Archives for posts with tag: non attachment

What It Is, What It Could Be

September 7, 2025 //

I woke several times during the night, and returned to sleep with relative ease. I slept in, which wasn’t expected, but I’d made room for the possibility by not turning on my alarm at all. Sunrise comes later in the morning these days, but it still beat me to the trailhead. lol

…No idea why I was having such a restless night…

I set off down the trail as soon as I was parked and had my boots on…

Yesterday, my Traveling Partner wanted a bit of time to himself to wake up and have his coffee, which is not a problem for me – it’s more of an opportunity. I poked around in retail spaces that sell used books looking for something particular to add to my wee library. I didn’t find it – and frankly didn’t expect to any more than I expect to see a herd of unicorns in the meadow on my morning walk. I was using the specific focus of my search to refine my attention, more than anything else. It was all for the joy of searching. What I did find is a 1979 12th edition Fanny Farmer cookbook – the very same cookbook which, along with the Better Homes and Gardens cookbook, and The Joy of Cooking, contained nearly all of my Dad’s “secret” recipes that were staples of my childhood. There are a lot of memories in those pages. $3 was not too much to pay for a cookbook in such great condition.

Being an older edition of this cookbook, the recipes are very much the ones I remember. My Better Homes & Gardens cookbook is a much later edition, by comparison, modernized more recently, and some of the changes to conform to modern dietary guidelines “break” the recipes (example, most of the recipes have simply had salt removed entirely and are quite bland). I can (and do) make corrections, but it’s nice when I don’t have to.

When I got home, I happily began looking for old favorites to try, and made a tuna casserole for dinner. It was definitely a tasty reminder of comfort foods of my childhood. I liked it well enough that it may join the rotation of everyday staple meals, or at least turn up on the table more often.

This morning is a cool, rainy one, at least here at the nature park. The trail is wet, and the meadow grass is wetter. The return of the rain reminds me that soon the seasonal marsh trail will close for the year, as the meadow soaks up more water, and becomes marshy once again. The geese are beginning to return, too. Autumn is approaching.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I feel the pointless anxiety that chased me up the highway this morning begin to dissipate, with each deep breath of cool morning air. I fill my lungs with the scents of a rainy late summer morning at the edge of this meadow, and each time I exhale I imagine still more of my anxiety being released with my breath. It’s a simple enough exercise in visualization, and very effective. I’ve no particular reason to be anxious, but there it is; I deal with anxiety. Managing my anxiety such that it remains at a more or less normal level, serving to alert me appropriately to give attention to some legitimate concern and only that, is an ongoing challenge. I no longer take an Rx remedy – the side effects tended to be problematic – so I have to put enough consistent practice into self-soothing, non-attachment, and perspective to keep myself from succumbing to more severe episodes (and ideally also prevent panic attacks). When I am fortunate enough not to have much anxiety at all, it’s easy to think I’m “over it” or that it isn’t an issue for me anymore, but that’s an illusion, and it’s exceedingly foolish to give in to that bit of self deception. Steady practice and good self-care make more sense.

What am I so anxious about? It’s not even a question I actually have to ask, this morning. I just finished my first week at the new job, which has a 30-day “trial period” built into the contract. I don’t have any reason to expect that I won’t satisfy that requirement sufficiently well, it’s just a lingering awareness in the background with a lot of potential “what-if” attached, and this is a driver of anxiety for me. It is what it is. What it is, is a temporary circumstance, and utterly ordinary. “Nothing to see here”, but my anxiety doesn’t want to hear that. Everything could go wrong… On the other hand, there’s no reason at all to expect that things will go wrong… Anxiety is a liar.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. It’s a lovely morning. I smile, thinking about a cookbook filled with recipes and memories. Today I’ll bake something, between housekeeping tasks. It is that day – a day to bring order from chaos, and get some things done before a new week begins. My anxiety nags me that I’ve only got three more weeks to “prove myself”, and I laugh out loud, startling a chipmunk I didn’t see until it darted away. I prove myself every day. I have for years. The thought makes me smile and my anxiety is gone for the moment, and has no power over me.

…The way out is through. It’s a journey, and I learn as I walk my path. We become what we practice…

I look down the trail, and up into the stormy sky. I smile to myself, remembering the new Hello Kitty tray my Traveling Partner made to hold my glasses when I am not wearing them. I feel very loved. I find myself eager to continue the day, and to return home to my beloved. Weekends are short – too short. I’m grateful to get to spend so much time together, and still have so many opportunities for a little solitude, too. It’s a nice balance.

I’ll sit with my thoughts a little while longer…soon enough it will be time to begin again.

Tags am I good enough?, anxiety, anxiety is a liar, be here now, begin again, best Rx for anxiety, breathe exhale relax, CBT, chronic anxiety, do the verbs, Fanny Farmer cookbook, imposter syndrome, incremental change over time, meditation, non attachment, p.s. I love you, practicing the practices, results may vary, self-care, self-doubt, self-soothing, the way out is through, trial period, tuna casserole, we become what we practice, what drug works best for anxiety?

Categories Allegories, Anxiety, autumn, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, Summer, The Art of Being

So Human

September 3, 2025 //

New job, first day, and all of that went well yesterday. My headache was a 12 on a 1 – 10 scale as I headed home, and I did my best not to allow it to vex me. I was grateful it was a Tuesday – by longstanding practice, it is the Anxious Adventurer’s night to cook, which means less work (for me) and tasty tacos (generally).

… Turned out to be less than ideally easy to get to that moment…

My brain was exhausted when I got home, and the headache was kicking my ass. A shower might help, I’d thought, but no, it didn’t. I took additional pain medication and settled into a darkened room to meditate and hopefully ease my pain and maybe recover some cognitive energy to get through the evening on…

My Traveling Partner alerted me that he was facing unexpected difficulties and excessive time required in a project to do with server maintenance on our home network. My many many (hundreds of) gigabytes of images were…so many. Too many. Backups of copies of duplicates of old drive contents and folders of images I didn’t want to lose were carefully saved – and in several cases nested within each other, multiple times by several names – a byproduct of every tense OS upgrade, or computer replacement over time (for decades), and worse still, it was also all partially backed up as zip files from my old Google Photos app or on a cloud storage platform. Fuuuuuuuck. So many copies…of copies.

…Can I please do something with that fucking mess?!...

Yeah. I was annoyed and aggravated and frustrated to tears by the impatience and irritation in the otherwise entirely reasonable request. I’d even been working on it, piecemeal, much of the past year on and off, whenever I had a spare minute, was also thinking about it, and happened to be on my computer… But I hadn’t finished the important part (deleting the old copies) – I was pretty spectacularly busy with working for a living, caregiving an injured partner, running errands and keeping up the housework, and trying to stave off exhaustion as much as I could while managing chronic pain.

In an instant I felt unappreciated and disrespected – and invisible. I cried the entire time I pushed myself through the steps of reviewing each folder, feeling angry and unsupported. I wept frustrated tears while I deleted folder after folder, fingers crossed that I would not delete the sole copy of some image that has lasting value for me. I managed to finish the work needed in about an hour of mostly focused time, distracted only by my own tears and my Traveling Partner’s continued pings, messaging me continuing to explain why finishing this project matters to him in this moment and more generally, and checking on my progress. Unhelpful for me in the moment (trying to focus and work with a headache), but I recognized his desire to feel heard, and to reconnect and resolve painful emotions. I did my best.

… G’damn that fucking headache though, and not one fucking word of sympathy or care from anyone, which caused hurt feelings that lingered for a while in the background. I was silently mired in a very “fuck all of you” sort of place for a little while before I was able to let it go. Humans being human. I’m fairly certain everyone in the house was doing their best, but…as is often the case, it didn’t feel “good enough”. Our results vary, and as human primates we can expect a certain amount of bullshit and drama to be part of the experience. I chose to let small shit stay small and move on from it without doing anything more to address the circumstances directly.

Funny thing, this morning none of that mess is important or relevant at all. My tinnitus is loud in my ears, but my headache is an inconsequential 2 on a 1 – 10 scale. My Traveling Partner was awake when I left the house and seemed to be fairly merry as he kissed me goodbye for the day. It was a pleasant parting and I’m eager to return home at the end of the work day without resentment or ire. Resilience for the win. I’ve worked years to get to this place. I’m grateful that a momentary upset no longer sends me spiraling into chaos, futility, and despair that lingers for days or weeks.

I walked the local trail with my thoughts, enjoying the dawn. It’s a new day. It even feels good to have finished a project that had been stalled (and was seriously taking too long). I breathe, exhale, and relax. I can feel the reduction in the chaos in my life, having cleaned up my files. Funny how that works (for me). I’m grateful to my Traveling Partner for taking such skillful care of our network, and for making it clear that my failure to complete a project I’d started more than a year ago was holding up progress. I’m grateful that his own resilience allows him to bounce back from a tense or angry moment, too. I’m grateful that I never fear violence as a potential byproduct of his anger – he’s not that person.

I watch the sunrise contentedly from my halfway point. It’s a new day, a new moment. I’m okay for most values of okay, and there is no anger in my heart. It’s a fresh start – and time to begin again.

Tags anger management, angry tears, be here now, begin again, bounce back, breathe exhale relax, CBT, do your best, don't take anything personally, headache, is that the best you can do?, let small shit stay small, mindfulness, non attachment, order from chaos, practicing the practices, resilience, self-care, we become what we practice, what are you practicing?

Categories Allegories, anger, Anxiety, art and the artist, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, Frustration, gratitude, health, Logic & Reason, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Summer, The Art of Being, The Big 5, Words

Treading Water

August 27, 2025 //

It is a strange gray morning, and a little cooler out at the trailhead than it has been. I’ve got my headlamp handy but I’m much earlier than I’d planned and I decide to wait for a bit of light before I hit the trail. Daybreak is imminent.

I sigh quietly and drink water. It’ll be another hot day, in spite of the deceptively cool morning, and staying hydrated is the healthy self-care choice. After my walk, I’ve got a doctor’s appointment, planned months ago. I’m grateful it occurs before my employer-provided insurance runs out. No work today. It is the first day following being laid off. I breathe, exhale, relax, and wait for the sun.

It feels a little strange, at least for now, to have this time to myself, without a work day constraining my time. I sit with my thoughts watching the sky begin to lighten, alert for the trail to become sufficiently visible to walk safely in the dim light between daybreak and the busy-ness of a new day. There are things to do, and I feel calm and purposeful, but also… strangely displaced. We put way too much emphasis on our professional experiences as adults, I think, and are easily mislead into seeing those as somehow more important than who we are, how we feel, and all the many experiences that make up a human lifetime. Work is just work. We do it to exchange enough of our precious limited mortal time for the cash to be able to afford all the truly important things. Home. Family. Friends. Enjoying a walk on a quiet summer morning.

… But I do feel the absence of work, this morning, and I have a sense of the ticking clock in the background…

I lace up my boots, grab my cane, and step out onto the trail. This feels like a pause in the routine I’ve come to know. I observe the inclination to cling to the routine, and make a point to let that go. I walk on. There will be a new routine. It will develop naturally out of my actions each day and become comfortable over time. Until then, of course, there’s some uncertainty and discomfort – which means there is also an opportunity to grow, and become more the woman that I want most to be than I am now.

A soft rain begins to fall as I reach my halfway point. The overhang of oak branches at the edge of the trail is enough to shelter me, but it’s really only a sprinkle anyway, and I don’t mind a few raindrops on my face as I walk. I take a few minutes for meditation and to write. I think about my now-former colleagues and wonder if they miss my cheery “good morning” in the team Slack channel today?

…Am I remembered? Such a human concern, to wonder if we are missed once we’re gone. I wonder what my legacy will be, and how quickly I will become just a name on some policy document or customer record? I already miss professional friendships formed over shared work. The people matter most, and I am not surprised that the only details I linger over now are the memories of jokes and deep conversations, shared photos, and tales of vacation and travel swapped among friends. That seems appropriate.

I smile to myself and look down the trail, listening to the rain on the leaves over head. I’m okay. Sure, I feel a little displaced and strange, but it will pass. Dwelling on vague feelings of disappointment, or letting myself become mired in fear or doubt isn’t helpful (not at all). It’s enough to feel the feelings, acknowledge their fundamental humanity, and let them go. We make choices, even about our emotions. Making the wisest choices we can is a good practice.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I am fine, for most values of “fine”, and there’s nothing especially “wrong” right now at all. For now it is a waiting game. I’ve got something promising identified that looks likely to become the next job. It’s tempting to coast and just enjoy the waiting for some time, but that’s a poor strategy in an uncertain world. I focus on planned tasks, activities, and necessary milestones and set aside optimistic wishful thinking. It is a good time for practical thinking and careful consideration.

Stray raindrops spatter my bare arms as I sit perched on a fallen trunk under this big oak. Hints of something like a sunrise peek through gray clouds, revealing distant hues of pink and pale blue far above the rain clouds. I’m grateful for the rain. The air smells fresh and clean, the scent of petrichor rising from the ground fills my senses, and my heart feels lifted and light.

… I think about my former teammates beginning the day, and facing their own uncertainties, and silently wish them well. We’re each walking our own path, having our own experience. It’s sometimes difficult to see down the path ahead while we walk it. The way isn’t always clear. The choices are not always obvious. We do our best, based on what we know, and most of the people around us do too. I remind myself to be kind – we rarely know what other people are going through.

I sigh again and peer into the sky. Still raining, but it’s already time to begin again.

Tags be here now, begin again, don't take anything personally, job search, meditation, non attachment, playing the waiting game, professional endeavors, results may vary, self-care, self-reflection, test assumptions, the plan is not the outcome, this too will pass, unemployment, what matters most?

Categories Allegories, Anxiety, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, meditation, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, Summer, The Art of Being

Each Time For The First Time

August 24, 2025 //

I drove to the trailhead watching the sunrise. The sky was strange violent hues of pink, red, and magenta, reminiscent of the florid edges of an infected wound. This moment of beauty is only so colorful because of the wildfires burning far to the east. As I drove I looked at the scenery along the familiar route “with new eyes”, enjoying the experience of a new moment, however small the differences between this moment and recent similar moments. Arriving at the trailhead, I again enjoy the familiar-but-also-strange scents of the summer meadow that becomes winter marshland when the rain returns. What is this fragrance? I wonder every time I catch this particular scent – which plant is that? I still don’t know. I have wondered for years and never smelled it anywhere but the dry summer meadows of Oregon.

I “took yesterday off”. It was a Saturday, but aside from the grocery shopping, done frugally with considerable care, I didn’t do any notable amount of housekeeping stuff. I made dinner in the evening, and took the day easy. I knew the household chores could wait a day, and giving myself a day of rest to bounce back from the stress of the week made sense. I have learned to put more time and attention into self-care when times are stressful, rather than allowing myself to get all spun up over shit best handled with calm, and measured thoughtful action, or failing to take care of this fragile vessel. Self-care doesn’t necessarily make stressful things less stressful, but it definitely improves my resilience. The day was pleasant, spent in the good company of my Traveling Partner.

I stepped onto the trail feeling comfortable and merry, enjoying the scents of summer and the fading sunrise. I walked with my thoughts, letting them carry me wherever they may. I found myself reflecting on my Dear Friend. It was at about this age, as I recall, that she worked her last job, teaching online for a college. One year they simply didn’t renew her contract. She was taken by surprise, hurt, and worried about the future. I sigh to myself and walk on. Maybe not yet, for me, but it’ll eventually come, and I walked with that thought awhile. How best to prepare? I kicked a random rock on the path and listened to it tumble away.

… Some asshole brought his small yapping dog to the nature preserve (there is signage everywhere that dogs are not permitted here), and I find myself annoyed, for a moment, as he passes…

Be present in this moment, now.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. The phrase “each time for the first time, each moment the only moment” has been in the background of my thoughts all morning. It was there when I woke. I sit at my halfway point letting it turn over in my head. I don’t wonder where it comes from; I’ve worked a long time to embrace it and understand how finite and temporary our experiences can be. How unrepeatable. “Ichi-go ichi-e” – it has been worth the time to cultivate an understanding and build a practice. I amuse myself for a moment thinking about the thinkers who helped to lead me here over a lifetime: Henry David Thoreau, James Baldwin, Thich Nhat Hanh, Elkhart Tolle, Rick Hanson, Jon Kabat-Zinn… others. I’m grateful. Life is better lived through a lens mindful perspective, non-attachment, and sufficiency. I smile at a squirrel crossing the trail. She eyes me with some suspicion as she passes. I sit quite still and hope not to startle her.

Another hot summer day ahead. The sky is a lovely pale blue, swept by soft white clouds, streaked with shades of gray here and there. The air is pleasant and fresh, and for the moment the air is still. “From the inside” I don’t feel the weight of my years, and this morning the challenges of aging are not vexing me. Contentment can be practiced and cultivated, and it can more easily endure hard times than “happiness”, which is seldom lasting. I’m okay right now for all the many common values of “okay”. Feels good to be in this place, in this moment. A little brown bird joins me on the fence rail I am seated on. We sit together awhile before she flies off to do bird things.

The sky is still blue.

I think back to a harder time. I was mired in despair, and a friend asked me “is the sky still blue?” Useful perspective at the time, and his question reminded me that non-attachment is a practice, and that impermanence is part of the human experience.

I take a deep breath of the fragrant summer air, and get ready to begin again.

Tags a brand new day, be here now, begin again, breathe exhale relax, each time for the first time, I can't do the work for you, meditation, mindfulness, non attachment, perspective, resilience, results may vary, self-care, sit happens, summertime, walking my own mile, we become what we practice, why did the squirrel cross the road?

Categories Allegories, Anxiety, breathe, Despair, Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, inspiration, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, solo hiking, Summer, The Art of Being

A Little Rain Will Fall

July 21, 2025 //

I’m sipping my coffee and looking out the window on a gray, somewhat rainy, morning. It rained all the way to the office, although calling it “rain” may stretch the point a bit; it was more of a sprinkle, but steady, occasionally becoming a brief shower. I enjoy summer rains. The fragrance is amazing. My back doesn’t care for them so much, the pain of my arthritis is similarly “amazing”, at least as a measure of severity. lol

What a lovely productive weekend. I reflect on the time spent in my Traveling Partner’s good company. There were occasional moments of discord, “wrong notes” in our otherwise lovely symphony. I’m okay with it – there’s gonna be a little rain now and then, however pleasant the climate, in most circumstances. It wasn’t even anything that amounts to a big deal, just little moments where we were ever so slightly “out of step” with each other, and moments when I took some little thing personally that wasn’t at all. It’s quite possible that I was simply cranky because the timing of my Ozempic was a little off due to the kerfufle with the fucking pharmacy and the lack of reliable availability of this medication. When things went a little awry, we made suitable apologies and took steps to restore harmony, though the evening seemed to end on a somewhat frosty note. Here too, I think it’s likely just me, reading something into the circumstances that maybe isn’t there at all. Small stuff can stay small, not gonna worry about something that likely doesn’t need that kind of “cling wrap” – no reason to keep it fresh. lol

Another Monday. 24 left in this calendar year. The time is passing quickly. I breathe, exhale, and relax, and prepare for a new day. I’ve got an errand to run after work that will take me down the commuter-crowded highways and freeways, about an hour in traffic, then turn around and make the longer-still trip home for the evening. It’ll be a long day. My Traveling Partner needs some shelving for a project, and honestly I’m so happy to see him back on his feet doing projects that I’m happy to run errands to keep that going for him. Then I remember the huge box full of styrofoam forms that is in the back of my car waiting to go to the drop-off point for such items, and wonder if I can even get the shelves into the car… I sigh to myself, and go to the website to have a look at the dimensions. I’d rather not even bother my beloved with my sudden doubts, and I have the resources to sort it out myself. Shit. I need the entire cargo space. What to do about the damned box now that I’m already at the office? Another sigh. I feel more than a little stupid not to have remembered the box while I was home, I could have just unloaded it. (Would it be reasonable to do that here, at the office, and then put it back in the car tomorrow?) (I can’t even inquire until much later; I’m alone in the office until after 09:00 a.m. most days.)

I sip my coffee, distracted by the practical details of an errand that doesn’t even become “a thing” until later today. Aren’t human beings strange creatures? We struggle to let things go once we’ve turned our attention to them (at least I do), even when there is no immediate need to sort things out. The only reason this fucking box is even in the car instead of already gone is that it is for an appliance we have not decided yet to keep. (Difficult to return without the packaging!) Another sigh. It’s a small problem to solve, and if I keep fussing over it I’ll neither solve it (reasons) nor enjoy my peaceful morning moment (due to not being able to solve it or let it go). Fucking primate brain. I chuckle to myself and look out on the rainy morning.

Gosh I hope my Traveling Partner has a good day today! He’s got a lot going on with his current project to rearrange his work and personal spaces to better suit his current needs. It requires quite a lot of moving of furniture and some heavy objects from where they sit to a different location, and of course all the smaller items that fit into or on those heavier pieces have to be moved first (and then again, last). It’s a lot to tackle. Over the weekend, I helped as much as I could, when asked. I also know doing the work himself is meaningful for my partner. There’s a balance to strike, and I often struggle with that sort of thing. Good practice, I guess. I sip my coffee thinking about love and partnership. And peaches. For some reason I am also thinking about peaches. lol

The rain spatters the window. My email pings me. It’s a new day and time to begin again.

Tags be present, begin again, breathe exhale relax, don't take anything personally, emotional self sufficiency, health, it's not personal, let small things stay small, love and lovers, meditation, mindfulness, non attachment, perspective, practicing the practices, ptsd, taking care of me, The Art of Being, there are verbs involved, what matters most?

Categories Allegories, anger, Anxiety, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, gratitude, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Summer, The Art of Being, The Big 5

What It Is, What It Could Be

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So Human

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Treading Water

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Each Time For The First Time

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A Little Rain Will Fall

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