Archives for posts with tag: self-reflection

It’s a new day, a new opportunity, and a chance to begin again. There are choices, some with obvious options, some less so. There are unrepeatable unique moments to experience ahead. Change is, and that’s unavoidable, but it is also among the many choices. The menu of The Strange Diner is vast – far larger than anyone can experience in a single lifetime. What will I choose, today?

The dawn of a new day.

I watch the sky begin to lighten through a tear in the storm clouds overhead, waiting for enough light to walk the trail without a headlamp. Pleasant morning for it. Rain fell during the night, but it isn’t raining now. The morning is chilly but not freezing or icy. The air is calm, and the morning is a quiet one. I have the nature park to myself.

I sit with my thoughts awhile, refusing to linger over the larger concerns of the complete shit show that is currently our federal government, or the bullshit and corruption that follows putting petty billionaires in charge of it. It’s a mess and I can’t do much about it besides complain, and endure the next few years wondering how we’ll clean this mess up afterwards. Instead I focus my attention on the sky above me, the imminent dawn, and thoughts of friends, life, and love. Looks like I’ll have a four day weekend for Valentine’s Day. I sit wondering what to do with that to celebrate a partnership that is such a profound and positive experience in my life? It’s definitely worth celebrating…

The storm clouds overhead begin to take on a shredded appearance. Hints of pale blue and soft lemon yellow peer through the open spaces between the storm clouds as they begin to drift apart.

The stands of trees along the trail are silhouetted against the sky now, and I can see the trail. I sigh and rub the painful places of my neck, shoulder, and back, wherever I can reach, and lace up my boots. The walk may help some with the pain, though it often seems as likely to make it worse. Doesn’t matter. I enjoy the time walking with my thoughts. It’s a useful prelude to a new day. It’s already time to begin again.

I’m thinking about a distant friend dealing with a difficult time. We all have them, at some point, don’t we? It’s very human. I sip my coffee and wonder what I could say to offer some measure of hope, or something constructive that might help, but more than likely he just wants to be heard – don’t we all?

When it feels like it’s all stairs, it’s nice to have someone sharing the journey.

Some of our most human challenges are a bit like quicksand. We stumble into them unexpectedly, whether we know to watch for them or not, and there we are – struggling in it. The more we struggle, the more the quicksand sucks us down into the pit, without anything firm to stand on. Scary. Struggling isn’t helpful; we may lose any chance of regaining our footing and be sucked in completely, beyond reach of help. Lost.

Quicksand is strange stuff. In practice, it’s unlikely that quicksand will actually pull a human being entirely down, fully encompassing them and smothering them to death (or drowning them). If someone trapped in quicksand stays calm, relaxed, and spreads their weight out (say, by laying back on it and “floating”), they are likely to be able to free themselves. (Definitely, with some help.) There’s the trick to it; it seems ever so much scarier than it has to be, and it is the fear, the panic, and the struggle itself that creates most of the hardship.

…True in our emotional lives, as well as in quicksand, eh?…

Perspective matters. “Emotion and Reason” acrylic on canvas w/ceramic and glow 2012

I breathe, exhale, and relax, and think about moments in life in which my own panic or dread has created trauma and challenges far beyond whatever the circumstances themselves may have done. It’s a very human thing. Emotion operates by different rules than reason, and it’s often helpful to endeavor to stay calm, and to “spread things out” a bit, to put less weight on the moment, and maybe even ask for some help. I personally find a consistent meditation practice, and some time to myself each day for self-reflection to be useful practices for maintaining my perspective and “emotional equilibrium” in order to “avoid the quicksand” in life (and love). That’s what works for me. We’re each having our own experience, but if struggling isn’t working out for you, maybe try a different practice?

“Emotion and Reason” lit differently – how we view emotions, and how we use reason, make a difference.

I sit with my coffee and my thoughts a little while longer, watching daybreak arrive. Soon enough it’ll be time to begin again. No doubt my results will vary, and it’s true this journey has no map, but I’m in good company (we’re all in this together), and I am my own cartographer on this journey. I’m okay with that; the journey is the destination.

…I wonder where this path leads?

I am sitting at the trailhead, waiting for the sun. I’m not in any hurry, and it’s a cold morning. I’ll enjoy the walk more, watching the sun rise, so I am waiting for daybreak before I get started down the trail. Already there is the faintest smudge of something lighter than darkness on the horizon. Soon.

I woke to my artificial sunrise “alarm”, this morning, quite disoriented and confused about what day it is. It was several minutes before I remembered that it’s Saturday, and that I am enjoying a day off work. I was deeply asleep when the lights came on, and confused about the timing. It’s mornings like this that having a well-practiced routine matters most; I just continued through the morning one task at a time until my brain fully woke and I understood.

There’s a sliver of crescent moon visible to the south. Rising? Setting? I’m really not certain, and it moves rather slowly. It seems the sort of thing I should “just know”, perhaps. I don’t really care presently, and my curiosity is fleeting. My attention returns to the eastern horizon, and the hint of daylight developing there. I breathe, exhale, and relax, and give myself this uncomplicated moment of real peace. Moments like these are important to my emotional health and mental wellness. It’s necessary to “recharge my batteries” in anticipation of more complicated or difficult moments – and there will reliably be more of those, eventually. This is a very human experience. Change is. Thoughts are complicated by feelings. I sit with that awhile. It’s tempting sometimes to demonize emotions, but I’ve found that although thoughts may inform and guide us, our emotions are what enrich and define our experience. How we handle our emotions (and the emotions of others) defines our character.

I think about stormier times in my life when I was less able to manage (and respect) my emotions. I’ve come a long way. I smile to myself. I’m still 100% made of human. That’s as it should be. Time and practice, experience and self-reflection, have brought me a long way down my path. A worthy journey, and some days it feels like I’ve barely begun.

I glance at that sliver of moon again. Definitely rising. I smile to myself, feeling the promise and potential of a new day. There will be verbs involved, and no one can walk my path for me. We’re each having our own experience – and the journey is the destination. I think about a far away friend having his own difficulties in life and love, and silently wish him well. (Dude, this too will pass. Take care of yourself. Put a couple quiet solitary miles on those boots, and take some time for self-reflection.)

There’s a bold orange streak along the eastern horizon now. I sigh quietly, smile at the rising sun, and lace up my boots. Looks like time to begin again.

This morning is cold and foggy. I slept in (for some values of “sleeping in”), and still arrived at my selected trailhead well before dawn. This trail is lit for much of the distance I walk, but beyond the vineyard, near the river, I still needed my headlamp. I’ve been, and returned, and it is still quite dark, though there is a hint of daybreak on the horizon. It’s not yet visible from the lit area of the trail, or the parking lot. The new artificial lights are much too bright.

A walk through winter fog.

The morning is foggier than I expected, and somewhat warmer (still quite cold, near freezing). The fog makes everything seem quieter and more mysterious in the darkness. I see the headlights of workers arriving to a nearby construction sight, filtered through the fog, before I hear the sounds of their pick-up trucks. I’m okay with that. The dance of the lights over irregular pavement is fascinating, and I don’t care for the noise at all. I walked and watched with wonder, alone with my thoughts.

The Author arrives later this morning. 10:30 or so, though I’m not certain whether that means to the house or at the airport. I didn’t ask for clarification – I guess I’ll know soon enough. lol I’m excited about this visit from a dear long-time friend. It happens too rarely. I think of other far away friends and wonder whether to plan a trip to see some of them in the summer? I wonder whether my Traveling Partner will be up to being without me for a week…or in shape to go with me?

I sit quietly with my thoughts. The sky is beginning to be a hue of deep gray-blue, visibly no longer “night”. A new day. There are things to do, and a visit with a friend to look forward to. I consider getting a coffee somewhere nearby, but I am just as content to sit here, watching the sky slowly lighten as dawn unfolds. G’damn, sometimes I am such a simple and easily satisfied creature. I chuckle quietly to myself. I’m okay with it.

A new day begins.

… It’s time to begin again.

I am lingering in this moment, waiting for a break in the rain at this favorite trailhead. Nice morning for walking, if the rain stops for a little while. The forecast suggests it will, soon.

For some time I simply sat quietly, listening to the rain, the traffic on the nearby highway, and my tinnitus. A pleasant and uncomplicated interlude, and time well-spent alone with my thoughts, just being.

I am contemplating contemplation. Thinking about vita contemplativa. Considering solitude, stillness, and self-reflection. I am pondering presence, and the idea of ichi-go ichi-e. We live such busy lives. It’s clear to me that there is more to living a “good life” than being busy. Work and “productive effort” really isn’t all there is, and I have real doubts that it is even the most important part of life… In fact, I’m fairly certain it is not. So much of what we are exists apart from the work that we do.

Work and consumption and doom-scrolling through the various feeds seeking to profit from my attention span are a relatively meaningless piece of my life. Why let these details consume my precious limited mortal lifetime? There’s so much else to experience, to enjoy, and to feel. I sit with my thoughts and my awareness of this moment. Time becomes irrelevant when I am fully present in my life, experiencing the journey, awake, aware, and really “here for it”.

I’m not busy right now. That’s intentional. I’m also not bored, nor seeking anything to become busy with. I’m okay with this quiet moment spent with my thoughts, living this moment, listening to the rain fall, and watching the slow approach of dawn.

When was the last time you took a moment to do nothing at all, but to do that very deliberately, quite aware of your experience of the moment, simply being, without agenda or impatience? Without drama or bullshit? Without occupying your attention with a screen in front of you or a device in your hand? I’m finding such experiences very worthwhile, restful, luxurious, delicious moments of freedom from the clock, “hearing myself think”.

I write a few words. I’ll sit awhile longer. The rain will stop, and I’ll lace up my boots, pick up my cane, and head down the trail eager to begin again, aware how much it matters to really experience the journey.

With the dawn, a new beginning.