Archives for posts with tag: mindfulness matters
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The Things That Matter

March 19, 2024 //
2

I’m sipping my coffee and listening to the combination of the ringing in my ears, and the sound of the ventilation circulating the air, punctuated by the cawing of crows as they start their day. The sunrise is peach and orange to the east, illuminating a hazy pink and blue sky beyond the western hills. My desk here in the office has a remarkable 180 degrees or so of view, and though rather unremarkable directly in front of me (facing a residential tower on the other side of a small park), simply turning my head brings the morning sunrise into my field of vision each morning. I love watching it evolve, from the earliest moments of daybreak beginning to recolor the sky, until the florid hues of the rising sun begin to fade away leaving only blue sky behind to begin the day in earnest. It’s lovely. Even the grayest rainiest mornings often hold some interesting detail worth taking note of, as I sip my coffee. I feel fortunate to enjoy these moments. I’m glad I choose them.

A new day. I have the entire thing ahead of me for all manner of purposes and whatever variety of experiences I may find myself having. I feel fortunate here, too. We don’t have infinite days. I look forward to enjoying another one. 😀

I think about the roses and the garden. One of the new ones (Rainbow Happy Trails) arrived yesterday afternoon, just about the time I got home. Later in the evening, sometime after I crashed (early, struck down by Spring allergies – tree pollen, specifically) the new waffle iron arrived, too! I’m eager to give it a try, this weekend. I’m eager to plant the new rose, too. I think I know where I want to put this one, intended to be part of a trio of “memory roses” at the edge of the yard, in a spot with an excellent view of the garden, and currently a bit overlooked.

…I find myself counting the roses I have, and adding the roses I’ve ordered. I think I’ve potentially reached “maximum roses” for the front garden, which makes me giggle; there are still other roses I long to have. No doubt a useful lesson in choosing wisely, in embracing sufficiency, and in managing my desires, eh? lol So human that these are still lessons I continue to have to learn, associated with practices I still need practice at. I do love roses… each with a name, a history, and real character. They are the “main characters” in the garden, with a beautiful supporting cast of herbs and flowers, and wee objects here and there to bring attention to some perspective or angle of view (a gazing ball, a small statue, an interesting large-ish stone, that sort of thing). Even more than any one rose, I love my garden. I don’t think I’m the very best of gardeners… truth is, I’ve got a lot to learn, and in the garden (as in life) I am forever a student. Always practicing. Always studying. Always learning more. Handily enough – there’s always more to learn.

What matters most to you? What are you doing about it? Do you make time for the things that matter to you? How do you prevent “all the other things” from crowding out the things that matter most? I sit with those questions, and my own answers for awhile…

…Where does this path lead? I think for awhile about garden paths, and the garden as a metaphor…

…It’s Spring…

I sit with my coffee, my smile, and this gorgeous sunrise, watching and thinking my thoughts. Breathing. Being. It’s already time to begin again…

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Categories Allegories, breathe, Free Will, gardening, gratitude, Healthy Living, inspiration, Love, meditation, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Practices, Relationships, Roses, Spring

Different Timing, Different Perspective

February 17, 2024 //
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Sometimes all it takes to change my perspective is a difference in timing. I woke a bit later than usual and immediately headed out to get a walk in, first thing on this windy gray Saturday morning. The weather is blustery and chilly, but not particularly cold, and between the later start time and the slow seasonal change to the timing of the sunrise, it’s already daybreak, just barely, when I get to the trailhead. The park gate hasn’t yet opened, and I wait with quiet eagerness.

Yesterday was fun and encouraging. My Traveling Partner got his first work day since he got hurt handled and it went well. Together, later, we assembled an inversion table (hopefully it’s a helpful piece of gear for his continued recovery), without any cross words at all, in spite of my fatigue at the end of the day. It was fun.

Today kicks off a long weekend, but I didn’t make any particular plans. Housekeeping, and caring for my partner will likely take up much of my time. I could possibly get going on the taxes. Maybe I will get out into the garden? (That sounds lovely…)

The wind rocks the car and howls past me, whipping the trees back and forth. Occasional raindrops spatter the windshield as I wait for the clang of the gate opening.

I have no idea what the weekend holds, but I have this trail ahead of me, and this lovely morning, and I am ready to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, breathe, Free Will, gardening, gratitude, Healthy Living, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Practices, solo hiking, The Art of Being, winter

A New Day

February 11, 2024 //
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I’m waiting, again, at a trailhead. Daybreak is here and the gate to the nature preserve will open shortly. It’s a new day.

The view from a parking space, looking towards the highway.

I breathe, exhale, relax… and listen through the ringing in my ears for the clang of the gate opening.

Yesterday, in my impatience to get going, I walked in the pre-dawn twilight just at daybreak on a very cloudy morning. I started out with my headlamp on, and needed it. I find the walking both less satisfying and also riskier at that hour, and this morning I am taking a more patient approach.

… Strangely, it’s definitely “dawn” now and the visibility is quite good, but the gate has not yet opened. Quite odd. I find myself wondering if the sensor is broken, and whether I will be waiting a long while for a park ranger to come by to open it…? Curious, I check the website, which still says the trails are open “dawn to dusk”. The gate across the driveway up to the main parking area and year-round trailhead disagrees. Most peculiar.

I sigh quietly and work on managing my frustration and disappointment. There are other trails nearby. I could choose differently and don’t have to wait… I sit with that thought awhile. What to do?

… I hear the clang. It’s time to begin again.

Later. The morning air along the edge of the marsh smelled rather like aquarium water. The migratory birds gathered in groups here and there were waking for the day and beginning to take flight. The sky lightened to shades of blue and pale gray. A soft misty rain began to fall. I walked on, smiling.

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Categories Allegories, breathe, Free Will, Frustration, gratitude, Healthy Living, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Practices, solo hiking, The Art of Being, winter

Sometimes All You Get Is The Sunrise

December 17, 2023 //
2

I’m sitting in my car, waiting for the sunrise to illuminate the trail, preferring not to walk it in the dark. I slept poorly, completely pwnd by my nightmares. My head aches ferociously and I feel as if I am stressed to a breaking point in spite of so recently having a few days away. I find myself on the edge of tears over and over again, and awash in vague feelings of frustration. It’s shitty.

I breathe. Exhale. Regain a sense of calm. Then I lose it again. The experience is very much as if I am completely “disregulated” for some reason. My thoughts come back to this fucking headache. Going on 9 years, in January. No relief. No diagnosis that feels trustworthy or useful. I’m still here, though, that’s something. For now it has to be enough.

The beginning of a sunrise.

My Traveling Partner pings me a greeting. He’s up early. His injured condition is vexing and worrisome for both of us. Worse for him, obviously, living with it. The visit to the ER earlier this week seemed somewhat reassuring but the feeling hasn’t lasted and he’s struggling more than seems reasonable. No doubt this is weighing more heavily on my heart and mind than I was prepared for.

The sun begins to rise and the horizon is on fire with intense reds and oranges, and a hint of pink. It’s gorgeous. I sit watching it evolve over some minutes, half an eye on the trailhead. Soon the path will be light enough to walk quite safely.

I try to let the sunrise be enough. The tears start falling. I let them. I don’t really know what else to do with tears. Right now is hard. Sometimes that’s how things are. The world seems like a pretty terrible heartless place right now, which adds to the feeling of senselessness, futility, and frustration. Subjectively, I feel very alone and ineffective, powerless to prevent this mortal vessel from breaking down, powerless to help my partner, powerless to help my dearest friend. Powerless to change the world. Mortality comes for us all, and these fucking meat suits are more fragile than they seemed in younger years. Fuck.

I cry awhile, sitting here alone, watching the sun rise. Sometimes a sunrise is all we get. Sometimes it has to be enough. I sigh and wipe the tears off my face before I get out of the car to walk this favorite trail. It’s time to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, anger, Anxiety, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, Despair, Free Will, Frustration, grief, health, loneliness, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Practices, Relationships, Sleepless Nights, solo hiking, The Art of Being, turning 60

Enough for Now

October 15, 2023 //
0

I’m sipping what is left of my first cup of coffee. It’s mostly gone cold and I think about that new mug my Traveling Partner got to keep his coffee warm while he is working… yeah… do want. lol Another time; it’s on my wishlist. 😀 This coffee, right here, is good enough.

It’s a quiet moment. Lo-fi playing in the background, the soft sound of the A/C (or is it the heat?) running in the background. Laptop in my lap. Morning. My Traveling Partner was up when I got up. He went back to bed shortly after I made my coffee and sat down with him. I figure he was most likely up during the night, based on the peculiarly affronted tone of voice to his reply (he declined) when I asked if he’d like me to make him a cup of coffee as I went to make mine. I hope he gets the rest he needs.

…I guess this means we’re not going out to breakfast, though… lol

I give myself over to enjoying the quiet. Later, I’ll do laundry, dishes, vacuuming and dusting, and all the assorted housekeeping I just don’t have energy for during the work week. I make a grocery list, also for later.

Yesterday, I went shopping for jeans to replace the tattered overly-worn (worn-out) jeans I’ve been shlumping around in for a year (longer). I don’t enjoy shopping for jeans – it’s often quite difficult to find any that fit, are comfortable, and also look good to me. This time, with some effort and a lot of trying things on, I found some I liked and it didn’t even feel like an unreasonable expense. After I got home, I did the step that I so often fail on; I went through every pair of jeans I had in my closet, tried each pair on, and put it through the same test as when shopping for new ones; do they fit, are they comfortable, do I like the way they look on me? Everything that failed even one of those tests went into a bag to go to a local donation center. Clearing up the clutter always seems to also “free my mind” from the sludge of chaos.

This morning, I woke, showered, and put on a pair of new jeans. Feels good… and a little weird. A well-broken-in pair of jeans has a certain familiar feel that is hard to describe. These don’t have that, yet, but they are very comfortable, and I am at ease. I remind myself that just because something is familiar that doesn’t make it also good.

Why does any of this even matter? I’m not sure it does. It’s just a quiet Sunday morning suited to self-reflection, and I happen to be aware of my higher than usual feeling of personal comfort and contentment in this moment. I’m making a point to be aware of what has gone into creating this moment, and really making a point to savor it; it won’t last. Moments don’t last. They are fleeting. Brief. Transitory. They are… momentary. Eventually, I’ll have to begin again. 😀

For now, it’s me, this quiet moment, the lo-fi on the stereo, this feeling of comfort and this cup of almost finished, almost cold coffee… and it’s enough.

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Categories Allegories, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, Love, meditation, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Practices, Relationships, Sleepless Nights, The Art of Being, turning 60
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