Archives for posts with tag: mindfulness
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Listening, Practicing

May 5, 2024 //
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It was early when I got to the trailhead. The rain started, again, as I arrived. It didn’t matter, since the gate was still closed. I sat quietly through the few minutes of waiting,  listening to the rain falling, meditating, waiting, drinking coffee I was grateful to have stopped for (what with the waiting and all).

The gate opens now at 05:30 a.m., and daybreak comes much sooner than it did just a few weeks ago. I move the car into the parking lot, up a hill from the couple of spaces outside the gate. It’s still raining, and I’m still waiting. I’m pretty good at waiting.

I sit with my coffee watching the dark rainy night slowly becoming a gray rainy morning, listening to the rain falling steadily,  drops tapping on the car. Surely there will be sufficient break in the rain to get a good walk in? I think it over, unperturbed by either potential outcome. I find my mind wandering to my upcoming camping trip and wondering if it will rain there, then, too? I’ll go prepared for it.

My head aches ferociously this morning. My arthritis is also quite painful. Head, neck, back… so much pain. I’m glad it’s Sunday. I can put more time and energy on self-care. There’s still laundry and dishes to do… no doubt other things I am overlooking for the moment. Still, it’s a gentle relaxed morning. I’m contented and pretty merry in spite of pain.

I start the car and give the windshield a swipe with the wipers; it sounds like the rain may have stopped, and I want to “take a closer look” before I get out of the car and put my boots on. It’s just a slow spattering of random occasional raindrops now,  suitable for walking…

Once my boots are on, I step onto the gravel trail with a crunch. It’s time to begin again!

A lush and rainy Spring morning

I get back to the car a bit damp, after getting a mile down the trail, and turning back when the rain began falling more steadily, again. The trail along the marsh and riverbank is scented by blooming trees and wildflowers. The rain contributes petrichor and that certain specific freshness of a rainy day. No flocks of geese overhead, but the robins don’t mind the rain, and busily went about the business of finding tasty morsels in the leaf matter and muddy ground along the trail. They watch me as curiously as I watch them.

As I change my boots for sneakers, I think about the day ahead. Already another “benchmark day”, and I have been looking forward to it. Seems a good one for tidying up, too, or helping my Traveling Partner with his projects. Maybe both? I’m not rushing to return home; I know my partner is sleeping and likely had a restless night. I am making a point of giving him time to get some restful sleep before I return home and start making noise. (We’re both fairly light sleepers, prone to being a bit noise-sensitive.)

I sit quietly, contentedly listening to the rain fall, before I begin again… again.

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Categories Allegories, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, inspiration, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Practices, Relationships, Sleepless Nights, solo hiking, Spring, The Art of Being, turning 60, weight loss secrets

Keeping It Real

April 14, 2024 //
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I woke with allergy symptoms this morning. Sinus headache,  stuffy nose, that sort of thing. I think I almost managed to leave the house for my walk without waking my Traveling Partner… then realized I left my purse in another room and had to trek back down the hallway, past the bedroom door. Did that wake him? I tried to be quite quiet…

…Then, as I was putting on my shoes to leave, I knocked over my cane which hit the floor with a loud “bang!”. Why the hell had I left it there?? Super annoying. I sat still,  listening… did I end up waking my partner after all? No obvious way to tell. I head out.

Weird morning. Traffic was surprisingly heavy for Sunday before dawn. It was fine though and the drive was routine. I even remembered to get gas before I left town (good thing I did, gas tank was almost empty).

So… a new day begins.

A rather gray sunrise.

Daybreak came and went. Sunrise, too. It’s a gray morning and looks like rain, maybe. I head down the trail lost in my thoughts, just walking and thinking and doing my best impression of not being in pain. It’s not a great day as far as this physical experience goes. I’ve already taken an Rx pain reliever, and OTC allergy medication, on top of my regular medications. Fucking hell, aging sucks sometimes.

Yesterday I planted the rose “Bolero“. I think I’ve probably planted as many roses as my garden can hold, now, and this one is a fitting final addition to a garden themed on love and memory. Last year (has it already been so long?) I had an interesting experience with my Traveling Partner and the piece of music “Bolero“, which now holds a deeply sentimental place in my heart. I walked enjoying the recollection and a feeling of deep and enduring love and connection for a moment. I listened to the birds and smelled the fresh Spring air,  scented with flowers.

I’ve stopped for a few minutes along the trail. I have it to myself again this morning, which is lovely. I take time to meditate, then to write. I look at the sky overhead. Definitely stormy. I remember the unfinished laundry, before my mind wanders to the very good dinner I cooked last night. My thoughts skip around like the little brown bird near my feet, as I sit on this bench catching my breath and enjoy the moment.

Today will be my second shot of the Ozempic. No idea yet if it’s “working”, at least not based on test results or some clinical evaluation. Anecdotally,  based on my subjective experience, I seem to be getting some benefit from it, and some of the changes are subtle and difficult to describe. It’ll be interesting to see lab results for things like my A1c, and my blood pressure over time. I don’t yet have words for some of the subtle changes to my thinking or emotional experience but those exist, too. Weight loss? I expect to see some results,  but I am not “chasing” that outcome with my whole attention in an unhealthy way. I am more focused on my overall wellness, on eating nutritious, calorie-appropriate meals and getting enough exercise to make gains in fitness. This seems like a better approach for me than spending my time focused on numbers on a scale. (I am way more interested in how my clothes fit and the eager look in my Traveling Partner’s eyes.) So far, no obvious undesirable side effects.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. Beautiful morning, in spite of pain and allergies. I glance back down the trail the way I came. Another hiker approaches in the distance; my reminder that this lovely place is not my own. It’s time to wrap this up and begin again.

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Categories Allegories, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gardening, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, Love, meditation, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Roses, solo hiking, Spring, The Art of Being, Uncategorized, weight loss secrets

Quieting a Noisy Mind

March 15, 2024 //
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I’ve been feeling very fatigued at the end of each day this week. Last night I was so tired I crashed rather abruptly, rather early, and failed to complete a couple absolutely ordinary routine tasks I generally do before bed by habit – like laying out my clothes for the next day. So tired. It’s not that I’ve been doing a ton of manual labor or anything of that sort… it’s the “thought work”. Thought work is real work. Cognitive fatigue is real fatigue. Tired is… tired. It’s important to get the rest we need.

I woke this morning from a deep sound sleep, just ahead of my alarm. I don’t know what woke me. I felt as if I could easily just go right back to sleep, but my scheduled wake-up time was just 5 minutes away, so I got up. I pushed myself through my morning routine, which “unexpectedly” included actually picking out clothes to wear; I didn’t even remember that I’d failed to take care of that task before bed, and was a bit taken by surprise by the lack of clothes already waiting for me. lol The drive to work was effortless to the point of being almost surreal – I hit all but one signal light green, and traffic seemed peculiarly light. The entire drive I had a song stuck in my head that made me think of my Traveling Partner, and by the time I got to the office I was missing him so so much!

I sat down with my coffee, and before I even really planned on doing so I was mired in work tasks and getting the day started – and within minutes, my mind felt “noisy” and filled with details. I paused on the recollection of last night’s intense fatigue, and realized (not for the first time) – I’m doing this to myself, and I have choices.

I stopped. Put aside the work tasks for a few minutes. I put the computer on “sleep” (so that the monitor wasn’t on in front of me at all). I sat gazing out the windows, watching day break, and the sun begin to rise beyond the skyline. Breathe, exhale, relax… repeat. I sat in the stillness for some unmeasured while, letting my thoughts pass through my mind, acknowledged but not interacted with. Breathe, exhale, relax… I listened to the cacophony of crows as they rose from the trees to go wherever crows go during the day. The heat wooshed softly in the background. The sunrise slowly developed, from a deep gray blue to a faded denim blue with hints of pale orange and something like green, and streaked with pink. Breathe, exhale, relax… My tinnitus is ever-present, but not especially loud or distracting this morning; I noticed it, and let that go, too. I gently do a “body scan” without disturbing the stillness of my mind. Back pain? Manageable. Headache? Mild, and not a distraction… in fact, almost not a headache. Nice. Breathe, exhale, relax. My mind slowly calms the fuck down, to a chill state of relaxed attentiveness. No pressure. No rush. Just here. Now. Better.

I feel a smile spread across my face, and stretch. Fluffy pink clouds are distributed across the blue of the western sky and the daylight in the east continues to increase. I reach for this page to write a few words, and here I am. Iced coffee. A few words about a helpful practice that I have learned to count on to relax my mind when it gets “too noisy in here”. Will it work for you, too? I don’t know. Maybe? It for sure works for me – and doesn’t require sitting, either. It works nicely on a walk. It’s a practice that really only requires that I set aside everything else and take a moment for myself to simply be, and to simply give myself a moment of my own time, with nothing else in mind but being here.

I breathe, exhale (more of a contented sigh at this point), and relax… it’s time to begin again. 😀

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Categories Allegories, Anxiety, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, meditation, Mindfulness, Moments, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Spring, The Art of Being

Feeling Hopeful

February 15, 2024 //
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The commute was ridiculously easy this morning. Very little traffic, and it seemed that every driver was alert, and driving safely. It was… amazing. My Traveling Partner is continuing to recover from his injury, and although there is more recovery yet to come, it seems he’s making good progress. This contributes a lot to my pleasant morning, this morning; it’s comfortingly encouraging. I got a good night’s sleep, and no doubt this is also contributing to my outlook on things as the morning unfolds. I’m grateful for the sleep, and the mood I’m in. My appointment, yesterday afternoon, with a new specialist, went very well. I felt heard. I felt supported. What is most unexpected for me, is that I walked away from that appointment feeling… hopeful. Encouraged. Positive. I feel as if real (physical) healing is not only possible, but also within reach. I haven’t felt that way in a long time.

I sip my cup of ice water (I’ve already had my coffee), and look out at the city, still wrapped in darkness. Hope feels good.

I remind myself to take care not to set myself up for failure by becoming invested in some particular outcome (whether it seems within reach or not). I take a deep breathe and exhale. I do it again. Then again. I feel the calm settle over my body. I’m in some pain today, but my headache does feel somewhat reduced in intensity. Placebo effect from simply being listened to and cared for? Perhaps – but why would I undermine this feeling, even if that were the case? Less pain is less pain. I take a moment to appreciate it. Another breath. Another exhalation. Another moment to relax, to reflect – to begin again.

Later today it’s off to an imaging appointment. More images will ideally mean more – or at least more recent – information about whatever is going wrong with my neck that could be causing (or at least contributing to) my persist headache. I feel cynicism, learned helplessness, and old medical trauma competing with the sensation of hopefulness. I breathe, exhale, relax – and remind myself that it’s okay to unpack some of that baggage, and let it go. I remind myself not to carry past pain into future experiences – often easier said than done, but it’s helpful to put into to words to be more aware of the possibility.

I sip my water. The morning will unfold, as mornings do, and the day will become whatever the day will be. It’s not at all necessary to control everything (it’s not even possible). I prepare to “ride the wave” of whatever the day will bring. I get ready to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, Anxiety, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, The Art of Being, turning 60, winter

New Year, Another Change

January 6, 2024 //
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I’m sitting at the trailhead, early on a Saturday morning before dawn, listening to the rain on the windows of my car. I watch the lights of passing cars on the nearby highway sweep over the soggy roadside and the marsh beyond. I am waiting for a break in the rain and for the gate to the park to open. I won’t have to wait much longer on the gate, it opens at daybreak.

I’m sipping an iced espresso, more ice than coffee, and thinking about yesterday. New job. Well… Same job, but as a full-time employee rather than a contractor. I’m smiling as I recall the moment, because my boss seemed every bit as excited to make the offer as I was to receive it, and said some pretty great things about the work I’ve done so far. It feels really good to get that kind of validation.

… I remind myself not to take the compliments personally, just as I would if I had been grievously insulted; they’re words. Opinions. Impressions in the moment. They provoke an emotional reaction, sure, but my own lived experience reminds me they guarantee nothing and provide no assurance of a particular outcome.

… Still… I’m pleased and excited. It’s a step I wanted to take and it puts me in a good place for the year ahead. I sit quietly with the feeling of eagerness and contentment for awhile, waiting for daybreak.

Daybreak comes. The park gate opens. The geese begin their day and I hear them honking at each other before I see them overhead. The rain just keeps coming down steadily. Too rainy to bring the camera out. I wait, still hopeful I might get a break in the rain sufficient to walk a couple miles along the soggy marsh trails. Maybe. Maybe not.

I sit wondering what to do with the day before remembering it’s time to take down all the holiday decor and put it away for another year. I’d almost forgotten all about it. lol My heart is still celebrating, I suppose. It’s not that there’s all that much joy available in the world right now, more that it is more urgent that we savor the joy there is.

I sip my coffee (honestly more ice water than coffee at this point) swirling it in the cup to hear the ice rattle. Life can change so quickly. I sit with my thoughts, my joys, my sorrows. I enjoy the pleasant stillness and solitude awhile. No agenda. No demands on my time or attention. Just this moment, the rain, and the sounds of the geese… It’s enough.

… Later, I’ll begin again.

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Categories Allegories, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, inspiration, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Practices, solo hiking, The Art of Being, turning 60, winter, Words
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