The morning was clear and cold, as I left the house. The sky was flecked with stars and the waning moon peered down at me from above my quiet neighborhood. By the time I reached my halfway point on this morning’s walk, a dense mist was gathering, and I am now wrapped in fog. Change is.
I sit quietly with my thoughts. I meditate. I exist. The moment feels timeless and static, fixed in place, and unchanging. It is an illusion. Moments are brief. The mist gets thicker, as the clock ticks onward.
Can a picture truly capture a moment and hold it still?
I sigh to myself, filling my lungs with the cold morning air and exhaling, adding the mist of my breath to the morning fog. Nice moment, this. I could almost imagine that the world is at peace, that people feel safe in their communities, and that the world is a rational, ethical, nurturing place…
I haven’t looked at the news today. I don’t plan too, beyond what may be shared to me by my Traveling Partner, or in the course of the work day. Very little changes there, and between the atrocities of foreign genocides, global human rights abuses, and the horrors of American governance in the current administration, I have no stomach for it, and no need to see the same terrible news every day. It isn’t new at all. That, and then also the ads and the ever devolving quality of the writing, generally. Omg, AI “writers” are hilariously bad, and the prevalent errors and outright falsehoods are… unacceptable. So…no. Not this morning. I’ll just sit here, enjoying my peaceful morning, feeling safely wrapped in the mist.
I sit thinking about it being “Banned Books Week“. Good week to buy real books by human authors – particularly any of the many excellent books that piss off the government. It’s not healthy for our freedom to permit someone else to tell us what we can’t read. I’ve got a lovely long list of books I’d like to read… The holidays are coming. 😁
Daybreak comes gently. The fog seems to take on a hint of blue. My mind already feels “too busy” and my calendar “too full” – but it is an ordinary work day, and I’ve actually only got one errand to run. I slept well and deeply last night, but somehow already feel tired almost to the point of exhaustion. I find myself missing the company and laughter of old friends, and the wise counsel of my Dear Friend, and my Granny. We are mortal creatures. The clock is always ticking, and the grains of sand in the hourglass are finite
I breathe, exhale, and relax. Workers begin arriving to start their day in the vineyards alongside the trail. It was inevitable; it is time to begin again.
It isn’t personal. Even when it feels personal, and pretty much whatever it is, it isn’t actually personal.
That car that cut you off in traffic, or “brake-checked” you on the highway? Not personal. That other driver is having their own experience.
The rude barista, check out person, or frosty receptionist? It’s not personal. They’re having their own experience.
Random moments of unpleasantness and stress day-to-day are so incredibly unlikely to be “about” us in any way. Even the targeted attacks of bullies have more to do with their poor character and mental health than anything to do with their victims. We make shit personal in our own heads. We “take” shit personally – and there are choices and verbs involved. We could choose to practice non-attachment and refrain from centering ourself in someone else’s experience. One of the hardest things for me to learn has been how very little of what is going on, even in my own relationships, has anything to do with me, personally, at all. It’s actually a disturbingly impersonal world.
An autumn morning at daybreak, a new day.
I sit at the halfway point on my morning walk, perched on a bench under a cloudy sky that hides a full moon. Feels like it might rain… but the air doesn’t have that scent. The air smells of autumn, fallen leaves, the persistent dampness left behind in shady places by last week’s rain. It smells, too, of distant wildfires, and nearby chimneys. I’m cozy in a new cardigan, chosen for fit, price, and appearance, that turns out to also be quite comfy and warm. “Unbothered”, I think to myself when I seek to define my feelings this morning.
My night seemed brief and restless. My Traveling Partner had a difficult night struggling with some sort of unwellness. I woke from a deep sleep at his vexed exclamation, and for the next four and a half hours snatched whatever brief naps I could between his bouts of illness and physical difficulty. Was he “keeping me awake”? Not exactly. Partly, sure, and not through any intention – noise is noise. That surely wasn’t personal. The rest was me; half awake, alert to hear him if he called out to me, concerned, wanting to be available and ready if he needed me.
I woke minutes ahead of my alarm. I thought I’d turned that off to get some little bit more sleep? Apparently not. Didn’t matter, I woke early anyway. I was groggy and stupid, but also more concerned about slipping away quietly and letting my beloved get the rest he needed.
My thoughts wander back to a couple nights ago when he angrily chastised me for clearing my throat in an adjacent room and preventing him from sleeping. That also wasn’t personal – just irritating; I had “swallowed wrong” and was choking a bit on saliva that had gone down my trachea instead of my esophagus, making me cough and clear my throat several times, in a few short minutes. I had expected some amount of concern or sympathy, and feel a bit hurt looking back on that, as I compared circumstances. It wasn’t at all personal, though. We are each individuals having their own experience. Things aren’t always “about” us, even when we’ve centered ourself in our own experience, or lack understanding of some other. It feels a little unfair, but it’s not about that either.
I hear my Dad’s voice in my memory, “life isn’t fair,” he often said, not bemoaning the fact, just pointing it out. I guess that’s true… but “fair” is a helpful goal and “perspective” is a useful tool.
I breathe, exhale, and relax. Self-care is going to matter sooo much today. I’m starting the day tired, and the day ahead will be a busy one. I struggle to recall any tasks or errands I may have committed to beyond the work day. I feel certain there was something… but it evades my recollection. Fatigue reliably impairs my cognitive function before it really shows. I remind myself to slow down and be patient with myself, and to set clear, firm boundaries, and use expectation setting to support my practical limitations.
… I wish I didn’t have to work, but wishing is not an effective practice…
None of it is personal. Humans being human. Circumstances. Choices. Time and timing. I take another deep cold breath of the autumn air as daybreak creeps up on me. Chilly fingers yearn to find warmth and comfort in deeper pockets than these… and even the stupidity of tiny pockets on women’s clothing is an impersonal vexation. I let it go. I chuckle to myself; I let a lot of things go. I’m generally happier for it. Non-attachment is a powerful practice.
I sigh and watch the clouds overhead, shifting and roiling across the sky. It’s already time to begin again. I’ll do my best.
A piece of trim fell off my everyday glasses a couple days ago, and I haven’t found it. I’m working in the office, instead of from home as I had planned. The coffee drive-through I like to frequent on a workday didn’t open this morning. I poked myself in the eye by mistake. I forgot the midday snack I’d meant to bring for later. I stubbed my toe on my way into the office and dropped my computer bag on my foot.
All of these are minor aggravations barely worth a moment of my attention. There are no bombs dropping here – a useful observation for some perspective. There was a time when any one of these things would have had me angry enough, frustrated enough, to really mess up my day. I’m grateful to practice other practices, these days, than uncontrolled anger and frustration*. Anger and frustration not only wreck my own mood, but they are “contagious” to be around, and tend to degrade the quality of any shared experience. It helps to put these things into context, to frame them differently, and to understand them in a broader perspective (which is a choice I can make).
…So I do that…
I’ve got another pair of glasses with the correct prescription in them (I feel both grateful and fortunate). I have the convenient option to work in the office or from home any day; it’s my choice either way (and I am fortunate to have that choice and appreciate it greatly). There’s decent quality local coldbrew on tap in the office that is provided at no (direct) cost (and I’m grateful to have it). Poking myself in the eye did no lasting damage, and already doesn’t hurt at all (only minutes later). I forgot my snack, but I remembered my lunch, so it doesn’t actually matter. My foot aches a bit but I’ve got my cane handy anyway, and it is a minor aggravation that lacks meaning (even as pain) in the context of the everyday experience of chronic pain – it could be worse. Hell, I’m grateful to be able to walk.
…Better…
So, I breathe, exhale, and relax, and sip my icy cold brew. It’s not a great cup of coffee and the morning has not been a great experience, but it’s only a moment out of a day, and it will pass. I find the experience of anger fairly toxic – my own anger, within myself, specifically. I don’t care for the experience of feeling angry, or having someone in my vicinity dealing with their own experience of anger. It is, for me, wholly unpleasant. It is also reported to be unhealthy to squelch it entirely and take no action to resolve whatever has brought it to the surface in the first place. There’s a balance to strike with regard to anger. Venting doesn’t work to resolve anger – it just tends to become a practice of being angry. Not a great state of being (or practice), in my opinion, and I like to choose (and cultivate) other more positive ways to approach circumstances*. Gratitude certainly feels better than anger…
I have a lot to be grateful for. I sip my coffee contentedly and prepare to begin again.
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*And I do have to actually choose and actually practice! Anger management is a skill that needs to be cultivated and practiced and worked at and… I’m very human. My results vary. lol I’m ever so much better at keeping my anger in check in a healthy way and communicating my feelings with care these days than I was years ago, but it has taken years of practice. Be patient with yourself, if you struggle with anger. Keep practicing. Incremental change over time will win… in time. 😀
In much the same way as “the clothes make the man”, the sunrise makes the day. To be most brief; it doesn’t. At all.
I say this after driving to the trailhead this morning watching a sunrise so colorful and splendid that it obscured all possible awareness of what tends to make such beautiful displays as dawn becomes day (which is typically some sort of terrible pollution in the air, or wildfires, rarely anything good).
I tried to snap a picture of this morning’s unbelievably beautiful sunrise. The sort of bold magentas and subtle lavenders that I feel inspired to paint. They seem unreal even in a photograph. The magenta and lavender hues gave way to bolder oranges, and tangerine and gold, and a vaguely bilious yellow green strip along the horizon as the sun began to rise above the hilltops. In between the streaked clouds, a delicate cerulean blue peaked through. No photograph could capture this tremendous display of beauty and color. I did try. lol
You had to be there.
By the time I reached the trailhead, the sunrise was over. The morning is quite cloudy and hints at rain. The ferocious heat has abated somewhat, and it is cooler than it has been, pleasantly so. The morning is quiet, but here in this place, I do hear the traffic on the adjacent highway as I lace up my boots. I listen to little birds chirping and carrying on, and I wonder what they are so excited about first thing?
Yesterday was interesting. Most of it was quite lovely, and spent in the good company of my beloved Traveling Partner. There were some moments that I will reflect on fondly for some time to come and I feel very loved. There were also a couple of moments that I could have done without, and I feel my expression change when I recall them. Humans being human. The moments don’t define the day.
I set off down the trail. I hear distant voices. I see hot air balloons in the sky, visible but quite far away. I walk the marsh trail, more meadow than marsh this time of year. I walk along the river. Somewhere nearby a duck quacks. A chipmunk darts across the path, as it turns and winds through the oak groves.
The map is not the world.
The journey is the destination, and the map is not the world. Our plan is not our experience. What we choose to wear, the words we say, the things we have or yearn for, these are not the essence of who we are. It’s closer to the truth to say that we are the path we walk, the choices we make, and the accumulated outcomes of those choices. We are the lived expression of our values – our real values, not the ones we say are dear to us, nor some trendy popular sound bite. A flag sticker on a vehicle doesn’t make the driver a patriot, nor does a catchy slogan make a responsible citizen (or a good leader). We tell the world (and those dearest to us) who we are through our actions, everything else is more like something we’re wearing, I think. Still chosen. We are, more than anything, the sum of our choices.
… Choose wisely…
I smile thinking about precious lived moments of love with my Traveling Partner. We’re unquestionably human, both of us, but g’damn do I ever love this particular human being with all my heart. I easily forgive and overlook little hurtful moments because they are few and only moments. No one moment defines the profound enduring love we share. He “gets me”. We know each well and deeply. Our lives have become so entwined over time I can’t imagine what life would be like without him. My smile deepens, recalling the unexpected gift he gave me yesterday, a small figure of a favorite anime character. Doesn’t matter why this character is among my favorites, but it certainly says something about me to see them there on my desk together: Wonder Woman, Major Kusanagi, Professor Chaos, and now Kento Nanami joins them. Aspirational role models? Avatars? Totems? I don’t know… little godlings perhaps, standing as light posts on a quiet street on a dark night. They represent qualities I seek and embrace within myself, or acknowledge and work to overcome. Definitely a bit of both; our heroes are as flawed as we are ourselves.
Who are your heroes? Why them?
I sit at my halfway point thinking and writing. Realizing that I don’t actually know who my partner’s heroes are. Not explicitly. I don’t think I’ve ever asked, though we share more of our inner lives with each other than most people likely do. Interesting. What an odd thing. I could guess, but guessing is a pretty poor way to gather information. I think I’ll ask sometime.
I sit awhile thinking about this man I love and who loves me so dearly in return. We’ve traveled some miles together. I hope we share many more. He has become part of me. This love we share is one of the best parts of who I have become over time.
If the sunrise doesn’t make the day, what does? No one moment is the entirety of a day unless we allow it to become so. A day is not the entire lifetime, any more than a step is the whole journey. We have so many opportunities to begin again if things go sideways or we step off the path.
What does “make the man”? For me? His values. His lived values. It’s not necessary for someone to tell you what they value with their words, their actions tell you all you need to know. What are you telling the world about who you are and what you value, with your actions? Are you satisfied with the picture your actions paint? If not, you have choices, and you can begin again.
I sigh and glance at the time. There’s this trail, and the day, ahead of me and the clock is ticking. I smile and stretch and get to my feet.
I’m sipping my coffee and doing specific work that requires an occasional “proper break” to step away and give my mind a rest. It exposes me to some poor behavior human beings are sometimes prone to: dishonesty, entitlement, poor character, scams, frauds, and general terrible behavior. I sigh quietly and stare out into the sky, mostly blue, hints of the gray clouds that covered the sky earlier as they shred and drift away. Good and bad, this is a very human experience.
I remind myself that “one bad apple” may “spoil the barrel”, but it doesn’t ruin the entire harvest. Just saying – don’t let a single bad apple discourage you from enjoying the fruits of the tree. There’s more to humanity than any one bad actor. There’s more to people than the terrible behavior of some few. The bad character of one individual is not the measure of a population, or a culture. Shitty human beings doing terrible things are by far the rarity, and like “one bad apple” in a barrel, closely connected to other apples by proximity or association, rot may spread – but out in the open, among many, in the light of day? That rot doesn’t spread so far or so fast. One bad apple from a single tree in a vast orchard hardly counts for much. Move on and taste sweeter fruit!
I smile to myself. I’m enjoying the metaphor. It’s nearly Spring. There is blue sky overhead and gardening to do (metaphorically, and in practical terms). I enjoy my coffee, and my break, before I begin again. Terrible human beings and those merely “of poor character” are not worth taking personally, but it’s ideal to avoid them, whenever possible. I think about the world, about my place in it, and about “being the change” – and being the best version of myself I know how to be. I can do better than yesterday, today, and better still tomorrow. I’ll just keep beginning again.
Each step along this path has been worthy in it’s own distinct way, although I don’t always see it at the time I take the step.
The journey is the destination. I’ll stay on my path.
Evening Light 