I woke rather randomly, feeling cozy and warm and not at all inclined to get up. I got up and dressed and left the house quietly, because it was clear that I wasn’t going to go back to sleep. I’d already “slept in”, for some values of sleeping in; it was 15 minutes later than I commonly wake. I feel rested. It’s fine.
The car was frosted, sparkling under the street lights, and the car door opened with a crackle, and some resistance. The morning air was quite cold. This is only the second hard frost of the season, the last one being weeks ago. Between them, it’s been mild and rainy. I started the car, and waited for it to defrost enough to see, and to warm up the engine. It’s not ridiculously cold, just freezing. I found myself grateful for the warm layers I put on this morning, without thinking much about the weather – it just happened to be what I had laid out last night as “options”. I wasn’t really thinking about options as I dressed, and I just put things on piece by piece, until I was dressed. I’m warm and comfortable. Suits the colder morning.
The trailhead parking is empty. I arrive before daybreak. It’s a little warmer here. Although still cold, it’s not freezing. Gloves, scarf, hoodie over sweater, cane in hand – I’m as ready as I’m going to get, but the cold and darkness are unappealing, and the frosty trail running alongside the marsh pond is more hazardous than it appears in some spots, and likely to be slick with frosty fallen leaves. I decide to wait for daybreak, more light, and maybe a degree or two of additional warmth. I’m in no hurry, it’s Saturday. I can write from the warmth and shelter of the car, sparing myself the experience of writing from the trail with freezing hands. I somehow doubt I will find sitting at my halfway point at all appealing on this wintry morning.
I stretch and yawn, listening to the traffic pass on the nearby highway. There’s not much of that this morning, only enough to keep me aware that this is not wilderness, and I already knew that. 😆
The darkness begins to ease, ever so slightly. I see hints of almost blue sky beyond the clouds, above the eastern horizon. It’s not quite 07:00… I sit quietly considering the lengthening days, noting with some small measure of wonder that the change is already so obvious. I don’t honestly prefer to walk in the darkness, it just happens to be “convenient”, for some values of “convenience”. I’m looking forward to seeing the sun rise as I walk this trail. It won’t be long; Spring is on the way.
I breathe, exhale, and relax. Meditation first, walking after, this morning. I’m okay with that. I do find habits, routines, and practices very useful, but being fixated on sequences or timing can create needless anxiety any time I deviate from some pattern that developed over time. That’s not healthy nor ideally flexible, and the day-to-day variance in timing and the order in which I do things prevents me from becoming “stuck” or inflexible. Rather than fight it, I try to embrace it without being bothered by it. Change is. I’ve found tremendous value in accepting impermanence and practicing non-attachment. Another breath, another exhalation, another glance at the horizon.
I sit with my thoughts awhile, reflecting on who I have become over the years. We become what we practice. This is reliably true. If you don’t like some characteristic of who you are, it’s very likely to be entirely within your ability to change that, through your own actions and decisions, with practice. Are your behaviors what you want them to be? Are you “your best self”, living your best life? What will you change today to become more that person you most want to be? What qualities make a person of “good character”? Do you embody those characteristics? You could, with practice. It’s your journey – your path to choose. Choose wisely.
The way ahead is visible. The path is clear. It’s time to begin again, I suppose. I wrap my scarf around me, button my cardigan, and pull on my knit hat. Every journey begins with a step, and it looks like a great day to practice being the person I most want to be.
Evening Light 