Archives for posts with tag: self-care
« Older Entries
Newer Entries »

Lost in the Fog

September 30, 2025 //
0

Foggy morning. I walk in it, wrapped in it, trail and trees obscured by the autumn fog. The closer I get to the creek, the more dense the fog is. There is no view at this early hour, anyway, but that’s even more the case this morning.

… I am lost in my thoughts, in the fog…

The fog adds a feeling of mystery.

My head is stuffy this morning, and I’ve used most of the pack of tissues I have with me, already. A sneeze catches me by surprise, and I step off the trail without noticing immediately. The sneeze sounds loud, but also muffled in the fog. I stop on the trail for a moment to dig around in my pockets for the other pack of tissues I think I recall being there. Yep. There they are. My fingers touch the plastic of the pack, and I relax. I also stop sneezing, and only need a single tissue, as it turns out, never even opening the other packet.

It is the time of year for autumn allergies and headcolds, and for back to school activities to expose more people to more contagion. I remind myself to take care of my health, to be considerate of others, and to practice strict hand washing and appropriate social distancing (these practices are an effective means of limiting the spread of common respiratory infections, so why wouldn’t I?). My thoughts wander back to the rude man-child in the university library yesterday with the horrific sounding hacking cough – I was grateful to be seated well away from him, with multiple barriers between any viruses or bacteria exiting from his face with every cough, but also, as a human being, I was concerned that he would even be putting himself through the additional stress on his mortal body to be trying to do work in the state of ill health he was clearly in. Why don’t people just fucking stay home and focus on getting well?

… I know, I know, “reasons”…

My mind continues to wander here and there. It’s a payday. It didn’t exactly catch me by surprise, but I’m still getting used to the changes that have come with the new job. This one is “military style” pay, twice monthly, on the first and the 15th, on whatever day of the week those happen to be. The previous one was every two weeks, on alternate Fridays. It might seem like very little difference, but twice monthly is 24 paychecks, and every two weeks is 26. It does change the cash flow and the way bills map to pay cycles. I think about that sort of thing for a little while as I walk, still wrapped in fog. I walk and think about all the many kinds of payroll systems I’ve participated in… weekly… monthly (that was hard to adjust to)… part-time… full-time… salaried… hourly… employee… contractor… commission… “The house always wins,” I think to myself before putting thoughts of payroll and paydays aside.

I keep walking.

The work day ahead feels busy in advance. It hasn’t even started, and I haven’t looked at my calendar. I feel prematurely a bit frazzled, and this annoys (and amuses) me. It’s such a human thing to get wound up over shit that isn’t even happening yet, if it ever even will. Typical bullshit, unnecessary and unproductive. I let it go and walk on.

The trail ahead of me is a bit shiny where my light hits it. It rained during the night. The fog reflects the light of my headlamp back at me. It’s a little bit irritating, and I turn it off, pausing on the trail to let my eyes adjust. Daybreak yet? Can I see the trail without my light? Not quite, not out here under these trees. I don’t really want the artificial light in my eyes anymore, though, and leave it off. I look around for someplace to sit – it’s not my usual stopping point. Where am I, actually? I look around in the gloom. Nothing looks familiar in the fog. There’s a bench nearby. Convenient. I sit down and write these words.

I sit with my thoughts awhile, watching each exhaled breath become part of the fog, until it is time to begin again.

Tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,
Categories Allegories, Anxiety, autumn, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Practices, solo hiking, The Art of Being, War and News of War, Words

A Blank Page

September 27, 2025 //
0

I am staring at this blank page. Have been for a few minutes, since I reached my halfway point on the trail this morning. Words are not coming easily this morning.  Too much that I could write about, very little that I want to write about.

I could write about difficult conversations… We all have them now and then, and… I’m already not really feeling like saying more. I mean, having the hard conversations really matters, and having them from a kind and well-intentioned perspective is generally a good approach. What else is there to say?

I could write about how convincingly complex scams can be, and encourage you to protect yourself. This too, in spite of how much it could matter, isn’t anything I really feel like throwing more words at this morning.

I could write about the critical importance of good manners, kindness, and consideration, even within our most intimate relationships… But it seems a little obvious. Too obvious to be said, again.

I could write about work, life, art, gardening – I could use some recent moment as an example or as a metaphor. I just don’t feel like it, just now. My mind wanders and I am more inclined to simply enjoy this moment, here. On the horizon, in the distance, hot air balloons rise as shadowy shapes against the pale peach and tangerine hues of the morning sky.

Oaks along the trail

I breathe, exhale, and relax. The morning is a chilly one. I am comfortably warm in a favorite heavy sweater. A mist is rising from the lowlands of the marsh as the sun rises on the eastern horizon. This morning this moment is my entire world – at least for now. It’s enough. I sit quietly watching the sunrise.

My tinnitus fills my awareness. I breathe, exhale, and let that go, turning my attention willfully to other sounds. “Pay no attention to the sounds that aren’t there.” I remind myself. A crow lands on the fence rail next to me, fairly close. He steps back and forth, looking me over before loudly exclaiming something in a language I don’t understand and then taking flight. The clouds over head take on mother of pearl hues, baby blue, seashell pink, it’s quite beautiful, but I don’t manage to get a picture that shows what my eyes see. So much color! I sigh to myself and give up trying, and instead just enjoy the sight. That’s enough.

My eyelids feel heavy. My back aches. I think I could happily curl up in a soft blanket and nap for awhile… but this is neither the time nor the place for napping.  My body and mind seem to plead with me to get some fucking rest, for real. I think about the things that must be done today… most of that could be done tomorrow with no great ill effects.

I sigh again as the sunrise becomes the start of a new day. I still don’t have much to say. I still want a nap. No idea what I’ll do with the day… But I know I’ll begin again, on the other end of this trail.

Tags , , , , , , , , , , ,
Categories Allegories, autumn, breathe, Free Will, health, Healthy Living, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, solo hiking, The Art of Being, Words

Feeling the Chill

September 25, 2025 //
0

It’s a chilly morning out on the trail. I’m okay with that, I’ve got a warm sweater on. The afternoon is forecast to be cooler, too. It definitely feels like fall now. I walked briskly, hands jammed into my pockets. I forgot to grab my cane, but so far my ankle is not failing me. I get to my halfway point still steady on my feet, and the pain I am in is “only” my arthritis. That’s not stopping me – it’s not even slowing me down, it’s just annoying.

I stop and take a seat on this rock that is “my usual spot”. It’s still fairly dark, though after I turn off my headlamp, I see that daybreak is here. The sky is a hazy gray, a combination of cloudy skies and distant wildfire smoke. It’s been a pretty dry year. I find myself wishing it would rain. I sigh to myself. Wishes aren’t worth much. Yearning doesn’t take me farther along my path unless I also put in the necessary work to walk it. There are reliably verbs involved. Choices to make. Actions to take. Will and effort and follow through required. We each have to walk our own mile, and no amount of yearning or daydreaming or wishing will take us to our destination.

I sit with my thoughts awhile. Daybreak becomes a hazy gray dawn, with a streak of orange on the eastern horizon as the sunrise begins. I’m grateful to see another. For a moment I wonder how many sunrises have there been in all of human history, and whether our earliest conscious cousins among primitive people also watched the sun rise with eyes wide with wonder, enjoying the rare hues and splendid colors? Surely they must have…?

I exchange a few words with my beloved Traveling Partner as the day begins. I feel relaxed and merry in spite of pain. It is a pleasant day, so far.

The trees are green now, with hints of yellow and russet, instead of appearing as dark smudges alongside the trail. The sky is a softer hazy pale blue. The trail is clearly visible and the start of the work day is on the other side of this walk… It’s already time to begin again.

Tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,
Categories Allegories, autumn, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, joy, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Practices, solo hiking, The Art of Being, Words

Hanging Out Between Moments

September 24, 2025 //
0

It’s rare to begin a day “on empty” without something else going on. I woke feeling a bit dizzy, and vaguely nauseous. I arrived at the trailhead before dawn, nonetheless, ready to walk… for most values of “ready”. There’s a work day ahead of me, and I face it with the strange sensation of not being certain how many days of work I have completed this week, nor am I certain how many remain, at least not initially. Eventually, out on the trail, I get my bearings. Now, having a clearer sense of what day it is, I proceed down the trail with more confidence.

… Am I just tired?…

Not “just” tired, I’m also in pain. As I walk, silently urging myself to continue down the trail, I begin to wonder if my fatigue and weirdness are all pain related…? Seems more and more likely as I walk. I sigh to myself. Pain is aggravating, and tends to shrink my world. I’m halfway down the trail and get to my resting point before continuing on, and I’ve no particular recollection of the walk so far. Rough. I sit down on the rock I find convenient for the purpose and look around me without much enthusiasm. It’s hard to focus my attention on other things, this morning. If it weren’t a work day, I’d just go back to bed.

Now, I’ve annoyed myself by emotionally giving in to pain. I frown for a moment, irked with myself for “making it so easy” for pain to get the upper hand this morning. I remind myself that it’s only a moment, and to avoid taking it personally. I’m still irritable over being in this much pain – and also for being so ridiculously sleepy. I catch myself being unusually unkind to myself over the pain I’m in, almost to the point of cruelty, and I work on letting that go. I’m already doing what I can to manage the pain I’m in, there’s no excuse to also be cruel. I’m human, with human injuries, human damage, and human limitations. I’ve also got extraordinary human will, better than average endurance, and I’ve learned to value and demonstrate compassion – surely I can trust myself to provide myself with care and consideration? Pain isn’t a joke. It isn’t something we seek out. Pain is not entertaining. This morning’s pain is way beyond “discomfort”, and taking care of myself is an important step to take. I sigh to myself again. More practice? Definitely.

My Traveling Partner pings me a greeting. He’s in pain this morning too. I’m grateful to be easily able to work from a different location. I’m having enough trouble managing my own pain. I’m pretty confident trying to work from home when we’re both hurting so much would be a poor choice. Still, I feel loved and I am grateful for his affection, and his good morning greeting. I hope we both find our way through the pain to the other side.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. There’s time for meditation before I finish my walk. There’s time to begin again.

Tags , , , , , , , , ,
Categories Allegories, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, gratitude, health, meditation, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, pain, Perspective, Practices, solo hiking, The Art of Being, The Big 5

That A-ha Moment

September 23, 2025 //
0

Yesterday was a beautiful and fulfilling excursion into a single prolonged moment of self-reflection and wonder. Meaning to say, it was a lovely day spent mostly in my own head.

What enlightenment looks like.

I walked miles of beach at low tide, close to the water’s edge where the sand is most firm and walkable. I ventured across slipping loose sand to explore rocks piled at the foot of steep erosion prone cliffs. I peered into tide pools ankle deep in waves as the tide turned. I walked,  and wondered as I wandered.

I saw empty limpet and crab shells on the beach, and pebbles tumbled smooth by ocean waves. I saw anemones and starfish clinging to the rocks exposed at low tide. I saw a variety of sea plants uprooted and tossed along the beach, and even corals torn from wherever they had been, and carried to the chilly Oregon beach on which I spent the morning. Name it? Nah. Go find your own. lol The adventure and satisfaction are not about the specific location, they are more to do with how I spent the time and where I turned my attention; inward.

What you see is often a matter of where you look. This is a picture of a starfish.

I enjoyed the day. I feel more rested than I have in a long while. I sit now, alongside the local trail I’ve been walking most mornings lately, enjoying a few minutes of quiet reflection as the sun rises. Today is an ordinary work day. I feel easy in my skin and comfortable with myself. I’m in a ferocious amount of pain, which is neither surprising nor particularly consequential. It’s just a “feature” of this mortal life.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. This morning, the world’s stress and chaos, the violence, the bullshit, and the jockeying for power by the already powerful is nothing to do with me, directly. I’m here, now, in this moment, in this local place. My heart feels light. It’s enough.

I look down the trail, as the eastern horizon turns a bold orange. A new day begins. I smile and get to my feet. It’s time for me to begin, again, too.

Tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,
Categories Allegories, art and the artist, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, inspiration, joy, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, solo hiking, The Art of Being, War and News of War, Words
« Older Entries
Newer Entries »