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Perspective

March 5, 2025 //
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I’m sipping my coffee and enjoying this relaxed moment between the beginning of a new day, and whatever the next moment may hold. The sun is rising, and I see the edge of the sunrise beyond the window, the blue sky, the trees, the clouds, and – the reflections of the work day as images of office lights and the space behind me on the window glass. It’s a metaphor for perspective – and a reminder that I create a substantial portion of my experience based on what put my attention on.

Perspective on the day ahead and this moment.

Which is most real? The world beyond the window? The work in front of me? The chatter and hum of the office(s) behind me? Am I focused on this moment, or some other moment? I can choose to put my attention here, or there, or elsewhere. I can choose my point of view, and I can broaden my perspective to include experiences other than my own through my awareness, my ability to observe, my understanding, and my compassion. It is possible to understand more than my own limited experience, but there are verbs involved.

I sit awhile reflecting on perspective, as I observe the reflections in the window while the sun rises. I see that woman I am so familiar with gazing back at me. There was a time when I was chronically unhappy with her (and about her), and dissatisfied with her very existence. I’m in a different place with her these days – she is my best friend, my shadow, my constant companion, my past, present, and future. I see her smile back at me, aware that “it isn’t all about her“. Useful perspective. It’s a big world and there’s more than me doing my thing going on, on this strange mudball hurtling through space. We’re each having our own experience, and there are a lot of us. Each human. Each worthy of consideration and basic human decency. (Yes, “them” too; being considerate and decent even to some objectionable other is more about me being decent than it is about them, at all, isn’t it?)

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I feel content and comfortable with myself, this morning. Feels like a good start to the day. I gave myself a headstart on this good morning by not watching the president’s address to congress last night. I didn’t have the heart to be that disappointed in humanity just then. I put self-care first. Worth it. I’m not all spun up and angsty over the imminent demise of American democracy, or the horrific failure of our nation to be “great” (ever). Some things are within my control, some things are not; I can take care of me (with consideration and self-respect), and I can do my very best to be the best possible version of the woman I most want to be with the skills I have right now. It’s the best I can do to change the world; be my best self, and avoid being a jerk to other human beings. It’ll have to be enough. This morning, it is.

Pain is pain. This fragile mortal vessel has its limitations. Saw my doctor yesterday, got referred for imaging, and it’ll be a referral to a specialist from there, based on the imaging. Such is the way of things. If I could give my younger self any advice at all, it would be “take care of your body, you’ve only got this one”. That’s a pretty broad recommendation, covers a lot of stuff, and it’s not like she’d have listened – she was once in a very “live fast/die young” place as a human primate. That’s unfortunate – I wish she’d have given the future just a bit more consideration. lol I stretch, and breathe, and move around some, feeling the pain here and there as sore muscles expand and contract, and various arthritic bones grind one against another. The headache isn’t as bad this morning; I’m grateful for that. I chuckle to myself to have reached this place where some specific measure of pain (versus worse pain) is something to be grateful for. It’s not a merry or joyful or humorous thing, it’s just perspective.

I sip my coffee and contemplate “perspective” – and how mine has changed over the years, with age, with experience, with new information, with joy and wonder and bitter disappointments. I’m not the woman I was at 19, or at 27, or at 32. We’ve very little in common. Even the very cells of this physical body, one by one, have changed. I sit with that a while longer. This? Always a new beginning, each moment, a chance to do better, a chance to become the woman I most want to be. A chance to make better choices in my life. A chance to embrace wiser perspective and make room for an understanding of experiences that are not my own.

It’s time to begin again. What will I do with it? Where does this path lead?

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Categories 2024 Election, Allegories, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, inspiration, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, pain, Perspective, Practices, Spring, The Art of Being, winter

Choose Your Ride, Pay For Your Ticket

March 3, 2025 //
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Nothing in life is free. Seriously. You want the thing? You pay the price. You want to embark on that adventure? It comes at a cost. You’re going to take that chance, jump at that opportunity, walk down that path over there? You’ll pay for it, one way or another. This isn’t a threat, nor is it a warning, I’m just saying there’s a price to be paid for our choices, and it isn’t always in cash, or stated clearly up front.

Last Wednesday, the Anxious Adventurer and I finished off the storage move. (Yay!) There was a feeling of accomplishment, but it was also a lot of work. Friday, I took the day off work and spent about 7 hours walking on beaches, with breaks in between to write a few words, or go from “here” to “there” – about 11 total miles of walking, based on my tracker. Saturday began with a 3 mile walk on a favorite trail, and ended with housekeeping, chores, and gardening. Sunday was more of the same. Today? Yeah, today “the bill came due” and I’m paying for all of it; I feel like I’ve been in a serious fight (and lost). My muscles ache from the least of efforts. It was difficult just getting out of bed and getting dressed this morning. My back, legs, shoulders, and neck all ache ferociously, and I’m stiff. So stiff. Today I’m walking with a cane just getting from the car to my desk to the coffee in the office kitchenette, and I’m “wearing my years”. I’m not complaining, just saying this is where I am, and why. I take a moment to consider the sensations of my body. This fragile vessel needs care, and while that’s true every day, right now I’m really feeling it. Funny thing is, most of these things I did so much of were themselves forms of self-care. Hilarious (for some forms of humor). (I guess you had to be there. lol)

I breathe, exhale, and “relax” – best I can, hurting the way I do right now. It’ll pass. I remind myself that there’s always a price to be paid for the things we do, or want, or achieve, even if only the time consumed of our limited mortal years. Was the price too high? No, not at all, and I’m paying it without objection, resentment, or resistence. It is what it is. (Which is, mostly, painful at present.) The moment will pass. The pain will ease. I’ll go on to be stronger for the effort I’ve made, and I’m pleased with the outcome (particularly in the garden). Hell, there’s more yet to do. Life doesn’t pause for a breather just because a task has been completed. There’s always that next step. Another project. Another moment.

…Life being lived; there are verbs involved…

Garden books & seed packets; the plan is not the experience.

I sip my coffee (g’damn I am so sore this morning, even sipping coffee manages to hurt), pleased that it is so good today. I smile thinking about the work in the garden, progress made toward Spring, and seeds yet to be planted. The metaphor of a garden is one of my personal favorites, and I consider what I am planting – in the garden, and in life – and how best to tend my garden for a bountiful harvest. There’s work involved, and it helps to plan, and to proceed with intention, but the path ahead isn’t predetermined, and the way is not always clear. I sigh contentedly in spite of my physical discomfort. I’m fortunate, and I sit with my gratitude for a moment. We become what we practice, for sure, and our choices and actions make a difference in the life we lead – but where our journey begins, and what obstacles befall us along the way, matters too – and we have less control over that. I reflect awhile on my good fortune in life, generally. I’m not saying it’s been “an easy life”, and I’ve surely had what sometimes seems like more than my “fair share” of trauma over the years, but… considering things from the perspective of this one human experience of a lifetime of growth and change and circumstance? I’m fortunate, indeed. (It’s rarely helpful to become mired in pain, or to wallow in the chaos and damage.) I’ve much to be grateful for…

I sip my coffee, think my thoughts, and prepare to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, breathe, Free Will, gardening, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, inspiration, joy, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, pain, Perspective, Practices, Spring, The Art of Being, turning 60, weight loss secrets, winter

The Path Ahead

March 2, 2025 //
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It is a gray morning on the edge of winter’s end. Spring soon, and this morning hints at that, mild and wet and so very gray.

Early on a morning in March

I sit quietly for a moment before I head down the trail. I listen to the flocks of geese overhead and the sound of traffic on the highway beyond the nature park. Everything is muddy. Marshy. So gray. My head aches ferociously. My arthritis pain is a serious distraction. Still, I’ve got my boots on, and I’m here. This trail won’t walk itself. I sigh quietly and try not to anticipate the pain of every step ahead.

… I’ve just got to actually begin…

Yesterday afternoon I spent time in the garden. It was lovely. Time well spent. I’m paying for it now, I suspect, the bending and reaching is not ideal for my spine. It’s okay, though; the garden needed attention. If we don’t tend our garden, we surely can’t complain that all we have are weeds! The roses are pruned and ready for spring. I put down some fertilizer for the hungriest ones. I got started on cleaning up the veggie bed, too. Weather permitting, I’ll finish that today. After my walk, I remind myself, I can stop at the garden supply store and pick up soil amendments , or at least look around and put myself in the mood.

Another sigh. Another moment. It isn’t always easy to get started down the path, even when I have an idea where I’m going. Sometimes it’s more a matter of will than enthusiasm. It’s still a beginning. It’s still time. I push myself off from the side of the car, where I’ve been leaning, ready but not yet going. I look down the trail a little unenthusiastically, and get started. It’s time to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, breathe, Free Will, gardening, gratitude, Healthy Living, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Practices, Roses, solo hiking, Spring, The Art of Being, winter

Something On My Mind

February 26, 2025 //
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I’m sipping coffee and feeling irritated by something I read. I decide not to rant about it, and sit quietly reflecting on it instead. Words can come later. It makes sense to “get my head right” before I start blathering foolishly about something I’ve had an emotional reaction to, but about which I lack clarity of thought. All in good time, eh? Other voices can lead with emotions, I’ll sit this one out for a time.

… This is sometimes a difficult choice to make…

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I’ve taken the day off work to handle a project with the help of the Anxious Adventurer, wrapping up the move of household goods between storage units. The clock is ticking, but there’s only the largest items left, and we’ve got a truck for all that. Soon. For now, I sit with my coffee and my thoughts.

I am thinking about language, and the way it functions, which is to say “by agreement”. Without a shared understanding of the definitions of terms being used, there is no reliably good communication. No “understanding”. How often do you pause a contentious conversation to clarify the meanings of key words and phrases? How often do you verify that you and those you are conversing with have a shared understanding of what words mean? Conmen, grifters, “marketing experts”, and all manner of manipulative individuals, rely on the likelihood that we can be persuaded to think or behave in some useful way based on what we thought we understood them to have said, without clearly understanding what they actually meant by the words they used. Just saying it’s generally a good idea to check in on such things, to verify shared understanding of words being used, and to avoid being misled by misused language.

I watch daybreak arrive, thinking my thoughts. Lovely quiet morning, so far. Soon enough it will be time to begin again. Already.

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Categories Allegories, breathe, Free Will, Logic & Reason, meditation, Moments, Perspective, Practices, The Art of Being, Words

Gently Now

February 23, 2025 //
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I’m waiting at the trailhead for daybreak. It is a quiet Sunday morning, uncomplicated and ordinary. I’m okay with that. Everything does not need to be exciting all the time. Truly, it’s probably best that generally things are fairly mundane and without excitement or drama. Isn’t there enough of all that without going looking for it or creating it?

There is a big difference between “interesting” and “exciting”, and between “worthwhile” and “full of drama”. I am content with interesting moments and spending my time on things that are worthwhile.

Daybreak comes to the marsh.

There’s a hint of mist clinging in the low spots out on the marsh. The morning is drizzly and mild, and seems rather warm for winter. I don’t rush to head down the trail. I’m in no hurry, and I take time to properly enjoy the hint of a view in the pre-dawn dimness. There’s very little traffic on the highway beyond the trailhead parking. I feel almost alone in the world. It’s a pleasant feeling from the safety and comfort of not being truly alone in the world. (That would be a very complicated experience fraught with unanticipated dangers, as temptingly pleasant as it often sounds to me. Reality would not care at all about my expectations or assumptions.)

I smile and get going, boots crunching quietly on the path. Nice morning for it.

The drizzle persisted as I walked. I returned to the car quite damp, though I never felt the rain. Daybreak became dawn in the usual way, as I walked. Dawn became a gray somewhat dismal unseen sunrise, beyond the dense gray clouds. I enjoyed the walk nonetheless; it was never about the weather, only the moment.

Today I ache ferociously all over. Yesterday’s longer walk, and the time spent later moving heavy(ish) objects, and later still doing the planned housework stuff, was time and effort spent productively and well. I’m definitely feeling it, though. Today’s dampness isn’t helping. There’s a feeling of satisfaction to the pain, though, and a sense that fitness efforts are paying off, however sore I am this morning. Yesterday was a good day. I sit with the recollection for a few minutes, feeling grateful and fortunate.

Today? More housekeeping, very routine, and I am not in any hurry to get to it. It will wait, and my Traveling Partner enjoys having a little time to sleep in and wake up slowly. I sit listening to the sounds of birdsong as the morning minutes tick by gently. I have time for my thoughts, and time to run a couple errands. I probably have time to enjoy a cup of coffee, before my beloved pings me to say he’s up and ask if I would come home and make breakfast. I smile, heart full of love. It’s no great imposition to make breakfast on a Sunday (and he appreciates simple things that I make quite well), and he’s not yet sufficiently recovered to cook easily. He’s a good cook, though, and I look forward to him being back in the kitchen, inviting me to come home and enjoy the breakfast he prepares.

I sigh quietly, contentedly. I breathe, exhale, and relax. This is a pleasant moment of solitude and I linger here, savoring it. I’m grateful.

All manner of little birds call to each other, as I sit listening. I look but don’t see them. Some are in the meadow grass. Some are in the trees. Minutes pass. Soon it will be time to begin again. I’m okay with that, too.

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Categories Allegories, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, inspiration, joy, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, The Art of Being, winter
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