Archives for posts with tag: self-reflection

I slept well in spite of the noise of fireworks going off well into the night. I woke occasionally and quickly sank back into sleep. I woke up at my usual early hour, no alarm set at all. I rose, dressed, and slipped away quietly into the early light of a summer dawn.

It’s a lovely morning. The sunrise began with streaks of peach and pink clouds across a hazy mostly clear sky. It’s going to be hot today.

I find myself straddling past moments of recollection and future moments of speculation, in this pleasant quiet “now”. The paved portion of this trail is quiet beneath my feet. Small birds explore the weeds and grass for tasty bits as I walk past. The air feels soft on my skin and I hear the sound of distant traffic… and my tinnitus. Squirrels play, chasing each other up and down and around the trunks of trees along the trail. I breathe and walk.

… Summer…

I let my thoughts wander freely as I walk. My Traveling Partner’s surgery is scheduled. I’m not fretting over that; I’m hopeful. Grateful. Eager to see him well (repaired?). I’m thinking ahead to getting some real downtime, sometime beyond the most critical recovery time immediately following his surgery. I’m eager to have a few days alone, spent on creative work and solitary reflection, unconstrained by the requirements of caregiving and service to hearth and home. I’m tired frankly, and any rest I get and all the resilience I can build, have been almost immediately consumed by the next need, week after week, for months. I’m not even complaining; I have been needed and also appreciated. My Traveling Partner has shown me great consideration, love, and gratitude, and I have no resentment in my heart. I’m just tired and eager for him to be himself at 100% again.

I don’t yet have anything specific in mind. Camping? A hotel holiday on the coast? A trip to some glittering metropolis? A quiet stay in some remote bed and breakfast? A stay at some monastery that hosts retreats? “Spin the wheel” and just show up at the airport or train station and grab the next cheap seat to somewhere at random and figure it out when I get “there”? Options.

Rather unrealistically, I want to be sitting in my Granny’s kitchen on a lazy summer morning, listening to the sound of seabirds and the tides changing along the marshy edge of Mine Creek. I’d like to make a cup of fairly terrible drip coffee and pour it over ice, and take it out to the porch, with my pastels and my sketchbook, and while away the cool morning painting landscapes of the shore along Frenchtown Rd. My heart aches for qualities of peace and serene beauty and the joy of solitary moments I don’t find often these days. The world is complicated and messy, as are human beings with their violence and villainy, their petty deceits and corruption. Peace is sometimes hard to find, and difficult to cultivate. I feel momentarily homesick for places that no longer exist outside my memory, and a bit lonely for people dear to me who are gone now.

… Strangely sentimental morning…

The sky is a brilliant clear blue as I finish this bit of writing. The morning is beginning to warm up already. It’s time to head back up the trail to the car, and back to the house to start the work day. I sigh to myself and remember to take my morning medication. It’s already time to begin again…

I’m relaxing after my walk, wondering if it may continue to rain today. It looks like it might. I’m thinking about the weekend, mostly quite a nice one, spent in the good company of my Traveling Partner. Father’s Day was Sunday, and I even managed to surprise him with a gift (that he also liked).

The weekend was interesting in another way. Chosen changes. Change is, and no amount of running from it (or insisting on standing still) will change that. Sometimes what makes the most sense is to choose change. It’s a useful way of guiding my journey in life.

Here’s an example; I am frankly pretty “over” my current smartphone. It’s an older one, still quite functional but becoming irritatingly “uncooperative” and vexing with each new update by my carrier or the manufacturer. (I get tired of having to go back and turn off a bunch of bullshit and bloatware every time there’s an update, too.) My Traveling Partner pointed out I’m perhaps overdue to move on to a newer (and not carrier-locked) device.

My current smartphone is “only” 5 years old… but that’s also pre-pandemic, 4 employers, and two addresses ago. lol In terms of technology, that’s a long time. We shopped together, talked about the options, and I picked out a replacement. It’ll arrive in a few days and then I can “move out” of this phone that is vexing me so often and move on to being vexed differently with a new one. lol I’m grateful to have my Traveling Partner’s expertise and help with this one; it’s the sort of change that really fucks with me in a multitude of little ways.

Another example of choosing change with self-care and personal growth in mind? Artistically I have been feeling a bit stalled and struggling to “find my voice” after losing my Dear Friend this year. I didn’t have an understanding of how grief would affect me creatively (this time), nor did I anticipate the ways my Traveling Partner’s injury might affect my comfort with being “distracted by” the desire to paint. I find myself unable to begin new work, too aware that he may need my help any time (acrylic paint dries quickly and I tend to “work wet”). Unable to finish old work, because it brings to mind interrupted conversations with my Dear Friend that now can never be resumed.

I just can’t get going “as things are”… and the more I thought about it, the more significant the medium I tend to favor seemed to be. I’ve worked primarily in acrylics for about 20 years. What if I could work slower… oil paints? No, too slow. Watercolor?Maybe…but… too wet? What if I could work slower without “working wet” at all…? Something I could easily step away from and come back to… I found myself also considering size. I generally work with canvases that are large-ish… not huge, but often “over mantelpiece” or “behind the couch” sizes… I had begun to work much smaller in recent years (a combination of convenience and physical limitations). I never replaced my big easel when it finally failed me. I rarely used it anymore. Large work on paper never suited me…but I started as a watercolor artist, working on paper, as a teenager. Is it time to scale back and return to older ways? I feel hungry for something new.

Continuing to reflect on what I’ve been doing artistically, what has inspired me recently, and what is most physically comfortable at this stage in my life, I found myself considering a big change… a change of medium. (That’s a bigger deal than I know how to communicate, and will come with a potentially very steep learning curve.) Pastels. That’s the “big reveal”, I’m planning to try pastels, and may return to working exclusively on paper (less storage space needed for completed work, too). It’s an exciting thing to contemplate.

I find myself in an interestingly “in between moment”, standing poised between who I’ve been and who I may become, at least artistically. It’s less a crossroad in life than a sharp bend in the path in front of me, beyond which I can’t at all see what is ahead. I’m okay with the uncertainty and the unknowns. I’m excited and eager to move forward, to move on, and to grow with new experiences and new knowledge. This change, particularly, percolates through my consciousness in an interesting way. I think of a snake shedding her skin. It’s a good metaphor for choosing change and the growth that can come of it.

…Pastels…? I would be more easily able to do plein air work when I go camping… less to carry, more compact, easier to clean up… I  sit with my thoughts awhile… The future is filled with potential.

I think about all the various artistic mediums I’ve tried, all the techniques, and the tools… I think about what worked for me, and why, and where I was in life for each of those things… I think, too, about practices more generally, and what has worked, and how much it has mattered to simply “try things out” to learn what really does work best for me. It’s an interesting journey.

There are new steps to take, and new skills to learn. There are new practices to practice, and old chaos to tidy up. There is old baggage to set aside, and old pain to heal. It’s a journey. A process. Incremental change over time doesn’t have to be all happenstance and wandering; I can choose change. I can choose my path, and choose my opportunity. I  can choose to begin again.

…It’s time…

…I wonder where this path leads…?

I’m in a wretched vile mood, twisted with pain, angry with… humanity. Feeling pretty over “everyone’s” bullshit, greed, and negativity. It’s not my best look. This morning I would happily give the whole world a giant middle finger, a “fuck you” as a greeting, and pull up a chair to sit back and watch the world burn.

…Did you even know I had it in me?…

I woke fairly comfortably, feeling level-headed and mellow, in a good mood and not in much pain. I was barely dressed to head out for a pleasant morning walk when that all went screeching off course, abruptly veering into a seriously shitty mood, neck and back spasms, my headache roaring to its full potential, and just not in a good place at all. Does it matter why? Not really. Humans being human.

…And here I am…

I get to the trail after a drive that could have been quite pleasant if my head were in a different place. The sunrise was gorgeous. I saw it. Traffic was light. It’s a Saturday. I hit the trail without any lingering. It’s rather crowded this morning, and having to endure the presence of other people, and hear the sound of voices, grates on my nerves. Aggravating. I am feeling so fucking over humanity this morning. I don’t want to share the trail or the moment. My steps come down hard as I walk a more aggressive pace than usual. I’ll probably pay for that later.

There’s more to the moment than my emotions.

I walk on, trying to reset my experience and begin again. It’s not always easy. I am still seething. I breathe, exhale, and walk on… one step at a time, and trying to let go of my irritation each time I see someone on the trail or hear voices approaching. I’d very much like to be quite alone, right now,  but that’s clearly not going to happen.

…Emotions are not facts…

…The plan is not the experience…

…The journey is the destination (and it has to begin where I actually am)…

…I can choose not to endure “second dart” suffering…

…There are verbs involved…

…My results vary…

…This will pass…

I breathe in the fresh Spring air. I exhale as a slow sigh. I’m “not there yet”, but I keep walking. Eventually I will get somewhere. One step at a time. Incremental change. Practicing the practices. Beginning again.

Our behavior in the world and in our relationships affects everyone we interact with. I reflect as I walk… How can I best process my experience without adversely affecting other people, including my Traveling Partner? How do I proceed by being the person I most want to be? If I were comfortably able to process my anger effectively without expressing it explosively or pushing a lot of negative energy into shared emotional space, what would that look like? How is that done? (It’d be nice to have a fucking “user’s guide” for managing emotional skillfully. )

I walk with my thoughts, making a point of being politely appreciative of pleasant greetings from passers-by and returning a wave or a smile. I don’t really want to deal with people, but shitty moods have an element of potential for “contagion” – we are social creatures – and I really don’t want to be a force for evil and negativity in the world, not even on a small scale. No one benefits from that; life is already difficult enough. So… I walk with my thoughts and work on getting past my bullshit, so I can enjoy the day.

I get to my halfway point and sit down to write a bit.

By the time I get to this paragraph, the sun is well up in the sky, warming my shoulders and back as I write. I feel some better. My emotions, at least, are tamed. I’m not seething with unexpressed anger, now. I’m not having to force myself to view the world through a positive lens by some act of will. I’m not immediately annoyed to see another human being on the trail. Aside from the physical pain, I’m mostly okay. “Fine”, for most values of fine.

I take my self-reflection further, and make room for gratitude; it’s a beautiful morning, and I will see a specialist this morning who reliably manages to alleviate a good portion of my pain, if only temporarily. It’s enough and I am grateful for the skilled care. I give a moment to soft feelings of love and care for my Traveling Partner, too. His day got off to a difficult start. We’ve each got our own challenges, each having our own experience, but there’s no shortage of deep and abiding love between us. He’s a worthy traveling companion on life’s journey.

I sigh, sitting in the sunshine, watching a chipmunk approaching me from the side, hesitantly. I watch, trying to avoid being obvious about it. She darts away when I move ever so slightly. “I get it”, I think to myself, “humans are the worst.”

…I breathe, exhale, and relax, and make the effort to let that feeling go…

I look at the time. If I timed this right, it’ll be time to head to my appointment, just as I get back to the car. It’s definitely time to head back down the trail, and begin again.

I’m sitting at the trailhead,  having just finished my walk. I feel relaxed, comfortable, and accomplished; 3 miles in one hour. This was an important bit of “backsliding” in my general fitness I was eager to overcome. It’s taken awhile and required a lot of persistence and new beginnings. My bad ankle generally begins to ache noticeably around one mile mark, these days. My fitness being what it has become, by the time I get myself two miles down a trail, my back is often aching, too. I still want to go on, but some days it’s hard to push past the inconvenience of my pain. I don’t want pain to make all my decisions and determine all my limits. I’ve got a lot of living still ahead of me at 60.

Sunrise on a misty morning.

When I headed down the trail, the sunrise had inflamed the morning horizon with fiery hues of peach and orange, and Mt Hood was silhouetted against that bold background, still and dark and large on the horizon. Every picture I took of that vibrant scene somehow diminished it. I stopped trying and just stood watching for a while.

Mists on the marsh.

As I crested a low hill near a favorite stopping point, the view of the marsh below, mists clinging to the meadow grasses and the water spread across my view. What a gorgeous morning to be on this trail! I  don’t have it all to myself this morning, and that’s not a surprise. Pleasant summery sort of morning on a Spring weekend? Of course there are other people here, most of them with fancy camera gear, heading to those favorite spots for capturing a view or for bird watching. Nice morning for it.

Lupines in bloom.

I pass by a hillside covered in lupines. The lupines in my garden are this same variety of wild lupines indigenous in this area. Mine are not yet blooming; they have more shade than these on this sunny hillside.

I  walk with my thoughts and my pain. I listen to the thoughts, and mostly disregard the pain. This pain, particularly,  has nothing much to teach me, beyond the resolve to overcome it. My thoughts on the other hand? My thoughts are as a playground for my spirit this morning. I walk and think, and consider the things in my life that may be holding me back, and what choices, changes, or practices could make the most positive difference…? The thinking, ideally, precedes the actions. lol I find value in self-reflection and “rational meditation”.

…In spite of the beauty of the morning, my thoughts this morning are mostly pretty practical…

The rising sun, a fitting metaphor.

As I turn back down the trail the way I came, I catch a glimpse of the rising sun. It illuminates the heights of the big oaks trees. I fill my lungs with the fresh morning air as I walk. The day ahead is filled with promise. The warmer weather is pleasantly encouraging, and I think about my upcoming camping trip. It would be nice if this weather continues.

…I think about getting into the garden…

I reach the car and notice the parking lot is quite full now for so early. I’m glad I took the less traveled trail! There’s new signage in the park, cautioning “no running” and “no dogging”… I chuckle, fairly certain that the intention is to indicate dogs are not allowed… but… “dogging” has a specific other meaning in English slang, and although I am certain that activity is also prohibited, I’m equally certain it’s not the intended meaning. lol

…What a lovely morning for new beginnings…

I feel the sun warm on my face. I sit sipping my coffee, listening to birdsong, and the traffic on the highway beyond the park. Loud voices of rude humans interrupt my reverie – maybe they’ll just go away? No. I  guess I will, then. lol

It’s time to begin again.

This morning the sun is shining in my eyes, though I’ve lowered the window shades to cut the glare. The season continues to evolve, Spring towards summer, and here I am with the sun in my eyes on a lovely Spring morning. I’m grateful. I don’t even mind the sun in my eyes. 😀

Small wins can make big differences. My appointment yesterday had a pleasant outcome; I don’t need surgery for a thing that seemed quite a big deal (to be something so small)… and as it turns out, it’s not something I need be worried about (at least for now, and maybe not at all). Win. I’ll take it. 😀 I sip my coffee with the sun shining in my eyes, feeling grateful. No surgery looming over me. Nice. I even had a very good experience with the medical care, and the physician, generally – I’m making a point to pause to appreciate that, because it hasn’t always been the case, at all, and I’m still dragging around some baggage over that.

I sigh and smile to myself. Feels like a good morning. It’s Friday, and it’s a short work day. I’ve got a manicure appointment at noon, and then home to start the weekend. Feels good. I sit with the good feelings awhile – there’s definitely value in staying with the good feelings for a little while. I think most of us don’t even notice the way we linger in our shittiest moments, reviving them for further scrutiny over and over again (as if that’s at all helpful), then just glossing over our moments of joy and contentment as though these fleeting moments somehow have less value than the shitty ones. (Maybe don’t do that, eh?) When I finally did learn how much value there is in lingering over my small joys and simple moments of contentment or delight, and learned to savor what is good in my life, the way my life felt overall changed a lot. Instead of a fairly miserable experience of existence pocked with occasional relief that felt both too-brief, and also likely to be “a trap” setting me up for future worse misery, my life became characterized by calm and contentment, with occasional experiences of sorrow, grief, frustration, or anger. Disappointment became… a moment. Anger became… transitory. Life began to feel pretty good, generally. I still have to make a point to practice “taking in the good” and savoring the best moments my experience has to offer. I don’t avoid or dodge life’s challenges, or pretend I can “manifest” them away from being what they are – but I can cope, because I know they are temporary. Incremental change over time – becoming what I practice – has meant that my life is, day-to-day, pretty good these days. It’s nice. (10 out of 10; do recommend. lol)

How does a person even begin to make this transformation? I think it starts simply enough; anger does not easily compete with gratitude. When I find myself beginning to feel angry, I deliberately pause and consider what I’m grateful for in the situation I find myself in or with regards to the person I am angry with. It helps “turn down the heat” in that moment, and gives me a chance to regain perspective. Similarly, with sorrow, with disappointment… gratitude is a great way to balance perspective. It’s not about “faking it”; there are often legitimate details in a challenging circumstance that we may feel grateful for, if we just take a moment to consider it from that perspective. Anxiety and fear work a little differently (for me), instead of gratitude, I reach for my curiosity, and my desire to know more and understand more deeply. The point, really, is to spin the difficulty such that I’m not mired in what is most difficult, so much as viewing it through the lens of other aspects of that experience – or making a point to deliberately consider something else altogether different, that brings other emotions into play, “unsticking me” from my hurt, my anger, or other similarly painful, harder to manage, emotional experiences.

Our emotions are not the enemy

…And “being emotional” is not an insult. The hidden win is to develop “emotional intelligence” and reliably good skill at appropriate emotional regulation (which can be developed… it takes practice).

I smile and sip my coffee. I take a moment to enjoy my breakfast salad (how did this so easily become “a thing”? Why haven’t I always done this? I feel so good in the mornings these days…). Another weekend already here… and that means another shot (Ozempic), another weigh-in, another opportunity to reflect on progress and become aware of slow steady change. I’m counting down the days to my camping trip, too… that’d be 9 days to go, now. 😀

What defines a luxury?

I make time for early morning conversation with my Traveling Partner. We talk about the deck (needs repairs) and the hot tub (older and super noisy), and the discussion quickly becomes the sort of productive strategy and planning conversation that really brings a new project to life… we decide to shut down the hot tub “permanently” (this one, at least), in favor of removing it and replacing it after the deck is repaired (rebuilt) with improved quality of life features in mind. These are things we’d talked about when we bought the house (4 years ago), but other things (reasonably) had to come first (like the roof). Homeownership has so many qualities I love over renting – “a place of my own” being top of my personal list there – and I do love the flexibility to change things as we’d like, but … damn… so much adulting required, and effort, and commitment, and time, and money… and… I’m okay with all of it. It’s exciting and satisfying, as each project begins and finishes. My Traveling Partner has great ideas and the skills needed to bring this to life. I’m eager to help, and see how things turn out. I’m definitely a fan of replacing the hot tub with a more energy efficient, quieter model. (I’ll bet the neighbors will be too; this old thing is super noisy!) Having a hot tub feels almost non-negotiable for me at this point, though… I get so much value out of it (pain relief, improvement mobility), now we’ve just got to sort out the details…

My thoughts wander from the here and now to a future I can see but can’t touch (yet). I feel hopeful – for a lot of reasons – and grateful. It’s a good feeling. I feel wrapped in love, and fortunate to have a really good partnership that enhances my life. I’m ready to begin again. 😀