garden” to a corner of the yard, and added roses there (not that I didn’t have quite a few already, but these were chosen specifically with her in mind). I smile as I walk; the roses in my memory garden are blooming (well, two out of three). It’s their first year blooming. They’re quite lovely and smell wonderful. I shared pictures to my Dear Friend’s bestie. I know how painful missing such a friend can be.

“Rainbow Happy Trails” blooming

I have fond memories of talking about our gardens together, my Dear Friend and I. I have such memories of my late Granny, too, and my Mother. Many of my memories of times shared with my Dad are also gardening related. It seems proper to honor them in my garden. Memorial Day is tomorrow, and it also seems proper to be thinking of long gone friends, family, and loved ones, this morning. The sky overhead seems somber without being gloomy. I’m not grieving, just remembering.

“Whimsy” also blooming, her very first.

Funny how meaningful roses (and my garden) have become for me. Most of my roses tell a love story through the careful selections, each name hinting at the profound love I share with my Traveling Partner. Tokens of my affection, reminders of how complicated love can sometimes be. I chuckle to myself; my partner cares little for flowers, but loves me so deeply that my roses matter to him, if only because they matter to me.

“Alchymist” blooming in spite of being delicious to passing deer.

Some of my roses have their own stories to tell, having traveled in pots with me for some 25 years before being planted into the ground. Others captivated me so thoroughly that in spite of failures, I’ve continued to replace them. Still others, I yearn to plant in my garden even knowing they may not be suited to the space I’ve got left. lol Funny to be so passionate about roses. I wasn’t always, and there’s a story there too, perhaps for another day.

“Baby Love” blooming first, last, and almost all year long. Purchased the year my partner and I moved in together.

I get to my halfway point with my thoughts. The scent of roses reaches me from some unseen rose on the meadow somewhere. I have the trail to myself this morning, in spite of the holiday weekend, mild weather, and relative lateness of the hour. I listen to the breeze rustling the meadow grass. I am sitting in a low spot a hillside behind me. I feel “invisible” and safe. The busy squirrels, robins, and jays don’t mind my quiet presence. I watch them contentedly as I write, reflect and meditate.

Lovely morning for it.

I let minutes pass, grateful for the solitary time. I manage to miss my Traveling Partner, in spite of enjoying this solitary moment. He is more dear to me than I have words for. My garden is getting a bit weedy because I’ve chosen to enjoy my partner’s company rather than “do my chores” more than a few times over the past couple of weeks. I’m not complaining about that, it’s a worthy choice and the moments in a human lifetime are finite, each unrepeatable and unique. The time we spend together is undescribably precious.

… I smile, thinking about the number of my roses (and roses I’ve had in the past since 2010) that I’ve chosen with my beloved in mind. It’s many. It is, actually, almost every new rose I’ve chosen since we became friends, even before we were lovers, and eventually married. Of the 13 roses currently in my garden, 7 celebrate him (and us). Of the remaining roses in my garden, three are long-time favorites that are meaningful to me for other reasons, and three are the new ones I planted in the “memory garden”.

“Nozomi” with me 25 years, and one of the first roses I ever purchased from rose breeder Ralph Moore directly, though it wasn’t one of his.

I hear voices and the crunch of other steps on the trail. I sigh quietly to myself, sitting quite still for a moment, smiling when I notice that the squirrel nearby has done the same thing. We sit quite still, waiting to see what may come around the bed. Strangers call a friendly greeting as they approach and wave as they pass. I wave back and smile. We’re each having our own experience, but understand each other. We are enjoying this trail, this lovely Spring morning, and the scent of meadow flowers.

It’s a rather ordinary morning. My head is filled with thoughts of roses and the memories they evoke. I sit with my thoughts, and try to work out ways to discourage the deer from eating my roses. It’s quite a puzzle. I sigh to myself and plan to stop by the garden store on my way home, and get to my feet. The clock is ticking. It’s time to begin again.

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

Real and Imagined

May 23, 2025 //
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This morning I got to the trailhead in full daylight. I slept in a bit, though my dreams were almost entirely about being awake, bringing a certain sense of “having done all this” to a brand new day. Doesn’t really matter; it actually is a new day, full of potential and opportunities to grow and change.

Not quite summer.

I could have spent time in the garden yesterday; it needs weeding. I chose instead to enjoy my Traveling Partner’s company after the work day ended and played a few hands of cribbage. He made our beautiful cribbage board himself, it was one of the first projects to come out of his shop (from a time when nearly all the tools and focus were on woodworking). As is reliably the case with me, I have to relearn the game, even though I used to play cribbage with my Grandfather, and later nearly every evening while I was deployed to the Middle East to fight a war that seemed just at the time.

Brain damage is a peculiar thing; everyone’s experience is just a little different, depending on the specific details of their injury. I definitely have some odd “thinking holes” into which some kinds of information get lost, and I struggle with even long-standing habits suddenly extinguishing themselves for no obvious reason. So… I cut myself some slack about my limitations, and I keep practicing the practices that are most likely to result in emotional resilience, good quality of life, strong healthy relationships, and the likelihood of maintaining order in an experience full of chaos. There’s no end to it, no report card, no final win, just more practice.

…But I do like playing cribbage…

This morning I’m writing from a sunny spot at the edge of the marsh. It’s pleasant and quiet, robins singing nearby and small brown birds hopping here and there. The geese are gone (at least I don’t see any this morning), but there are still ducks on the ponds, and signs of nutria.

When I looked at my device to begin taking some notes, I noticed the app suggesting that many thousands more people had read my blog in the past 24 hours than is common. I’m not imagining the numbers, but I don’t accept them as true either. It seems quite unlikely that a >1000% quantity of views resulted from anything I’ve written lately, and I don’t recall any particularly trend-worthy tags, either. lol Platform decay and unmanaged bot activity seems far more likely (with app reporting errors following closely) as a potential root cause, but if you’re an actual human being who recently began reading my blog, welcome. I hope you find something worthwhile in my humble musings.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I’m not overly excited about things like readership metrics, any more than I am stressed by my persistent inability to remember the rules of card games. There is a middle ground between excitement and despair, and it’s in this middle ground where contentment, peace, and lasting joy are to be found. (It’s at least where I have found them, myself). This middle ground is easy enough to find by practicing mindfulness, building emotional resilience over time, gaining and nurturing perspective, and learning to embrace sufficiency. (I didn’t mean to say anything suggesting it is actually easy; it takes quite a bit of practice, and I fail now and then and have to begin again. There are verbs involved.)

This path has taken me so far. I’m grateful that I gave myself another chance and learned some fundamentals of self-care, and stuck with the practices I learned in therapy. I’m glad I chose to seek help. I’m glad I ended unhealthy relationships and left toxic jobs that were destroying my quality of life. This here and now moment is quite delightful. I’ve done some work to get here and I’m fortunate to have this beautiful moment to enjoy. I look out over marsh and meadow, feeling contentment and quiet joy.

I’ve got a long weekend. The Spring meadow is lush and green. The wild roses are blooming (so are the roses in my garden). There are things to do, choices to make, and practices to practice. I smile and think about my Traveling Partner fondly; he’s so patient about my “issues” generally. Maybe another game of cribbage later today?

I smile at the little birds near my feet as I write. Soon enough it’ll be time to begin again. I look back up the trail and at the stormy clouds gathering overhead, thinking about paths and storms as metaphors, the day ahead, and my partner’s love feeling fortunate and grateful.

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

A Trail to a Place

May 21, 2025 //
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Among the metaphors for life and living that I favor is simply that of a trail to some destination (known or unknown). Steps on a path adding up to getting somewhere make a handy metaphor for a lot of things. I sip my coffee and think about metaphors, progress, growth, and being grateful to have had so many opportunities to fail, learn, and begin again. This journey hasn’t been an easy one built on paved paths, well-lit walkways, and obvious sparkling vacation destinations (like, not at all), but it has been a worthy one, scenic, adventurous, and filled with memorable moments. I sip my coffee content to begin the day with my thoughts, the recollection of waking rested, the memory of a beautiful sunrise glimpsed on an easy commute to the office. Nice beginning to the day…

…I wonder where this path leads…

“Pace yourself, there’s no hurry,” I remind myself, as I reflect on recent days, and the day ahead. Long weekend – Memorial Day ahead already? Yesterday I was too sore for the elliptical workout(s) I had planned. No surprise, really; I was overly eager and enthused, and may potentially have overdone it just a bit the day(s) before. lol Very human. I’m looking forward to it this evening, though, and I feel a renewed sense of committment and purpose when I think about fitness and exercise, generally. Nice bit of healthy momentum to take advantage of.

I chuckle to myself, although a bit frustrated, when I recall the doe coming back to the garden yet again, yesterday, and eating more of what is left of the tomatoes she’d already been nibbling. I sigh, a little annoyed, but having trouble being really mad at all; she’s doing what she can to survive, and no doubt has a fawn she’s trying to feed. I get it; my garden is well-tended and filled with tasty young green things, all edible. (I wouldn’t personally eat a tomato plant, but I suppose the deer and I have quite different appetites and preferences. lol) I grin to myself; isn’t it enough to have a garden of my own? I’ll learn from this and plan differently next year.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. Things are quite wonderful in my partnership with my Traveling Partner, lately. Love feels somehow “new again”, although I don’t know why that is, I’m definitely enjoying it. Life, too, just as it is, feels good. I’m happy to stand in this place, grateful to feel well and joyful. I make room to savor the experience, and just sit with it awhile. Our best feelings and moments are worth savoring, and lingering over. So… I do that. Nice morning for it.

Soon enough it’ll be time to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gardening, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, inspiration, joy, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Spring, The Art of Being

Perspective & Reminders

May 14, 2025 //
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I woke up slowly this morning, slipping gradually from strange distressing dreams of poverty, privation, and desperate futile “choices”. My dreams were anxious and restless. I dreamt of drinking terrible coffee on a sweltering morning, sitting on the edge of broken second-hand patio furniture – no AC, windows thrown wide to non-existent breezes through the night, hoping for a moment of cooler temperatures. I dreamt fretfully of having to choose between paying the electric bill and buying food, and of having to choose between filling a prescription or putting gas in an unreliable car. Would it even start next time I needed it? I dreamt of times gone by, and times I’ve never lived but recognize to be within the realm of possibility in a human lifetime. I dreamt of being in my final years, without means, without partnership, alone and deeply concerned about seeing another sunrise. I squinted at the rising sun in my dreams, anxious, then woke slowly to the lights coming on in my room, here, now, okay. Fucking hell. I’m not sure I’d call my dreams “nightmares” – there was no terror, really, only sorrow, and despair, and trying to so hard to make something of nothing last long enough to be… enough. My dreams were drenched in the anxiety of effort and insufficiency – and even in my dreams I found myself trying to find the best of it, to find the small joys in that dismal existence, sitting quietly with my coffee watching the sun rise. It wasn’t enough – but I felt some tiny fragment of hope and clung to it desperately.

…Fucking hell. I definitely do not need more nights like that…

Still, I sip my (relatively shitty) cup of coffee this morning, thinking about luck, circumstances, good fortune, and how very hard a person can work at life, at trying to provide for their family, at trying to live well within limited means – and how easy it is to fail at all of that, anyway. People get mired in despair because life can be hard. Very hard. Sometimes it not only seems like there is “no way out” – it may even be true in some limited sense. Rough. Sometimes doing better or “finding our way” requires really difficult decision-making, or even what feels like a complete “do-over”. Scary. None of that is easy. You know what is easy? Being a jerk to people when you do not know, or can not understand, what they are going through. Super easy to be a raging asshole, lacking in compassion and consideration. (For a choice bad example, we need only look to Congress trying to pass a budget.) Maybe don’t do that, though, right? Just don’t be a jerk to people.

Simple joys are worth savoring and it doesn’t take much effort to be kind.

It’s a good morning to reflect with gratitude on my good fortune, and where I am in life right now. I breathe, exhale, and relax. I embrace the quiet somewhat rainy looking morning with a measure of joy; I am not in that place where my dreams placed me. I’m not wealthy (not even “affluent”). I have enough to meet my basic needs. My Traveling Partner and I are comfortable together, managing life together. We provide for each other; it’s likely neither of us would be in the same place in life without each other. I smile thinking of the cute 3D printed earrings I am wearing this morning – he made them for me. That he made them with me in mind matters so much more than their intrinsic value. They’re plastic – super cute and I love them. Diamonds could not ever please me on the same level at all – their cold sparkle would only remind me of what I don’t have and can’t (or have not) achieved. They would exist to say something to someone else, and I would wear them only to “make a statement” – and one which I don’t personally feel moved to make. I’m not competing with the world. I’m walking my own path. I don’t aspire to diamond jewelry – only to loving and being loved, living well (within our limited means), and finding joy in a life that is enough. But that’s me. You do you, I guess. 😀

Who are you? What do you really want out of life? Where does your path lead? You will become what you practice – what are you practicing?

My mind wanders. I reflect awhile on how best to avoid being a jerk to people (even when I’m tired, or in pain, or aggravated by something). So many people suffering, doing what they can with too little, just trying to get by… I think awhile on being kind, being considerate, demonstrating concern and compassion, and how best to be the woman I most want to be. “Being and becoming” seems to be a long, sometimes rather slow journey from the greed and demanding inconsiderate foolishness of childhood to … something else. Something better, ideally, something practiced and thoughtful, and patient, and wise, and… fuck I’ve got work to do on this “being my best self” stuff! So many negative examples out there in the world, too – I know who I don’t want to be. I know how I don’t want to behave. I guess it is a starting point, eh?

The clock is ticking, but there’s time to begin again. Do better. You have choices.

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Categories 2024 Election, Allegories, anger, Anxiety, Brain Injury, breathe, Despair, Free Will, gratitude, joy, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Spring, The Art of Being, War and News of War
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