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Monday Monday

August 26, 2024 //
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I beat the sun to the trailhead this morning by a few minutes. The morning is dark and peaceful before daybreak. I wait for enough light to see the trail before I walk.

The distant glow of the human experience doesn’t cast enough light to see by.

Yesterday was good. We got a lot done (together, as a family). The whole weekend was busy and productive. I got most of what was on my list finished. I feel a certain sense of accomplishment from that. The work involved, in this case, was 100% to do with my Traveling Partner’s comfort and refinements and quality of life improvements to his personal space. Comfort, ease, and accessibility matter, and we all worked together to complete projects towards this end (some of which had been planned nearly four years ago). It was satisfying work.

I promised myself at the start of the weekend that I would make time for something creative and that I would do at least one thing for myself, that wasn’t any sort of common domestic chore. I managed to live up to that commitment to myself, late Sunday evening, finally, after my feet were too sore to keep standing on them. No new paintings, but I did open my pastel case and carefully placed new pastels into their places, enjoying the displayed colors and giving myself over to artistic contemplation for a little while before calling it a night. It’s not much, but it was time spent on my own needs, my own way. Enough.

… Daybreak comes, and soon enough light to walk the trail…

It gets light so much later now. I breathe in the cool morning air. Fall is coming. There may yet be some very hot days ahead, but the days are definitely getting shorter, the mornings cooler, and the season is changing. Noisy trucks crossing the parking lot headed towards the construction site on the other side remind me this is a work day. (Fucking hell, humans, do you really have to make so g’damned much noise all the fucking time?)

A new day, a new chance to begin again.

I get my boots on, grab my cane, and head out. A new day is dawning. In practical terms, I know where this trail I’m walking will lead me, but in metaphorical terms, the “trail” ahead of me is a mystery, unfolding ahead of me, each new moment truly new and only revealed to me as I live the moment. There’s a lot of comfort and delight in that notion (for me). No reason to anticipate disaster, chaos, or pain; the future is not known. No exceptions. I breathe, exhale, and relax and start down the trail, eyes wide with wonder.

There’s a low mist clinging to the ground over the meadow, near the river beyond the trees. The air is fresh and sweet, and for the moment the morning is quiet as the sunrise begins. It’s enough to live this gentle moment. It’s a good time to begin again.

This moment is enough.

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Categories Allegories, art and the artist, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, inspiration, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, solo hiking, Summer, The Art of Being

Choices and Chances

August 22, 2024 //
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I’m waiting for the sun. This feels almost like fall. The gate at the trailhead is still closed and the sky is dark, not quite daybreak. Beyond the scattered trees silhouetted darkly against a cloudy sky, illuminated faintly by the glow of suburbia beneath, the lights of commuter traffic twinkle as they pass, like a string of sparkling gemstones. The air is mild, and almost warm. Aside from the passing cars and my tinnitus, it’s quiet.

Beginning again.

Yesterday was a good day, followed by a pleasant evening spent as a family. Time well-spent, in good company. My Traveling Partner is seeming “more himself” as he heals, and I feel encouraged and reassured by this. His kindness and geniality are returning as he heals and it’s good to see. I can’t truly know how hard he has struggled to hold on to his sense of self throughout this injured time, but I do know it hasn’t been easy, and he has suffered greatly.

As for the Anxious Adventurer, he’s walking a difficult path himself, for different reasons. Embracing change is hard, and comes with challenges of its own. New environment. New expectations. New rules. Pretty much every detail of his day-to-day thrown into chaos, however briefly in the bigger picture of an entire lifetime, but nonetheless a lot to learn and to change. It hasn’t been easy to adapt, that much is clear to any bystander.

Me? Yeah, me too. This period of adjustment has been hard. Complicated by the very things that made it desirable to make these changes at all. Being human is sometimes very complicated. I don’t particularly prefer cohabitation, which I discovered rather late in life, and that is my challenge and also my opportunity for growth. Challenge accepted? I so greatly love and enjoy my Traveling Partner that I am fairly willing to make changes to deepen our bond and enjoy our mortal lifetime together, in spite of my nature. Funny creatures, we human beings. We’ll do so much for love.

… Things got ridiculously tense and unpleasant for several days and I have been unhappy with the state of things…

I took time to write down what I really need to comfortably cohabitate and thrive, at my Traveling Partner’s request. He looked it over and agreed that my “house rules” looked like a healthy way to live together as a family, if everyone “buys in” and does their part. We shared the rules with the Anxious Adventurer, who gave them serious thought. We discussed them all together, before everyone explicitly agreed that this looks like a good approach and that we’re each willing to do our part. The discussion was a beautiful “proof of concept”, itself. I’m still coasting on the resulting feeling of shared commitment and understanding. Nice moment. I feel heard and supported.

Humans are still human. We’re each working our asses off to be better human beings than we were yesterday. We’ll become what we practice. We can count on incremental change over time. This feels like a very pleasant place to be standing in life. It’s still work, and no doubt our results may vary.

Daybreak comes. I hit the trail feeling light-hearted and contented. Another nice moment. I smile as I walk. No fancy colorful sunrise this morning; the sky is gray and cloudy, threatening rain. I’m fine with it. It’s not raining right now. The air is sweet with the scent of wildflowers and meadow grasses. I’ve got the trail to myself this morning. On the other side of my walk, a stop at the store on my way home. Life being lived.

I walk on, grateful to be walking, still. I breathe, grateful for the breath of life. My heart is filled with love and the thought of my partner, and I am grateful for the opportunity to love and be loved in return. I walk and keep on walking. Once I reach the end of the trail, I’ll begin again.

…It seems a lovely morning for living life…

Where does this path lead?
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Categories Allegories, Brain Injury, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, Summer, The Art of Being, The Big 5

Such Loving Words

August 21, 2024 //
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He said, almost as an afterthought, “I forget about your brain damage sometimes, because you generally handle things so well.” I don’t recall where that conversation went, now, but the remark itself lingers. A compliment? I think so…? It’s complicated, like finding the right balance between just living life and reminding people now and then that there is brain damage, and that it is very much a part of my day-to-day experience.

… I continue to think about my Traveling Partner’s loving words. Those. Others. 14 years together. We’ve been through some things. This bit of chaos, here, now? Part of the journey. Opportunities to grow, to do better, to become better partners, are plentiful right now. I hope to take advantage of many of them. I see my partner embracing those opportunities, too. We’re both very human, and this is a very human journey.

New beginnings, new perspective.

I started my walk just before sunrise, at first light. My pace is improving, my strength, too. Staying on top of my self-care requires diligence and focus. Sometimes I feel like I’d rather just… sleep.  Yesterday evening, I chose (with my partner’s encouragement) to go to bed early and get a proper night’s sleep. I woke feeling rested and started the day feeling pretty good. Yesterday I also tried a capsaicin patch for a particular pain that seems caused by my neck, and is intensely distracting at its worst. I’m surprised, but it actually did really help. (Please don’t tell me if this is a placebo effect! I’d rather have the relief.)

At some point yesterday, it was difficult to dismiss my partner’s assertion that I was “holding my breath” in response to my pain. I clearly was. I caught myself several times. Annoying. It’s not at all helpful to stop fucking breathing! As I walked this morning I focused on “staying with my breath”. It seems irritating and silly to have to practice breathing for fucks sake, but here I am. Then I laugh out loud; skillful, practiced breath work is part of so many things! Why do I even fuss about it? I sleep with a CPAP machine, because I frequently stop breathing while I sleep. Why would I expect that this concern would somehow just not be a thing simply because I am awake?

A momentary traveling companion along the way.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. My anxiety isn’t bad this morning. My recent “11” is a more manageable “2”, today. Win. I finish my walk, and prepare to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, Anxiety, Brain Injury, breathe, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, Love, meditation, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, The Art of Being

Here. Now. Breathe.

August 20, 2024 //
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I take a quick gulp of my iced coffee and lace up my boots to get a quick walk in, before the work day begins. My thoughts are with my Traveling Partner. I am already dealing with feelings of guilt and regret for agreeing to come into the office today. I hope to make it a fairly short day, which causes me some anxiety. No reason for that (the anxiety), really, my boss and my work team have been very supportive of the time I have needed to take to support my partner, first while injured, and now following his surgery.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I remind myself that anxiety is a liar. I remind myself that my Traveling Partner was okay with me going into the office today, and that he’s been making great progress on his recovery, and even that he won’t be alone all day because he has a friend coming around to visit a little later. I still feel distracted by the distance from my partner, concerned for his well-being, and worried in an abstract persistent way. Perhaps this is a predictable bit of the slow return to normalcy? I sigh and grab my cane; I no longer take walks without it.

Every journey begins somewhere.

I get back to the car, fleece unzipped, warmed through from walking briskly, and pleased to have covered a good distance in half my usual time. Sunrise is just getting going. Daybreak comes much later than a few weeks ago. My back aches this morning and my tinnitus is loud in my ears, but my headache isn’t particularly bad, and that feels like a win. It’s enough to build the day on. I sit for a moment watching the clouds hustle across the morning sky, shades of gray with hints of blue. I sip my coffee and breathe the meadow-sweet air. This is a pleasant moment. I don’t rush it, instead I linger here long enough to really feel it.

Last week is a blur; too much too fast, too tense, too emotional, and too little sleep. I’m glad it’s behind me; it may have been one of the most emotionally difficult weeks of my life. It sure feels that way from this vantage point, but it’s still very “fresh”, and no doubt my perspective is skewed. I breathe, exhale, and relax. I let it go (at least for now; there’s more to learn from that experience).

Hints of pink in the clouds skittering by remind me to check the time. I finish swapping back from boots to shoes. I take my morning meds with a swallow of coffee and silently complain about the pain I’m in, before thinking about the pain my partner still experiences as he heals and the many months of more severe pain he had to endure to get to this point. Perspective. (In spite of the many tense moments between us recently, I miss him dreadfully right now, although I am only 20 miles away, and only for a couple hours at this point.)

I sigh and admit to myself the inevitable; it’s time to begin again.

Like it or not, you’ve got to walk your own mile.

[Some time about 2 hours later]

It sometimes feels as if “life” and “change” are entirely interchangeable words. On my way between my walk and the office, my Traveling Partner phoned. He needed my help, and it really highlighted the necessity. Non-negotiable; I need to be there. I turned the car around immediately and headed back. It’s one thing to be away an hour, maybe two, but all day? I can’t. I really can’t. Not yet. Fuck.

I reach out to my work team and reset expectations. No problem there; everyone’s good with it. I reach out to the Anxious Adventurer; can he be there sooner, and be immediately helpful while I’m on my way back? He can. I feel relieved, and alert my Traveling Partner that help is on the way – and I am, too. Change is.

It’s later. My partner is resting. I’m settled into work. “Nothing to see here.” It’s a Tuesday. I’ve got this cup of coffee, and this day plan in front of me. Routine? Hardly. It is what it is… And what it is, is time to begin again. Again.

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Categories Allegories, Anxiety, Brain Injury, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, Summer, The Art of Being

Lightning and Raindrops

August 17, 2024 //
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The past 48 hours are mostly a blur of smudgy unclear recollections and emotional impressions. Keeping up with my Traveling Partner’s care, particularly making sure medications are all taken on time, at proper intervals and dosages, is keeping me pretty busy. Juggling those details with work, and the self-care required to keep up with “all the things” has resulted in interrupted sleep, emotionality, and a generous helping of “stupid” moments. This too will pass; it’s a temporary situation. It’s generally enough to do my best.

… The tl;dr is that I’m tired, so tired, and haven’t slept well, deeply, or for more than a couple hours at a time these past couple of days…

Sunrise and a new beginning.

I woke ahead of my alarm this morning and watered the lawn, and helped my partner with his medication. I’d have rather gone directly back to bed and tried to get more sleep, but I also knew my partner had a difficult night of interrupted sleep himself. Better for his ability to rest for me to give him some quiet time. I slipped away to catch the sunrise on the trail, and the Anxious Adventurer left for work moments later.

… And here I am…

The sun rose a bold magenta betwixt thunder clouds. Once or twice lightning flashed across the sky. By the time I got here to the trailhead, thunder was breaking the quiet of the morning, frequently. No rain. Not right now, anyway, though it appears that some rain fell during the night. I find myself wishing for rain. (Thunder storms without rain this time of year are a deadly threat of wildfires.) I sit for a moment before lacing up my boots for a walk.

My head aches ferociously this morning, a combination of my “usual” headache, and lack of rest. I breathe, exhale, and relax. It’s less than ideal to let it become the focus of my day; I have too much shit to do.

My longtime friend, The Author, had planned to visit this weekend, but got COVID and if he makes it at all, the timing is yet to be determined. Disappointing. My Dear Friend’s celebration of life memorial is today, but I won’t make it; I’m not up to the long drive at the last minute, and regardless, my Traveling Partner needs my care and support. While I am considering these circumstances, a drenching tropical sort of rain begins to pound the car (I pull my feet back into the car and close the door). I think about the recent (Wednesday, 3 days ago) death of my Aunt…

…Then the tears begin to fall, with the rain…

Sometimes it just all feels like too much. I sigh, letting the tears fall without taking them personally. No reason to fight the moment. This is “my time”, and if this is what I need right now, okay. After some minutes, I blow my nose and just sit listening to the thunder and the rain, wondering about the lightning strike risk on the trail… It wouldn’t do to get hit by lightning today, I just don’t have time. lol

This morning I feel very mortal and very much aware how temporary it all really is. Life. So brief. So precious.

… I didn’t come prepared to walk through a drenching downpour, but I am sure enjoying just sitting here listening to the storm…

A different sort of quiet moment.

I sit listening to the rain, fighting the confusion and dimwittedness of fatigue. I could probably get a couple things done, since it doesn’t look like I’ll be walking… My mind feels numb. What is on my list, anyway? I scrounge around in my consciousness rather halfheartedly, instead of just looking at my damned list. The growl and loud crack of thunder along with a dazzling flash of very close lightning startles me. It seemed “just over there”, visibly, identifiably nearby. Scary. Distracting.

G’damn beginning again is easier when I get the rest I need… I don’t quite manage to laugh, and sigh again instead. I decide to quietly take my time sorting myself out, before tackling some task or another. There’s no reason to rush. I’ve got time to take care of myself. Self-care matters, too.

I sit for some unmeasured amount of time, reflecting on gratitude and joy. Thinking over the best of recent moments and savoring the recollections. I feel so grateful for my Traveling Partner, and the enduring love we share. It gets us through a lot. We’ve managed to snarl at each other far too often the last few days, as pain, fatigue, and frustration overcame our good nature in some difficult moment. We get past it. Exchange apologies. Make amends when we can. Our hearts know the way, even when we go astray – very human. All things considered, I guess we’re doing pretty well, generally. It’s hard sometimes, but there’s no lack of love. Humans being human; sometimes it’s complicated.

It’s probably time to begin again, but…

… I’m enjoying listening to the rain fall. That’s okay too.

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Categories Allegories, anger, Anxiety, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, Frustration, gratitude, grief, health, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Sleepless Nights, Summer, The Art of Being, The Big 5, War and News of War
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