This morning I woke up feeling subtly different about “things”, generally. It wasn’t a huge obvious change of heart or significant shift in mindset, but there was definitely a hint of a sense of purpose that feels more focused. I like having a plan. A bit of self-reflection can go a long way toward “lighting the path ahead” – like wearing a headlamp on a dark trail. It’s no substitute for sunlight, but it’s better than wandering around in the dark.
I’m sipping my coffee and taking a look at my notes from yesterday. It’s not a detailed plan, just a handful of notes. Something more like a notion of what landmarks to look for on a memorized route than an actual map. For example, “read more bound books” isn’t very specific at all – but I also have an actual stack of books to read, and a list for more that I’d like to read once I’ve finished the stack I’ve got. Now that’s a plan. Well… no. That’s an intention, backed up by physical tools to get the thing done. My plan is to take advantage of quiet time in the evenings to read a bit, and on weekend mornings when my Traveling Partner is sleeping in (when I can’t quite start on housekeeping chores and such because I’d make too much noise), those are good times for reading. If I wake during the night, I’ve got another good opportunity to read a chapter or two, before returning to sleep. That’s a plan. Making it all come together is about the actual actions, and as I said, this morning I woke feeling focused and purposeful – and not just about reading more bound books, there’s more to my notes than that, more that I’d like to do, to live, and to change. So… there are definitely verbs involved. Life to live. Choices to make. We become what we practice, and I’ve plenty of practice ahead of me in the new year.
This morning I am feeling hopeful and encouraged about life, in spite of the chaos of the world. Yes, there’s a lot of distressing horrible shit going on in the world, but very little of that is happening in my little town, and none of it in my home or at my job, and I don’t mean to be selfish or self-centered about this, I’m just saying there’s more to life than the outrage machinery of the media, or the horrors of foreign wars. It’s okay to also embrace hope, and enjoy… joy. In fact, it’s probably healthy, and helpful. So, I make a point of it. I’m not ignoring the shit that needs changing in the world – I’m merely “filling the tank” so that I have the endurance for this race, and the resolve to speak truth to power, and the will to do what I can to make positive changes, even if that is only raising my voice without shame to say “this is wrong, we can do better”.
I breathe, exhale, and relax. I’m already thinking about distant trails, and afternoons camping in forested places. It’s winter now, but Spring will come again. I think about my Dear Friend for a moment. She “gave up” too soon, I’ve often thought. A great many things that we human beings do are more than a little “use it or lose it” in practice. You can love hiking, but if you don’t hike, it slowly becomes more difficult until it’s not easily done at all. This is true even of movement, generally. I don’t want to follow that path, myself, don’t want to “give up” too soon – so I keep walking. I keep camping. I keep working in my garden. (Well, that last is presently a bit aspirational; my untended garden full of weeds vexes me every time I walk past. I can do better. It’s on my list.) It’s easy to feel the fatigue and the pain and to want to just… rest. It’s a risky choice to rest too often for too long. It can too easily become a sedentary life of inactivity and malaise. I keep walking. I keep beginning again. One more step. One more task. Another project. Life is full of verbs.
I look at my calendar – I see a new physician next week. The week after that, an old friend (The Author) will visit – I’m excited about that. I haven’t seen him since… 2016? 2017? 2018. It’s been too long. The week after that I get my hearing aids. Busy January. The path ahead unfolds step by step. I look over my notes; it’s not about “ticking boxes”. It’s my life. I want to live it. I’m enjoying making time for more reading. I’m enjoying refreshing my Czech language skills. I’ll try out a new recipe tonight – probably. I skipped my walk this morning, and it serves as a powerful reminder that consistency is also a practice. (Every day that I don’t walk a trail is a day that reduces the likelihood of hitting that 1k trail mile target, I remind myself unnecessarily.)
I sigh quietly to myself, and stretch. I’m 61 as I sit here – 62 in June. How much time do I have left? What do I want to do with it? How do I live my best life for the longest amount of remaining time? What matters most? I don’t “feel old” – but I also don’t feel young. Today’s a pretty good day – I’m not in a lot of pain (call it a 3 on a 1-10 scale, which is honestly pretty good for me). There’s more yet to do – and doing it from a perspective of presence and mindful awareness changes the experience for the better. I smile and sip my coffee and push up my sleeves. It’s time to begin. Again.
