Archives for posts with tag: self-care

I got a slow start this morning, in spite of waking quite early and heading to the trail I had selected before dawn. It was a sort of “Disney moment” that caused me to pause and sit awhile, before heading down the trail.

[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]

I had pulled in to the empty parking lot at the trailhead just at sunrise on an overcast summer morning. As I was gathering my thoughts, a bunny appeared from the brush and tall grass. Then another.

Slow down, see things differently.

Then a squirrel darted into view. A robin landed on a nearby rock. Rather than disturb them all, I sat quiet and still, just watching. Slowly, a stately young buck stepped into the clearing, and two does followed as he passed by, gazing calmly at me as he walked past quite close. A young northern flicker lands on the gate post near my parked car.

Where are you putting your attention? In the real world, or on a screen?

How could I create chaos in this idyllic scene by barging about noisily as human primates often do? I couldn’t. So I sat awhile listening to birdsong and watching a variety of creatures that call this place home just living their lives at the edge of this trail, between forest and meadow along the bank of the Willamette River. What a beautiful moment! I could so easily have missed all of it if I’d been walking through life with my eyes on a screen. How much are you missing because you’ve got your phone in your hand?

… I’m not criticizing your choices with regard to what you are putting your attention on. That’s a you thing. Do you. I’m just aware – and noticing – how much I could be missing of this lovely moment, if I had rushed through it, or been focused on my phone instead of the world around me. It isn’t the first time I’ve given this some thought.

There is more and more research available that supports concerns that our device use is degrading our cognitive abilities and critical thinking skills, and making us dependent on “helpful” tech, so I’m definitely not alone in my concern that my phone (and more modern LLM tools) has the very real potential to degrade my experience, my ability to be present, and my attention to the real physical world around me.

…I made the drive over here without my GPS, to avoid losing my sense of direction and ability to navigate without a device; I’m taking this stuff quite seriously…

…I happily put my phone down (after stealthily snapping a couple pictures) to watch bunnies and robins and squirrels and quail and deer and wildflowers swaying in a soft summer breeze. I wouldn’t want to miss this moment. Would you?

A quiet moment on a summer morning, well-suited to contemplation.

What a lovely moment to enjoy! I haven’t even begun my hike yet. 😆 I grab my cane and my water bottle. The trail is waiting for me, and it’s time to begin, again.

Choose your path and walk it.

The morning begins gently, if a bit earlier than I’d hoped. I dress, water the lawn, and head to the trailhead.

[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]

I started down the trail as the sunrise began, walking towards the west, counterclockwise on the loop that circles the vineyard. I walk with my thoughts, still processing an epiphany I brought back with me from my coastal getaway. Something to do with time management and presence and meeting my need for solitude and creative time “on the cheap” and more reliably (and without having to upend my routine every time I need to catch a breath or practice self-care more skillfully). I am grateful for the opportunity to “reset” my understanding of my Traveling Partner’s improved capabilities, too. I feel more easily able to simply enjoy him as he is, without constantly working to anticipate (or soothe) every need and every circumstance. It feels good to be able to focus on what I also need, again.

Zoom out, see a bigger picture.

My self-care “stall points” are pretty commonplace I suppose. I enjoy my beloved’s companionship greatly, and I am easily tempted into doing nothing at all aside from enjoying his company, which definitely prevents me from getting things done. I often attempt to counter this by jumping to immediately handle any task mentioned to me, to avoid forgetting it. The result is that I am constantly spinning from distraction to distraction without making room for what I need for myself, to be well and to thrive. It’s a puzzle. Stepping away and considering my life while a bit removed from it gave me a new perspective from which to compare, contrast, and evaluate. Useful time spent on self-reflection.

Zoom in, consider the details.

I reflect on my thoughts about better self-care, and being a better partner from the vantage point of my halfway point on this familiar trail. These aren’t new thoughts, not entirely, it’s more that they have resurfaced and gained my attention at a moment when I can give them deeper consideration. Useful.

I’ve decided to add two practices to my day-to-day routine, and resurrect another that I had dropped when life was too full with caregiving. The two new practices are rather simple and mostly about time management: firstly, I’ll take 15-20 minutes after work each day for solitude, (just sitting quietly and allowing my mental buffer time enough to clear out anything still queued up at the end of the day would allow me to feel more easily able to be fully present with my partner) and secondly, I’m going to begin committing two hours on the weekends for studio art. I’ll take the time from time I often spend just chilling on the couch with no purpose in mind and which could be better spent – and giving up a portion of the weekend to artistic endeavors sounds very nurturing, to me.

As far as a practice that got dropped being resurrected, I’m going to get back to practicing yoga. Healthy movement has lasting value and I definitely spend too much time just sitting. 😆 I can begin slowly and work around my injuries gently. It’ll be good for me. (And hey, better fitness will likely mean better sex, too! Win!)

I watch the trees become filled with light. The sun has crested the horizon and it is a new day. I have a new opportunity to begin again.

I breathe, exhale, and relax, and set aside everything else but this view and this moment for one minute. Just one minute of pure beautiful stillness, listening to the wind and the waves. How about it? Can you… not?

Taking just one minute.

[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]

One minute can feel unexpectedly long without any distractions. Why race through life’s finite precious moments at the speed of doom scrolling? Take a minute. Breathe. Slow down. Savor the moment. This one. The next. Each moment is unique and fleeting. Unrepeatable.

… Being present slows that ticking clock…

Another breath, another moment, another beginning. I reread the last few pages of the book I brought with me; I had fallen asleep reading last night, and I felt certain I’d missed something. I wasn’t wrong. 😆

I finish one last cup of coffee as I lay out my work space on the small table in this room. Spending a day painting nurtures something within myself that I can’t satisfy any other way, but there’s no need to rush. I can take all the time I need.

An easel and a view.

I sigh contentedly and take a minute to listen to the wind and the waves, and to gaze quietly out the window before I begin again.

Wind and waves and shades of blue.

I pause my painting to consider lunch. I settle for a cup of tea and a multivitamin, and return to my easel. The ocean has taken on a cloudy gray appearance and the shades of blue shift towards a troubled gray green. The gulls seem to like it, and they drift across my view surfing the invisible waves and currents in the air. It pleases me greatly to stare out at the changing view with my pastels in front of me. I add a hue to my palette. I remove others. I feel relaxed and unbothered and in my element.

… Given the time and resources, I might spend every day at my easel…

I sigh to myself happily, stretching and working the kinks out of my neck and back before I return to creative work. This fragile vessel needs a certain amount of care and maintenance if it is expected to endure hours at my easel, however delightfully those hours may pass. 😆

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I tape a fresh piece of pastelbord to my easel, and begin again.

I’m sitting on a bench over looking the Pacific ocean. It’s a bit after sunrise, but the sun hasn’t yet cleared the hilltops to the east. The sky is a pearly pink and a delicate pastel gradient blends it into the blue morning sky overhead.

[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]

Wind, waves, and a sunrise.

I listen to the gulls and sip my coffee. I’m in no hurry. It’s Sunday and I’ve got a couple relaxed days of painting ahead of me. I breathe, exhale, and relax. Each time work surfaces in my thoughts, I make a point of letting it go. Now is not the time.

I reflect on the crazy amount of pressure at work lately. I have to admit, a lot of that pressure is internal, and self-imposed. I reflect on the many times my Traveling Partner has cautioned me to slow down when I’m panicking over work stress, and how often he has helpfully pointed out that I’m the one putting myself through all that. Sometimes it’s hard to accept that I cause so much of my stress myself.

…He hasn’t been wrong about that; most of the pressure I’m under is reliably self-imposed (and unnecessary, and not helpful)…

Even this trip to the coast is intended, at least in part, to slow me down a bit and give me needed perspective. I reflect on that as I listen to the waves of the receding tide. I sigh to myself, grateful to have the opportunity to step back from work for a couple days. Grateful for a partner who supports and respects that need, even suggesting that I take the time.

I reach out to wish him good morning and to express concern about the heat and his wellness and to be encouraging in some way. My words are poorly chosen and don’t reflect awareness of what he wants and needs from me in the way of supporting and encouraging him. I get an unexpected blistering reprimand; he needs something different from me, and I feel like a jerk for the unhelpful outreach and poor timing. Shit. Failure sucks. I screenshot some of the messages to consider later (otherwise they may get lost in later conversation), and to share with my therapist for additional guidance.

I wonder what small birds practice?

I sit with my thoughts, watching the sea and gazing out at the western horizon. I missed my morning hike planned for Basket Slough this morning. I had hoped to watch the sunrise from there, rather than in my rearview mirror, but I had gotten the route confused for another. Basket Slough is in an altogether different direction (south) than the one I traveled this morning (west). I’ll hike the beach instead. There are miles of beach here, and about seven miles or so are walkable at low tide.

I sigh quietly, thinking about what matters most, what it takes to be (and become) the person I most want to be, and contemplating my obvious shortcomings in a way that is self-compassionate, kind, and useful. It’s a more difficult practice than the words imply. It’s easier to “drink the poison” and lose the useful details in the message, sometimes. The resulting festival of self-pity, guilt, shame, and emotional self flagellation may seem cathartic in the moment, but doing so would be mostly pretty poisonous, too. Better to lift myself out of the muck and sever the doom spiral neatly before it pulls me down. I can accept with sincere contrition and regret that I’m capable of errors in thinking, poor decision making, and poorly chosen words at precisely the wrong moment. Feels like a lot to work on. It’s a very human experience.

… Brain damage sucks, but there are useful workarounds for many of my specific challenges, they only require constant practice, and unlimited patience! 😆

I watch the parking lot here fill with folks in boots suited to mud, with buckets and shovels, heading down to the beach to dig for shellfish. This is a popular area for that. They are purposeful and well equipped for their task. G’damn I sure wish I felt similarly right about now. I definitely don’t. As with the crushing pressure of work, I suspect the feeling is illusory, and largely crafted within, built on my feelings of insecurity and doubt. Again, very human. This shit isn’t easy, or obvious, or in any way effortless – but it is possible to grow and change and improve over time.

I think about love, and notice that the blue hue of my glittery fingernails matches the sky. I listen to the wind whisper to me about practice and persistence, and learning from mistakes. I can’t know what the future holds – but I don’t have to. I can exist in this moment here, now. I’ll be busy enough with that, there is no need to become anchored to past regrets or future worries. “Now” has plenty with which to hold my attention.

I finish my coffee and grab my cane. It’s a beautiful morning, and it’s time to begin again.

Where does this path lead? The journey is the destination. Am I on the right path?

It is a new day. My birthday is behind me, and a new year waits ahead of me.

[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]

A robin greets the day as I water the garden.

I get to the more distant trailhead for the marsh trail that travels past the Tualatin River. Yesterday was the trail at Spring Valley. Tomorrow the trail at Basket Slough. After that, a couple days of painting on the coast. What an extraordinary birthday celebration. I love how much it has been more about presence and experiences than presents. I didn’t go without gifts, happily, and I’ve got quite a delightful stack of new books to read.

Software upgrades for a human primate.

63 was a good year, generally speaking. I wonder what awaits me in the year ahead?

Finally learning to play chess.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. It’s a beautiful morning. The clock is ticking. It’s time to begin again.

A new day – where does this path lead?