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I Screwed Up

November 1, 2024 //
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I’m no “expert” – not on mindfulness, nor CBT, nor emotional intelligence… I’m just a human being making my own way, fortunately with some help, and willing to talk about it pretty openly. (Definitely don’t look to me for the last word in whatever it is you most yearn to discover!) I’m not the expert you may be seeking. Limited education. No relevant credentials. Just a person, and not even a person of note. lol My opinions and experience are only that; mine. Subjective.  Lived in context. I share them with these caveats. (And thanks for reading.)

I was reflecting on something to do with the last few months of my Dear Friend’s life, recently (grief being a peculiar process that takes an unknown very individual amount of time, apparently). It occured to me that she had made it super clear she knew the end was coming, and was ready to face it, and explicitly opened the door to having conversations about that – clearly wanting to – and I missed that cue, choosing instead to offer reassurance, any time it came up. I failed her. She wanted to talk. She wanted to talk to me, and I did not give her that opportunity, when I so easily could have done so. I could have said something like “do you want to talk more about that, or are you making an observation?” I could have said “please tell me more”, or “help me understand why you feel this way right now?” I didn’t do any of those things because I wasn’t ready to face her mortality with her. How cruel and and how foolish. I could have done better as a friend. Why do I mention it, now? Only because you could perhaps do better, when that opportunity is given to you, when some friend or loved one says they feel the end is near, or that they “may not recover from this” – whatever “this” is – giving you the chance to listen and be there for them. You could choose something deeper and more intimate and… stronger… than reassurance. You could encourage them to talk, and allow them to share, and be there to listen – because you care.

Well, shit. This is one of those “no second chances” things, eh? I don’t even consider myself someone who has a problem facing death; I know we are mortal creatures. What I clearly do have a problem with is the pain of being uncomfortable with a loved one’s pain or sorrow or fear or anger or discomfort (no kidding). It’s a major character flaw. I should do something about it. I sit awhile with that thought…

Some time later my thinking takes me back around to discussions my Traveling Partner tries to have with me about his experience of injury, recovery, and disability. I can do better than I have. I think about it awhile longer, grateful to “have another chance”. I think about discussions of illness and mortality I have similarly tried to have with him, and his persistent attempts to reassure me and move on. I get it. Everyone wants to be heard, and hard conversations remain hard. Something to consider and to work on.

A steady rain falls this morning. I’d hoped for a break in the rain, but it doesn’t seem likely. Day of the Dead; the weather seems fitting, as I sit here missing those who’ve already gone. I breathe, listening to the rain tapping rhythmically on the car, and my tinnitus ringing and buzzing in my ears. It’s a quiet moment well-suited to reflection. It’s a Friday, too. The weekend ahead is the final stressful couple of days before the presidential election. The year is winding down, and daylight savings time ends Sunday. Shit. That’s all such a lot to take in… I’d rather be sipping coffee while I paint than dealing with all that. It will happen whether I’m paying any attention to it or not.

I remind myself to plan the Thanksgiving meal, grateful that it tends toward a handful of classic holiday favorites. It’s mostly a matter of coordinating tasks, housekeeping, shopping, and cooking. I sigh feeling relieved in spite of anticipating the work involved. As holidays go, it’s pretty routine, and for us, manageably small.

The rain intensifies, becoming a racket of pounding rain for a time. My alarm goes off, reminding me to take my morning medication. One more thing to attend to. Sometimes there seem to be so many…

… I breathe, exhale, and relax, letting my thoughts carry me on to the next moment. Soon it will be time to begin again, and the clock is ticking on this mortal life. This path won’t walk itself.

… The rain stops. I have another chance to walk…

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Categories 2024 Election, Allegories, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, gratitude, grief, loneliness, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, The Art of Being, women

Other Lessons

May 22, 2024 //
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I’m sipping my coffee wrapped in the warmth of my car, parked at my campsite. Cheating? Sure, if you think so. I consider it more… resourceful? A stopgap measure after a night of chilly rain.

I lost a warm layer to a midnight walk to the restroom during the rain; my heavy favorite baggy sweater got damp, and putting it back on before it dries would be foolish (and not at all helpful for being warm). That one less warm layer is the difference between being comfortable by the FireCan at 50°F (about 10° C, so only chilly not “cold”), and.. not being comfortable. lol

Coffee goes cold fast on a chilly morning outside.

…So, I got into the car, started it up, and now I’m drinking my coffee and warming up a bit. At least right now, everything is still quite soggy and chilly, after the night of rain, but I stayed dry in my tent (a waterproof tent really matters) and wisely put anything that needed to be kept dry into the car when it first began sprinkling. Smart. Well… maybe. I have help; my Traveling Partner has stayed in touch and reminded me that the solar panels are not waterproof, which put my attention generally on such things when the time came. lol Is that cheating? Nope. Resourceful. (imo)

…This is a damned good cup of coffee. I smile and think fondly of my Traveling Partner. He’s the one who nagged me to live better when I camp, and to cook real food, and brew freshly ground coffee. Without his influence, I’d be drinking instant coffee and eating hot meals out of a bag that moments before looked like kibble. lol He’s right, this is better, even when the “cooking” is a salad and a grilled cheese, or a hot dog cooked over a campfire.

A great many of life’s most worthy lessons come packaged in some hardship, big or small. Logistical resources and the help (or advice, or encouragement) of friends really matter – and really count among our assets in trying times. Don’t be too proud to “get in the car and warm up”, when the situation calls for it! Taking care of yourself is not a “cheat”. It’s self-care.

In the quiet of the car, my tinnitus seems really loud. Perspective. I look up at the cloudy sky through the sunroof of the car. I pause to appreciate that it isn’t raining. In this cool cloudy weather, my little camp likely won’t dry out without my help. I grin, feeling thankful for my Traveling Partner’s thoughtful gift; a towel (printed as the character Towelie). I laugh. Good advice, “don’t forget to bring a towel!”

…My sweater, spread out over the passenger side headrest while I warm up in the car, is almost dry. Smart use of resources. I’m glad I had a way to dry it quickly.  😀

…After I finish my coffee, I’ll dry things off in my camp, too, and begin again…

Spring flowers weighed down by the rain during the night.
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Categories Allegories, breathe, gratitude, Healthy Living, inspiration, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Practices, Spring, The Art of Being

Listening, Practicing

May 5, 2024 //
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It was early when I got to the trailhead. The rain started, again, as I arrived. It didn’t matter, since the gate was still closed. I sat quietly through the few minutes of waiting,  listening to the rain falling, meditating, waiting, drinking coffee I was grateful to have stopped for (what with the waiting and all).

The gate opens now at 05:30 a.m., and daybreak comes much sooner than it did just a few weeks ago. I move the car into the parking lot, up a hill from the couple of spaces outside the gate. It’s still raining, and I’m still waiting. I’m pretty good at waiting.

I sit with my coffee watching the dark rainy night slowly becoming a gray rainy morning, listening to the rain falling steadily,  drops tapping on the car. Surely there will be sufficient break in the rain to get a good walk in? I think it over, unperturbed by either potential outcome. I find my mind wandering to my upcoming camping trip and wondering if it will rain there, then, too? I’ll go prepared for it.

My head aches ferociously this morning. My arthritis is also quite painful. Head, neck, back… so much pain. I’m glad it’s Sunday. I can put more time and energy on self-care. There’s still laundry and dishes to do… no doubt other things I am overlooking for the moment. Still, it’s a gentle relaxed morning. I’m contented and pretty merry in spite of pain.

I start the car and give the windshield a swipe with the wipers; it sounds like the rain may have stopped, and I want to “take a closer look” before I get out of the car and put my boots on. It’s just a slow spattering of random occasional raindrops now,  suitable for walking…

Once my boots are on, I step onto the gravel trail with a crunch. It’s time to begin again!

A lush and rainy Spring morning

I get back to the car a bit damp, after getting a mile down the trail, and turning back when the rain began falling more steadily, again. The trail along the marsh and riverbank is scented by blooming trees and wildflowers. The rain contributes petrichor and that certain specific freshness of a rainy day. No flocks of geese overhead, but the robins don’t mind the rain, and busily went about the business of finding tasty morsels in the leaf matter and muddy ground along the trail. They watch me as curiously as I watch them.

As I change my boots for sneakers, I think about the day ahead. Already another “benchmark day”, and I have been looking forward to it. Seems a good one for tidying up, too, or helping my Traveling Partner with his projects. Maybe both? I’m not rushing to return home; I know my partner is sleeping and likely had a restless night. I am making a point of giving him time to get some restful sleep before I return home and start making noise. (We’re both fairly light sleepers, prone to being a bit noise-sensitive.)

I sit quietly, contentedly listening to the rain fall, before I begin again… again.

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Categories Allegories, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, inspiration, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Practices, Relationships, Sleepless Nights, solo hiking, Spring, The Art of Being, turning 60, weight loss secrets

Sure and Certain

May 2, 2024 //
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I’m enjoying what seems an unusually quiet morning,  waiting for enough daylight on a dark rainy morning to make out this trail for a morning walk before work. The rain is a soft misty rain that makes no obvious noise on the windshield. An occasional larger drop falls from the branches hanging over head to land with a splat on the window or roof. The loudest sound I hear this morning is my own tinnitus, interrupted now and then with birdsong.

As the sky lightened from black to deep Prussian blue, the rain began to come down harder. So, I continue to wait, now for a break in the rain…

…The darkness dissipates as the day begins…

Yesterday was lovely. My Traveling Partner and I quietly celebrated our now-13-years married, just hanging out and enjoying each other. More elaborate such celebrations need to wait on his complete recovery from his December injury. Progress feels infernally slow sometimes (I imagine even more so for him, an active man in his prime).  I do everything I can – and sometimes push myself beyond my understanding of my limits – seeking to make him more comfortable, and be as helpful as I can in making it easier for him to both rest and heal, and also to stay productive and occupied in a satisfying way. It’s hard sometimes, and I could do a better job of taking care of myself, too. He’s quite helpful there, always considerate of my wellness and likely limits. Good partner, and I am grateful.

…After thirteen years, I am also still very much in love with this man…

The rain makes my back ache fiercely. I add pain medication to my morning medications. It won’t completely resolve the pain I’m in, but it’s certain to help. It’s enough that I should be able to avoid being a bitch because I hurt, and that matters.

I sigh out loud… and begin again.

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Categories Allegories, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, Love, meditation, Moments, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, Spring, The Art of Being

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
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