Archives for posts with tag: love

I slept so deeply last night that I overslept my artificial sunrise by 11 minutes. Usually, I wake up at the first hint of dim light, or slightly before that time entirely. It’s rare to be awakened by the full brightness of the light in the room, and rarer still to “oversleep”. I woke disoriented and groggy, uncertain why the lights were on “so bright” (or at all) “in the middle of the night”? I looked at the time I’d set the alarm for (04:30 a.m.) puzzled. Why were the lights on at 04:41? Was it day? Night? Why was I awake? Did my Traveling Partner need me? Confused and stupid, I turned the light off before realizing that indeed, 4:41 is a later time in the morning than I’d set the alarm for (and usually get up). I sighed quietly, and turned the light back on, dimly. Fucking hell, it felt so early, and I felt so stupid. lol I pushed myself through my routine, still feeling puzzled that it was a new day. I think I could have slept longer, but I’ve no idea why.

The time is…now.

Eventually the morning leads me to the office, and here I am. Thinking about success and failure. Thinking about “getting shit done”, and what it takes to solve problems in life, handle stress, “deal with bullshit”, face change… and I write about these sorts of things quite a lot, and generally in what I hope is a positive and encouraging way (most of the time). I probably make it sound far easier than it is (even for me). There is real work involved in positivity, and in encouraging oneself – it’s not a “fake it til you make it” sort of thing for me; authenticity matters, too. I keep practicing. We become what we practice. I sit here with my coffee considering my failures in life. Those times when I failed to achieve a goal, sure, but also those times when I just wasn’t up to dealing with some circumstance or another properly, and let shit get by far worse because of my own bullshit and baggage and inability to adult successfully in the moment. That shit is real. As real for me as it is for anyone. We’re all walking our own hard mile.

Please don’t understand my encouraging tone or positivity as any kind of indication that this shit is “easy” in life. Sometimes things are hard. Sometimes “doing my best” isn’t good enough. Sometimes I just can’t – and don’t, although I definitely needed to. I’m human. I’m here encouraging myself just as much as I may seem to be encouraging you – and I guess I’m saying, sometimes you’ll still fail yourself (maybe unexpectedly) in some moment that you really meant to do better or more – and that’s very human. Shit gets too real, sometimes. When I fail, I begin again. I say it often, because I often need that reminder. Maybe you will, too. That’s okay. It is a lifetime journey, and the journey itself is the destination. No “do overs” really, but you do get a fresh start with every sunrise, and sometimes that has to be enough. (It usually is, actually.)

No, this thing called life isn’t “easy” (not for most of us, anyway). It’s worthwhile, though, and that counts for a lot. I sip my coffee and give myself a few minutes of quiet time to reflect. Things are going pretty well, generally, these days. It’s not a given that such will “always” be the case – change is. This too will pass – whatever “this” may happen to be. I breathe, exhale, and relax.

…It’s time to begin again. I wonder where this path leads?

We choose our path, our words, our actions.

I’m sipping my coffee reflecting on love, life, and how incredibly fortunate I feel, how grateful I am, for the partnership I share with my beloved Traveling Partner. Fuck, this has been a hard year (and then some) since his injury back in – was it November? December? – of 2023. Learning to be a caregiver, not just a partner, friend, and lover, definitely showed off some of my unpreparedness in the vast world of adulting skillfully. I had (have) a lot to learn. I’m glad things are improving (every day) now. I feel relieved. Did I say already? I feel grateful. Fortunate. G’damn it could have been so much worse.

We become what we practice. Once we are adults, our quality of life is largely in our own hands. Not entirely, to be sure, because we don’t all face the same circumstances, and just keeping it real – “the playing field” is not level. No one is in this alone, but we’re each having our own experience, and there is no question that some people are dealt a far more valuable hand of cards in the game than others. So…yeah. There’s that. Beyond that, though, we each have (and make) choices. Those choices really matter. Giving up on that is an unfortunately common mistake, but it’s an easy one to make. I think about that, and times that I’ve abdicated my responsibility to myself, yielded to cynicism, bitterness, or feelings of futility, and made things so much worse than they could have been, if I had chosen differently. Worth reflecting on, but as with so many such things – the lessons we learn after-the-fact can’t help us in the moment. I breathe, exhale, and relax. Sip my coffee. Listen to the woosh of the ventilation in the office – and feel grateful. Love has made a huge difference in how I make choices, and what matters most. I would not be the woman I am without the love I share with my Traveling Partner. Grateful barely describes my feelings.

“Communion” 2010

I feel so loved. My Traveling Partner can (and does) come to me openly and talk about his feelings and his worries. I can go to him when I am feeling feelings, and share my experience and feel supported and heard. Do we have challenges? Sure. We’re human beings, being human. This love, though… g’damn, am I wrapped in love. I woke this morning feeling loved. I’ll work through the day feeling it, too. It’s reciprocal. I love this man with a love that I don’t even know how to contain. Is it reasonable, practical, or even “sane”? Hell if I know – I don’t even care about that. I just love him. He loves me back. That’s worth something in this fairly scary world of chaos, violence, and human suffering. It’s something to “come home to”. I sip my coffee thinking of the moments we shared last night, talking and connecting, and loving each other. I hope every time I’m ever annoyed or angry over something trivial or stupid that my memory will carry me back to last night, and remind me that I am loved, and that love matters most. I hope the same for him – I can be damned frustrating to deal with sometimes – I hope he always feels loved, in spite of that. I sigh quietly and smile.

Is love a journey or a destination? Or… is love a verb?

…To experience an uncompromising, enduring love for so very long is a rare thing. For me, there’s only been this one, and all other relationships and moments of affection are dim lights compared to this roaring blaze. Love is always uniquely special, as feelings go, and I can only say again how fortunate I feel, and how grateful, to experience this one. This moment, here, now, wrapped in love – and all the others that my Traveling Partner and I have shared. I hope the journey goes on “forever” (or some close approximation of that idea), it’s been a journey worth sharing with this singular human being who loves me so…

“Cherry Blossoms” 14″ x 20″ acrylic on canvas. 2011

I sit quietly, smiling. Nothing else, really, just sipping my coffee and thinking about love. Work can wait on lovers, surely…?

So much of life is about love and loving.

My Traveling Partner is more than my spouse – so much more – he is my best friend. My muse. The inspiration behind so much of my artistic work over the past 15 years. The maker of so many delightful moments, and thoughtful things I use every day. I’d be pretty fucking lost without him – and very alone.

An alternate spelling of “I love you”.

I think about writing my beloved a love note, and realize as I sit here that I sort of already have. It never feels like enough; the love we share is so huge in the experience of a single moment. lol Filled with quiet joy, and wrapped in love, I begin again.

I slept well enough, I suppose. Restless. Probably excited to face the new day; no work, a beautiful drive through the countryside, a couple days painting on the coast. It’s worth being excited about, and a worthy prelude to the holiday season. In the wee hours, my restlessness increased; I think my Traveling Partner was also struggling to find sound sleep. The night eventually passed.

I woke, gathered the last couple of things to be packed for the trip. Read a note from my partner asking me to mail a package he’d previously said could wait. S’ok. I half-expected it, anyway. I had a box ready and the item (and box) was added to the things I’d take along with me. The morning feels effortless and if not thoroughly joyful, quite delightfully serene.

I got going, put gas in the car, got coffee and headed for my current favorite local trail to get my walk before the drive. I fell recently, and I’m okay but wanted to be on the safe side walking in the predawn darkness. This trail is asphalt paved, gently lit much of the way, and quite level. A good choice. Walking before the drive puts the drive well after daybreak too. Better driving conditions, better view of the autumn scenery.

There’s a picnic table at my halfway point. I stop to sit for a few minutes, enjoying the scents of autumn and the starry night sky. There’s a mist in the low spots near the creek and a hint of fog. The morning is so quiet. My breath makes steam. The morning is not quite freezing, but definitely chilly. I take off my gloves to write a few words, grateful to have remembered to wear them.

There’s a construction site not too far away. I sigh to myself as workers begin arriving, their brightly lit noisy pickups coming around a bend in the road nearby. The headlights mess with my vision in the darkness. Oh well. I sigh again. It’s chilly. I should get going before I feel the cold anyway. Besides… it’s time to begin again. 😀

I woke to a peculiar morning. It was past daybreak. Past dawn. Past the time the sunrise would have brought on the new day. I woke to a most peculiarly beige-infused sky… everything beige. The sand. The sea. The sky. It was… weird. I didn’t know what to make of it at all, and I snapped a couple pictures of the view of the western horizon from the balcony… that look completely ordinary on my camera.

No color adjustments, the pictures look… pink? Mauve? Equally strange, but not at all the color I saw with my naked human eyes, nor how they rendered on my camera.

I tried to find a filter or adjustment after-the-fact that might show the scene more the way I saw it, with limited success.

This is pretty close to what I saw, only even the water of the bay was the same orange-y beige of the sky.

It was strange. Very strange. It threw me off my expectations of the day, for sure. It didn’t last. By the time I made coffee, and made a short trip down to the hotel’s meager “breakfast bar” (a counter with some cereal and instant oatmeal, an air-pot of hot coffee, and a small fridge with yogurt in it), things looked more or less ordinary enough, with a rainy mist rolling in from the sea and showers in the forecast.

…Now I feel rather as if I “don’t know what to think”, which is quite an odd sensation…

I woke feeling rested after my wakeful time during the night. My dreams were rich and interesting. I woke feeling inspired and eager to feel the soft dry sticks of pastels between my fingers (although, for safety, I wear finger cots to prevent cadmium, cobalt, or chromium pigments from soaking into my skin). Seems a good day for it. (For which I am grateful, since it is one of the reasons I came to this place equipped thusly.)

It’s not a fancy hotel, but it suits the purpose.

My Traveling Partner pinged me a good-morning greeting before I woke. I returned it after he’d gone back to bed. He misses me. I miss him too. I am appreciative of my solitude – but also of the opportunity to miss my partner. Caregiving is hard, and tempers flare when perhaps they ought not. I know I could do better. I fucking love that man – and I mean to do better to treat him with love, patience, and kindness than I sometimes manage to do. It’s easy to take him for granted. It’s easy to be angry with circumstances and fail to differentiate circumstances from the man. Having some time apart reminds me how much I do yearn to be in his good company, how much I love his humor and his tenderness – and how hard it must be to be his best self under these trying circumstances, at all. This shit is hard. Caregiving is hard. Being the one having to accept caregiving is equally hard (and emotionally probably harder). I wish him well from afar, and pause to feel all the love we’ve shared over these many years. I’ve been with him now longer than with any one other human being – friend, lover, or family member. (Though I’ve had some friendships longer, those have endured quite a lot of distance between conversations and shared space – it’s not at all the same.) I left my parents’ home when I was 14. I’ve been with my Traveling Partner now, some 15 years. Wow. I know, I know – it’s not uncommon for monogamous folk who travel life’s path with a single partner they met when quite young to be together many decades; this still feels incredibly special and enduring to me. I’m grateful.

I’ll eat my yogurt (blueberry), drink my coffee, and walk on the beach before it begins raining seriously, then return to the room to paint in the diffuse gray light of this rainy day… a very pleasing way to begin again.

Here it is, a Tuesday. First day back to work after a long weekend that actually felt long. It was a delightful weekend in the company of my Traveling Partner. Evenings shared with the Anxious Adventurer, too, after his work days were done. It was pretty nice all around. It is satisfying to see my partner continuing to improve and recover after surgery (though he is less satisfied, because progress feels so slow).

A new day begins now.

I am starting the day with that “song in my heart” feeling. It’s quite wonderful. I made a point to set things up for my partner at home to make his morning easy, and slipped away into the pre-dawn darkness. The Anxious Adventurer has an early start at work this morning, and has been making great progress with being quiet and considerate in the mornings. I’m hopeful that my Traveling Partner will be able to sleep in and get more of the rest he needs. He’ll have a quiet house for a few hours.

As soon as there is enough daylight, I hit the trail and get a short walk in. Short this morning because I’ve got work and getting an early start gets me home earlier…

…An early ping from my Traveling Partner upends my careful planning. He woke, and can’t find his glasses. Recent experience suggests they may have fallen into a gap between the mattress and headboard, and if so he won’t be able to see or reach them. He asks for my help and if course I don’t mind working from home; I prefer it. I assure him I’m on my way and head back up the trail to the car.

… It’s time to begin again. Change is.

No, seriously – change is a thing. Reliably.

Later…

I’m at the office. Funny story… well, not really, but for context; my Traveling Partner found his glasses. He’d knocked them to the floor, but they were within reach once he spotted them. Difficult, but not (apparently) completely outside the realm of possibility… because he got it done. He alerted me. We chatted awhile, and I resumed my plan for the day with minimal delay. Hilariously, I still feel “more than connected” with him, presently. I feel alert for his outreach, sensitive to the idea he may yet need me, and I’ve got a persistent sensation of having “half an eye on my phone” for incoming messages. My full (very – it’s a Tuesday) meeting calendar today limits the ease with which I could promptly return home (following an almost hour-long commute), but I settled my nerves by alerting my work team of the potential, and then I just… let it go. It’s fine. Routine. Human.

…Fuck I love my Traveling Partner so deeply and so enduringly that even my lingering hang ups and baggage regarding time and timing are nothing compared to my love, and my willingness to come to his aid on a moment’s notice.

Change is. The journey is the destination. There’s no point getting overly invested in the details of a plan, or in expectations or assumptions about how things may go or what the future holds. Breathe. Exhale. Relax. Roll with it. Practice non-attachment and practice not taking shit personally, and life becomes so much less prone to OPD (Other People’s Drama) and disappointment. Go ahead – be daring – just be.

Isn’t right now a fine time to begin again?