I had a moment yesterday. Feelings of loneliness and despair began to well up seemingly out of “nowhere”. It wasn’t “nowhere”, of course, these are troubling, baffling times for ethical compassionate people who want (and work) to see good in the world. I took a moment to shed some private tears and regain my balance, to self-soothe, and step back from thoughts of things I can’t influence directly or change in any practical immediate way.
“Breathe, exhale, relax.” I reminded myself. It helped and the evening moved on.
There’s still blue sky overhead.
If you’re hurting and struggling with the strange terrible times we’re in, you’re not alone, I promise you. Be kind. Be considerate. Be your best self in spite of seeming to be surrounded by a world of monsters. Look with scorn on terrible people, but don’t let them transform you. Don’t become the thing you find detestable. Don’t let the bad acts and cruelty of the world make you cruel, yourself. Resist the poor choices your own anger and fear nudge you towards and stand firm on your resolve and your convictions. Be the person you most want to be, not whatever facsimile of humanity it may seem that you are expected or encouraged to become by circumstances, systems, or corrupt individuals. Be honest. Be real. Speak truth to power. Make the wisest choices you can for the greatest good within your family, tribe, and community. Be the change you wish to see in the world. It’s not a platitude if you make it real in your own experience.
Remember that the goblin king has no power over you. He is a farce. He is a fiction. Make your own choices. Use your own words. Be the main character in your story, instead of an NPC in the game of life.
It’s a new day. A new beginning.
This morning I watch the sunrise. I listen to birds singing cheerily along the trail. No tears. I am okay right now. Sometimes shit gets hard because I actually do care, and all by itself that can be a hell of a burden to bear. It’s an interesting path I’ve chosen in life, and it isn’t paved, and I don’t have a map. Sometimes the going is easy, sometimes it is difficult. Regardless, it is a worthy journey of being and becoming, and I walk on.
I sigh quietly as I walk. Trolls and monsters and lines on maps – it’s a strange and sometimes scary world, but the journey is the destination and it isn’t really “about” any of that. Those are worldly distractions. I remind myself to be present, here, now. To be kind. To be the woman I most want to be. To make wise choices. To listen well and deeply, and to love with my whole heart.
I listen to my footsteps on the trail. The clock is ticking. It’s time to begin again.
I woke too early. Some noise woke me ahead of my alarm. I tried to go back to sleep, but was unsuccessful. I started to sit up, and my body protested vigorously, by way of the pain I was in. Honestly, it’s hard to be annoyed by it; it’s just sore muscles from working in the garden over the weekend, and walking a little further, a little faster, on my morning hikes. Any muscle to do with legs, from my calves to my navel, whether walking, stooping, standing, lifting, reaching, bending… it all hurts now. lol Right at this moment, now, it’s my calves that ache most. First thing this morning, it was my thighs and my butt.
Meant for the front flower beds, these strawberries became an opportunity for change.
I gave myself quite a workout over the course of the weekend. Worth it. The garden is cared for, and I’ve a new space developing on the far side of the house – my “west side garden”. For now that’s just a raised strawberry bed, and a couple pots prepared for planting that don’t yet have anything in them.
My “west side garden”, a narrow space mostly left unused, but gets good afternoon sun. Where will this path lead?
When we moved in, that west side space between our house and the fence had a well-established strawberry bed in it – it got seriously trampled (destroyed) by the neighbors rebuilding the fence (badly). It’s not like I was using that space much, myself, but it’s there, and it’s mine, and I could be using it… so… I am. I said something offhand to my Traveling Partner about maybe making a pleasant small meditation garden. He laughed and pointed out the air conditioner. It’s also adjacent to the neighbor’s patio (and his weight bench, and the clanging of his free weights hitting the rack, when he’s using them). Yeah, so… okay. Maybe not quite quiet and peaceful enough for meditation. lol
I sip my coffee and think about potted shrubs and other fruiting plants that might do well with only the afternoon sun to rely on. Maybe some currants in a big pot, placed to partially obscure the sight of the AC? I’ve definitely decided to get another of those small raised beds – quite convenient, and there’s room for another. Not today, though. I am content to think the thoughts and dream and plan and wonder. There’s no hurry, really. There’s just this moment and these thoughts. A woman, a garden, a ticking clock, and “now” – no reason at all to hurry, when careful consideration and a bit of planning will be worth so much. There’s more to tending the garden than the manual labor. lol
…G’damn I am so sore though! lol I’m definitely not 21 any more…
There is blue sky beyond the office window this morning. Lovely day. There is work to do, and later, an appointment. All very routine and not especially “interesting”, just details of a life lived. I sigh to myself and realize it is time to begin again.
I went to the usual trailhead of my favorite weekend morning hike. Pretty morning, but… the trailhead is busier than usual. A parked vehicle (vacant but with hazard lights left on), an especially disreputable looking old van (windows covered by foil), and an old RV with signs of being someone’s long-term dwelling, are in the parking lot. My skin crawls, and I experience a sense of “stranger danger”. I could be overreacting, but by the time I could be certain that I am or am not, it could easily be too late, eh? I move on, and go to the western trailhead of the park, on the far side, nearer to my usual “halfway point”. I’ll walk the trail in a different direction, approaching the views from the other side, and I’ll take a route that doesn’t approach the other trailhead at all (skirting the marsh instead of crossing it).
A calm sentinel.
It’s a lovely morning, and I’ve no regrets over the change of direction. I walk the trail contentedly. I see geese, and nutria, robins and squirrels. I walk along the river for a while. I look across a different bit of meadow, at a different stand of trees on the other side.
A change of perspective.
The morning is chilly but not cold, and I am warm from walking. I feel relaxed and rested, and my (quite minor) seasonal allergies are not vexing me; I remembered to add allergy meds to my morning medication. I feel comfortable in my skin and merry as I walk. I am supported by my cane (it’s actually a very strong, lightweight Leki trekking pole with some shock absorbtion), and my ankle does not yet ache from the walking, nor do my feet hurt. I would be walking in spite of those things, but it’s nice not having to fight that pain, this morning.
I think about the day ahead, but my thoughts are scattered, fractured by distractions: birds, flowers, movement in the underbrush. I walk on, enjoying the scents of Spring. I try, briefly, to recall whether I have errands to run, but I fail, and for the moment I don’t actually care. I’m wrapped in this moment, now, and it’s quite enough.
I walk, thinking about my beloved Traveling Partner, sleeping at home. He’ll likely be quite sore today after physical therapy yesterday. I resolve to keep myself occupied until he alerts me that he’s up and about for the day, to do what little I can to ensure he gets the rest he also needs. I smile. My heart is filled with love and my thoughts with fond memories. He is so much part of my life and experience after 15 years together. May 1st is our anniversary, but “that moment” that he truly became part of my life and my future was actually on his birthday, in December, at the end of 2009. By February we were the best of friends, by June he had moved in with me. Even then, I don’t think either of us anticipated marriage being part of our journey (less than a year later), we were both pretty sour on the notion from our past experiences. Still, here we are. Feels almost as if we’ve “always” been together. It’s easy to forget what a short time it has been. I grin to myself as I walk. He could not be more dear to me, nor further entangled in my heart. I am wrapped in his love every moment of every day. I sigh happily, and keep walking.
An enormous flock of Canada geese pass overhead. I think about my Granny, and wish that she could have met my Traveling Partner. I think she would have liked him. I know my Dad would have. I chuckle over the ways of men, and wonder what it might have been like had my Dad and my partner had a chance to enjoy each other’s company? I walk on wondering when I stopped being angry at my father? When had I truly forgiven him? It’s clear that I have… How strange. I once thought I never could.
Time passes, and the passage of time heals a lot of hurts, given a chance. Forgiveness isn’t for those who have hurt or wronged us, my Traveling Partner was right about that; forgiveness benefits most the one who forgives. Forgiveness is a letting go of the terrible weight of lasting pain and lingering rage. Forgiveness is another way to begin again.
My footsteps on the path are regular and even, steady like the tick of a clock. The clock is ticking. I walk on, with new perspective, toward the next curve on the path, the next opportunity to begin again. It’s time. It’s always time. I’m okay with that.
I watched the moon setting as I walked this local trail this morning. Lovely. It’s not quite a full moon, but as I drove to the trailhead. it was plump and luminous, a beautiful pearl in the night sky.
I snap a picture from the parking lot.
The moon began to turn a ruddy antique gold sort of hue as it sunk lower on the horizon, still enough to light the way. I cross the parking lot pleased to start down the path in a westerly direction. I am enjoying watching the moon set, over the vineyards, and through the trees.
I walked with my thoughts, watching the moon, listening to the birds singing unseen in the trees and shrubs along the path. Another work day, but all that begins later and I don’t think much about it as I walk. This is not that moment. I’m also not thinking about the world, nor mired in the crap going on beyond this moment on this trail. It’s a pleasant morning and I embrace the calm, the joy, and the simplicity of this bit of “now” right here.
When I get to my halfway point I sit down to write a bit. I choose a spot that faces east and watch daybreak becoming dawn. My head is kind of stuffy; Spring allergies. I remind myself to pick up more allergy medicine at the drugstore later, and wonder if the price will have gone up? I let that go and grin happily, noticing a plump robin near my feet, ignoring me while he checks out the surroundings looking for something tasty. Then I shift uncomfortably. Arthritis pain. I let that go too, while I can, and pull myself back to other aspects of here and now. The fragrant Spring air is slightly chilly but not unpleasant.
My Traveling Partner pings me a loving greeting and I am reminded of the passing of time. It’s s new day. Stuff to do. Other moments to live and enjoy. Looks like it’s time to begin again. I finish my writing and brush some moss off my jeans as I stand and turn back on the trail.
Prices have been going up noticably since the election, and longer. They rarely go down. Some of this is due to human greed. Sometimes it’s about demand for a limited supply. Sometimes it’s about chaos and uncertainty, and regulatory bullshit. There’s always someone making money off of rising prices, though it may not be who we assume it is.
Recent price of blueberries. I am waiting impatiently for the blueberries in my garden.
I’m as frustrated and angry as anyone else over the weird petty and destructive policy making coming out of Washington DC these days. 61 (almost 62) and I’ve never seen the bullshit quite so deep. We have failed to elect a competent, skillful, effective government (unless your goal was to bring about the decline of Democracy altogether). It’s pretty horrific. I’m not sure what everyday folks were expecting – or how they were played so easily by power-seeking billionaires.
…Still…
Life goes on. Mostly pretty comfortably routine, moment to moment. I’m not personally reliant on the market fluctuations, beyond how such things affect the prices of groceries and gas (and they definitely do). I have been spending less with greater care, like a lot of people. It’s necessary. Instead of steak, we have chili. Instead of dining out, we cook at home (which is healthier anyway). Instead of going to a distant specialty market for some interesting ingredient I can’t get locally, I use a recipe that doesn’t require exotic ingredients at all. Choices are being made every day. I’m still choosing to live well, as much as I can, but I’m choosing to do so more affordably. It’s clearly necessary, and I may as well get really good at it. Soon enough things like oranges and bananas may become seasonal, coffee may become a luxury for the wealthy, and dining out impractical due to the lack of restaurants still in business.
… Sorry. I’m being a bit gloomy, eh? I’m in a ferocious amount of pain today and it may be coloring my thinking. I’m just saying, maybe it’s time to embrace simpler things and more affordable pleasures, disconnect from the Internet and social media, go outside, and exist in the real world among real people, and be less dependent on so many systems thoroughly outside my own control? I do remember a life before the Internet existed at all… A time when bad news didn’t travel as far or as fast, and it was more difficult to deceive or influence an entire population. I mean… I think I remember that world. Certainly there were fewer billionaires and they weren’t straight up buying the fucking government for their own benefit.
I stretch and sigh, and remind myself to be here, now, and let that shit go.
An excellent pot of chili, and an affordable hearty meal.
I breathe, exhale, and relax. I think about the romaine lettuce and bok choy growing in the garden. I think about the radishes, carrots, and spinach sprouting in neat rows, and the onions and leeks standing tall in their corner of the garden. I feel myself relax. What matters most? How can I best care for hearth and home and family? It’s important to do more than exist in difficult times. It is helpful to act, to choose, and to create the life I want to live and the world I’d like to live in. Yes, there are surely assholes, nitwits, and idiots literally everywhere, but I don’t have to hang out with them, or allow my life to become about them. I’m free to choose differently.
It’s raining this morning. Not a hard rain, just occasional sprinkles, but the wind is blowing like those rain drops have places to be, right now. lol I don’t let it stop me from getting a walk in, this morning, in spite of the pain I’m in. This morning it’s both the headache and the arthritis. I deal with it, and walk on, grateful to walk another mile. I walk with my thoughts to my halfway point and stop for a little while, to write and reflect and watch dawn become a new day.
I think about ignorance and failure for some little while, and ponder all the many things I don’t (and possibly can’t) know. It’s a good time to buy books and read more. I often find inspiration and even real hope between the pages of a book. My own journey suggests that reading may be one of the most valuable skills a human primate can develop and use. I’m proud of the small library of excellent books I’ve accumulated over time. I’ve read nearly all of them, with some exceptions (some of the books my Traveling Partner owns are distinctly outside my areas of interest), but I cherish even those; they represent more to learn and know. They are well-chosen, well-written and purposeful.
I smile to myself. My book wishlist is huge. I definitely don’t have space for all of them, but… I’ll continue to add to the books I own. How to cook things. How to make things. How to survive things. How to garden and how to fight tyranny. How to think and how to paint. How to listen and how to love, and books about why all those things matter. I sigh contentedly thinking about books and gardening, and what it means (to me) to live a good life. The wind blows, tossing the trees from side to side. The dense gray clouds overhead don’t appear to move at all, they are a smooth homogeneous mass other than the strip of blue sky peaking through near the eastern horizon.
I finish my writing, and get to my feet. The clock is ticking, and it’s time to begin again.
Evening Light 