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Giving Thanks and Celebrating

November 7, 2024 //
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In spite of an upsetting (for many) election, I am giving thanks, feeling grateful, and preparing to celebrate. The holiday season is approaching. In my house that kicks off with Thanksgiving, which isn’t about pilgrims, indigenous people, or genocide – it’s about feasting and gratitude. It’s an opportunity to sit down as a family, enjoy a great meal, and appreciate how fortunate we are to have all that we do. Then…on to Giftmas (and my Traveling Partner’s birthday in between).

The wintry weather I’ve come to expect this time of year is beginning to settle in. This morning was just at the freezing point, and there was frost on the ground and a thin layer of ice on my windshield. I wore a heavy sweater and a fleece, and wrapped a scarf around my neck before setting off down the trail in the pre-dawn darkness, a circle of light bobbing ahead of me as I walked. I don’t prefer to walk with a headlamp, but I wouldn’t be walking in the darkness without it, and I’m grateful to have it. The morning is cold and quiet. I laugh at myself; I bet I could have slept in this morning.

It took months to pick out a birthday present for my Traveling Partner this year, and it won’t be a surprise. Machinery for the shop can’t generally be a surprise, it’s specialized and he’s the one who understands what he really wants and needs. It arrives today – I’m excited about it (so is he). Neither of us find it awkward or problematic that it is arriving weeks ahead of his actual birthday. lol The timing doesn’t feel particularly relevant. I like the idea that he may actually be in the shop using it on his birthday. His recovery finally seems to be progressing in a way that is apparent and visible. As I think about that a tremendous wave of gratitude and relief washes over me. I’ve been consumed with worry and dread for much of the year. If I get nothing for Giftmas but the certainty that he’s “going to be okay”, it would be enough, and feel like a lavish holiday.

I’ve got a long weekend ahead, then a couple weeks later (the weekend before Thanksgiving) a short getaway to the coast to paint, then the long Thanksgiving weekend, which my employer gives us as a holiday. It’s nice. It’s been a good year for getting enough time off (although much of it was spent on caregiving, quite a lot was healthy restful downtime). I breathe, exhale, and relax. I briefly wonder what next year might hold before I let that go. No point becoming invested in some future outcome that is not yet.

I walk the trail thinking about life, love, and art. It’s a season for celebration and gratitude, sure, but also for getting things done that have lingered too long on my to do list. I think about the garden, abandoned in the summer as my partner needed more and more caregiving support and time in a day became insufficient to do everything; it would benefit from a quick clean up and preparation for the Spring that isn’t even on my mind yet. The hot tub had been shut down and drained in the late Spring so that my partner could more easily sleep. It could be refilled and made ready for winter use. I walk and think about finite time and energy, and how best to make use of it.

Life and circumstances aren’t always what I want them to be, but I’m grateful for the good life I have, and the opportunities and choices my circumstances put in front of me. I walk on, and get ready to begin again.

I see daybreak on the horizon…

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Categories Allegories, art and the artist, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, gardening, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, The Art of Being

Places I’ve Been

November 4, 2024 //
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Memory is a funny thing. Mine can be a little hit or miss (probably a consequence of head trauma and brain damage). Visceral detailed memories of places, events, and people are often triggered by qualities of light, or some scent on a breeze, or some little thing that seems entirely unrelated, until the memory unfolds to the point at which the dots are connected. Sometimes troubling, often delightful, the memory pours forth and I have a new opportunity to remember and reflect.

… I take a lot of notes, keep a careful calendar, and for many years (decades) kept an exceedingly detailed journal, just to cope with my shitty memory…

Yesterday, as I sat with a coffee at a local cafe, the recollection of a sidewalk cafe on a sunny morning in Paris surfaced. I sat enjoying the recollection for a pleasant while.

A couple days ago, as I walked through the small local library, the smell of books mingled with the librarian’s fragrance, and the late morning light filling the room called to mind some very different long ago place – a visit to the Dom Cathedral in Augsburg, Germany, which I visited several times as a young soldier.

These aren’t particularly rare memories. Hell, I doubt they are even unique to my own experience, considering how popular these places and experiences are. I just happen to have them (also). Other days, other recollections. I sometimes find myself thinking I should write them down,  otherwise, when I go, they go with me…

… But I’m not certain they even “matter”, really, they’re simply a small part of who I am…

I sit quietly with my coffee letting the recollections flow by. Recent memories like sharing dinner last night with my Traveling Partner and the Anxious Adventurer. Chili – it was good. More distant memories, too, like elaborate Thanksgiving dinners at Grandmother and Grandfather’s house, which were a really big deal with the cousins from Texas and the Dakotas coming for the holiday. The Christmas Market in Augsburg. Softcrab sandwiches at the harbor in Annapolis. Long walks in the mountain foothills near Grants Pass, Oregon. Orienteering with my unit at Ft AP Hill in the summertime. Hunting with my Dad on cold autumn mornings. The war. My first paycheck.The first time my now-Traveling-Partner ever touched me. That afternoon he asked me if I wanted to get married.

…So many memories make up a lifetime…

I sip my coffee grateful for my memories. I put on my boots and grab my cane to go make another before the work day begins.

… Isn’t it time to begin again?

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Categories 2024 Election, Allegories, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, health, inspiration, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Sleepless Nights, The Art of Being, War and News of War

How What If Works

November 3, 2024 //
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Yesterday was a good day end-to-end. I sip my coffee thinking about it, and waiting for the sun. Daylight Savings Time ended in the wee hours this morning, and dawn will seem to come an hour earlier. There’s no “real change” to when the sun will rise, only to where we human beings place the occurrence on our clocks. I sit with that thought awhile. Time is interesting to contemplate.

I spent a couple pleasant hours at my easel yesterday, painting. Well, more accurately, I was painting at the dining table, and the piece of Pastelbord I was painting on at any given moment was taped to the table to prevent it sliding around. I no longer have an easel, and if I still had my enormous floor-standing easel I wouldn’t be using that, it was far too big for the small work I presently feel inclined to do. lol Having a tabletop easel might be nice, though; pastels are dry, but still manage to be quite messy, as little drifts of colorful dust settle here and there. An easel would tend to keep the work itself cleaner, requiring fewer pauses to carefully blow off the loose pastel.

Colorful flowers, insignificant and delightful.

I think about having a French easel, too, for working en plein air (an unnecessarily fancy way of saying “outside”). I shop for something of that sort, again and again, trying to find a combination of characteristics I like, and that properly suit my painting style. It’s proving to be surprisingly difficult. I sometimes wonder how much what I just don’t yet know about what I actually need may hold me back from recognizing what may realistically suit me in practical terms. We don’t know what we don’t know, and every “what if” scenario is incomplete because of that. I sit thinking about that for awhile.

Some autumn sunrise from a favorite view.

I sit contentedly reflecting on the paintings I painted yesterday. Each pleases me in some way. Each has some detail I’m more critical of. It’s funny that I’m simultaneously quite delighted with them, while also seeing them through critical eyes. I smile at the flowers, while thinking “ah, but if I had done this other thing, wouldn’t it be better?”, but I don’t really know that it would be better – only different. Thinking about decisions in life is much the same; we can consider how we might have done differently, but we can’t know what that other outcome might truly have been.

“What if…” is like any other sort of wishful thinking or daydreaming; we can’t really know, we can only wonder.

I watch the horizon for daybreak. Soon. I sip my coffee. It’s a chilly morning and the warmth of the hot coffee cup in my hands feels good. I think about how good a hot shower will feel after my walk, and smile with some satisfaction that the dishes are already done and won’t be waiting for me. Such a mundane detail to give me so much pleasure. It’s funny (to me) what sorts of utterly practical things can provide so much contentment and joy.

I think about my Traveling Partner, sleeping at home. He continues to make progress with his recovery, and it’s really beginning to show. That’s an immense weight off my heart, I admit; I’ve felt so helpless and worried. Caregiving is a lot of work, but beyond that, I really want my beloved to live (and enjoy) his best life!

Day breaks on another rainy gray autumn morning. The trail is visible as the sky lightens. There’s a mist clinging to the ground and the scent of the marsh is in the air. Everything seems quite still and quiet. Later, there will be time for painting between loads of laundry, and happy hours hanging out over coffee with my Traveling Partner, talking and sharing life. For now, it’s time to put on my boots and get out on the trail, and begin again.

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Categories Allegories, Art, art and the artist, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, inspiration, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, The Art of Being

I Screwed Up

November 1, 2024 //
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I’m no “expert” – not on mindfulness, nor CBT, nor emotional intelligence… I’m just a human being making my own way, fortunately with some help, and willing to talk about it pretty openly. (Definitely don’t look to me for the last word in whatever it is you most yearn to discover!) I’m not the expert you may be seeking. Limited education. No relevant credentials. Just a person, and not even a person of note. lol My opinions and experience are only that; mine. Subjective.  Lived in context. I share them with these caveats. (And thanks for reading.)

I was reflecting on something to do with the last few months of my Dear Friend’s life, recently (grief being a peculiar process that takes an unknown very individual amount of time, apparently). It occured to me that she had made it super clear she knew the end was coming, and was ready to face it, and explicitly opened the door to having conversations about that – clearly wanting to – and I missed that cue, choosing instead to offer reassurance, any time it came up. I failed her. She wanted to talk. She wanted to talk to me, and I did not give her that opportunity, when I so easily could have done so. I could have said something like “do you want to talk more about that, or are you making an observation?” I could have said “please tell me more”, or “help me understand why you feel this way right now?” I didn’t do any of those things because I wasn’t ready to face her mortality with her. How cruel and and how foolish. I could have done better as a friend. Why do I mention it, now? Only because you could perhaps do better, when that opportunity is given to you, when some friend or loved one says they feel the end is near, or that they “may not recover from this” – whatever “this” is – giving you the chance to listen and be there for them. You could choose something deeper and more intimate and… stronger… than reassurance. You could encourage them to talk, and allow them to share, and be there to listen – because you care.

Well, shit. This is one of those “no second chances” things, eh? I don’t even consider myself someone who has a problem facing death; I know we are mortal creatures. What I clearly do have a problem with is the pain of being uncomfortable with a loved one’s pain or sorrow or fear or anger or discomfort (no kidding). It’s a major character flaw. I should do something about it. I sit awhile with that thought…

Some time later my thinking takes me back around to discussions my Traveling Partner tries to have with me about his experience of injury, recovery, and disability. I can do better than I have. I think about it awhile longer, grateful to “have another chance”. I think about discussions of illness and mortality I have similarly tried to have with him, and his persistent attempts to reassure me and move on. I get it. Everyone wants to be heard, and hard conversations remain hard. Something to consider and to work on.

A steady rain falls this morning. I’d hoped for a break in the rain, but it doesn’t seem likely. Day of the Dead; the weather seems fitting, as I sit here missing those who’ve already gone. I breathe, listening to the rain tapping rhythmically on the car, and my tinnitus ringing and buzzing in my ears. It’s a quiet moment well-suited to reflection. It’s a Friday, too. The weekend ahead is the final stressful couple of days before the presidential election. The year is winding down, and daylight savings time ends Sunday. Shit. That’s all such a lot to take in… I’d rather be sipping coffee while I paint than dealing with all that. It will happen whether I’m paying any attention to it or not.

I remind myself to plan the Thanksgiving meal, grateful that it tends toward a handful of classic holiday favorites. It’s mostly a matter of coordinating tasks, housekeeping, shopping, and cooking. I sigh feeling relieved in spite of anticipating the work involved. As holidays go, it’s pretty routine, and for us, manageably small.

The rain intensifies, becoming a racket of pounding rain for a time. My alarm goes off, reminding me to take my morning medication. One more thing to attend to. Sometimes there seem to be so many…

… I breathe, exhale, and relax, letting my thoughts carry me on to the next moment. Soon it will be time to begin again, and the clock is ticking on this mortal life. This path won’t walk itself.

… The rain stops. I have another chance to walk…

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Categories 2024 Election, Allegories, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, gratitude, grief, loneliness, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, The Art of Being, women

Feeling Good

October 31, 2024 //
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I slept last night. I woke this morning feeling pretty good, in spite of my headache, and my arthritis (which are becoming generally non-negotiable elements of my day-to-day experience). I moved through my morning routine pretty efficiently and quietly. I took my morning medications on time without a mishap, and the rain stopped just as I got to the trailhead. Seems like a pretty good morning so far.

Yesterday wasn’t all that bad, once I got past the morning, though I had considerable difficulty staying focused on work after my Traveling Partner pinged me good morning. I would have preferred to spend the day idly conversing with him, intimate and connected. The evening, after work, was relaxed and genial. We talked and shared the time contentedly. Dinner wasn’t fancy, pretty low effort but still a tasty home-cooked hot meal. I got some basic housekeeping chores handled. We communicated easily with each other, no stress, no drama, in spite of my fatigue. It was a great time all around.

I sit with my coffee and a smile in the pre-dawn darkness, a small circle of light cast by my headlamp, set to my side on this bench, to reduce the glare while I write and reflect. I turn it off to meditate, enjoying the diffuse light of town and street lights reflected back by the cloudy sky. It’s dark, for many values of darkness, but my eyes adjust quickly and I could probably walk the trail in the dimness without my headlamp if I chose to. It’s just easier with a bit of light. I smile at the implied metaphor and let my thoughts move on.

My Traveling Partner admitted yesterday that he hasn’t been reading my blog for awhile, caught up in his own experience. I didn’t feel hurt by that, and I even understand. It does tend to explain how misaligned we’ve sometimes felt, though; he has lacked a ton of explicit knowledge of my day-to-day experience, because rather than “repeat myself”, I’ve left things unsaid that I wrote about. That was a poor choice on my part, and we’ve paid for it in frequent misunderstandings and miscommunication. Well, shit. Now I know. I’m not even annoyed; the fault is mine. I made an assumption and didn’t check in on that. Ideally, I’d have been “using my words” and trusting my beloved to alert me if he was already aware of some detail.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. It’s a good morning so far. I hope the day ahead is as pleasant. I’ve got work, and a couple things to get done to care for my partner and our home. I’m looking forward to working from home today and enjoying lunch together. I feel… good. It’s nice. It’s enough.

I look at the sky. Daybreak hasn’t come yet. It will, though, and the clock is ticking. It’s time to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, The Art of Being, The Big 5
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