I woke too early. Some noise woke me ahead of my alarm. I tried to go back to sleep, but was unsuccessful. I started to sit up, and my body protested vigorously, by way of the pain I was in. Honestly, it’s hard to be annoyed by it; it’s just sore muscles from working in the garden over the weekend, and walking a little further, a little faster, on my morning hikes. Any muscle to do with legs, from my calves to my navel, whether walking, stooping, standing, lifting, reaching, bending… it all hurts now. lol Right at this moment, now, it’s my calves that ache most. First thing this morning, it was my thighs and my butt.
Meant for the front flower beds, these strawberries became an opportunity for change.
I gave myself quite a workout over the course of the weekend. Worth it. The garden is cared for, and I’ve a new space developing on the far side of the house – my “west side garden”. For now that’s just a raised strawberry bed, and a couple pots prepared for planting that don’t yet have anything in them.
My “west side garden”, a narrow space mostly left unused, but gets good afternoon sun. Where will this path lead?
When we moved in, that west side space between our house and the fence had a well-established strawberry bed in it – it got seriously trampled (destroyed) by the neighbors rebuilding the fence (badly). It’s not like I was using that space much, myself, but it’s there, and it’s mine, and I could be using it… so… I am. I said something offhand to my Traveling Partner about maybe making a pleasant small meditation garden. He laughed and pointed out the air conditioner. It’s also adjacent to the neighbor’s patio (and his weight bench, and the clanging of his free weights hitting the rack, when he’s using them). Yeah, so… okay. Maybe not quite quiet and peaceful enough for meditation. lol
I sip my coffee and think about potted shrubs and other fruiting plants that might do well with only the afternoon sun to rely on. Maybe some currants in a big pot, placed to partially obscure the sight of the AC? I’ve definitely decided to get another of those small raised beds – quite convenient, and there’s room for another. Not today, though. I am content to think the thoughts and dream and plan and wonder. There’s no hurry, really. There’s just this moment and these thoughts. A woman, a garden, a ticking clock, and “now” – no reason at all to hurry, when careful consideration and a bit of planning will be worth so much. There’s more to tending the garden than the manual labor. lol
…G’damn I am so sore though! lol I’m definitely not 21 any more…
There is blue sky beyond the office window this morning. Lovely day. There is work to do, and later, an appointment. All very routine and not especially “interesting”, just details of a life lived. I sigh to myself and realize it is time to begin again.
I’m sitting at the halfway point on my walk around the marsh on a Spring morning, early. The air is deliciously fragrant with Spring flowers after a gentle rain during the wee hours. The trail is damp, but not muddy. The sky is gray, but there’s a hint of sunrise on the eastern horizon. There are geese overhead calling to each other as they fly by.
An early start on a new day.
I woke feeling rested and clear-headed this morning, if a bit earlier than planned. It doesn’t matter, really. It’s a lovely morning out on the marsh. Flowers blooming everywhere, trees and shrubs mostly, other flowers will bloom later.
I notice I’m suddenly feeling “froggy” and congested. My nose is simultaneously stuffed up and beginning to run like crazy. I scramble for the travel pack of tissues I had shoved into my pocket “just in case”. The sneezing hits me next. Damn it. An allergy attack? Probably. It’s Spring, and while I am quite fortunate that I don’t have the serious problem with allergies that my mother had, nor those of any of my partners, I do have one or two. Bee stings. Cotton wood trees. And whatever the fuck is blooming right now, apparently, that wasn’t blooming yesterday! I would laugh, but I’m pretty busy trying to breathe for several minutes while I blow my nose, clear my throat, and take a Benadryl. I remind myself to start taking Claritin each morning; it’s that time of year. I remind myself to begin making a point to keep my bee sting kit close by, always, too.
Being prepared matters quite a lot. My symptoms quickly ease, and I’m comfortably enjoying the morning again. Indications of Spring are all around. I especially enjoy the green haze creeping over every branch, as tender young leaves begin to unfold. It’s a beautiful time and it hints at renewal and new beginnings. For the moment I forget about pain (and allergies), and all the housekeeping stuff on my to do list, and instead I simply enjoy the moment, and the Spring. I think about my garden, and about maybe baking some cookies later. Simple pleasures. Nice morning for it.
I’m grateful that I began the day prepared. I’m grateful that I’ve become more skilled at self-care over time. I’m grateful for the awareness that brings Spring into focus, and that allows me to recognize needs that must be addressed promptly without panic. I’m grateful for this beautiful dawn, and this lovely moment, and this chance to begin again.
Even in springtime, the clock is ticking.
I get to my feet, and brush bits of leaves and moss from my jeans, before continuing down the trail. My journey is my destination, this morning, and it is enough.
I’m sitting in the artificial twilight of a lamppost at the edge of my preferred local trail. It’s not yet fully dawn, but there’s a hint of daybreak in the changing color of the sky. I caught myself scrolling through the news headlines, though there is nothing there worth reading. Nothing new. Mostly intentionally distressing – or selling something. I put it aside. I don’t benefit in any way from becoming sucked into that garbage.
I think about stumbling on the trail a few moments ago. I caught myself, didn’t fall, but it was a moment of inattention and the outcome could have been worse. There’s something to learn there. It’s a metaphor. In a sense, scrolling through the news feed mindlessly is another sort of stumble. Disregarding healthy portion control when I struggle with my weight? Another stumble. Skipping a planned walk or a workout when I have specific fitness goals? Stumble.
Other lives, other challenges, other ways to stumble on a path. An addict in recovery having “just a little, this one time…”. Stumble. Someone making an important lifestyle change yielding to an old habit. Stumble. Important financial goals overlooked for a little “retail therapy”. Stumble. Giving that toxic relationship another chance. Stumble. It’s so very human to stumble, but we really can catch ourselves, and get back on the path. We really can acknowledge our failures and begin again.
I sit with that thought watching daybreak come, turning the sky blue beyond the dark clouds overhead. It’s okay to fail and begin again. It’s okay to pause on the trail to rest or to reflect. It’s okay to be human. It’s a journey. The journey is the destination.
I think of a far away friend admitting to me that she hadn’t been reading my blog. I was surprised by the admission, not because I expect all my friends and people dear to me to read my writing, but more because she found the admission embarrassing or awkward at all. I’m pretty sure it’s a near inevitability that any one reader will eventually stop reading and move on to other things. lol I see “this place” as a resting point on a journey more than a path. Once my point is made, the rest is perhaps noise. Repetition. I certainly wasn’t hurt by her admission. I’m here. You’re here now. For a moment we travel together whether through coincidence or intention, and we nonetheless each have our own experience. I rarely cross paths “in real life” with someone who reads my writing. She’s rare and delightful in that way. I cherish the experience, but don’t expect it. Our Dear Friend connected us, here, through their conversations about my writing. I was fortunate indeed to eventually sit down with them together over coffee. What a joyful day! When our Dear Friend neared the end of her life, we shared that too. I’m grateful.
Dawn. A new day, and the path ahead is clear. When I see the path and walk it mindfully, I’m less likely to stumble. It’s a very human experience, though, and the path is uneven in spots. There’s still a chance I may stumble, or even fall. When I do, I get up, consider my missteps, and begin again.
It’s a Friday, and seems pretty routine and ordinary so far. It’s raining. Spring in the Pacific Northwest, this is not unexpected. The weather is otherwise quite mild (where I am), and I am content and mostly comfortable, if a bit groggy. My body feels as if I overslept (I didn’t) and my mind feels as if I am behind on things (I’m not). Funny how subjective our experience of life can be. This morning I am frustrated and annoyed with the amount of pain I am in, and my lingering feeling of fatigue, in spite of getting a restful night of sleep. I sip my coffee, listen to the rain falling, and try to let small things stay small, and avoid Other People’s Drama or wallowing in chaos I can not control (or fix).
I breathe, exhale, relax, and think about… lavender. I’ve now planted six varieties in my wee garden, placed close enough to various roses to (hopefully) discourage the deer from eating the roses. That was the purpose of the lavender, but I actually also like the smell of lavender, and in springtime often enjoy tea with lavender in it, or some other beverage (even coffee) with a hint of lavender. I enjoy lavender scented bath soap and fragrances. I avoid “over doing it” – strong scents can be annoying in small spaces. I have the recollection that at some point there was the thinking that lavender was an old-fashioned scent, or somehow conveyed “age”… I don’t perceive it that way, myself (I don’t think I ever have, but I’m not certain of that and thinking changes over time). On the other hand, I’m 62 this year, perhaps I like lavender because I’ve “grown into it”? (Nah, I was using lavender scented shower gel back in the 80s, as a young soldier, and enjoying the way it brought Spring to mind, for me.) I sip my coffee, enjoying the thought of the newly planted lavender settling into the garden on a mild rainy day, roots reaching further into the earth, tender new shoots of greenery developing slowly. I smile to myself, happy to have a garden, and a home of my own. Happy to share it with my Traveling Partner who is so enduringly dear to me. He comes out and sits at the edge of the garden when I work, sometimes, making suggestions and observing the work, calling out jokes or loving compliments, sharing that time and place with me fondly, in spite of commenting that he “doesn’t care at all” about the flowers. lol He cares about me. That’s enough.
Lavender in my garden.
The chaos of the world (and the turd in a clown car parked in a raging dumpster fire that is currently American governance) nibbles at my consciousness, trying to encroach on my sense of peace and contentment, but a quick glance at this morning’s headlines assured me they are all yesterday’s headlines regurgitated over new bylines for additional clicks and engagement. No thank you. I’ve got my own pain, and my own shit to deal with, and I’m already well-aware of the shit-storm of additional chaos and disappointment likely coming for us all. I’ll do my best to take care of myself, of my family, of hearth and home, and to be kind to others, and foster a sense of compassion and community. It’s important to do my best to be the woman I most want to be, and to avoid becoming “one of the bad guys” and also to maintain a strong sense of self, and ensure that my ethics remain intact. Doing that isn’t a small thing, and it has real, lasting value. It may not change the world, but it keeps my corner of it tidy and free of unnecessary bullshit, which is worth something.
Speaking of pain… I’ve got mine. It is what it is. I’m doing my best to keep it managed and to avoid letting it become a decision-making force in my life. I’d rather ache a little from the bending and reaching of planting lavender in my garden than go without a garden. I’d rather be sore from miles walked on new trails that sit at home crying over the pain I’d be in, regardless. I’m not saying that to shame anyone or criticize someone else’s choices; it’s just my own path, and I’m doing my best to walk it in spite of pain. Fuck pain. It already occupies too much of my time and attention, I don’t really want to give it more – but there it is, a near constant companion these days. Some days worse than others. Today it’s there, but it’s not “everything”. I push it aside, again and again, and get on with other things. How about you? How’s your pain? Are you managing to manage it, mostly? Are you practicing good self-care, taking meds on time, getting enough exercise, and good nutrition? Would a hot shower help? Would some yoga help? Would it help to stand up and stretch and move around a bit? Would it help to distract yourself with something positive and uplifting, like a cup of tea with a friend, or reading an interesting book? I hope you take care of yourself – you have a life worth living, and a human experience to enjoy that is unlike any other.
I sigh quietly, and notice that daybreak has arrived, blue-gray and rainy. I’m not surprised. Daybreak was expected – I’m not sure how I’d react if one morning the sun did not rise at all. It’s a strange thought. I knew it would be a rainy morning, because it already was. I sip my coffee thinking about how much of my expectations of life, generally, are simply carried over from previous days and experiences. Habits. Routines. Rituals. Familiar paths and roads. Practices. I sit with that thought a little while and wonder quietly how I can free myself from sticky expectations and untested assumptions to more easily embrace the novel and unfamiliar, or at least be more open to it when it comes?
Seedlings on a sunnier day. What have you planted in your garden? (It’s a metaphor.)
I see my smile reflected back at me in the window. I’m okay right now, for most values of okay. Even my pain, which is substantial this morning, isn’t really holding me back at all. It’s Friday. I’m eager to finish the work day and return to the garden, just to see the lavender I’ve planted there, and to count the radish and pea seedlings that have sprouted, and pull some weeds. Small joys add up. I sip my coffee and get ready to begin again.
It’s already afternoon. The busy start to a work day of catching up became a busy morning of meetings and follow-ups, which has become afternoon, and nearing the end of the work day. I pull my head out of my… email… and sit up. Breathe. Exhale. Relax. Drink some icy cold water, some sparkling hipster brand that is more scented than flavored, but it’s cold, and it’s potable, and I was thirsty. It’s good enough.
The sun streams through the office window as if mocking my plans to paint for a few days and ending up “rained out” over and over again. The plan is not the reality. The map is not the world. The intention is not the outcome. Perspective. I enjoyed the time on my own terms, and saw some beautiful places and got the real break “from the the world” that I needed so badly. I even got out into my garden, planted some lavender with hopes of seeing more roses bloom (I’ve heard the deer definitely do not care for the strong scent of the lavender and it is rumored to keep them away). Even if that doesn’t work out, I’ll have the lavender, which I greatly enjoy for it’s own qualities.
I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.
I breathe, exhale, relax, and take this short break, looking out the window into the sunshine. I’m smiling. No hard feelings; reality does not care about my plans, my intentions, or my maps. It simply is. I’m okay with it. I take my break with intention, enjoying this moment before I get back to work. I’m not a fucking machine, and there is no reason to behave as though I am, or treat myself as though I should be. I’m a human being, being human. I smile to myself, and think of my Traveling Partner. It’ll be nice to be home again, at the end of the day, to see him and feel his love, to share my thoughts about the garden, to hear his thoughts about what he’s doing in the shop. I rummage in my handbag for a snack bar left behind after my days wandering new trails. I forgot to bring anything for lunch. I began the day completely unprepared for work, but also no longer prepared to be out on the trail somewhere. lol It’s fine. I’m enjoying the day, and that’s enough.
It’s easy to be swept away.
I sigh to myself and drink my water. I take my afternoon pain medication; I’m sore all over from a week of trail walking, but I saw so many beautful places! Worth it. I think about a waterfall and a flowing river, an interesting metaphor for life, lived. It’s time to begin again, isn’t it? The river isn’t going to stop flowing…
Evening Light 