Archives for posts with tag: meditation

I’m sitting in the sunshine as the sun rises. Pretty morning. My walk to this point has been quiet and pleasant. There was no traffic on the highway, either. If the folks in my neighborhood are a representative sample of Americans in the area, most folks who were going somewhere this weekend are gone, and those that were up late firing off various fireworks and noise makers are probably sleeping in; that shit was still going on at midnight.

A misty morning at the trailhead.

I’m enjoying the quiet and the solitude. Somewhere in the distance, I hear an occasional car pass by. My tinnitus is crazy loud this morning, and my back aches ferociously. I breathe, exhale, and relax, pulling my posture more upright. Changing my position doesn’t ease my pain in any noteworthy way, but slumping carelessly definitely tends to make it worse. Choices. I grumble silently to myself; everything seems to require a fucking effort. lol I laugh at myself for resisting the truth of it. Yes, surely things require effort. That’s just real. I sigh to myself and let it go. There’s no use fighting the effort required to do things. The best I can do is to make wise choices about what I am doing and where I’m putting my limited resources as an individual (even down to the effort involved).

Halfway “there” is just a point along the way. The journey is the destination.

…Fuck pain…

I sigh to myself and smile, thinking about yesterday. Nice evening. The Anxious Adventurer made lemon bars. Tasty. I made (a fairly simple, summertime) dinner. Nothing fancy. We enjoyed it together as a family. The weather was fairly mild and not hot, and we had turned off the AC, enjoying the natural breeze through windows open wide to the summer air.

I’ve no clear agenda for the weekend. Routine housekeeping stuff I guess. I sit watching the little birds at the edge of the meadow. I think about old friends and try to distract myself from pain. Maybe it is a good day to get out into the garden? There’s laundry to do, too. I chuckle at myself when I find myself daydreaming about doing housework as I sit here in the sunshine visualizing this or that task I know I am likely to do on a Saturday, and wondering what I can actually accomplish in practical terms. I’d rather sit with my feet up in the garden, sipping iced coffee and ignoring the tick of the clock, but time is a precious and finite resource and I have things to do. Another sigh breaks the stillness.

What next? I don’t know, yet. I’ve got options to consider. Choices to make. I’ve got my own path to walk. For the moment I am content just to be here, now, enjoying the morning sun without attachment to any particular outcome. Later, I can begin again.

The sunrise was a bold assortment of hues of pink and magenta this morning, rays of color flaring from behind streaks of pink clouds edged with mauve. I watched as I drove to the trailhead.

A new day, a new perspective.

…I wish I’d slept in…

I yawned through the first half of my walk, feeling sleepy. I feel like I could easily enjoy a nap, though I slept well and deeply and woke rested this morning. Doesn’t matter, and I keep walking.

I reached my halfway point happy to pause, but wishing there were a hammock conveniently nearby. lol There is not.

I sit watching a small herd of deer crossing the meadow. They have two fawns with them. It’s that time of year, and I know I’ll be seeing the fawn that has been keeping the local doe coming back to my garden again and again. Soon they’ll move on for the summer, and my roses will get a break from being nibbled at.

4 of July. My Traveling Partner has some work he expects will keep him occupied for much of the day. I’ll busy myself with tidying up the deck for cooking, later. The groceries are on hand. No errands to run that can’t wait (none that I recall right now), just a pleasant holiday weekend ahead, available for relaxation, good food, and fun.

I sit awhile watching the new day begin, and thinking about summer times past. The things I miss most about childhood summers are fireflies, thunderstorms, and leisure time (which seemed so endless then, it is hard to imagine now). There are no fireflies in this part of the world, and thunderstorms are quite uncommon. I’m managing to get sufficient leisure time, generally, but it doesn’t feel like those endless days of summer from my childhood. I sigh to myself, grateful for the three day weekend.

A little yellow and black bird hops quite close to me and sings a little song before flying away. I don’t even try to get a picture. I already know he’s too quick for me.

I get to my feet. Another yawn. It’s already time to begin again.

I’m sitting in the sunshine in a favorite spot along a favorite trail, at the edge of an oak grove, between meadow and marsh (although the marsh is less marsh-y and more meadow-y this time of year making the distinction less clear).

A nice quiet spot for a pleasant quiet moment.

I’m taking a few minutes for meditation, and writing a few words before I get to my feet and finish my walk. Lovely morning for it. I enjoy this time and often use it for reflecting on this or that, and sometimes just to relax, breathe, and “hear myself think”. This morning? No agenda. No errands. No necessary shopping on the way home. Just this pleasant summer morning, this sunny spot in an oak grove, and these quiet solitary moments. It’s enough. Feels almost luxurious.

What might you see if you slow down to look?

Yesterday, at my Traveling Partner’s suggestion, I drove over to the coast and enjoyed a couple hours on the beach, exploring tide pools and walking with my camera, my thoughts, and my eyes on the horizon. Time well-spent. I returned home quite tired and satisfied with the day. I don’t know what I’ll do with today. My finger is still healing, no longer wrapped in a cumbersome bandage and surgical dressing, just a bandaid, but it’s not yet healed enough for hard work, gardening, or household cleaning solutions and still needs to be kept quite clean and dry and protected from damage. Maybe I’ll read? Do a bit of laundry? I just don’t know yet.

I sigh to myself and let all that go; it’s not important in this moment that I know what I’m doing in some future moment. Not this morning, on this lovely summer morning, perched on a fence rail, feeling the sun on my back. I let myself just enjoy this moment right here, now, while it lasts.  Soon enough it’ll be time to begin again.

Are you fed up with the deluge of “AI slop” being pushed at you on pretty nearly every platform you look to for information or entertainment, everywhere, all the time now? I know I am. AI “art” isn’t art. AI writing isn’t literature (nor, generally, is it worth reading at all). AI summaries of search results are highly prone to inaccuracies and are often quite ridiculous in spots, and sometimes unreadable. AI content is very often IP theft or plagiarism. It’s pretty awful. AI doesn’t catch its own mistakes; it can’t think, comprehend, or reason.

Hey, good news; there’s no AI here. I’m an actual real person. A human primate. My spelling mistakes, grammatical errors, poor syntax, and occasionally meaning-obscuring overuse of ellipses are 100% human and my own! I sit somewhere in some moment of self-reflection, and compose my actual thoughts, such as they are, using my own words, and I share them with you. Wow. My photos and images are generally my own (at least since I began bringing a camera along with me everywhere and viewing so much of my life through that lens). Music I link to isn’t mine, but I selected it myself, inspired by my experience, and chosen to enhance my writing in some way. I share my own art with you. My “unfiltered” take on life is offered up relatively fearlessly, too. I don’t need AI to do my thinking for me (and neither do you).

It is still possible to choose the content you consume with sufficient care to avoid AI slop, generally. (I block pages and content that are AI generated, once I recognize it – and I’m reliably seeking to determine that quickly. I’m not a fan.) I personally find garbage AI slop seriously cringe, and also don’t want to undermine the value of human content creation by encouraging that crap. I’m an artist. A writer. A photographer. It matters to me to differentiate between created works and “generated” works.

Anyway. No AI here (aside from the one use of it on my About page when ChatGPT launched). Oh, I’m aware of the potential inherent in AI, and professionally I stay current with what AI tools are capable of, presently. I just don’t prefer (or need) to use AI to write. 😆

The world is a fucking mess, eh? It’d be easy to shrug off AI concerns as unimportant, considering everything else going on. If you’re in a safe place, be sure to go outside. Take healthy breaks. Enjoy a moment with a friend. Take a walk. Watch clouds scoot across the sky. Smell flowers. Try a new recipe. Read a book. Learn a skill. Sit in a beautiful garden. Make something. You can live an actual life and form thoughts about those experiences. AI can’t. Enjoy your moments. These mortal lifetimes are fleeting.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I sit with my coffee, grateful for a new day, and a new opportunity to begin again. I watch the sun rise as the clock ticks on this mortal lifetime. My thoughts are my own, an idea I greatly enjoy.

… I notice the time… already a new moment… already a new beginning… What will I do with it?

The morning sky is a featureless homogeneous soft gray. It rained during the night, and feels like it might rain again today at some point. My walk was quiet, and I spent the time mostly in my own head. I’ve got my own opinions about world events, and I know you have yours. No doubt we each think we’re right (or at least justified) about the opinions we hold. The smarter we each actually are, the more likely we’re also aware of how wrong we could be, or sensitive to how nuanced circumstances truly are.

Being human is funny that way; we’re each having our own experience. Each walking our own path. Each of us making the journey on our own terms, except where we’ve yielded our decision making power to some Other. We’ve got our own opinions, formed and informed by our own experiences, and our own circumstances, colored by our individual pattern of biases, assumptions, and superstitions. We’ve got our own dreams, our own goals, our own disappointments and inner demons. We are individuals capable of critical thinking, when we choose to think critically (a choice which is quite separate from the ability). We create the world we live in directly through our choices and our actions. We are, as a species, uniquely creative and incredibly intelligent, while also being willfully stupid and terribly destructive. The scale of our ability to destroy is likely to be our undoing; we lack the wisdom to be cautious and to approach threats to our survival with care. A large portion of the whole of humanity is thoroughly committed to profit and personal gain even at the cost of humanity’s demise. Weird.

Oak trees in a meadow, the largest of them have been here longer than I have.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. Warfare is stupid and pointlessly destructive. That’s my opinion. We could do better.

I sit with my thoughts and my opinions at the edge of this meadow, wishing human beings weren’t so completely shortsighted and criminally greedy. I sigh and try again to let that go. Fretting over things I can’t change about the decision making and opinions of other people is just about as pointless as things get. I definitely have better things to do with my time. Strange that people so eager to make war don’t seem aware that they could choose peace instead.

“Golden Opportunity” blooming on a rainy day.

I sit awhile wondering how it is we have not yet overcome the most basic flaws in our character as human primates and wonder why it is so many of us are so greedy for arbitrary representations of wealth. I hear the traffic in the distance. It’s a quiet morning, here. No bombs falling here. No drone attacks. No artillery fire. No landmines in these meadows. No trenches. No destruction. Americans tend to be some very NIMBY motherfuckers about such things; we fling our munitions at targets elsewhere in the world, and very few Americans have stared directly into the face of the God of War. To do so would force us to confront the cruelty, waste, and injustice of war, and to reckon with the body count. It is my opinion that most people who understand war and the cost in wasted resources and lost lives don’t so easily choose to inflict it on others. What do I even know about it, beyond my own experience, though? Maybe nothing.

I have seen war, up close and personal. I’d rather not go there again. Nothing is worth paying that price. Nothing. Humanity could do better. We make terrible choices.

A crow watching the tide come in.

It’s been a lovely week off. Now the weekend begins to end and the world is waiting. What next? Where does this path lead? Each moment is a blank page – what story will you write? What choices will you make? How will you (or I) make the world a better place for every creature who makes this muddy rock hurtling through space their home? We could… There are verbs involved, and our results will vary. I promise you one thing; war is not the way.

I sigh to myself. You can lead a human being to knowledge but you cannot make them think.

I get to my feet and look down the trail. Moments are fleeting. It’s a good time to begin again. I’ll do my best to live well, to embrace joy, and encourage others, and to refrain from acts of destruction. I can, if nothing else, live my values authentically and avoid violence. I may not change the world for the better in any obvious way, but I can surely avoid making shit worse.