It’s already midmorning, still chilly. I’m warming up in the car between hiking and exploring trails, picnic tables, views and moments, and the planned purpose of this adventure; to paint. The honest underlying purpose has already been well met for this day; I have walked new trails, seen new views and new places, and experienced entirely new moments. My mind and my spirit feel refreshed and alive – so alive! It’s lovely. This is a beautiful place, and so early in the Spring (and the day) it is uncrowded.
A beautiful place for thinking and painting.
… There is a popular disc golf course adjacent to the picnic table I finally settled on, but it’s quite a chilly day, so only the most fanatic players are venturing onto the course this morning, and they are few, and no bother…
The sky is a soft featureless gray, at least for now. The river below the steep edge of the bank flows steadily past. It looks fast, deep, and cold. The geese bobbing along near the far shore don’t seem to mind at all. They call loudly to each other. Overhead a bird of prey surfs the air currents, circling a tall tree with a large nest near the top. I wonder if it’s theirs? Are there baby birds in the nest? I sit quietly, watching, listening, enjoying the moment grateful for the military experience of a lifetime ago that prompted me to bring spare socks. Cold wet feet are miserable. My feet are warm and dry, in spite of the muddy trails and occasional puddles.
One point of view.
There’s no reason to rush. I sit, warm, and filled with contentment and joy (and coffee). It’s a nice moment. I savor it. I am hoping the sun will break through for a little while, shortly. Regardless, I’ve found a nice spot for some painting and a chance to begin again.
The work week finally ended. I got home tired and uninspired about home cooking, late in the afternoon. I wasn’t hungry, just thirsty and fatigued. My Traveling Partner had put in a full day in his shop machining parts to upgrade the lathe. He had overlooked having lunch. I made him a hearty sandwich and then put my feet up for a little while, taking the break I should have taken earlier in the day.
I never did feel like cooking a proper meal, and never had much of an appetite. I ordered pizza, instead of fussing. I did remember, at some point, that my beloved had asked me if I’d make banana bread with the last two bananas, so I did that. It turned out splendidly well. I used the Better Homes & Gardens recipe, with a bit more salt than it calls for, and being generous with the walnuts. I chuckled to myself about how often it has turned out that my Dad’s “secret family recipes” have been from that cookbook. It was definitely worth the effort. The pizza was good, too. It was a simple, quiet evening.
Simple joy.
This morning I woke from a sound sleep feeling rested, got up and started the morning. I’m sitting at the trailhead, waiting for enough daylight to see the trail on this rainy, muddy, morning and hoping for a break in the rain. The dense clouds overhead seem to tear themselves apart, a jagged gap opening to reveal the blue-gray sky of daybreak beyond. I lace up my boots.
I’m grateful for the simple joys in life. I’m grateful for these quiet morning moments of solitude and reflection. I’ve got a few days off work coming up, and I’m grateful for that too. I’m tired, and I am finding it harder these days to manage my pain; a couple days of leisure and creative time will do me good. I run my fingers through my hair, enjoying the softness of it, and watch the clouds moving away toward the horizon. No colorful sunrise this morning, but many beautiful shades of blue and gray and lovely soft shadows. I’m content with the morning as it is. It’s enough. The pain is a small detail, inconsequential compared to the beauty of the morning, just a thing to be endured.
Finding joy in a moment.
A soft rain starts and stops, again and again. That won’t stop me, either. Like the pain, it is a small detail; I grab my rain poncho from my gear tote.
I sit awhile longer with my thoughts, savoring the moment before I begin again.
I’m watching the sunrise, preparing for my walk, boots on, between moments, when I am struck by an interesting coincidence in timing. It is Lent for many Christian observers. It is also the time of year many gardeners know as “the hungry gap”, that time between the last of the winter crops, and before the earliest Spring crops are ready, and during which there is little fresh produce available. (I pause to appreciate what an amazing thing a global supply chain and supermarket produce actually is for humanity.) It’s interesting timing that Lent happens to occur – with its ritual fasting – right at the time when the food supply is likely to be at its least plentiful. I don’t have anything to say about that. I just think it’s interesting.
Sunrise
I set off down the trail, walking with my thoughts. There’s work to do in the garden. The neighborhood feral cat that menaced my garden for the past four years died during the winter. My Spring garden (so far) is undisturbed by constant digging and cat shit, for which I am grateful. It vexed me having to deal with that. It bodes well for the flower beds, too. I proposed putting in a second raised bed this year and my Traveling Partner seems open to the idea. I mentally calculate the cost of the lumber, and the soil to fill it… These are times when there is profound benefit to growing as much of our own food as we can. I’m grateful to have that option.
I sit with my garden thoughts at the halfway point of my walk, enjoying the chill of a Spring morning and the solitary luxury of having the trail to myself. A small herd of deer step past me quietly. I pretend I don’t see them, and avoid sudden movements. This is a lovely moment and I savor it. I’m not in any hurry. The overcast morning sky is streaked with blue-gray clouds. It’s doesn’t feel like rain, it’s just a rather gray morning, now. Geese and ducks drift quietly on the marsh ponds. Nutria go about their business at the edges.
I walk on.
I stop later, it’s a longish walk, and sit for a little while on a fallen oak. It’s a nice spot to rest. Not much of a view; scrub grass cluttered with sparse oaks, horizon obscured by nearby trees and brambles. I’m near the river, but I don’t hear it as it flows by quietly. I only hear the geese overhead, and the sound of distant traffic on the highway at the edge of the park. Robins ignore me, as they pick through the leaves left behind by autumn, looking for a bit of breakfast.
I sit quiet, aware, observing. Sometimes it’s enough to simply be, here, now. I don’t really need more. This is enough. I sigh quietly, contentedly. I enjoy the moment, the birdsong, the soft breeze, and the feeling of contentment and joy. I linger here awhile, understanding that moments are fleeting, and this one will pass. That’s okay. Still worth being here for it.
I’ve got a list of things to do, later. I get up, stretch, and brush off my jeans. It’s time to walk on. It’s time to begin again.
“What the hell? They’re demanding workers return to the office, but they’re closing offices? That doesn’t make any damned sense…” No, no it doesn’t make sense.
“No one has ever heard of Lesotho”, said the President of the United States (an individual who claims to have a college education). He wants to close the Department of Education. None of that makes any sense.
“We’re going to cut 15% of the VA workforce.” Um… the VA is known to be chronically understaffed, to the point of putting veteran healthcare at risk. This doesn’t make any sense.
These are just samples from today’s news. I’m sorry – I am going somewhere with this, so I wanted to get started with some “crazy world” samples. If you need an intellectual “palate cleanser”, I recommend this outstanding opposition rebuttal speech by Elissa Slotkin, from the night of the (absolutely batshit crazy, error-riddled) President’s address to Congress. (Senator Slotkin’s speech is definitely worth a read – it gives me hope.) I don’t prefer to go on about politics; we each have our own opinions, some well-informed, some less so, all based on what we each understand about the world, and our own personal values. I’m not here to argue those points with you, I just want to take a minute to address the stress, and the feeling that the world has gone crazy around us, and maybe offer up some practices for maintaining our own individual sanity in the face of it. So, let’s do that, eh?
One practice I’m pretty committed to, that does help me manage my background stress is to avoid “doomscrolling” the news media – any source, any platform, any talking head (favored or not). It gets ridiculously repetitive, and is often explicitly intentionally crafted to drive our emotions – to get clicks and views. “Engagement” is the point. Profit. This is how news organizations make money; by grabbing and holding on to our attention. That doesn’thappen to be good for us, though, so… I avoid it. Just skip it. I get enough news filtered through work conversations, and “did you hear…?” remarks from acquaintances, family members, and friends. About twice a week I skim the headlines, once over quickly – and I find that generally this is enough to give me the factual points. I don’t read articles that use “clickbait” headlines at all; I have to assume what they have to say (and their reason for saying it) is either dishonest, or not factual, or they would just say it. I haven’t noticed that this strategy deprives me of any timely awareness of current events, and it definitely reduces my stress, generally.
I am, however, quite human, and sometimes I still get “sucked into the crazy bullshit”…
Roses don’t mind the rain.
So, another practice I use to manage my stress in this crazy world is to spend time really present and engaged with real life events and circumstances right here at home, with real people who matter to me, and that are nothing at all to do with whatever nonsense is going on in Washington, D.C. right now. The world could begin to burn down around me, but I enjoy a quiet ordinary life in a quiet ordinary suburb in a quiet ordinary small town tucked between agriculture and industry. I have a garden to tend. There’s housekeeping to keep caught up. The weather has been quite mild. My Traveling Partner “has my back” and loves me deeply (and I feel the same about him). There’s dinner later to consider. There’s blue sky beyond the windows of the office, today. Life. My life. You have this powerful advantage too; the opportunity to anchor your emotional stability and your sanity to the humdrum ordinary details of the life you live and the choices you make for yourself. That’s more powerful than we tend to realize, when we’re faced with the craziness of the world beyond our own life and the moments in it. Getting mired in the stress and fear and worry of craziness beyond our lives that we can neither contain nor control is a shortcut to madness – I know this first hand. My PTSD griefs me with it, when I fail to provide myself with adequate self-care, or fall short of maintaining healthy practices for managing my own chaos and damage. That’s just real.
Once we choose our path, we’ve still got to walk it. The journey is the destination. 🙂
We’re so human. This shit is hard, because crazy is scary. We know some of what we’re seeing go on in the world if fucking wrong and terrible – and yet it is going on. What can we do about it? Sometimes… nothing. Sometimes the most important and powerful things we can do about it are to walk our own path, provide ourselves with good self-care, speak truth to power fearlessly (and call the ridiculous shit out for being as ridiculous as it is), and be kind to the people around us who are hurting. The will to action withers when we don’t take care of ourselves and maintain our individual good emotional health. It’s hard to have the energy (or feel like it matters) to write the President directly by snail mail an actual letter that says “what the fuck??” and “this is what I expect and want from my government” – but if 100% of each and every citizen did so, it would be an avalanche of civil action, of protest, of involvement, and might actually change something. I think about that often. Taking action needs me to maintain my own sanity, though, doesn’t it?
I’ve gotten distracted by the crazy, once again, it’s out there lurking, waiting to sneak up on the unwary. Breathe, exhale, relax – bring the focus to here, to now, to this moment that you’re in. Whatever it is, it matters more to you right now than the actions of a distant madman and his cohort of corrupt billionaires. Just saying – finding what matters most to you, right now, has real value. For me? Right now? It happens to be this bit of writing. This cup of coffee. This quiet moment for myself carved out of a busy day. It’s enough. I’m worth a moment of my own time. (You’re worth a moment of my time, too, and thank you for being here with me.)
I look up from my laptop, across the quiet co-work space (so orderly, so calm, so empty). It’s still just me, and it’s quite early in the morning. I breathe, exhale, and relax. It’s a good time for a few minutes of meditation – another useful practice. I have a favorite spot for it, here, that is reliably comfortable and quiet. I have it on my calendar so I can be sure not to miss the opportunity. Even something as small as 10 minutes of meditation does a lot to build and maintain my emotional resilience. There are verbs involved; it’s quite necessary to do it, not just observe that it is a good practice. lol That’s the way of practices, generally – doing them is the key to success. “Practice” is a verb. It’s also an ongoing thing – a step on path, on a journey that does not end. The journey is the destination.
And that brings me to another approach to maintaining sanity when the world is going crazy; perspective. Observation, and experience, and the awareness that however bad it seems, this too will pass. I’m not saying that complacence is a wise approach (it is not), just that we can pretty reliably be certain of one thing – change is. The madman in power now is as mortal as anyone else. Change will come. Be part of the change you wish to see – and doing so by living your truth, your values, and staying on your own path. Be the person you most want to be. By doing so, and maintaining a sense of perspective, the contrast between you and the crazy in the world becomes clearer. You stand within your moment less affected by the crazy in the world, and more able to sustain yourself through to the next season of change.
It’s hard to go wrong with good basics…
It’s not perfect as strategies go, I know. I’d love to have a real cure, a solution, a reliable durable fix to what our world is going through right now. I only have this; my certainty that I’m okay right now, for most values of “okay”, and that it is (mostly) enough. If I can maintain my own sanity, I can be part of what is sane. Should work for you too, with practice. It’s something. It may not change the world, but it can be a small part of making things right in little ways. That’s definitely something. I’ll gladly take something over nothing – wouldn’t you?
I sigh quietly, and finish my coffee. It’s time to begin. Again.
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?
Evening Light 