I’m waiting for the sun on a Sunday morning. The forecast is for rain, but it isn’t raining here, now. Across the highway, and further still across some fields, suburban lights glitter low on the horizon. This is no wilderness, although the trail I’ll walk feels at least a bit remote, down along the Tualatin river. Daybreak is approaching. Soon. In the meantime, I sit with my thoughts, listening to passing cars and the ring, zing, buzz of my tinnitus. It’s a quiet morning and at least for now, my tinnitus is the loudest thing I hear.
Daybreak on a cloudy morning.
A break in the clouds reveals the blue of the morning sky. Daybreak is not helpful for walking, this morning. Anyway, I am still waiting for the park gate to open. The lower marsh trail I can reach from this parking space just outside the park is seasonal, and off limits until May. Frankly, some mornings (many), it’s tempting to walk the seasonal trail anyway, although it is off limits this time of year, but doing so would come with additional risks; it’s a lowland trail along the edges of the marsh, often muddy and sometimes flooded in spots. It would be just a bit more stupid to walk it in near darkness than I prefer to be. Also, these sorts of community spaces rely on people following the rules in place to protect them (both the spaces and the people using them), to maintain their beauty for years to come and new generations.
… So, I wait…
Waiting, watching, being.
I sit with my thoughts, enjoying the stillness. It’s a mild Spring morning and a good one for walking. The cloudy sky hints at rain. I’m glad I spent time in the garden yesterday. Between the gardening and the weather, it definitely feels like Spring here. I’m grateful for the change of seasons. Another new beginning.
I feel a poignant sorrow that my recently deceased dear friend missed the coming of Spring. No tears. I have the sense that she “chose her time”, and I can only honor her memory and respect her choice. I’m okay; we are mortal creatures. I’m fortunate to have shared so much time with her.
It’s time to begin again.
The park gate opens with a quiet “clang”. There’s enough light to see the trail. The day and this walk are ahead of me, and that seems like a worthwhile direction to go…
I’m relaxing after my morning walk on a nearer more local trail. I slept in this morning, and slipped out of the house after daybreak, leaving my Traveling Partner to sleep awhile longer. I’ve got a plan to make waffles later, and for now these quiet moments of morning watching the sunrise become a new day are mine to enjoy alone.
A new day, a new beginning.
I am sitting on one of the picnic tables that sit along this stretch of the trail, watching small birds and reflecting on past and current commitments to myself, and my successes and failures over the years. I consider progress I’ve made over time, and how different “a good life” looks to me at 60, compared to 14, 23, 30, or 45… My thinking and my understanding of what I want in life has changed quite a lot over time. Certainly, at 14 I had no idea how much pure effort is involved in “living well”, let alone how I would come to define that after I had experienced some living.
I still find myself yearning for “easy”, far more than I ever yearn(ed) for recognition or fortune, and it amuses and humbles me to finally find myself having to acknowledge that, like a lot of life’s sweet treats, “ease” is best taken in moderation. The more of it I have, the more often I indulge, the more likely I may also find myself struggling later on to maintain my wellness or health in some other area of life. There’s a balance to be struck.
I sit feeling the effects of physical exertion. Feeling the rising sun on my face. Breathing the cool morning air. A small bird stops on the table, very near to me. I hold quite still to avoid startling her into flight. She looks me over and picks at unseen crumbs while I wonder how hard birds must work just to survive. I think I must have it relatively easy, by comparison. Useful perspective.
I’ve been working towards increasing the amount of effort I put in day-to-day, without exhausting myself or breaking down this fragile vessel. This isn’t new; I’ve “been here before”. I’m hoping to improve my fitness and my wellness, generally. I’d like to be around a good long time more… In spite of the chaos of the world, my own wee slice of suburban paradise is rather nice, and I enjoy life and love and time spent with my Traveling Partner and my friends. I’m not interested in “going out with a bang”, nor do I want to quietly fade away. I want most to live well, and live simply, and enjoy the life I live for all the days I can. Recent reminders that we are mortal creatures are less depressing than they are simply a reminder that the clock is always ticking.
… I wonder what the future holds, as I take off my hiking boots and put my sneakers back on. I think about the garden and wonder if I would do well to pick up a watering can for watering the seedlings in the veggie bed. These questions strangely seem to have similar significance and magnitude for me on this relaxed Sunday morning. I suppress a laugh and the little bird flies away.
… I remember that I’ve planned to drain and clean and refill the hot tub today and wonder if I actually will… Have I got it in me? Should I give myself a break and do it next weekend?
I take a breath and exhale with a sigh and a smile, and prepare to walk back to the car, wondering if I have everything I need to make waffles…? I know I have what I need to find satisfaction, joy, and contentment in my life. There are verbs involved…
I seriously dislike Daylight Savings Time. Doesn’t matter if we’re talking about the change in March or November, it’s beyond annoying. I’m not bitching about it because of the inevitable disruption to my sleep or sense of time and timing, it’s more practical than that; it fucks up my timing on time-sensitive meditations. This messes with my health, my feeling of wellness, my mood, and my general quality of life experience until a few days pass and I am adjusted to the change of timing. Super annoying. Very much over this pointless bullshit exercise.
I am sitting at a favorite trailhead waiting for a break in the rain. It’s a steady fairly heavy downpour this morning and I am already adjusting my expectations. Probably end up heading home without even getting out of the car, this morning, which manages to be far less annoying than the change of the clock. lol Honestly, I’m fine with it. My back is aching ferociously and I woke up with a headache. The rest of the day is probably going to be focused on housekeeping tasks and getting set up for a new work week, and I am fine with that, too.
The rain falls. I sit quietly with my thoughts. I sip my coffee. I meditate. I feel contented and generally satisfied, in spite of my pain. I breathe, exhale, and relax, listening to the rain fall. It’s a new day, and a chance to begin again.
By the time I reached the trailhead this morning, there was a steady rain falling. When I left the house it was a barely noticeable fine mist, and I expected it to diminish, or at least pause, giving me a lovely opportunity to walk this favorite trail alone, early on a Saturday morning. I sip the coffee I bought on the way, and listen to the patter of raindrops on the windshield and sunroof of the car. I’m not annoyed or impatient; there’s still a chance the rain may stop before I give up and head home.
Waiting for a break in the rain.
The morning is a pretty mild one. If the rain stops I’ll get into the garden and do something… maybe weed the flower beds, or do a bit of careful pruning. My Traveling Partner invited me to join him in the shop at some point today, too. The weekend is shaping up to be a pleasant one full of good times and things to do. I smile thinking about the rain falling on the garden beds and the lawn. I feel safe and contented, and relaxed and comfortable with myself and my experience. I sit enjoying the moment for a while.
I think about my dear friend, so recently deceased. No tears this morning, just warmth and fond gratitude that I had the chance to enjoy so much of her devoted deep friendship for so many years. I am fortunate indeed. I miss her greatly. So many Saturday mornings my first email would be from her, a reply to, or question about, whatever I had written about that morning. I feel a moment of heartfelt pain every time I remember that she won’t be emailing me anymore. No texts. No calls. No unexpected little somethings in the mail. No comments on pictures of photos I shared with her. Sometimes it’s hard to know quite how to move on from that.
The rain continues to fall. I sit awhile longer, just listening and thinking my thoughts. The time isn’t wasted; I enjoy these quiet solitary moments. Soon enough, it’ll be time to begin again.
I jot down some thoughts for later, before I hit the trail. I’m killing a bit of time waiting for a passing rain shower to move on from here to elsewhere before I start down the trail. I’ve got my boots on and my rain jacket. I’m ready. I’m thinking about how much small changes over time have added up to big differences in quality of life, health, fitness, and my relationships. I put those thoughts aside, and head down the trail.
I take the short trail up to a view point, just to grab this picture. There’s nothing extraordinary about it, I just wanted to.
I walk along noticing signs of Spring, although it seems quite early for it. There are trees already leafing out, and flowers beginning to bloom. Seasonal ponds reflect the sky and the surrounding trees from the calm surface of murky water. The ducks don’t mind the muck, quite the contrary, they seem to enjoy it greatly.
A pair of ducks enjoys a quiet breakfast together. Will there be ducklings soon? I wonder but don’t go looking for a nest.
Yesterday, I had the park entirely to myself, although it was a Sunday. Today, in spite of it being a Monday morning, there are quiet a few others enjoying the trail, and though I’ve done my best to give them (and myself) considerable distance, I find myself pausing along the edge of the pond, waiting for someone to walk on past. They don’t stop at the pond; they see me and quickly walk on past. At this early hour, the majority of the folks on the trail are seeking solitude. This is not the “family hour” of the morning. lol
I walk and enjoy the Spring air, fresh from the rain during the night. I tread carefully on the slick muddy path, and silently thank myself for choosing to walk with my cane this morning; it prevents me from losing my footing a handful of times as I walk. I reach my goal, a particular riverside viewpoint, and sensing the approach of another rain shower, turn back up the trail.
Spring flowers and young leaves are plentiful, already.
As I walk, I find myself thinking again about small changes. I’ve not once hit the trail for the first time in Spring and comfortably stepped along at my best pace for multiple miles, then returned home feeling energized and ready for more. If I’ve been off the trail for a few weeks, I start again a bit slower, and tackle shorter distances of level well-maintained (or even paved) trails and build up to the distances and quicker pace. If I haven’t been writing awhile, I generally start with fewer words, and build a practice of regular writing, before I seek to drop lengthy missives on an unsuspecting recipient of my correspondence. If I’m committing myself to a new fitness strategy, I don’t hit the mat (or the gym) with aggressive energy, seeking to max out my weight, reps, or duration – I start light, and build up to my goal. Lots of things seem to work best with small changes and incremental changes over time.
Small changes are on my mind. New doctors, new images, new results, all of these tend to mean new treatment plans, new strategies, and a different way of viewing (and caring for) this fragile vessel and the limitations it has. Improving on my present wellness and fitness isn’t an over-night single-change solution at all. There’s more to it than that, and even with great care and small changes, my results will vary along the way. It’s a journey. Steps on a path.
So… I walk and think, about miles and fitness and pain (and pain management) and what it takes to get the most (and the most joy) out of this fragile vessel in this one mortal lifetime. Walking is my most reliable form of exercise day-to-day – and I want to go further, faster. I picked up a soft elastic ankle “brace” (more of a stretchy sleeve that offers some compression and support than a proper brace), understanding that the biggest limiting factor for my walking is currently my ankle. So, okay. Small change, and incremental improvement over time – it’s a place to start. 😀 New lab results and images make it clear that much of my pain is due to chronic conditions (and in some cases degenerative), and the “penalty weight” I carry (being considerably more than any estimate of “ideal weight” for my size and age) definitely adds additional wear to my body, and it’s a lot to have to carry for this fucked up ankle, and a lot to support for this fucked up back (and neck)… so I give thought to things like nutritional density, calorie restriction, and small changes that could add up to – over time – less weight to carry around. I can’t say I’m super eager to embrace these changes, but lying to myself about the necessity doesn’t get me anywhere I’d want to go. So, I walk and I think, and I consider and I plan. I’ve already started adding some supplements that may improve my general well-being, bone health, energy… I’ve got a good doctor, and so far her recommendations have been skillful. My Traveling Partner is working on his health and fitness, too; being injured has hit him hard, and he’s taking his health quite seriously. (I don’t feel like I’m making this journey alone, which is also helpful.)
I arrive home still feeling encouraged, hopeful, and eager to continue to make small changes. I sip a cup of tea, a new favorite, and think about the Spring garden. Earlier this weekend, I got out into the garden (in a bit of a drizzle) and cut down the last dead bits of the previous year, and pruned Baby Love (a rose that doesn’t know the meaning of winter, apparently). This morning, I thought about early plantings and decided to make time to plant peas, carrots, radishes, and early greens. It’s time, if the calendar and temperature can be relied upon. 😀 I make a plan and get out the seeds.
…My Traveling Partner sticks his head in the door of the studio to tell me my phone is misbehaving. I offer to reboot the silly thing…
Another lovely day unfolds ahead of me. There are things to do, and in the doing there is healing and potentially improved wellness. I hope to be around for many more years to come, gardening, painting, hiking – and beginning again. 😀
Evening Light 