It is a Friday morning. It’s also payday. I get an iced coffee on my way to the trailhead. Blonde roast, black coffee, extra ice.
[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]
The coffee tastes almost sweet. I love that first drinkable sip and the refreshing feeling of the ice cold liquid chilling me just a little with each swallow. I reach the trailhead, park, and sort myself out for the walk. Cane. Headlamp. Rain poncho. Yep – the sprinkling that followed me here continues to fall quite steadily, and I definitely want my rain poncho. My iced coffee goes back to the cupholder, my feet to the pavement.
I start down the trail happily contemplating the day ahead, and the weekend. I’ve got a room on the coast for a couple days of storm watching and painting. I’m grateful that my Traveling Partner pointed out the excellent price for the room. I feel loved and understood. He’ll get a couple days without dealing with my challenges on top of his while he works on projects of his own. We both benefit from these little breaks, they tend to remind us of the love we share. I miss him ferociously when we are apart, even if I’m just grocery shopping.
So…a short shift at work and home to pack and head down the highway.
I walk on, thinking about “curses” and hexes. Why? Um…why not? Actually, it’s the remnants of lingering contemplation of a video we watched last night. No link, it wasn’t that good, but it left a residue of unfinished thoughts in my head. I walk on, thinking my thoughts.
The rain continues to fall. Properly raining now, and I half wish I had slept in and had hot coffee at home. I’m not complaining, really, I also like the rain. I like the scent that rises from the wet ground, and the hint of wood smoke on the gusts of wind that whip past me intermittently. I reach my halfway point; a broken down picnic table shoved back under what is left of the tree canopy overhead, evergreens mingled with deciduous trees. I write a bit. Meditate. Respond to my beloved when he pings me to ask about my plan. I feel uplifted and merry.
I chuckle to myself remembering the books I packed for my coastal getaway away. William S.. Burroughs “Naked Lunch” and Thich Nhat Hanh “The Heart of the Buddha’s Teachings”. No, I don’t have an answer for “why those, though?”, they drew my attention from the bookshelf so I dropped them into my “bag of fun distractions”, which also includes my poetry notebook. My mind runs through all the packing steps, for later.
… I’m trying something daring today; no packing list. My intention is to stay present and aware, to take my time and also complete my packing with no drama and nothing forgotten. It’s a hell of a feat to put in front of myself. I feel confident I can manage it…
I breathe, exhale, and relax. The rain falls. The day ahead has purpose, and I feel ready to begin. I get to my feet and stretch before I resume walking. Lovely morning for it. I am thinking of that iced coffee waiting for me in the car. I laugh and wipe the rain from my face and my glasses, turn on my headlamp, and start down the trail.
Or, more specifically, in it. It was the “joyful noise” that distracted me from what I was doing, which was a less than ideally productive bit of messing about with a painting I already knew had “failed” – so I was working and overworking it, trying to find something in it worth keeping. I did not. The noise down on the beach wafted up at regular intervals. Cheering. Clapping. A crowd of merry-makers. It is, after all, a beach, and it is the end of summer.
[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]
My back was aching, anyway. I stood and stretched to take a break and step out onto the balcony to see the source of the noise. A dense gathering of people, on day I might not expect so large a crowd unless for a planned event (like the kite flying event going on further up the beach this weekend). I watch and listen. I can’t make out the words, other than an occasional call for “the next” to come into the water. There the crowd, on the edge of the water. The bay is very shallow and it is low tide (just 12 minutes ago). There is a man separated from the crowd, further out, where the (very) shallow bay reaches waist deep on an average-sized man, which this one appears to be. He raises his arms to the sky, calls to the next person, they come to him in the water – and he dunks them in. The crowd goes wild with cheers, clapping, and calls of “hallelujah!”. Full immersion baptism is still a thing in some Christian denominations. (I can’t say I really “understand”, but understanding is not what religions are about.)
…I rather question doing that sort of thing in the muddy water of Siletz Bay, but it isn’t my religion, and I really just don’t have a horse in that race…
I stand on the balcony watching for a little while. I find myself wondering why the many followers of the god of Abraham, Isaac, and Moses Jacob* don’t all recognize each other on the path? Why are they at odds, ever? The ink on a set of holy documents is barely dry before older sects decry the false gods and heresies of a religion that just seems like more of the same to me, with my outsider’s perspective. Fighting like poorly behaved siblings, and very much in need of a nap. Real community develops around shared ideas (and suspicions), but it is a shame so much damage is done in the world over religion(s).
A September morning at Siletz Bay, and no hint that a sunny afternoon is ahead.
I take a breath of the clean sea air. The afternoon is warm after a chilly, overcast, misty morning. When did that change occur, I find myself wondering. I had been “distracted” from watching the clouds and the changing tide, focused on a small 5″ x 7″ piece of carefully prepared board, on which I had been utterly failing to achieve anything that could actually be called “art’. The colors came out muddy and imprecise, and the lack of precision wasn’t the serendipitous sort I often count on, it was more the failed chaos of the lack of clarity of mind that sometimes comes “as a side” with inspiration (for me). Too many ideas, and I failed to select the focal point of the work with sufficient care. The piece doesn’t know what it wants to be, at all, and our dialogue fails to reach an understanding between thought and execution.
Afternoon sunshine, ripples on water.
…The warm afternoon sunshine cares nothing about such things. I make a cup of tea and take it out onto the balcony, to listen to the waves as the tide turns…
I briefly consider taking pictures of the baptism ceremony happening on the beach below me, and decide against it. Isn’t part of what’s gone wrong in the world the loss of privacy from too many of our personal moments being photographed by (or for) strangers and unseen cameras? Turning our lived moments into “content” for the broader consumption of others is a little weird, is it not? Were I participating in such a moving personal moment as my baptism into a religion, I would certainly not want to discover later that it was published somewhere, in an article I had no opportunity to see or consider, putting me on display for anyone at any moment. Nope. I would not care for that at all. So… I put my camera down, and sipped my tea instead.
A recent sunrise near home. A moment of lived experience that will never be repeated quite as it was.
We make moments. We make art. These are very human things. Lived experience. You know what “AI” doesn’t have? Any of that. No comprehension. No emotion. No pleasure in a moment of lived experience. No context. No compersion. No joy. No ability to grow wisdom through failure – because there is no understanding. I watch the sun beginning the slow summer journey from afternoon to eventual nightfall. It’ll come when it comes. Watching a sunset on a warm summer afternoon is also a very human experience. However many times you might get an AI to describe a sunset, it has never seen one. You may not like everything about every group of people, but do you really want to abdicate human decision-making about human lives to some thoughtless algorithm that doesn’t understand the consequences of its decisions and can’t comprehend the outcome? That can’t ever understand the emotional and real-world cost of taking human lives? I sip my tea and think my thoughts as I watch the human beings on the beach doing human things. Living their lives.
An unexpected visitor.
Gulls sail past on eddies of air currents invisible to me. They watch me sitting on the balcony, expectantly. Will I, perhaps, bring something tasty out onto the balcony and carelessly look away? They are practiced at this. I can see from the spatterings of bird poop on the balcony rail that this is a stopping point for one or more of these birds. (Earlier this morning, I turned and found myself facing a lone pigeon sitting on the rail. Gulls are bigger, but it’s no surprise when they stop on the balcony or on the rail – tourists mean snacks..) I watch the small fishing boats out in the choppy waters at the mouth of the bay. This is a popular spot for fishers.
I sip my tea, and think about love. The moment feels eternal. I’m not in any hurry, and I can’t hear the clock ticking at all. 🙂
*and a quick “thanks!” for my Traveling Partner, who definitely knows more about Christianity than I do!!
I breathe, exhale, and relax, and set aside everything else but this view and this moment for one minute. Just one minute of pure beautiful stillness, listening to the wind and the waves. How about it? Can you… not?
Taking just one minute.
[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]
One minute can feel unexpectedly long without any distractions. Why race through life’s finite precious moments at the speed of doom scrolling? Take a minute. Breathe. Slow down. Savor the moment. This one. The next. Each moment is unique and fleeting. Unrepeatable.
… Being present slows that ticking clock…
Another breath, another moment, another beginning. I reread the last few pages of the book I brought with me; I had fallen asleep reading last night, and I felt certain I’d missed something. I wasn’t wrong. 😆
I finish one last cup of coffee as I lay out my work space on the small table in this room. Spending a day painting nurtures something within myself that I can’t satisfy any other way, but there’s no need to rush. I can take all the time I need.
An easel and a view.
I sigh contentedly and take a minute to listen to the wind and the waves, and to gaze quietly out the window before I begin again.
Wind and waves and shades of blue.
I pause my painting to consider lunch. I settle for a cup of tea and a multivitamin, and return to my easel. The ocean has taken on a cloudy gray appearance and the shades of blue shift towards a troubled gray green. The gulls seem to like it, and they drift across my view surfing the invisible waves and currents in the air. It pleases me greatly to stare out at the changing view with my pastels in front of me. I add a hue to my palette. I remove others. I feel relaxed and unbothered and in my element.
… Given the time and resources, I might spend every day at my easel…
I sigh to myself happily, stretching and working the kinks out of my neck and back before I return to creative work. This fragile vessel needs a certain amount of care and maintenance if it is expected to endure hours at my easel, however delightfully those hours may pass. 😆
I breathe, exhale, and relax. I tape a fresh piece of pastelbord to my easel, and begin again.
I’m waiting for the sun before I head down the road on today’s adventure. I don’t have a serious aversion to driving in the dark, I just like seeing the sights when I go somewhere new. I’m also having some gastrointestinal distress this morning, and prefer not to rush away from a relatively nearby restroom quite yet. Just in case. lol Being a human primate is occasionally rather inconvenient, and very biological. So, I wait for the sun, and I wait for my guts to settle down.
Today is my last vacation day. I definitely needed this downtime. I’ve definitely enjoyed it. The choice to see new places and hike new trails was a good one. I filled my senses with new experiences, new sights, and filled my soul with new inspiration. It’s been lovely. It rained (a lot) but that’s part of life (and Spring) in the Pacific Northwest. I’m okay with it.
Today I’ll visit a place I’ve been, but from a very different perspective on life, and also visit a state park I’ve wanted to go to for a long time (I hear the trails are great) but simply haven’t made the time. Along the way, I’ll also check out a business resource for my Traveling Partner’s business (still manages to feel like an adventure). It’s planned to be a good day. I wonder what I will think looking back on it, later? Will I remember this moment of somewhat uncomfortable waiting?
Whatever the day holds, it’s mine and I’ll live it with presence and enthusiasm. Why not? The time, the timing, and the itinerary are my own. I chose my path, and I will walk it. I’m certain to be having my own experience. There’s quite a lot of freedom in that. Feels good. Joyful.
Begin where you are.
I watch the sky as daybreak begins to show through the clouds. Soon it will be time to begin. It’s another new day, full of promise and potential.
I’m sipping my coffee. Just that. I’m taking a moment of time out of the day to simply sit, quietly. Not only is there no “shame” in taking this time for myself, between doing the budget for this pay period and starting the workday, it’s quite necessary for me to thrive that I take this time to simply be. No pressure to perform. No agenda. Nothing that must be done right this minute. There are opportunities to make room for stillness throughout any given day – for all of us – it’s a matter of taking that time and making it one’s own. It does require an act of will, particularly on a busy or stressful day. A moment spent just being… not fixing things, not ruminating over the latest stressful detail, not troubleshooting nor planning, simply a moment of stillness spent… being. I breathe, exhale, and relax.
…I could be doing a thing, my busy brain reminds me somewhat anxiously…
Another breath, another sip of coffee. I look out the window onto the morning. It’s not yet daybreak, and there is no hurry. There’s only this moment, and me, some stillness, and this coffee. It’s enough. More than that, it’s quite necessary.
…Metaphorically speaking…
I sit contentedly for some time before I turn back to my computer to write these few words about that simple experience. It does require a choice. Recognition that I am deserving of my own time and attention for this little while. The willingness to make inaction the action I am choosing to indulge for some little while. Purposeful contented stillness in the midst of a busy day feels… luxurious. No shame, guilt, nor reqret, just a lovely moment spent on… quietly being.
I am reading Vita Contemplativa by Byung-Chul Han. A worthy read about the pursuit and value of inactivity. The luxury of leisure. The worthiness of stillness to fuel creativity and thought. Another quite slim, small volume filled with big thoughts. I’m having to take it in small moments to give myself the chance to reflect and consider what I’ve read – and I am inspired. These notions about the value of stillness, inactivity, and rest really resonate with me.
I consider my dueling nature; the artist and the analyst. The girl who can read for hours and the woman who is aware there is yet more housekeeping to do. The daydreamer whiling away the day and the purposeful individual completing tasks on a list one by one. The driver heading for the horizon without a destination, and the one with a carefully planned route to a place that must be reached. The woman with a deadline and the one who does not care about time. What matters most, I wonder? Who am I when I am alone with the woman in the mirror?
I smile to myself. Having succeeded in taking a few minutes to just be, and to enjoy that moment without anxiety – or purpose – really refreshed and energized me. I feel “ready for the day” in some way that I don’t reach any other way. Is this “real” or an illusion? Does that even matter, if this is the experience I am having?
I glance at the time and finish my writing. I’ll finish, here, then finish my coffee without hurrying the moment. Stillness and time to reflect and simply be, first – I can begin again sometime after that. My calendar and my list will still be waiting there for me.
