Archives for posts with tag: love

People can be so matter-of-fact about their opinions. We treat them as facts. We get so spun up over differences between our own opinion and the opinion of others, we forget that relationships and people matter more. Many of us express opinions – strongly – for which we have limited actual knowledge or data with which to support some opinion that is often little better than a sound-bite we snatched from a social media feed, and become pushy when people we value disagree, in spite of our lack of any actual knowledge. It’s messy. Humans are complicated, and we regularly over-simplify what is happening around us, seeking to reduce every discussion to a very basic either/or dilemma, instead of embracing uncertainty and nuance and approaching the world with curiosity – and compassion.

Why am I on about this, this morning? Because the media and big corporate advertisers and our own elected officials are constantly trying to manipulate our opinions, not to get at “the truth”, but primarily for profit. Are you being bamboozled by bullshit? I saw a headline in my feed this morning that read “we asked 5 chefs what their favorite vanilla ice cream is, and they all said this” and laughed out loud. In what way is a sample size of 5 at all significant? It isn’t. That wasn’t news – it was barely sponsored content (and almost certainly AI generated) – it’s just an unoriginal narrative intended to sell a particular brand of ice cream, nothing more. Five people think it’s the best vanilla ice cream? Out of how many people who eat ice cream? Insignificant. This isn’t even the most ridiculous example of the mockery of truth on display for everyone to see (and potentially be mislead by).

If you want to see an example of massive manipulation of public opinion, I suggest the ongoing saga of the crimes of Jeffrey Epstein, which more and more looks (to me) like a very direct actual no-foolin’ cover-up of possible past crimes of our current president. No kidding – why else would he fight so very hard to redirect our attention? Ghislaine Maxwell went to prison for 20 years for “enticement of minors and sex trafficking of underage girls” – for Jeffrey Epstein and his friends. Doesn’t look like anyone but Ghislaine is going to see a conviction for their part in the crimes against Epstein’s victims. I promise you, he wasn’t the only person abusing those girls – there are too many photos of too many parties, and too many people, and too many stories. Trump himself is in too many pictures with Epstein, friendly, partying, laughing together, for him to be immune from scrutiny. They had history together socially. So. Here we all are, being lied to and mislead. (My opinion.)What are you going to do about it? Anything at all? Or is it just easier to allow the rapist-in-chief to redirect your attention?

Hollyhocks blooming. This is not an opinion.

I sip my coffee and let it go. People are what they are. We excuse and justify the bad acts of people we favor, but seek to harshly penalize anyone we “other” and look on with disdain. I don’t get how rapists get a pass, but immigrants willing to work hard seeking a better life for their families are criminalized. It’s a very peculiar thing, in my opinion. Our justice system and our government are broken and we don’t seem competent to fix them. Hell, we can’t even take care of the planet we live on, or our own sick or poor or elderly. We’re too busy chasing some illusion of happiness and scapegoating anyone we think may be in our way, while we disagree over who deserves what amount of pay for what sorts of labor and pretending that billionaires “earned” what they have.

I breath, exhale, and relax, and let it go – again. I’ve got my opinions. Clearly. You’ve got yours. That’s a certainty. Maybe humanity will eventually figure this shit out – or go extinct, another failed species, too stupid to survive. Wow. That sounds grim. I look out the window at the clear blue summer sky and sigh. I’m human, too. I’ve got my opinions, some of them suck and are wildly ill-informed, others demonstrate my potential as a human being in a more positive way. Sharing them is mostly pretty fucking pointless; most of humanity is standing around waiting to talk – or to be told what their opinion is by someone they assume knows more than they do, themselves. I’m not even in a bad mood this morning… I’m just annoyed by a headline that suggests a sample size of 5 matters at all, and I’m disappointed by the painful awareness that many people won’t even give that a second thought; they’ll just go buy the ice cream.

Potted geranium blooming. Also not an opinion.

My coffee is pleasant, well-made, icy. I slept well and deeply and woke feeling rested. Hell, I’m not in any pain right at the moment, none at all – not even my almost-ever-present headache! I take a moment to be present in this moment, aware of my lack of pain, savoring this experience long enough to really enjoy it. I don’t doubt it will pass, at some point, that’s the way moments work – but here, now, in this moment? I feel pretty good. It’s a lovely day. There are no bombs dropping here. No annoying voices in the background. The workday ahead looks routine and the work in front of me manageable. The bills are paid. The pantry is stocked. I’ve got a full tank of gas. I’ve got a Traveling Partner who loves me dearly and does a lot to make feel feel appreciated and wrapped in this enduring love we share. He makes all sorts of little things to delight me and make life better. I’ve got a nice little house. My stepson does everything he knows how to do, most days, to be helpful, to deepen his emotional intelligence, and to improve his “life skills” such that he’s a valued family member in our household – no small thing. My commute was pleasant and easy, in spite of there being much more traffic (due to timing). The office AC is working efficiently.

It is a better experience to appreciate the view than to be angry about the traffic.

There’s much to be grateful for, and I sit with those thoughts awhile. It’s unhealthy to stew in aggravation, bitterness, disappointment, and vexation with “humanity” – and it is a corrosive practice, generally, that never got me anywhere good. We become what we practice. Practice bitterness and cynicism, and life becomes characterized by the terrible things going on in the world, chronically disappointing, and we lose hope. Practice gratitude – authentically – and we become appreciative of the good things in our lives, and more easily able to be resilient in the face of terrible times, and potentially more able to find solutions, because we are clear-headed, and grounded in the things we know work. Or something. It works for me. I share these thoughts with you, because maybe you’ll find value here (for some values of “value”)… or be inspired to do more/better, or simply to begin again and make some small change for the better in your life. I smile to myself at the thought; these are my experiences, and also my opinions. Maybe they’re worth something, maybe they aren’t. I don’t even know that it matters to anyone but me…but I can hope.

I glance at the time. The clock is ticking. Are you ready to begin again? I am.

I’m thinking about the year that is ending today. My birthday is tomorrow. My birthday last year is barely an afterthought or footnote in my memory, and I have to look up photos by date and old writing to recapture of sense of that day. It wasn’t as important-seeming as the imminent arrival of the Anxious Adventurer, or my Traveling Partner’s scheduled surgery and day-to-day care needs. At the end of May, I’d gone camping for a few days. In July, I made a change from painting in acrylic to painting in pastels. June? June is largely missing from my recollection. I think I was mostly just glad to have survived another year.

Pictures tell a tale of living life along familiar pathways: walks on favorite trails, getting storage ready to accomodate the Anxious Adventurer, and time spent on watches and my Traveling Partner’s watchmaking tools, a coffee at a little cafe in the Pearl District. All of it felt like either a distraction from, or preparation for, my Traveling Partner’s surgery, scheduled for August. It was a weird time, and my birthday wasn’t really a particularly “big deal”, all things considered. I was definitely okay with things just being okay.

Strangely, the more I search my emails and photos for pictures to do with my actual birthday last year, the clearer it becomes that I don’t have any. lol I appear to have (perhaps) gotten a new phone around this time last year? Possibly a new watch, although it’s not clear quite when that happened – perhaps in May. lol The photo history on my phone just stops some days after my birthday, and there is nothing older there. The photos in my cloud storage skip the entire week of my birthday. lol I was clearly putting my mind and my time on other things. I sigh to myself and let it go. It’s barely even a minor aggravation, just a bit puzzling considering how commonly I snap a picture of this or that moment. The year, taken as a whole, was a busy rollercoaster ride of emotions and trying circumstances, but there were many joyful moments and things I recall quite fondly in a life well-lived, generally speaking. I’m okay with that. More than okay with it, I just lack the right words.

…In spite of the chaos in the world, and the train wreck that is American government presently, I am happy to be alive, and faced with another birthday…

…62 years…

For sure this journey has not been all cake and ice cream. I’d laugh, but frankly trauma isn’t all that funny. I’m glad I have survived all that I have, and have had so many opportunities to begin again, to do more better, and to walk this path toward becoming the person I most want to be. I’ve grown a lot. I’ve learned a lot. I’m proud of the woman in the mirror; she’s been through some shit, and she’s seen some things, and still she persists in walking her path. I’d be impressed, too, but… (and?) I do know how very human I actually am, and how hard I really have to work, and how often it isn’t quite enough. My results vary and I need more practice. That’s just real.

So… today is the last day of being 61. It wasn’t exactly a milestone year of any kind, but it was the year during which I had to learn caregiving for real (and omg do I ever suck at that – it’s very difficult), and I am pretty glad to see this particular year coming to an end. Recent months have been pretty splendid, and I’ve loved feeling my relationship with my Traveling Partner deepen and grow and become something quite wonderful, like falling in love all over again. It’s good seeing him making real progress toward regaining his skills and mobility, and freeing himself from being dependent on caregiving. I’m eager to discover what 62 holds for me – and for us, as a new year together begins.

I sip my coffee looking out at the blue summer sky. There was a fat luminous full moon hanging low over the horizon as I left the house this morning, but it is long gone now. It’s a new day, and it’s time to begin again.

I arrived at the trailhead, sunrise well underway. It’s a cloudy morning, but the sort that hints at a sunny afternoon to come, more than it suggests rain. I start down the trail thinking about roses. Everything is green and beautiful and the air smells sweetly of fragrant wildflowers and mown grass. Wild roses are blooming along the trail.

One of several varieties that grow in the area.

The scent of the roses is particularly delightful and (for me) evocative. I have so many memories that are triggered by the scents of roses. When my Dear Friend died I added a wee “memory garden” to a corner of the yard, and added roses there (not that I didn’t have quite a few already, but these were chosen specifically with her in mind). I smile as I walk; the roses in my memory garden are blooming (well, two out of three). It’s their first year blooming. They’re quite lovely and smell wonderful. I shared pictures to my Dear Friend’s bestie. I know how painful missing such a friend can be.

“Rainbow Happy Trails” blooming

I have fond memories of talking about our gardens together, my Dear Friend and I. I have such memories of my late Granny, too, and my Mother. Many of my memories of times shared with my Dad are also gardening related. It seems proper to honor them in my garden. Memorial Day is tomorrow, and it also seems proper to be thinking of long gone friends, family, and loved ones, this morning. The sky overhead seems somber without being gloomy. I’m not grieving, just remembering.

“Whimsy” also blooming, her very first.

Funny how meaningful roses (and my garden) have become for me. Most of my roses tell a love story through the careful selections, each name hinting at the profound love I share with my Traveling Partner. Tokens of my affection, reminders of how complicated love can sometimes be. I chuckle to myself; my partner cares little for flowers, but loves me so deeply that my roses matter to him, if only because they matter to me.

“Alchymist” blooming in spite of being delicious to passing deer.

Some of my roses have their own stories to tell, having traveled in pots with me for some 25 years before being planted into the ground. Others captivated me so thoroughly that in spite of failures, I’ve continued to replace them. Still others, I yearn to plant in my garden even knowing they may not be suited to the space I’ve got left. lol Funny to be so passionate about roses. I wasn’t always, and there’s a story there too, perhaps for another day.

“Baby Love” blooming first, last, and almost all year long. Purchased the year my partner and I moved in together.

I get to my halfway point with my thoughts. The scent of roses reaches me from some unseen rose on the meadow somewhere. I have the trail to myself this morning, in spite of the holiday weekend, mild weather, and relative lateness of the hour. I listen to the breeze rustling the meadow grass. I am sitting in a low spot a hillside behind me. I feel “invisible” and safe. The busy squirrels, robins, and jays don’t mind my quiet presence. I watch them contentedly as I write, reflect and meditate.

Lovely morning for it.

I let minutes pass, grateful for the solitary time. I manage to miss my Traveling Partner, in spite of enjoying this solitary moment. He is more dear to me than I have words for. My garden is getting a bit weedy because I’ve chosen to enjoy my partner’s company rather than “do my chores” more than a few times over the past couple of weeks. I’m not complaining about that, it’s a worthy choice and the moments in a human lifetime are finite, each unrepeatable and unique. The time we spend together is undescribably precious.

… I smile, thinking about the number of my roses (and roses I’ve had in the past since 2010) that I’ve chosen with my beloved in mind. It’s many. It is, actually, almost every new rose I’ve chosen since we became friends, even before we were lovers, and eventually married. Of the 13 roses currently in my garden, 7 celebrate him (and us). Of the remaining roses in my garden, three are long-time favorites that are meaningful to me for other reasons, and three are the new ones I planted in the “memory garden”.

“Nozomi” with me 25 years, and one of the first roses I ever purchased from rose breeder Ralph Moore directly, though it wasn’t one of his.

I hear voices and the crunch of other steps on the trail. I sigh quietly to myself, sitting quite still for a moment, smiling when I notice that the squirrel nearby has done the same thing. We sit quite still, waiting to see what may come around the bed. Strangers call a friendly greeting as they approach and wave as they pass. I wave back and smile. We’re each having our own experience, but understand each other. We are enjoying this trail, this lovely Spring morning, and the scent of meadow flowers.

It’s a rather ordinary morning. My head is filled with thoughts of roses and the memories they evoke. I sit with my thoughts, and try to work out ways to discourage the deer from eating my roses. It’s quite a puzzle. I sigh to myself and plan to stop by the garden store on my way home, and get to my feet. The clock is ticking. It’s time to begin again.

My Traveling Partner made me more cute 3D printed earrings. These delight me, not only because earrings are the only jewelry I wear regularly, and I get a kick out of fun kitschy ones that aren’t too serious as much as I like sparkly gemstones (more, perhaps). These are wee axolotl and shark earrings that appear to be chomping on my earlobes. I giggle when I see them in a reflection. It’s the sort of moment of joy that is difficult to adequately communicate in words, but lingers and even deepens over time. I smile thinking about them now, the little axolotl’s hanging from my ear wiggling about as I laugh, seeing them in my reflection in the window.

Sometimes love takes a whimsical form.

Simple moments of joy and delight can be savored, and their value is bigger than the moments; taking the time to really appreciate and enjoy such moments helps build our emotional resilience. Don’t hold yourself back – enjoy the joy!

When I got into the office, I sat down with my coffee to do “the payday stuff”, update the budget, look over the numbers, put together a draft of the plan for this pay period, and send it to my partner for a second look and any recommendations to change the plan. We’re individuals – and partners. We have things we’re doing together, and goals, and plans, and things we are most involved in individually, but which also need to be accounted for in the household budget. It’s a shared endeavor, and that feels settled and comfortable. I finish that up and hit “send”, feeling a moment of grown-up satisfaction and preparedness. It’s a very different feeling than “joy” – but no less positive.

“Rainbow Happy Trails” blooming

I breathe, exhale, and relax, looking out the window at the gray morning. Spring in the PNW. lol Gray. Rainy. Green. Cloudy. Mists and fogs here and there on the way in to the office didn’t surprise me. Passing through rain showers was not unexpected. The garden loves these days of soft rains. The roses are beginning to bloom – more roses blooming, more blossoms on each rose. Spring feels so positive and hopeful, and for a little while I forget what a shit-show the world is right now. I mean, are you fucking kidding me with this genocide and warfare bullshit? Have we not outgrown all that as a species? What is our fucking problem? We have the capacity to reason, to plan, to remember, to comprehend, and to love, and yet… we still commit heinous acts against one another. It isn’t something that makes any fucking sense at all. I feel the look of distaste and disappointment on my face. Do better, Humanity.

“Nozomi” blooming

I sigh to myself and let that shit go. I’m here, now, and it is a pleasant morning, and a pleasant moment. It’s enough. I focus on these things within my direct experience, and think ahead to work tasks, and errands later. I sip my coffee, and grin again when I feel my earrings sway, tugging at my earlobes gently. My Traveling Partner’s love in earring form.

I notice the time, and realize that I’ve got a meeting coming up, and it’s already time to begin again.

I stepped onto the now-open seasonal trail with a smile, feeling light-hearted. A dense bank of fog is clinging to the ground in low places, even now, well past sunrise, and after my walk is over. It was quite lovely, a bit chilly, and interrupted by pauses to look at wildflowers – and sneezes. The air is filled with scents of Spring.

Another sunrise

I slept rather poorly and woke earlier than necessary, but what a lovely day for an early morning walk along the seasonal marsh trail! The trees are green again, and the meadow flowers are blooming. Beautiful!

Oaks on the hillside, fog bank beyond.

By the time I got back to the car, the trailhead parking lot was full. It’s a work day, but clearly not for everyone. It’ll be quite rare to have the trail to myself until sometime in autumn, most likely. I consider that only briefly. It doesn’t really matter, generally. It’s one of those peculiar luxuries I have little control over, and I am content to appreciate it when I do get to experience that beautiful solitude. I yawn, watching the sunlight change angles as it passes through a clump of meadow flowers. I’ve got an errand to run, then it’s home to enjoy the day with my Traveling Partner.

It is enough to enjoy the moment as it is.

I glance at the clock. It’s time to begin again.