Archives for posts with tag: hiking

Can’t Help But Let It Rain

April 30, 2024 //
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There’s a steady rain falling. It’s been raining since I parked the car in the city, though the drive in was dry. There’s nothing at all to do about the rain, besides let it fall. The sky is a heavy gray, dark and moody, and the streetlights are still on; there’s not enough light to trigger the daylight sensors. The pavement shines, reflecting the streetlights. The trees in the park are a lush almost luminous assortment of greens. The cars turn the corners as they go around the park block, looking extra shiny, coated with the slick wetness of the rain. This is no mist. It’s a proper rain, and disturbs the surface of the pond in the park, giving the water an almost rough texture. I sip my coffee and watch the rain fall for a while, while I enjoy my breakfast salad (with a handful of blueberries, and a couple hard-boiled eggs). Lovely start to the work day.

I think about my upcoming camping trip, for some minutes, wondering how I will prepare for potential rain. A steady drenching rain such as this one, this morning, would certainly change my options out in the woods, or on the trail. For one thing, if I don’t have adequate overhead cover of some suitable kind, I’d have trouble cooking in the rain (that just also doesn’t even sound fun). I mean, I could hunker down in the opening of my tent, with my Jetboil carefully placed under the edge of the “vestibule” that projects somewhat forward of the tent opening itself, providing a wee bit of cover, and easily boil water for coffee or for preparing a freeze-dried backpacker meal. That’s certainly adequate… but I’ll be going prepared to actually cook real food, too… and I’m looking forward to being outside. It would be a very different experience to be “stuck indoors”, in my tent, facing a downpour. I smile; it’s not an issue, and barely a concern, really, and certainly this far in advance I’m just “borrowing trouble” and thinking thoughts of being prepared. My tent itself is a good one for outlasting the rain, generally, though I’ve never camped in the sort of tropical deluge that could soak through the best of tents… not yet, anyway.

I think about provisions for this camping trip ahead… “glamping” as much as camping, and I’ll have a small solar set up, and a portable fridge that’s pretty good-sized for one person (for 4 days). I sit munching my salad and thinking about what “four days of salad greens” looks like, and how much space that might take… This is the sort of detail that can throw off a plan, and I consider it with care, and with great joy. (I enjoy the planning, itself.)

…The minutes tick by as I amuse myself with my thoughts…

I have learned over time how very critical to my self-care it is to make time to “hear myself think”. These quiet moments of reflection, or even just daydreaming, really matter to my resilience, and my emotional wellness. I quickly begin to feel “crowded” and very much as if “everyone wants a piece of me” with nothing left over for myself, when I don’t make time for simple quiet reflection, and an opportunity to “hear myself think”. Being there for the woman in the mirror is a pretty big deal for such a small thing, and it pays off in calm, contentment, self-awareness, and the ability to maintain perspective and avoid taking dumb shit personally. Giving myself time to sit quietly with my thoughts reduces the likelihood that I’ll end up being a reactive asshole in some inconsequential moment that could potentially go sideways on a day I’m feeling cognitively “crowded” and overwhelmed by life. I’ve even noticed that I’m more easily able to keep track of “all the things”, when I make a point to take a few minutes to just chill and let my thoughts flow past, observed and unchallenged, for some quiet little while. Just saying; I find this a very good practice, though it can sometimes be difficult to find the quiet spot and the time for it. It’s worth making the time.

I sigh quietly to myself. I feel contented and calm. It’s a nice feeling. I’m still nibbling on this breakfast salad. lol That’s been a notable change with the addition of the Ozempic to my care plan; I don’t rush my meals. Like, at all. (All my life previously, I’ve basically wolfed down every meal as if someone might walk up and take my plate away, and in spite of being aware of this being a potentially unhealthy practice, as well as less than civilized for a bystander or dining companion to observe, it’s been a struggle to do things any differently.) Now it’s honestly a bit of a challenge to stay focused on the fact that I am eating a meal, and I’m definitely more likely to stop eating a bit before I notice that I feel “full”. I count this as a positive change, and make a point to notice, before moving on. It’s very nice to find that my consciousness is not dominated by thoughts to do with food, or meals, or cooking, or snacks… and I’m a little surprised, now, to understand that it had been for so long. Odd that there’s so little discussion of the cognitive changes associated with Ozempic… Seems worth discussing. (I’m no longer surprised by how many medications we take are “mind altering” that don’t get described that way, or understood to be so.)

My thoughts veer from cognition to consciousness to knowledge, and I find myself giving thought to what books to take on my camping trip… This “human computer” could use a “software update”! I’ve got a short stack of crypto currency and blockchain related books that seem relevant to my work, currently… but… maybe something more philosophical for this trip? Or… fiction? (I read very little fiction at this point in my life.) I don’t listen to audiobooks… I like real bound books that I can hold in my hand. I’ve got a ebook reader, and I use it quite a lot, but my favorite approach to ebooks is to read a bound book, then reread it as a ebook, which allows me to highlight passages and make digital “notes in the margins” without marking up the bound copy. I used to pride myself on having read every book I own… but I’ve fallen a bit behind on that, and I’ve now got some dozen or so books waiting on my attention, and limited bandwidth. lol It seems rather a shame to spend my downtime on work-related reading, so I turn my attention to books on other topics… Maybe a good time to read Thích Nhất Hạnh? I’ve got a couple books of his that my Traveling Partner gifted me after news of the reknown teacher’s death reached us. I haven’t yet read them all.

…So many books to read, so much to learn that has value, how inconvenient that time if finite…

…I sip my coffee and let my thoughts wander where they will. It’s that sort of morning…

Soon enough it will be time to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, inspiration, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, solo hiking, Spring, The Art of Being, weight loss secrets, Words

Unpacking the Baggage

July 14, 2014 //
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I left my campsite yesterday, just before it began to sprinkle. The rain drops were not a surprise; I woke at dawn to the rumbling of distant thunder.  A visiting young owl had dropped in on me Saturday morning and on her departure ripped a small hole in the fabric of my rain fly, making a pre-rain departure a nice convenience.

An ominous sky, and a reminder that the weather doesn't argue about gear.

An ominous sky, and a reminder that the weather doesn’t argue about gear.

There remains further unpacking to do; I do the basics right away, and throw washables, and clothing into the washing machine first thing, and ensure that any everyday use items that I had taken with me are returned to their everyday locations. The rest can be handled piecemeal through the week.

There’s more to say. I walked more than 15 miles of forested trails. I reached 1528 ft of elevation, from a starting point at less than 200 ft. I meditated for more than 12 hours of my three days away. I took more than 1000 photographs (of which fewer than 200 actually ‘turned out’). I learned some good lessons on hiking and camping basics, and reinforced good best practices left from my military experiences. I considered things. I contemplated intangibles. I felt feelings, and explored thoughts. I unpacked some very old baggage, and took a close look in a very honest mirror. I slept well, and deeply. I discovered that DEET irritates my skin – and that there’s always some bit of unprotected flesh that a mosquito can find (it’s their ‘thing’ in life); I am covered in mosquito bites and learning the value of that experience for mindfulness practice. lol

And there’s still more to say, but it’ll keep; today is a new day. I’ll just share this one thing I learned while I was meditating in the forest…

Yes, 'the answers' are here; I brought them with me.

Yes, ‘the answers’ are here; I brought them with me.

Today is a new day, a new experience. Today is a good day to change the world.

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Categories Brain Injury, Free Will, Healthy Living, Menopause, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Summer, The Big 5, women, Words

Charms and Potions

July 10, 2014 //
2

First, before I go farther, and carelessly hurt someone’s feelings over mystical or spiritual beliefs we may not share; nothing in this post is intended to slight someone else’s personal beliefs, challenge their system of beliefs, or deny them the chosen beliefs that comfort and guide them. Not even a little bit. This is not about that.

Finding peace and balance is a very personal journey.

Finding peace and balance is a very personal journey.

If you read this blog now and then, you are probably aware that I have a certain…cynicism is a good word… about medicine, and specifically the practice of medicine relevant to women, and our experiences. Still, so many of us get to a place in life where our desperation and suffering require intervention, because we are challenged to find solutions within, and many of us choose the Rx solution recommended to us. Sometimes that’s a life saver. Sometimes it is a game changer. Sometimes it is a real and very practical solution to get us through the hard times. For me… when my turn came the solution offered by the VA, in the form of first one pill, then another, then a handful, only seemed to be helping me, and only initially (resulting in ever-increasing dosages and frequencies being prescribed).  Certainly, being stupefied chemically, pacified, and ‘managed’ by way of the careful and regular consumption of mind-altering drugs (and yes, they are) got me promoted at work, and I suppose that matters… but I couldn’t write easily (and you know I love words!) and struggled to paint. When I could paint, it was often only the most wildly fluid abstractions that were still possible. I watched a lot of television, mostly court tv shows; there is something about the interaction of seemingly real authentic people facing challenges that fascinated me, even drugged.

"Metaphor" acrylic on canvas. Painted on Zyprexa

“Metaphor” acrylic on canvas. Painted on Zyprexa

My experiences with chemical intervention in the struggles I faced with my volatility, my PTSD, my temper, and my hormones were disappointing, at best. The drugs the VA gave me slowly wrecked my health, and along the way I gained a lot of weight. The worst thing about all of it? It didn’t ‘work’. I still had to go through it all, endure it all, and get to the ‘other side’ – menopause, better therapy, practicing what worked. I still had to address the real issues of my PTSD.  There was more to know and to learn about taking care of myself, meeting my own needs where I could, and I hadn’t yet found out about my TBI (which is sort of a big deal in the whole ‘taking care of me’ realm). Many of the drugs I was given turn out to be entirely contraindicated because of the TBI; other treatments were more appropriate, safer, more effective, less likely to cause my brain further damage.

Why do I mention it today? Because each and every time I ‘chose the red pill’ hoping for a miracle, I was disappointed when no miracle came. Over and over it broke my heart, to suffer. I felt like I would never be well, and never stop crying.  We put so much faith in our healers, our medicine men, our preachers, our faiths, our pills and cures and potions – and promises. We keep at it, too, as though the issue is not how we’re going about solving the puzzle, but more that we’ve just grabbed the wrong puzzle piece.  For some reason, we don’t just want relief, improvement, progress… we want it now. Right now. No delay and no real effort.  Pills are much easier than working to improve, so much easier than practicing a skill.  Choosing a different approach was much more challenging than choosing a different pill.

Sip of coffee. A calming breath. A reminder; this is not about you. :-)

A sip of coffee. A calming breath.

Pausing for a moment to reflect on my experience; I hope you are reflecting on yours, too, and in loving kindness, and awareness that your choices are your own, chosen by you, doing the best you can. I hope whatever you choose works to improve your experience over time, too, and if that means an Rx solution to some challenge or another, I hope you get the relief you need, and find wellness and contentment. You get no criticism from me; we’re different people. 🙂

It took me the better part of 2 years to get off the various psych meds the VA had put me on. It was harder than it had to be; there’s limited information of what the experience of going off some drugs is going to be like, and in some cases it is beyond scary, in others the damage left behind was unanticipated, and required further recovery.  Throughout the process I had the emotional support of friends and loved ones to complete the undertaking; very few of them ever thought I needed those drugs in the first place, although obviously something needed to be done. (Turns out it needed to be done by me, and drugs are not required.)

I can paint again. I can write again. I can think clearly (You, there in the back, no tittering!). Let’s be fair, though, I’m not doing nothing. I am doing a lot to take care of me, and it is an active process requiring my time and attention, my will, and my effort: meditation, yoga, study, practicing, modeling new behavior, role-playing the deconstruction of bad programming and conversations that could have been healing if handled differently, developing greater emotional intelligence, learning to ‘take care of me’… I barely have time for life and work, I put so much time and effort into learning to treat myself and others well, and healing, and achieving emotional wellness.  A pill would be much easier; there isn’t one for what I need.  (A pill never got me off the hook for doing the work that needed to be done, either, but often limited my ability to see that work needed to be done.)

Where am I going with this? Into the trees. 🙂 I’m taking time for me, in the woods, camping and meditating, hiking and sketching. Practicing. Change takes work. Sometimes work requires a bit of elbow room. It’s just 3 days, a long weekend alone, and I’m eager to get started; there are a few hours of work between me and… whoever I am when I walk out of the forest. Monday does not yet exist, and there’s still one last gear check, and packing it all up, loading the car, and a bit of a drive ahead. I have no particular expectations, there is no warning label, no contraindications, no risk of overdose. It’ll be me, and some timeless time alone with my heart. I hope I make skillful use of it, take care of my needs over time, and walk a path that leads… to another path, and probably more practice. lol

Walking my own path.

Walking my own path.

Did I mention? I’ll be away a few days. 🙂

Today is a good day to take a step forward. Today is a good day to breathe. Today is a good day to love and be loved. Today is a good day to walk away with a smile. Today is a good day to change the world.

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Categories Brain Injury, Free Will, grief, Healthy Living, Hormone Hell, Logic & Reason, Love, Menopause, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Relationships, Summer, The Big 5, women, Words

About That Verb…

June 1, 2014 //
0

Strange night. I crashed pretty early, and pretty sleepy. I woke fairly frequently, returning to sleep with minimal effort. I experienced the night as alternating unpredictably between ‘frozen wasteland’ and ‘sweltering tropical swamp’, a common enough experience these days as I trudge the last mile of real estate in Hormone Hell.  It wasn’t ‘a bad night’, just strange.

I woke abominably early, especially for a day off, and figured I’d go ahead and get up; my first choice of activity was meditation, and I spent quite a while practicing Savasana; it’s exceptional for a deep down level of relaxed awareness. It’s also exceptional for returning to the land of dreams, and indeed I found myself ready and able to cash in that token for another hour or two of sleep, and dreams.  I woke later, made coffee, and settled in for some quiet study time in the twilight of dawn. Books and blogs, catching up on old favorites, and exploring new ones. I do love words.

I woke with plans to explore a local nature park on foot with my new hydration daypack, getting used to the weight, and encumbered movement; I prefer to travel light when I’m out and about, sometimes eschewing even a handbag, in favor of a lighter, smaller, card case or simple folding wallet (or my id and a handful of badly folded bills shoved into a pocket, let’s be honest).  My partners recent interest in outdoor fun got me excited, too. Yesterday I shopped for a pack, and eventually found what I was looking for to get started with.

It's purple!!

It’s purple!!

I am amused by how often one partner or another has to remind me I am not in the Army now. lol. I am delighted by this compact hydration pack and it’s very very purple color; it is not OD green. 🙂  It’s also not a man’s pack and fits me better than anything the Army ever issued me.  It’s not a big pack, and it isn’t intended for weeks of forward deployment. What it is, is large on water at 100 oz, and compact at 10 liters of volume. I was so excited that as soon as I got home I filled the reservoir, fitted it, packed the few odds and ends from my basic gear list that I’ve already got and wore it around the house for a while, like a kid with new super hero pajamas.  I eagerly planned, then, to spend much of today out and about, walking the trails of a nearby nature park, and getting acclimated to walking with weight on my busted up back; safety first.

There is so much to explore...

There is so much to explore…

Real life is not what our desires and expectations dictate, it is what it is. I woke this morning, early. I woke this morning content and serene. I also woke this morning with stiff knees and ankles and a noteworthy backache. So. Maybe not today; there are more days ahead on the calendar, and time for life and love. Today, perhaps, is a better day for reading, writing, laughing, and for laundry, and gardening, and a second cup of good coffee. Today is a good day to be patient with myself, and to enjoy life gently.

Today is a good day to change the world.

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Categories Brain Injury, Free Will, Healthy Living, Menopause, Mindfulness, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Sleepless Nights, The Big 5, Uncategorized, women, Words

Taking Steps

May 29, 2014 //
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As recently as 5 years ago, my mobility (and joy in life) were incredible limited by my weight.  Over time I had continued to gain weight for a number of reasons, certainly including the very important reason that I really just didn’t do very much.  Between fighting my demons, taking medication to make that less difficult for those around me, and the slow descent into profound apathy toward life, in general, I gained weight at a predictably steady rate. When I started losing that weight, and slowing gaining some sort of motivation regarding life, if not actual joy in it, it was a process of choices and actions; progress was made over time.

I routinely walk between 5 and 8 miles a day, these days. I’m still heavier than I’d ideally like to be. My personal goal and sense of ‘this would be the most beautiful me’ are not particularly tied to cultural norms for beauty, over the years I’ve gotten past that bit of baggage, thankfully. I’d like to be healthy, fit, and able to live a long time.  Still, these knees and ankles don’t make it effortless, even now, and I’m not close enough to my goals to rest easy. There is more work to be done. I like enjoying my life, and for me that means freedom of movement, as much as I can manage. So, I walk. I do yoga. I get fitter. I get stronger. I make small gains in freedom of movement, gait, and comfort.

I still have a journey ahead of me, and with my partners eagerly embracing a new-found interest, or rekindling an old interest, in outdoor fun: hiking, kayaking, camping – I am struggling with a feeling of ‘falling behind’. It’s still a journey. It’s still my journey. The temptations of what I do not yet achieve with ease seem to be dangling in front of me, just out of reach. It’s hard not to be frustrated by that, sometimes. My journey, however, is my own, and it isn’t the same journey as the journey each of my loves, my friends, my associates takes; their journey is their own as well. I don’t grudge them their joys; I am human enough to experience envy and frustration at the tantalizing bits of those journeys I would like to share.

It isn't always obvious why the path is what it is.

It isn’t always obvious why the path is what it is.

So I wake this morning, quietly, hoping not to disturb the sleep of a partner heading into adventure today. I do hope for pictures, although I don’t expect them; life is best lived, full on, attentively, and in-the-moment. I wouldn’t ask him to sacrifice one second of that experience just to grab a photograph. I yearn to go along, sometime, and feel a poignant moment of recognition that I am not ready, yet.

So…more miles, walking, and it’s time to vary the terrain and stray from pavement. I’m shopping for a good daypack, and when I find the best fit, I’ll start walking with that, too. Every step forward, however small, is progress along the journey. It’s been a long time since Nijmegen, and I may never be fit enough for something like that again… but I’d love to be walking up a mountain trail with my loves, with my friends, to a destination in the wilderness, even if it isn’t very wild, or very far away; there’s a lot of beauty in the world, and I’d like to see more.

I spent the morning shopping for gear, feeling hopeful and encouraged, and ready to take another step.

Today is a good day for forward momentum. Today is a good day to experience life with eyes wide open, and an eager curiosity. Today is a good day to change the world.

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Categories Anxiety, Brain Injury, Free Will, Healthy Living, Logic & Reason, Love, Menopause, Mindfulness, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Sleepless Nights, The Big 5, Words