Archives for posts with tag: gratitude

I’m waiting for another sunrise. It’s quite early, and I am at the trailhead ahead of daybreak. Again. It’s the first day of autumn – the equinox. There’s a thin mist clinging to the ground, rising up from the river. I sit quietly with my thoughts awhile before turning to writing.

Street light dispursed through the mist.

I’ve got a handful of drafts, work in progress. None of them hold my attention this morning. My thoughts are not there. I often “work on” a new bit of writing as I drive to the trail, but this morning I was lost in pleasant daydreams instead. So, this morning my writing is impromptu, raw, unfiltered thoughts-in-the-moment lacking any sort of plan or editing. This is, perhaps, my preferred approach, generally. Certainly, it is the most authentic, spelling mistakes and all.

The first hint of daybreak in the darkness.

This morning I am mostly thinking about love, and hoping my Traveling Partner is getting the rest he needs. He continues to make slow progress towards recovery (from his injury and subsequent surgery). He continues to worry (and so do I) that something got overlooked or misdiagnosed. It’s a reasonable concern. We are concerned, together. As with many things (most things?), we’re in this together… while each having our own experience. Individual perspective. Shared experience. This very human journey is a strange one. I feel fortunate and grateful to share it with him.

My thoughts drift from love (and gratitude) to art. I am looking forward to my October coastal getaway. I’m eager to devote a handful of beautiful autumn days to my pastels. I have so much inspiration welling up from within. I need to take the time for myself. Funny – as soon as the thought forms, it is followed by a question; “can my Traveling Partner make coffee for himself, now?” This seems an important (if very specific and practical) detail, even though the Anxious Adventurer is on hand to help out. Would I even feel comfortable going, if my partner were unable to make a cup of coffee for himself? I think about that for awhile. We are so intertwined, so interdependent. We rely on each other. We’ve “been there” for each other for so long now… In May, it’ll be more than 15 years. My longest romantic relationship. What a beautiful complicated journey. I am fortunate to be so loved.

The gate to the park opens with a slow screech and a dull clang. It’s still too dark to safely walk the trail along the edge of the marsh. It’s the equinox and the sun is sleeping in this morning. lol

Faint hints of the sunrise to come, and the end of a starry night.

I sit quietly with my thoughts of love and a heart full of joy and contentment. This is a truly pleasant and satisfying moment, though in most regards the facts upon which it is built are very like many other quiet moments on other mornings before sun rise. Funny how that is. I sit with my smile and my thoughts, content to be happy, now, without any promises or expectations of future moments feeling similarly. Feelings are feelings. It’s enough to savor the moment and preserve it for future recollections.

A smudge of orange along the eastern horizon hints at the imminent sunrise. I’m glad to see another one. Grateful. How many more? No way to know. I’m okay with the uncertainty. I breathe, exhale, and relax. I swap my shoes for my sturdy boots. I can see the ground, now. Looks like a good time to begin again.

It’s dark and I am waiting for the sun. I’m sitting at the trailhead, paused between meditation and writing, some time before my walk. It’s a Monday morning, probably a fairly routine one… But… And?

I’m feeling a bit “off”, somehow. Vaguely irritable, only… maybe not? I don’t know. I’m in a strange discontented headspace, with nothing much to complain about, and nothing going on that actually seems “wrong”. I’m not “unhappy”… neither am I “happy”. I sigh heavily. The weekend wasn’t particularly restful or productive. I enjoyed it in the company of my Traveling Partner, and that was pretty nice. I very much feel that I should be looking back on it with much more gratitude and enthusiasm, but… this strange discontented mood has a pretty firm hold on me. Something like the sensation of wanting something I simply can’t have, ever, and knowing it while only half accepting it, but also not taking any steps to change that. Weird mood.

Soon enough I’ll have to “put my work face on”, and wholly adopt a certain professional positivity, and get the day going. Fine. I will and it’ll work out. I’m just…here… now, in this very different place. No idea why. I feel almost as though laying down for awhile and just… weeping… might be a more authentic use of my time, but it seems like a fairly childish and ineffective approach to take.

…I wonder if my walk will help…

I breathe, exhale, and relax, waiting for the sun. I’m not yet in any particular amount of pain. This could be a very pleasant moment. It isn’t quite. Am I, perhaps, reacting to my Traveling Partner’s (understandable) feelings of depression and negativity, as he confronts and deals with his emotions regarding potential long-term consequences of his (more severe than we knew at the time) injury, or becoming fused with that experience instead of living my own? It’s possible. We spent the weekend closely together, enjoying (or sometimes not enjoying) each other’s company.

… Maybe I didn’t get enough rest? Or didn’t get enough done…?

Another sigh breaks the silence. The sky slowly lightens as daybreak approaches. I think to myself that perhaps I could sleep a bit later in the morning now that the days are shorter, but I know it’s a wasted thought; I wake when I wake. It happens to be quite early. I do my best to make good use of the time.

… I resent feeling so stupidly fussy and irritable without good cause…

I pause my writing and my thoughts when my alarm reminds me to take my morning meds. I do that while noting sourly to myself that as things are going, I’ll be unlikely to ever retire, becoming one of those older folks who works for a living until my grave opens up to receive the last of my frail remains. G’damn that’s fucking depressing. I’ve wanted to retire since I entered the fucking workforce. I take a deep breath and let it go, along with the thought. The future is not written. I breathe, exhale, relax, and bring myself back to this moment, which, although characterized by this almost comically bleak mood, isn’t really all that bad, otherwise.

Be here, now.

I work at resetting my mood. I fail, and I try again. I look for different perspectives. I take a moment to really “hear myself”. Limited success, and I keep trying. I know “the way out is through” and I know I will become what I practice. I keep practicing. Change is, and eventually this mood will pass. Eventually, I’ll understand what gadfly is biting my metaphysical ass and be more easily able to do something about it. Slow going, this morning, and my irritability vexes me.

The first hint of a new day.

Daybreak comes, and with it a chance to begin again. I frown pointlessly at the sky, missing old friends and somehow also missing solitude (in spite of being literally alone in this moment). I grab my cane and get my stupid human ass out of the car and on my feet. It’s time to begin again.

… Maybe I can just walk it off…?

I only woke once during the night. The house was quiet. Quieter than it has been, and even through my tinnitus I could tell. Yesterday my Traveling Partner identified a peculiar ringing noise, something like a finger going around the rim of a crystal glass or something similarly annoying, and turned off the source. Apparently the feeling of relief was immediate – I definitely experienced that myself, when I returned home later in the day. We wondered together how much additional background stress that noise was creating in the household…?

The night was quiet. My sleep was more restful. I still woke in the morning with my tinnitus screeching and whining away in my ears, but that peculiar ringing is not part of it. Win. I woke in pain. Arthritis. It’s not any sort of unexpected surprise, it just sucks; the weather is beginning to turn towards autumn and there will likely be more days of worse-than-summertime pain ahead. That’s just real. It’s part of my experience, and I’m not really even intending to bitch about it, it’s just an observation of how things are today. I sigh, and wait for the sun; a walk will help.

Daybreak just ahead.

My Traveling Partner pings me. It’s barely daybreak, and I’m surprised he is up. He shares his irritation at being unable to rest, sounding frustrated and annoyed. I don’t even want to deal with any of that, although I feel for him and wish he were having a more pleasant experience. I give up on my walk, start the car and head back to the house; it’s early enough to grab my laptop and head into the office to work, which will give him the day in peace. Hopefully he finds the rest and quiet time he needs. I walk away from our brief interaction at the house feeling annoyed with his negativity and stress, and being in pain myself, I start the drive to the office in a pretty savage mood. Unpleasant. I also spend the drive working on letting that bullshit go. I’m not the one who woke up feeling disturbed, distressed, and unable to rest. Not my experience. I’m the partner who had a solution ready-to-go and implemented it promptly without argument or drama. I’m okay with that role, and missing one walk of many is not such a big deal, really.

…I missed the sunrise, and I feel that in a particularly poignant way, which surprised me just a little. We are mortal creatures, and there’s no knowing how many sunrises may remain. I give myself room to have those feelings and respect them, and take time to feel grateful to have seen so many…

The drive to the office is calm, with very little traffic. I spend it more than a little bit “in my own head”, and arrive, park, and set up my day with an efficiency that highlights how much emotional resilience can matter. Worth the time spent practicing, surely. (And we become what we practice.) I breathe. Exhale. Relax. I’ve got the day ahead of me now, and I take a moment to write, and reflect, and savor the pleasant early start to the day; I don’t bother with the brief moment of disappointment over missing out on my walk, other than a gentle reminder to myself that it was a choice, and I could have chosen differently. I made the choice I did out of affectionate regard and loving concern for my Traveling Partner and his needs, on a day when I could easily do so. This is hardly a “sacrifice” worth any measure of sorrow. It simply reflects a mature and loving partnership.

So. Here I am with my tinnitus and my pain, an entire new day ahead of me. Seems like a good opportunity to begin again. 😀

There was a misty rain falling when I got to the trailhead before daybreak. I don’t mind that. It had rained rather heavily at several points during the night, too, and I didn’t mind that either. My sleep was restless and unsatisfying, and I didn’t get enough of it. The household seemed noisy until almost midnight. I struggled to return to sleep each time I woke. I feel fine this morning. Eager to get a walk in along the damp marsh-side trail. It’s a short drive to the office from this nature park, and that’s where I’ll be working today. In general, the day is off to a good start, though seeing it through that lens is largely a matter of practice over time. (It wasn’t all that long ago that a restless night followed by a drizzly morning would likely have found me exceedingly irritated with life and wholly unpleasant to be around.)

…I keep practicing…

A rainy dawn, a new day.

Daybreak comes and I swap my shoes for boots, and grab my cane. I finish off my iced coffee and double check that I have my water bottle ready. I breathe the rain-fresh air and sigh contentedly, stretching before I head down the trail.

Practices come in all sizes. Changing the things I practice in life has done a lot to change my quality of life, my thinking, and my perspective. I’m more resilient. I am calmer. I bounce back from stress more easily and more quickly. I still have challenges. I still have to deal with my own bullshit and baggage. I’m very human. Trauma has changed me over the course of a lifetime and there’s no knowing who I might have been without it. There’s no “going back” – but it hardly matters when I remember that all my choices are ahead of me when I am present in this moment, awake, aware, and ready to begin again any time I fail myself or fall short of living my values. Failures are part of life.

I smile at the cloudy gray sky thinking about how best to capture those hues in pastel. This is a worthy moment to be here, now, and I embrace it. I breathe, exhale, relax, and begin again.

It’s a new morning. A new day is beginning. There will be new opportunities ahead and new moments to enjoy. Yes, I’ve got this headache and my tinnitus is shrieking in my ears, but… I’m also grateful. I’ve got this new day.

Breathe, exhale, relax.

It’s a work day. I’m grateful for the job I have and the colleagues working with me. I’m grateful for every payday, and my Traveling Partner’s support of my professional endeavors.

It’s a Friday. I’m grateful to see the weekend arrive, feeling inspired and having made a firm commitment to myself to spend some time painting this weekend. I’m grateful for my Traveling Partner, who supports and appreciates my creative side.

I’m grateful that I have an appointment planned with my chiropractor this weekend for some myofascial release work that reliably gives me some real relief from this headache, however temporarily.

The bills are paid, the pantry is stocked, and the housekeeping is mostly pretty caught up. I’m grateful to have been able to sustain the energy to get shit done over days, weeks, and months that my Traveling Partner has been dealing with his injury. I’m grateful for how hard my partner works to stay pleasant and level-headed, in spite of pain and discomfort, depression and inconvenience, and dealing with his injury ceaselessly. My gratitude for his persistence and endurance are hard to overstate and I count on him more than is fair under the circumstances.

I’m grateful for my steadfast friendships. However far away, and however long it has been since we’ve seen each other, I’ve got some amazing friends, and I am so fortunate to know some truly lovely good hearted people.

I’m grateful for the love between my Traveling Partner and I. I’m grateful to love and to be loved. I’m grateful for the love I have learned to show myself. I’m grateful that love exists in the world at all – it’s a special thing. I am grateful for every chance to be more loving.

I’m grateful for this sunrise. I’m grateful for modern conveniences like running water, electricity, and internet connectivity, and this car that gets me where I want to go. I’m grateful for clean clothes to wear and sturdy boots that let me walk so many miles. I’m grateful to be able to walk. Yes, I am sometimes stressed that I may be losing my hearing, but I am also grateful to have it, now. I focus on the gratitude… and the now.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I put my focus on the positives, and all the many reasons I have to be truly grateful. It’s not that there’s nothing to be irked by, disappointed over, or dissatisfied with, it’s more that those feelings and experiences are by far the lesser portion of my experience, generally, and if I am willing to take a moment for gratitude I see that so clearly. So, this morning I do.

The morning is pleasant and mild. It’s a good one to walk with my thoughts. It’s a good morning for gratitude. It’s a good morning to begin again… I’m grateful to have the chance.

Every sunrise is a new beginning.