I drove to the trailhead watching the sunrise. The sky was strange violent hues of pink, red, and magenta, reminiscent of the florid edges of an infected wound. This moment of beauty is only so colorful because of the wildfires burning far to the east. As I drove I looked at the scenery along the familiar route “with new eyes”, enjoying the experience of a new moment, however small the differences between this moment and recent similar moments. Arriving at the trailhead, I again enjoy the familiar-but-also-strange scents of the summer meadow that becomes winter marshland when the rain returns. What is this fragrance? I wonder every time I catch this particular scent – which plant is that? I still don’t know. I have wondered for years and never smelled it anywhere but the dry summer meadows of Oregon.
I “took yesterday off”. It was a Saturday, but aside from the grocery shopping, done frugally with considerable care, I didn’t do any notable amount of housekeeping stuff. I made dinner in the evening, and took the day easy. I knew the household chores could wait a day, and giving myself a day of rest to bounce back from the stress of the week made sense. I have learned to put more time and attention into self-care when times are stressful, rather than allowing myself to get all spun up over shit best handled with calm, and measured thoughtful action, or failing to take care of this fragile vessel. Self-care doesn’t necessarily make stressful things less stressful, but it definitely improves my resilience. The day was pleasant, spent in the good company of my Traveling Partner.
I stepped onto the trail feeling comfortable and merry, enjoying the scents of summer and the fading sunrise. I walked with my thoughts, letting them carry me wherever they may. I found myself reflecting on my Dear Friend. It was at about this age, as I recall, that she worked her last job, teaching online for a college. One year they simply didn’t renew her contract. She was taken by surprise, hurt, and worried about the future. I sigh to myself and walk on. Maybe not yet, for me, but it’ll eventually come, and I walked with that thought awhile. How best to prepare? I kicked a random rock on the path and listened to it tumble away.
… Some asshole brought his small yapping dog to the nature preserve (there is signage everywhere that dogs are not permitted here), and I find myself annoyed, for a moment, as he passes…
Be present in this moment, now.
I breathe, exhale, and relax. The phrase “each time for the first time, each moment the only moment” has been in the background of my thoughts all morning. It was there when I woke. I sit at my halfway point letting it turn over in my head. I don’t wonder where it comes from; I’ve worked a long time to embrace it and understand how finite and temporary our experiences can be. How unrepeatable. “Ichi-go ichi-e” – it has been worth the time to cultivate an understanding and build a practice. I amuse myself for a moment thinking about the thinkers who helped to lead me here over a lifetime: Henry David Thoreau, James Baldwin, Thich Nhat Hanh, Elkhart Tolle, Rick Hanson, Jon Kabat-Zinn… others. I’m grateful. Life is better lived through a lens mindful perspective, non-attachment, and sufficiency. I smile at a squirrel crossing the trail. She eyes me with some suspicion as she passes. I sit quite still and hope not to startle her.
Another hot summer day ahead. The sky is a lovely pale blue, swept by soft white clouds, streaked with shades of gray here and there. The air is pleasant and fresh, and for the moment the air is still. “From the inside” I don’t feel the weight of my years, and this morning the challenges of aging are not vexing me. Contentment can be practiced and cultivated, and it can more easily endure hard times than “happiness”, which is seldom lasting. I’m okay right now for all the many common values of “okay”. Feels good to be in this place, in this moment. A little brown bird joins me on the fence rail I am seated on. We sit together awhile before she flies off to do bird things.
The sky is still blue.
I think back to a harder time. I was mired in despair, and a friend asked me “is the sky still blue?” Useful perspective at the time, and his question reminded me that non-attachment is a practice, and that impermanence is part of the human experience.
I take a deep breath of the fragrant summer air, and get ready to begin again.
It’s fire season again. The morning sky is a peculiar hazy pink at dawn, and the colorful sunrise is lovely, but there’s something about the hues that reminds me that to the east, in even hotter, dryer, places, the world is burning.
Beauty at what cost?
One might expect us to be better stewards of our precious planet than we have proven ourselves to be, considering we have no other. I stop along the path to rest and write and think. It’s a warm morning that will precede a hot day. I got out on the trail before sunrise. It was already 70°F (about 21°C). Hot for this area, this time of morning, even in summertime – or used to be. The view of the hills and mountains to the west are obscured by a dirty looking blue gray haze. I look at the map of the region with the “wildfire layer” turned on. It’s alarming enough that such a feature exists at all, isn’t it?
Oregon, Idaho, Northern California, and beyond; it’s fire season.
I sigh to myself, and realize that my stuffy head may be “nothing more” than an air quality issue. I check the air quality index reporting – it rather strangely calls the air quality “good”. I disagree, as someone breathing it, and look to see how they get that result. Huh. They measure a handful of variables but neither smoke nor particulate matter are among them (and I have the recollection that it used to be included)*. I wonder at that, reminded that we live in a country whose leaders apparently think sanitizing history to be more palatable for those in power actually changes reality (it doesn’t). Human primates are fucking strange.
I sit watching the sunrise, from a familiar favorite vantage point. It’s not an ideal spot for pictures, the composition is cluttered and awkward, but I enjoy the view as it is, trees too close in the foreground silhouetted against the magenta and orange of the colorful sky. There’s a convenient large rock to sit on, and I have the trail to myself.
I’m in no hurry, and have no plan for the day besides staying cool and hydrated, and maybe getting a little bit done around the house. It’s a weekend, but changing jobs comes with a period of time not regulated by the requirements of work days nor bookended by weekends. Days are days, and tasks are tasks, and these mortal moments are mine to spend as I wish. I’ll make a point of enjoying that while it lasts, simultaneously hoping it doesn’t last long, which amuses me for some reason I can’t pinpoint. (At this point, I think we probably all understand that if I could, I would spend my days painting, writing, and dancing barefoot in my kitchen while I prepare something tasty, right? I wouldn’t work if I didn’t have to, I have other things I’d rather be doing. Reality doesn’t care about my daydreams.)
The sun peeks over the horizon and the trees to the west of me are illuminated. I see hints of russet and gold mixed in the green of summer foliage. It hints that autumn is coming. The seasons of the Pacific Northwest: winter, spring, summer, fire, fall… It is the season of fire, and it feels like the world is burning.
I sigh quietly and brush the small twigs, dirt, and bits of leaves off my jeans as I get to my feet. There’s further to go, and this trail isn’t going to walk itself. We’ve each got to walk our own mile, and do our own work. The journey is the destination. I look down the trail ahead, and get ready to begin again.
.
.
*And these details are included. I failed to read with sufficient care and was corrected by my Traveling Partner (thanks!). Fact-checking matters. Stupid can come for us all. 😂
I’m sipping my coffee and feeling sort of cross and “stalled”. Just sort of sitting here, not motivated to act, or reflect, or choose, or consider – I’m a bit stuck, honestly. It’s a very human thing. Maybe I didn’t get quite enough restful sleep? Maybe I haven’t actually consumed enough coffee to get my brain going properly? Maybe I’m feeling (understandably) a little lost, or frustrated, or down? One thing I am definitely feeling is that I am dragging myself reluctantly through my experience, at least for the moment. Maybe I need to take a moment and just… cry?
I’ve been a proper adult over this untimely demise of my current job. I’ve been measured. I’ve been resourceful. I’ve been easily able to pivot to tackling the job search related tasks that need to be done now, and plan ahead to those yet to come. I’ve reached out to contacts likely to know someone who knows someone who knows of an opportunity that may be a good one for me. I’ve handled it. You know what I haven’t yet done, though? I haven’t allowed myself to grieve. I’ll miss this job. I’ll miss these colleagues. I’ll miss so many details of this particular routine at this time in my life. I haven’t given in to the hurt, yet. I’ve simply handled business with a clear head and a sense of urgency and commitment. It still hurts, emotionally, to lose this job – and I haven’t yet dealt with that. I’m going to have to, though, otherwise it will burrow into me, fester, and rob me of my will to act. Not helpful.
I’ve got the office alone, and I close the door, put my head down, and let the tears come – they’re right there, waiting. I let the fear and uncertainty wash over me. I let myself feel the hurt. I let the anger and feelings of disappointment and unfairness surface enough to acknowledge them alongside the tears. I go ahead and feel the feelings, and I cry. From experience I know that if I stifle these emotions and don’t provide myself the nurturing and self-care that I need – physically andemotionally – I’ll pretty quickly reach my “stall point”, and just stop functioning properly. I won’t be able to remember errands, tasks, and commitments, I won’t feel like doing anything, and I won’t be able to interact with people comfortably to talk about what I’m looking for out of a new job (because I’ll be mired in the unaddressed pain of losing the old one and too prone to talking the experience of hurting and loss). It’s like any other grief; the way out is through.
The tears pass pretty quickly, for now. There may be other moments, and other tears, with potential to pull me down and stall me if left unaddressed. Funny how embarrassing it feels to yield to a moment of emotion under these circumstances – there’s no reason for that. It’s not anything besides a very human moment of emotion. Emotion is part of who and what we are. I stretch and yawn, and sip my coffee. I’ve got an interview with a talent agency a little later. Later still, I’ll catch up with a friend who may have contract work that will support the short-term need nicely, for some indefinite time – not ideal, but far better than unemployment. I smile – the same friend got me into the contract that eventually developed into this job, that I’m now leaving with such sorrow. I’m grateful. I chuckle to myself over the value in relationships feeling like some “secret life hack” – it really is the people that matter most, and how we interact with them, and the experiences we share.
I breathe, exhale, and relax. I do a quick “body scan” and take inventory of myself in this moment. Pain hasn’t been an issue the past day or two, but this morning it’s ferocious, and I have to deal with that, on top of “everything else”. A very human experience. It is often the case that when I am feeling most overwhelmed, or when I am feeling “stalled”, it may be some one small thing that needs my attention so urgently it shuts down everything else until I do give myself the attention I need. Those are generally experiences very much about emotions. When I feel overwhelmed or stalled, I go looking for the feeling that isn’t “being heard”, and give myself a moment to sit with that feeling, deal with it head on, and provide myself with the genuine nurturing from within that I am needing. Self-care. It’s a big deal.
I sigh and drink my coffee in the stillness. The clock ticks on, without any regard for what I may want out of the moment before moving on to the next. It’s already time to begin again – and there’s a lot to do.
How long can you sit on hold before you feel angry? Once that point comes, when the person on the other end finally gets to your conversation, how do you feel? How do you behave? What is that experience like for you? Okay… and what is that experience like for them?
…It is a Wednesday afternoon, and a busy work day. I’m on hold as I write this…
…I’m scheduling – or trying to – an important appointment for my Traveling Partner. I’ve been on hold for awhile now (22+ minutes), following our initial exploration of available dates/times. When the Scheduler returns to the call, she’s identified an available care provider in a good timeslot, on a day we can make work. I’m grateful. Is it aggravating to wait on hold for 23 minutes to complete this task? I guess, sure, (especially considering the dreadful hold music). On the other hand, not being a dick about it and just doing the needful in a pleasant (and accepting) way resulted in a better outcome – the appointment is made, and it fits in with other scheduled plans, and isn’t at some ridiculously inconvenient time, and the person on the phone was happily willing to help me (likely in part because I wasn’t penalizing that person for the circumstances). That’s as nearly ideal as scheduling an appointment can get, is it not? Why bother being angry over it? The time it took? The fact that it was necessary at all? That seems both ridiculous and petty. (Things take the time they take.)
…Patience is sometimes easier said than done, I know…
So many healthcare providers are trying to meet too much need with too few resources. Raising patient costs doesn’t close the gap created by too few doctors, nurses, technicians, specialists, or administrative and domestic staff needed to meet the need for care in a community. Anywhere. Lashing out at someone whose job is to be helpful is not the shortest path to the desired outcome, for sure. So, I generally try to do better than that when I have to be on the phone with someone (in spite of my dislike of being on the phone, generally).
…Or in slow checkout lines…
…Or queued for some event…
…Or trying to find parking in a busy area…
…Or when I’m frustrated by something but having to also deal with another human being about something else altogether unrelated…
…Or when I’m feeling anxious and other unrelated shit seems to be going wrong “for no reason”…
I guess I’m saying that when we make room to feel our feelings, then also make a committed (mindful)(self-aware)(disciplined) effort to also behave in accordance with our understanding of our “best self”, and treat others with kindness and patience, and take steps to manage the potential volatility of our emotional experience of the moment, everything that flows from that skillfully managed moment turns out better than it would have if we’d lashed out angrily, gone to pieces, or punished the people around us for the experience we are having. Long sentence, but it is what I was hoping to communicate as a single idea. It takes practice. I know my own results vary – so I am assuming yours likely will as well. Still, we do become what we practice.
…When I practice patience, I become more patient, in a broader variety of interactions…
I took those notes while I waited on hold. I made the appointment, and moved on with my day with very little aggravation. Turned out to be a pleasant afternoon. I woke up this morning, a little early, head kind of stuffy, but generally merry and feeling okay. It’s a new day. A new opportunity to practice the practices that create a good life and healthy interactions with the people in my life. A new cup of coffee.
Ah, but how to “practice” such things could be a question, eh? I’ve got good and bad news – and it’s the same news – the “how to” is “easy”, inasmuch as it is not complicated, but it is also quite “hard”, because there is a measure of trial and error, repetition, studious self-reflection, and failures that precede new attempts, involved in practicing such things. The tl;dr is that I’ve simply got to do the thing I wish to practice in the fashion I’d like to see myself handle such things – and if I fall short, I’ve got to recognize that, acknowledge it, accept it (and any consequences), understand that failure, and keep working on it – through all the unsuccessful well-meaning attempts, and the likely lack of consistant positive reinforcement from others (because, of course, they are having their own experience). Doing better than my current best is reliably always a “work in progress”, and it’s a process of incremental change over time, which can be somewhat unsatisfying. If you change what you practice though, change itself is inevitable.
We have so many opportunities to do better. We also have a bunch of opportunities to do worse – to escalate interactions that start going wrong, to inflame emotions beyond what is appropriate, to create conflict where none existed, to hurt each other when we could be lifting each other up. We have choices. Making an effort to choose wisely in each interaction, each day, is itself a choice. What are you really going for? Where does your path lead? How do you want to be remembered?
Sometimes it’s hard to wait in line (or, to wait at all) – but the payoff is the thing we’re waiting for, the wait time itself is largely irrelevant. Sometimes it’s hard to be patient in the face of silly questions or constant interruptions when we’re trying to get something done – but the quality of those interactions are often far more important in our lives that the thing we’re focused on doing. Sometimes it’s hard to listen considerately while someone is talking – even though we asked the question being answered, and wanted the information. These are all moments that could use our best self (and more practice). I sip my coffee and think about the many times I’ve made shit so much worse than it had to be. Being entirely human, I’m likely to do that again in the future at some point – but that isn’t going to stop me from doing my best each day to be the best version of the woman in the mirror I can imagine, with what I know now. I’ll simply keep practicing. We become what we practice.
Stick with the basics – it’s a great place to start.
Make it as difficult as you want, I guess. Complicate things as much as you think you must. Telling yourself it “wasn’t your fault” or that you “couldn’t help it” when things go awry doesn’t change the fact that you had (and made) choices. I personally think it is generally a poor choice to willfully make shit worse than it has to be. It’s worthwhile to practice doing better than that. I think back to the abrupt and very final end of my second long-term relationship (and one that felt, at that time, truly committed and “forever”) – it was over circumstances that spiraled around “making things worse”, until the last thread of my affection was stretched to a breaking point, and suddenly snapped. In mere hours I went from needing to “take a minute” to calm myself, to wanting to have “a couple days alone” to think things over, to “we’re done, I’m out of here”. It probably didn’t have to go like that, but it definitely did – and it was a choice. I sit reflecting on that for some minutes, and comparing that to the way my Traveling Partner and I typically work things out together (it’s very different, and I am grateful for the effort we both put into talking and listening).
“Emotion and Reason” 18″ x 24″ acrylic w/ceramic and glow details, 2012
Choosing not to make things worse is both a choice and also a practice (if you make it one). I look out into the cloudy sky and think about emotional storms, and emotional choices, and how significant emotion is in this human experience. We are creatures of both emotion and reason, and we tend to lead with emotion, and respond to emotion before reason ever joins the conversation. That’s not a character flaw, it’s what we are. Our emotional intelligence is probably pretty critical to our success (and survival), overall (depending on how you define success, sure; my definition includes a reliable feeling of well-being and contentment).
…When I practice calm, I become a calmer person across a broader variety of experiences…
Developing one’s emotional intelligence is not as easy as saying it is an important detail. I get it. We don’t typically include such things in K-12 education (when it is most needed) in a structured informative way. Few of us grow up in families with even one emotionally intelligent adult in the household, based on my limited experience and casual observation. We don’t put much time (and probably no funding) into developing tools that can be shared with people who are seeking to do this work themselves. Like a lot of things, it’s complicated by various hidden agendas and resource limitations. When I began down this path, myself, the help I needed was sometimes not easy to find. I was fortunate to find a good therapist whose expertise was a good fit for my needs (and fortunate to be able to afford it at the time I needed it most). My reading list has some items specific to emotional intelligence (although we don’t all learn through reading). It is unfortunate that some of the best work on the topic is sometimes a bit of a slog to get through, requiring what feels like “real work”. (If I were pressed to make specific recommendations, I’d probably point to Buddha’s Brain, and Emotional Intimacy for the studious, and The Four Agreements for those looking for a quick introduction with illuminating allegories.)
…You’ll have to walk your own path, and do your own work, this is not a negotiable detail…
It’s a journey with a lot of stairs to climb…
I sit with my coffee and my thoughts awhile longer. How did I even get to this place, this morning? Oh, right, reflecting on the importance of being patient (and pleasant) while on hold trying to make an appointment for my beloved. I chuckle to myself, aware how valuable those skills are in so many day-to-day interactions. My results vary. I keep practicing. I glance at the time – it’s already time to begin again.
I woke early, confused about what day it is, remnants of troubled dreams clinging to my waking consciousness. I wasn’t even certain whether it was a work day, and if it were, where I’d intended to be working. I slowly sorted things out as I dressed, and headed to the trail in the predawn darkness. I took (and used) my headlamp for the first time in many weeks. The season is changing. The clock is ticking. The wheel is turning.
Another day, another mile.
The dawn came while I walked, hazy, pearly pink, and mild. The forecast says cooler today, although it is summer and still expected to be hot. The arthritis in my spine tells me (by way of the amount of pain I’m in) that cooler days and probably some rain are imminent. In spite of the pain, I’m looking forward to the rain.
I stop frequently, just leaning on my cane today. “Walk!” I snarl at myself silently. I walk on. Pain pulls me down, emotionally, and tends to make everything a bit of a struggle. Be kind to the people you know who endure chronic pain – trust me they don’t need more bullshit or drama. lol Those frail elders slowly making their way, maybe “slowing you down”? That’ll be you one day, so maybe don’t be an impatient dick about it, okay? (I used to be so frustrated by slower elders out and about doing their own thing, now I admire their endurance and see that as something to aspire to.)
Another step on the path, another breath, I walk on, watching the sunrise reach distant hills on the horizon.
My thoughts are still filled with remnants of unsolved questions and concerns of the past, all tangled up with existential dread, stale grief, and memories of other times. Occasional tears fill my eyes, but I’m not really sure why I am feeling so… What even is this feeling? Blue? Displaced? Some peculiar blend of sorrows, regret, and nostalgia that resists my attempt to name it. I’m annoyed by that more than I am troubled by the emotion. I sigh quietly, still walking.
I breathe, exhale, and relax. I think of my Traveling Partner at home, probably still sleeping. I’m grateful for his love and steady presence in my life. I think about the life we share. I’m grateful for that too, and feel fortunate to be where we are. My anxiety suddenly flares up, and I am momentarily overwhelmed by “what if” scenarios and self-doubt. Another breath, and I exhale, letting that go. It’s not a good practice to be consumed with worries about things that are not happening. I keep walking, until I get back to the car.
I sigh to myself as I change back from boots to soft shoes, and toss my cane into the passenger seat. My mind is still full of chaos, and I feel like I’m dragging around a lot of baggage and slowed down by ancient pain… but it’s a new day, and a new chance to begin again. Time to get started on that…
Evening Light 