Archives for posts with tag: practicing the practices

I’m at the trailhead, sitting at my halfway point in the predawn darkness. I woke too early, jerked from a sound sleep by my own anxiety. I dressed quietly and slipped out of the house without waking anyone (as far as I could tell).

Anxiety, 11″ x 24″, acrylic on canvas with ceramic details. 2010

Anxiety is a liar. At least, my anxiety generally has been. I’ve struggled with anxiety for all of my life that I can remember. It was once far worse than it ever is now, and I’m grateful to have better tools for dealing with it these days. A gentle, nonjudgmental, “body scan” confirms the suspicion that developed shortly after I woke; this may not even be anxiety, actually, I’m possibly “just” in pain. Because my osteoarthritis (in my spine) begins at my fusion and extends upward into my neck, it puts most of the intensity in approximately the same general area of my body that I would experience the physical elements of anxiety. I am prone to conflating or confusing them as a result. So maybe I’m not anxious at all? Using the right tool for a given task is important to success…

I breathe, exhale, and relax. Each subsequent deep breath and slow, complete exhalation would ordinarily begin reducing my anxiety almost immediately. Far less effective if what I’m fighting is actually physical pain being reinterpreted as anxiety. I’ve already taken my morning medications, and hopefully they begin being helpful soon. I shift uncomfortably and sigh. Yeah, this is pain. “Just” pain. I turn my attention to more appropriate self-care strategies.

It is a pleasant morning, not particularly chilly, nor rainy. The air is mild and fresh. A delicate sprinkling of rain fell very briefly, more a soft mist really, and it didn’t last. The darkness will soon give way to daybreak, and I’m in no hurry at all. I took today off from work. These quiet moments are mine – and so is the day ahead. I smile to myself in the dark. No drama. No chaos. “Nothing to see here”, and I like that just fine. The world is in chaos, I know, but these quiet personal moments for reflection and self-care matter every bit as much as which criminal cronies the corrupt cheeto-in-chief is going to pardon next. It matters more, probably, at least with regard to this one mortal life that I happen to be living, myself. (I just have to figure he’ll eventually get around to pardoning them all, he seems the sort to abuse that kind of power.)

I sigh and let that shit go. Sure, I’m disappointed in what Americans have allowed to fester within our government. I’m outraged and offended by the level of corruption in the current administration, and the ludicrous petty cruelty being demonstrated by people one might expect to know how to do better. It’s pretty horrible – and the horror is not reduced by also failing to take care of myself. Quite the contrary. Everything going on in the world feels more extreme when I fail to practice good self-care. So this morning I focus on that. No reason at all to even glance at the news this morning.

Another deep breath, another sigh. I can feel my pain medication beginning to help ease my pain, and as my pain recedes, my anxiety is further and further reduced. Daybreak comes, and the sky hints at a cloudy day ahead. The variable autumn weather definitely worsens my subjective experience of arthritis pain. Another sigh. Each one seems to somehow ease my pain in some small incremental way. As my pain eases, my attention broadens, and my world becomes bigger than this one moment here, now. I notice the treeline taking shape along the edge of the creek, beyond the vineyard. I see headlights sweep past as farm workers arrive to begin their day. I think about Thanksgiving, only a couple weeks away. I have a lot to be thankful for. I take time for gratitude while I sit watching daybreak become the dawn of a new day.

I catch myself smiling, feeling relaxed and merry. No work today. No time pressure at all, just a woman, a trail, and a moment. Later, I’ll head for coffee somewhere in town, and poke around in antique stores for a cool restoration project for my Traveling Partner. The day is mine, and I have clearly been needing a break. I’m glad I took one.

There’s always now.

When was the last time you took some time for yourself? Not time spent running errands or catching up on chores or long delayed projects – time for you. Time for self-reflection, for being, and for resting your mind is more what I’m asking about. If you haven’t been taking that time with (and for) yourself, why haven’t you? Won’t you be more capable and resilient if you take good care of yourself? It’s just a thought (and maybe a suggestion).

The sky begins to turn a soft shade of blue gray. No colorful sunrise this morning – but that doesn’t stop me from feeling grateful to see another day dawn. I am intensely grateful; I didn’t expect to get this far. On the other side of the trail, a plump racoon ambles along. She gives me a glance, and continues on her way, a single file line of youngsters following along. I smile. I am reminded that what we notice has a lot to do with what we are looking towards. We are each having our own experience, and in many ways, we’re creating it as we go.

… Choose wisely…

I sigh as I get to my feet, ready to finish my morning walk and begin a new day, again.

I woke unnecessarily early. My Traveling Partner, already up, looked in on me as I slept, “Are you okay?” he asked softly. “Mmhmm” I mumbled through my CPAP mask. I started to sit up, awake, to say something, but he was already gone. For a moment, I wasn’t sure he’d actually wakened me.

I got up.  It was already too close to that time, and even as groggy as I was, going back to sleep wouldn’t have gotten me more rest, and definitely would have caused me to struggle with being groggy all morning. I have a busy morning ahead and a brief presentation to give, I don’t have time to waste on being groggy. lol

I left the house in the usual way, but as I walked toward the car, I saw something bunched up at the edge of the yard. Trash? A plastic bag or…? Nope. It turned around and looked at me, with its strange white face and small black eyes. A possum (the biggest I’ve ever seen in person). She stared at me for a moment as if she didn’t quite believe it, either, before taking off awkwardly ambling quickly, then running – across the yard, through the rose bushes, and under the neighbor’s car. I lost sight of her there, though I heard her scrambling through leaves on the other side. I realized that I’d been just standing there watching, and moved on, myself.

Well… I guess that proves there are possums in the woods beyond the yard. I’m not saying I needed proof , but now I definitely know. lol (I considered taking a picture, but couldn’t get my camera ready fast enough, so quickly decided to enjoy the moment as it was.)

…Strange sort of morning so far…

Heading to the trailhead, I had to pull over for a few moments when a sneezing fit overcame me so thoroughly I couldn’t see to drive. Weird. I take a minute to deal with that, then drive on. As I reach the trailhead, I see the moon overhead, a luminous pearl of haunting beauty, resting among pillowy clouds. It looks full, but I think it is waning. I don’t care enough to look it up, I just enjoy the sight of it.

I pull into my preferred parking spot, and my headlights reveal a mature buck, standing just ahead, in the field adjacent to the parking. There something about his stance that hints at aggression, somehow, or a defensive reaction to something that he sees, but I don’t see anything alarming. I wait in the car until he walks on, my eyes scanning the strip of meadow, and the vineyard beyond, looking for hazards or threats. I don’t see anything. Maybe it was my arrival that vexed the buck as he stood minding his own business on a Friday morning at the edge of dawn?

The moon begins to sink lower as I begin my walk. “Aren’t we all just creatures living our lives?”, I think to myself as I head down the path. Possums and deer, coyotes and bobcats, geese and bluejays, jackasses and idiots, all mixed together in this peculiar world, each doing their own best to live their lives; it’s an interesting world full of adventure and opportunity, and things to see.

The jewel of the night sky.

There’s nothing noteworthy or remarkable about the first half of my walk. I get to my halfway point, enjoying the moonlight. Although I have my headlamp with me, I only turn it on when the clouds hide the moon. I love the ephemeral beauty of the moonlit trail. I don’t have a lot of opportunities to walk in the moonlight these days. I sleep better than I used to.

Four day weekend ahead, for me. Veterans Day is Tuesday, and I took Monday off, too. I don’t have exotic plans. It’s a “holiday” for reflection, and honoring comrades who made it home, but couldn’t carry on. I’ll make time to connect with colleagues from the Cold War era of my military service, and those with whom I went to war, later. There are fewer survivors these days. We are mortal creatures, and one day the last of us will perhaps be talking about me, and remembering me when.

… I hope I am remembered best for the woman I eventually became, and whatever good I have done, and not for the worst of who I once was in a life full of chaos and damage…

I sigh quietly. Gloomy thoughts for such a lovely morning, but at least I’m not having to fight thinking about work. I breathe, exhale, and relax. Such a busy mind. I take time to meditate and calm my mind. This few minutes of meditation in the morning helps set me up for lasting success all day. If I begin the morning spun up over stressful bullshit, and world events I can’t change, or work (before the work day even begins), the entire day feels frantic, stressful, and covered in “fail sauce”. I definitely don’t need that, and cultivating a consistent meditation practice and enjoying a solitary walk each morning has been a big change for the better. It took time and practice to get here, but it has paid off.

Daybreak comes. The moon disappears behind thick clouds that threaten rain. I frown at the stormy sky; I walked away from the car without my poncho this morning, distracted by moonlight. Shit. I should head back before it rains… I keep sitting quietly, enjoying the moment. I already know a little rain won’t do me any harm. It’ll be time to begin again soon enough, and these lovely moments are so fleeting in a mortal life.

A new day dawns – what will you do with it?

I sit awhile longer with my thoughts, watching the treeline take shape as daylight comes. A gentle steady rain begins to fall. I smile as I get to my feet, looking down the trail. Another beginning. Another opportunity to be the person I most want to be.

I take a breath and exhale completely. So far, it’s a good morning. Honestly, not really all that different from most other mornings, as far as the circumstances and practical factual details go. Most mornings start out pretty well, generally, in my experience. It’s the little things that make the difference; moments of aggravation or inconvenience, some little vexing interaction, a stubbed toe, a forgotten item only noticed on the other end of a long drive, miscommunication, mismatched expectations, some little disapppointment – any of these can result in the feeling of a crappy morning. How bad is it really, though, on any given day? I sip my coffee and think about that awhile.

I haven’t looked at the news today. There’s hardly any point, it’ll probably fit neatly into one of a small number of unimpressive categories: sponsored content, straight up advertising, “official” missives from the government that amount to actual fucking gaslighting, repeats of yesterday’s news copied again and again and spit out as AI slop, and opinion articles sharing the opinions of people whose opinions have no value to me. There is no point in immersing myself in that nonsense at all. I’d be better off reading Proust, by far. lol (If you think your attention span has been impaired by device use over time, making it hard to watch a 2-hour movie, get yourself situated – In Search of Lost Time, by Marcel Proust is 7 g’damned volumes of poetic prose maunderings. It’s a commitment. Still better than doomscrolling the news.)

I sigh quietly and smile. I’ve started reading Proust several times. I’ve yet to get past the first volume before wandering off to do other things and live life, and coming back to it after so much time has passed that I’ve got to start over. LOL Still manages to be a more worthwhile endeavor than doomscrolling some feed clogged with AI slop, by far.

I sip my coffee contentedly, grateful to have coffee at all, with the world in the state it is in right now. I breathe, exhale, and relax, and let that shit go, again. Now is not the time, really, and when it comes to being stressed out over distant events and people that we have no influence over, and whose actions barely touch our lives, well, that’s as pointless as expecting to read Proust “cover to cover” in an afternoon. It’s not a practical expectation, nor an efficient use of time. lol Instead, I take time for gratitude, and little things. It is a pleasant way to prolong a lovely morning, and to set up my day in a positive way. It is a practice well-suited to beginnings. With Thanksgiving (in the US) coming up pretty soon, it’s a strong step forward to make time for gratitude. It can be difficult to begin being grateful, if I’m vexed or irritated in some moment, but worthwhile then too; sincere gratitude quickly crowds out irritability, frustration, and anger. Handy sometimes.

It is the little things I’m often most grateful for, and the modern conveniences that I may sometimes take for granted even though elsewhere in the world (rather shamefully) they may be luxuries. Like… healthy food to eat, clean drinking water, indoor plumbing, high speed internet connectivity, wifi, and even this laptop from which I work each day – these all seem like relatively practical “necessities” in modern life, but I promise you they truly are not. I sip my coffee and reflect on my good fortune and my privileged circumstances. I’m lucky, indeed. Even luckier to have the partnership I do, and the cozy little home we share. I grateful for the skills that are valued by employers who have roles suited to my skills and my nature, such that I’m able to work – and even to work remotely, from home or wherever, and often on my own terms. I’ve got a lot to be thankful for. I’m grateful that my Traveling Partner’s healing has come so far, and that he is able to work in his shop again. I’m grateful for the housekeeping and help with chores that I get from the Anxious Adventurer each week. I’m grateful that my partner and his son both give me the space I need when I need it most, too. That’s a pretty big deal for me.

I smile to myself, feeling “filled up” on gratitude and ready to begin a new day. I’m walking my own path, and the circumstances and choices are my own – and I’m fortunate to enjoy the validation and agency that I do (unfortunately unusual even in the US). This path has brought me so far in such a (relatively) short time, and there is further to go. I’m grateful for that, too, and I’m ready to begin again. 😀

What is “the bliss point”? Well, in food-related matters, the “bliss point” is the ratio of sugar, salt, and fat that makes food irresistably delicious and cravable, potentially overriding the body’s signals to stop eating when full, but that’s not what I’m talking about right now. Right now, I’m speaking more…existentially. My thinking on this is that there’s a “bliss point” for anything that activates our brain’s “reward centers”, creating a feeling of intense pleasure and satisfaction, resulting in, well, bliss. Bliss is the feeling. The sensation. The experience. There are a lot of things that might get a person there.

Thank you, Love “Contemplation” 12″ x 16″ acrylic and iron oxide. August 2011

For me, right now, here in this fragile finite moment, I’ve reached “the bliss point” in this moment of solitude at home. The combination of profound delight (and real joy for my Traveling Partner’s continued recovery from his injury and surgery) and solitary quiet right here safe and comfortable in my own home feels…amazing. Lovely. Blissful. It has been this rare for me to be home alone. For someone who enjoys solitude to find it so rarely at home has been difficult and frustrating (and probably slowly degrading my emotional wellness over time) – but the need has been great, and I’ve done my best to step up and be a fucking grown-up about it.

Autumn mushrooms after the rain.

We embraced after he zipped his fleece, and grabbed his keys from the hook in the hallway. It still didn’t “feel real” until the truck pulled out of the driveway – without me in it. Wow. The quiet. The stillness. The hushed whir of the computer fan breaking the silence. The ring zing buzz of my tinnitus seems like the loudest “sound” in the room. The whole house is so… quiet. So still. So…pleasant. I love this little house. I love the way we decorated. I love seeing signs of my Traveling Partner’s taste here and there and all around. I step happily from room to room, just feeling the space around me, and hearing the quiet. It’s nice. I feel deeply infused with contentment and a gentle joy. I don’t really need much in life to find it enjoyable, I suppose. I’m not lusting after beautiful people, or sparkly stones, or fast cars, or fancy neighbors (which, is a good thing, since yearning can push us to do some terrible and foolish things).

A moment of bliss and whimsy.

I make a point to enjoy the moment, and to feel grateful to have it. I let the soft silence seep into me, and let myself become wrapped in contentment. I breathe, exhale, and relax. I take time to meditate. Most of the day will be spent on work, and I’m not even cross about that. I’m logged in and ready. It’s fine. I’m here at home, and I am loved, and I am enjoying the feeling of relief and pride that comes of seeing my beloved’s progress, and knowing how much he enjoys his pick-up truck. This feels good, so I take time with my feelings, just enjoying this moment, and wringing every shred of joy from savoring a moment in the bliss point.

…This too will pass. That’s what time does; it passes. Our moments are finite, fragile, and fleeting. I make time for joy and bliss, before I begin again.

In spite of taking some weekend time to properly relax and rest, and in spite of sleeping decently well lately, and in spite of having some help and rearranging things to reduce my day-to-day workload, I’m tired. Not the physical fatigue of effort exerted, instead it is the consuming, distracting, encroaching loss of will and focus that comes from “too much for too long” and I really need a break from… everything. It’s dumb. I feel as if I am literally fatigued by living life. I’ve got to do a better job of self-care, before I face legitimate burnout.

…Seems like there is always another chore to do, or another errand to run…

I start the morning already tired, already feeling “over it”, and the work day hasn’t even started. It’s raining at the trailhead, and I’m in pain before I even start my walk. I’m going to walk, anyway, it is a favorite self-care practice, and it is in the very nature of a practice to be practiced. I sigh to myself, feeling annoyed by everything but the solitude, and start down the path, one step at a time.

Eventually, I reach my halfway point. As I stop, the rain stops too. My rain poncho, which has been flapping against my legs as I walk, or wrapping annoyingly around me in the wind, becomes something to be grateful for; it’s keeping me dry, sitting here on this very wet bench. My sour mood is sweetened a bit by the moment of sincere gratitude. I sit with that feeling for s little while. It’s better than being cranky, by far.

The morning is still dark, and I persist in yearning for a weekend that is still days away. It’s time to plan the Thanksgiving dinner. Time to figure out the holidays generally. Life feels ludicrously busy. No wonder I’m tired. I rarely give my mind enough rest. I breathe, exhale, and relax. These quiet moments in the mornings are so necessary to my mental health overall – but they are not enough to prevent me from exhausting myself over time. I need to do a better job of setting boundaries, and pacing myself – and asking for (and accepting) help.

…It is proving to be quite difficult to adjust from full-time caregiving back to a more evenly balanced partnership, even though it’s timely, appropriate, and necessary…

I sit listening to the rain sprinkling the leaves that still cling to the trees, and spattering my poncho. I enjoy the delicate not quite random percussion. I breathe the rain-fresh autumn air. My tinnitus is crazy loud this morning, so I don’t hear much in the predawn quiet, besides the zing and buzz of tinnitus, the pattering of raindrops, and my breathing. As if to call me a liar (or to expand my perspective), an HVAC system somewhere nearby comes on, and adds its tones to the background noise. I chuckle to myself; it’s definitely not personal. It’s just noise.

Daybreak comes. It is a gray rainy morning under a soggy overcast sky. A deer startles me walking past. I didn’t see her approach. I twitch, startled. My movement startles her in turn, and she gives a little jump then runs off to the side, into the trees. As she disappears, I see that she was not alone, and wonder how long I sat quietly, surrounded by the herd (three does, four fawns, and a stately buck with branching antlers), before they began to walk on. Do they recognize me? (“Mama, that weird creature is back.” “Don’t get to close to that thing, you don’t know where it’s been.”) I wonder if they mind the rain?

I don’t much feel like getting on with the day, really, but there are chores, and errands, and work to be done, and all these damned practices aren’t going to practice themselves. I laugh at my eagerness to do nothing at all…or maybe to paint… either way, now is not that time. The weekend ahead is a long one (for me), for the Veterans Day holiday. I’m looking forward to that. Right now though, it’s time to begin again, and I get to my feet to head on down the path ahead, one foot ahead of the other, a step at a time. (That’s how progress is made, after all.)