Archives for posts with tag: self-reflection

Do you ever wake up thinking, “good grief what a stupid fucking world we live in”, more in disappointed astonishment than anything else? Yeah… Looks like that kind of day. Distressing dreams, though I slept deeply and well, and only woke once briefly. I don’t dare look at the news this morning. I’m sure it will be more of the same bullshit: pointless dick-measuring by egotistical grifters in office, pettiness, violence, AI slop to dodge, and… sponsored content. No thanks. I’ll just have this coffee and then start the work day.

Yesterday evening I watched a favorite action movie to put myself in a better mood (totally worked). Why do people love action movies and superhero movies? Maybe because, generally, the good guys win – and it’s usually clear who the good guys are. Why movies about underdogs who make it? Because people want to feel, for a moment, that it is possible for anyone to overcome the impossibly unfair “rules of the game”, if only they “really try” (and get some lucky breaks). Time travel movies? Those fill a need to believe that some moment in the past was significantly better – or perhaps that some moment in the future may be – and that it is possible to get there. We don’t look too closely at the role we each (and all) play in the state of things as they are, here and now. (Who did you vote for in the most recent elections? How many letters or calls have you made to your representatives since then making your voice heard? Where are you protesting? What are you practicing?) I sigh to myself. I’m grateful for this cup of fairly average coffee; it’s hot, it’s coffee, it’s here, and it is a reliable small pleasure in life, no wishful thinking required.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. Yesterday got off to a difficult start and I felt tired and worn down all day. A night of rest helped immensely, and today looks brighter. The world hasn’t changed (much) in 24 hours. It’s still a fucking mess. I’m okay. This moment is okay. This cup of coffee is okay. The quiet conversations of the baristas working the early shift is calm in the background. One barista, about my age I think, calls me “hun”, and it is clear she worked a long time as a waitress in local diners; it is a particular kind of friendliness. A lucky bank-shot drops the tissue I used into the appropriate waste recepticle, without having to get up to pick it up off the floor. Small things can really color a moment or change the feel of an experience. I let myself enjoy the moment as it is. Here. Now.

How’s your moment? What will you do with it?

I take a breathe, which turns into sneezing and a couple more lucky tissue tosses into a waste recepticle I should probably step to, instead. I am feeling mostly completely over the flu, now, but I’ve got congested sinuses first thing in the morning to deal with, and some coughing as I call it a night, and a less than ideal limitation on my voice, which starts to give up on me about 45 minutes into any meeting that I attend. It will pass. All of it will pass, and it isn’t even strange for me; once that shit had moved into my lungs, I knew this was coming. I know it will pass – so long as I continue to get the rest I need, and practice good basic self-care. There are verbs involved and I do play a role in my successful recovery. I have to continue to make healthy choices as I get well.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I take some time to meditate, just here in this warm coffee shop, before they turn on the background music for the day. I soak in the feeling of things being okay, here, now, without looking beyond this moment, or this place. Thoughts cross my mind like clouds in a breeze, observed but distant. Another breathe, another thought, another exhalation, another release of background stress or some element of anxiety. I relax. I sip my coffee. This simple practice is such a pleasant start to a day.

It is a busy month. I’ve got an old friend coming to visit over a week, about 10 days from now, and a return to the office in San Francisco at the end of the month, between those we’ve got to move our stuff from one storage place to another storage place. For me, this feels “busy”. I know people who would embrace such a “relaxed” calendar as “down time”. It used to be that I would ferociously push myself to approach life at a much more intense pace, with multiple events or activities on my calendar every day. I felt constantly harried, pushed, and often overwhelmed, my eye always on the clock. My temper flared with my impatience or my frustration, and I carried multiple sources of reminders, from sticky notes and calendar entries, to alarms, reminders, and notifications set in this or that app (once apps were a thing). I lived in my Franklin-Covey dayplanner. lol I thought it was a requirement of life, or perhaps unavoidable. I learned over time how many choices I was making, and I learned to make those differently, and accept who I am. I don’t like feeling “busy” or rushed, or harassed, or hurried. I like to focus, and work through a single task with my mind on that task while I’m doing it. I do my best work that way. It was a comfort to allow myself to move away from the internal “I’m great at multitasking!” lie and feeling chronically overconstrained and chased for my time and attention, to choosing what to put my attention on, and setting boundaries about my time and attention. I make different choices. I’m less anxiety prone, less forgetful, less irritable, less overwhelmed. This is better for me.

…It’s not a sprint, it’s not even an endurance race, it’s a very long walk on an undefined trail – without a map, just a hint of a sense of a destination in mind. lol Good thing I like to walk!

I’m not yet walking in the mornings, again. I do miss it. It’s quite cold right now, though, and my Traveling Partner has asked that I take better care of myself, and not be out in the cold and darkness, walking when I’m not at my best. That seems reasonable and sensible, and I agreed to “slow down” and take care of myself. It seems to be working out for the best. I’m still looking forward to mornings out on the trail, but circumstances play a part, and it may be February before that happens, just because there is a lot going on, and I’ll no doubt need my energy for those things in the short-term.

…I remind myself to mask up for travel at the end of the month; I’m fairly certain I was exposed to the flu on the aircraft that returned me home. I at least observed definite direct exposure to someone ill, when some mother’s half-wit feral adult-ish boy-child lumbered through the aircraft gracelessly, coughing down on other passengers as he passed by, not even covering his fucking cough with his sleeve. Rude. I was annoyed at the time, and that made the moment somewhat more memorable than other casual exposure was. I’d likely have gotten sick even if I never saw that guy coughing all over everyone so carelessly… I was on an airplane; the air is recycled.

You’d think we all learned one thing during the COVID pandemic – that wearing a mask (properly), washing our hands, and practicing a measure of social distancing reduces exposure to contagion. I mean, are you kidding? How is that not all so super obvious, given a moment of thought? …Or are you among the “you can’t force me to wear a mask!!” group, or the “the vaccine has more risk than the disease” group? Maybe you’re simply one of the “you can’t tell me, I’ve got my rights!” people seeing conspiracies everywhere? If you are, I mean you no harm. I’ve simply got my own opinion about these things (just like you) and I am doing what appears to be most effective and appropriate, with greatest potential benefit to my entire community. It’s not about me, really, is it? It’s about taking steps to create and maintain a healthy world in which humanity and all manner of living thinking creatures can thrive. Right? …Although I do prefer to take the steps that reduce my own exposure to illness, and increase my chances of survival, myself, because I have found life worth living. (Shit – I need to pick up more masks! I jot down a reminder on my shopping list, then remind myself to ask my Traveling Partner if we already have some at home and I’ve just forgotten where they are.)

…It took a while to get here…

I frown cynically at my coffee cup – Starbucks. Yeah, yeah, okay. I know. Conspiracies pull people in because – more than anything else – some prove to be actually based on real shit going on. Governments actually do some terrible things (looking your way ICE, and DOD) – and lie to hide those terrible things from view. That’s real. Honest ethical behavior in governance is rather unfortunately rare, and very unreliable. Conspiracy theories develop because corruption, lies, and bad behavior really exist, and are often covered up intentionally by the self-serving individuals who benefit from the bad acts. That’s real. When does a “conspiracy theory” become simply some terrible thing that a government, agency, enterprise, or individual has actually done? As an example torn from current events… “conspiracy theories” about Epstein now seem less like distortions of fact than legit actual coverups. People who were associated with him, or who have powerful friends who were associated with him, scramble to cover their involvement, but… It’s likely that it will all come out, eventually. Just like Watergate, just like MK Ultra, just like the Tuskegee Study. It’s even harder to pull off a really grand conspiracy in the digital age than it was in the days of snail mail and paper documents. I snicker to myself, pretty certain that the elected elderly of our gerontocratic government still don’t get that. You can’t hide secrets from the future.

I sigh quietly, thinking again that maybe there should be an age limit to holding office? I mean, seriously? I’d retire now if I could afford to – I’ve got plenty of my own shit to do, and so little free time. Why the hell do we persist in electing people to office who are old enough to be reliably out-of-touch with current science and the real, lived concerns and struggles of everyday people? I’m not saying we’d do any better to fill the government with Zoomers… they lack life experience and depth of knowledge (although, I can imagine scenarios where that might be an advantage) and their childhood basic socialization was impaired by the pandemic. I think the ideal is somewhere between the extremes; sufficient lived experience to have begun building wisdom, but young enough that resilience and passion prevent cyncism and resignation… 35 to 65 maybe? If the “full retirement age” is 67, wouldn’t it be easiest to simply make that the end point for a career as an elected official? I’m not chucking asparagus at my elders – far from it – but look where we are with a gridlocked partisan government of elders faced with the real issues springing up from new technologies they have yet to embrace and understand fully? This isn’t working. I sip my coffee and think about that. There could also be a case made for only electing people who have retired from successful first or second careers, who are “taking a step back” into governance, maybe as a measure of “return on investment” by bringing their years of experience into administration that benefits everyone? I still see potential improvements in our shared experience that could come from an age “cap” on elected officials, in the sense that advanced years definitely come with some cognitive and intellectual limitations for many people. It’s complicated, isn’t it?

I correct my posture and shift restlessly in my seat, as I write and drink coffee, killing time before the library (where I’ll be working) opens (it doesn’t open until 08:00). This is a nice start to the day; I hope the entire day is similarly pleasant. I smile quietly, thinking of my Traveling Partner sleeping at home. He seemed pleased yesterday that I found an option for my morning that neither had me knocking about the house noisily, nor out on the trail before dawn, while I’m getting over the last symptoms of the flu – a solution that also allow him to sleep later than I do. Today also being a work day for the Anxious Adventurer, my beloved will have the house to himself for awhile, and being winter there is no chance at all that people will be mowing or making a ton of noise. I envy his many opportunities to enjoy solitude at home, but it also vexes me that he has to endure that solitude far more often than he needs it. It’s hard to find the right balance and maintain it. I’m glad he’ll get some rest today; I know he needs that.

The minutes tick by. I’m content to let them, and powerless to stop them anyway. I think about the weekend ahead; I’m overdue to take down the holiday decor. I usually do it on New Year’s Day, a sort of ritual for starting the new year with “order” from the merry chaos of the holidays. This year, having been quite ill for a couple weeks, I just didn’t have the energy for it. This weekend, I’ll get that done. My new friend from work may come down to visit on Sunday… maybe. We take turns canceling plans for “reasons”, and enjoy a friendship that respects that. We’ve both got disabilities that make changes of plans rather common. We’re not frustrated by it, because we see each other, and we “get it”. She’s a “Millennial” (as is the Anxious Adventurer), and once we set clear expectations for each other regarding communication we’ve had no stress over it (neither of us treat text communication as “real-time”, prioritizing IRL interactions over texting, but neither of us care to pick up the phone, either). I grin, thinking about how much I enjoy her conversation… haven’t yet given her a pseudonym. I think about her for a moment, her smile, her current buzz cut colorful hair, her humor, her drama, her story to tell… After a few minutes, I realize this is not going to be an easy one. She’s chaotic, and has a good heart – like me. We like so many of the same things in a similar way, it sometimes feels a little eerie…we’re fun together. I realize that in some other life I could perhaps love her differently, but that’s not where/who we are in this lifetime. Romance isn’t what we’re looking for out of this, and friendship is definitely something we are enjoying, and which meets a real need (at least for me). I sip my coffee. The Chaotic Comic… I smile, because the words bring to mind her face, and the alliteration amuses me. This will do nicely.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. The cafe turns on their mediocre background music (sorry Taylor Swift, I can’t listen to you every day, just not my thing, personally). I pick up my phone and turn on private background music – Bluetooth straight to my hearing aids. lol Sometimes I fucking love the modern world. 😀

The clock ticks on – and it’s time to begin again.

There is no map, only fellow travelers along the way willing to share a tip, or offer a warning. Listen or don’t, either way you’re making your own journey, and having your own experience. Sometimes you’ll be the dumbest person in the room. Sometimes it won’t be about you at all. Sometimes the path is clear, the way ahead smooth and steady. Other times, every day will present some new obstacle to be overcome. I guess I’m just saying…

…Keep walking (metaphorically speaking). The “way out” is through, and ultimately, the journey is the destination.

The co-work space is hushed and empty, this morning. I am alone for now, and it will be hours before anyone else shows up to do the things they do to bring home a paycheck, pay the bills, feed their families, and get by for another handful of mortal days. Yeesh. That sounds sort of gloomy, doesn’t it? I sigh to myself. I’ll admit that I’ve been yearning for some kind of retirement, or other opportunity to exit the treadmill of the modern workforce since I was… 17, and just joining the Army. Honestly, one of the selling points of that adventure was being able to “retire” at 38. I probably should have done more homework on that notion – since the practical truth of it is that very few people who retire from the military at 38 are actually able to properly retire at that point. Most go on to some second career, and work until some more typical retirement age, if they are able to retire at all. There’s no point holding back the truth of it; the military does not pay well. Those retirement benefits are often not sufficient to afford even a working-class quality of life, unless one is fortunate almost to the point of ridiculous luck, and living quite a charmed life, indeed. Again and again, I’ve looked ahead to some milestone and hoped to be done with “gainful employment” by then, only to find myself reaching that point quite unprepared to be able to retire (for a variety of reasons, some to do with me, some to do with circumstances). Our dreams and our realities don’t necessarily intersect in some fortuitous way that results in a fairytale life of leisure and good company. Mostly they don’t, actually, and we live the lives we work (sometimes too hard) to have, and we get by on some combination of circumstances and decision-making that falls short of our fantasties – that’s just real. No point being unhappy about that; reality does not care what we yearn for in our fondest daydreams. Everything we want in life has some sort of cost.

…Keep walking, and make wise choices…

I pull myself more upright, and take some deep cleansing breaths. My headache is not as bad today as it was yesterday, and I’m grateful – yesterday’s headache was much, and I got very little done as a result. My arthritis pain is what it is – and it’s winter, so what it is, is pretty awful. I shrug to myself, an expression of some combination of feeling resigned to it, and also being mostly rather unbothered by it; it has been part of my life, year after year, for close to 36 years now, slowly worsening over time. And if I had been offered a choice? Told about the arthritis is clear very certain terms? Would I have chosen not to have the surgery that kept me on my feet, and out of a wheelchair, in favor of some potential imagined future without the arthritis that would eventually develop in my spine? No, I would not have chosen to leave my shattered spine in the state it was in on some fantasy hope that it might magically heal on its own. There was no scenario – no realistic scenario – that was going to see me pain free in my 40s, 50s, and 60s. That would have been magical thinking, and the consequences would likely have been worse than any I deal with now. I’d have been seeing the world from a different vantage point, too (a wheelchair). Very few of the trails I am so fortunate to be able to enjoy walking are accessible to someone in a wheelchair. I take a moment for gratitude; I do love seeing those sunrises from the trail.

…Chronic pain is nothing if not ongoing. It could be worse, though. I got good sleep last night, and I face the new day feeling mostly pretty chill and comfortable, mostly pretty prepared. It is an ordinary enough work day, and the pain I’m in is manageable. I make a point to be grateful for that, too.

Are you making careful choices, or following along with someone else’s?

Our individual journeys are paved with our choices, our decision-making, our actions – and we’re walking a path that we largely create ourselves, moment-by-moment. Where does this path lead? Does it have any potential to take me to my goals? I sit with my coffee, reflecting on my life, my decisions, the consequences of my actions, and incremental changes over time. The new year is ahead. Am I the woman I most want to be? Are my day-to-day actions aligned with my values? Are my choices a reflection of consideration and will? Am I getting all I can out of this journey that is my lived mortal life? If I could change one detail of “who I am” effortless, like toggling a switch, what would that detail be? What would I change it to? Having identified this detail as something I’d like to change – am I prepared to then also make the choices and do the work to see it change over time? I think about how long it can take to make some kinds of changes really “stick”. It can be so much work! Sometimes the path seems unreasonably long as it stretches ahead of me. Sometimes that distance is an illusion. Your results may vary… We do become what we practice. Choose wisely.

…Keep walking…

I think about the pleasant holiday, and the weekend. I feel fortunate to have enjoyed both so thoroughly. I think about the gifts, the sweets, the moments, each so very beautiful, so delightful. We didn’t spend much (didn’t have much to spend), and that mattered not at all – it was all so well done, and there was so much love and genuine joy involved. The company was good. The food was good. The amount of consideration given to each other was exceptional. Presence definitely mattered more than presents, this year – and I’m grateful for all of it.

Stickers, and a novel I’ve never read – simple joys are worth savoring.

I sigh contentedly. I don’t need more out of this moment than I’ve already got. I’ve even got some time before work to enjoy a walk through this suburban neighborhood, still lit with holiday lights. After that? Another opportunity to begin again.

Weird dreams last night, surreal and strange, filled with conversations with long gone friends, and with my Dad (deceased, for many years now). It all seemed very real at the time. I woke feeling disoriented and somehow misplaced.

The drive to the trailhead was quiet and uneventful. No traffic at all, this morning, which is eerie enough on its own, but with the freezing stillness of winter and the fog, it was very spooky. The world looked as if it was being rendered immediately in front of me as I approached, and erased behind me. The morning is dark and cold, properly wintry, frost sparkling under street lights, and the temperature only 30°F (about -1°C?). Nothing looks icy, just frosty, but the highway feels different around the curves and on the bridges and overpasses. I take my time and drive with care. There is no rush. It’s Sunday.

The parking lot at the nature park is empty. No surprise there, I suppose; there aren’t many people who enjoy a walk in this cold so early in the morning. Same with me. I’m not here, now, preparing to walk because I have a fondness for walking in the dark on a freezing winter morning! It just happens that I wake quite early, and this is the timing that has developed over years of practice. I wake and begin my day with a walk, generally. Exceptions are rare. What I do enjoy greatly, even on a freezing morning (and  much of the point of this practice is about this characteristic), is the solitude. Time alone with my thoughts is precious.

Before dawn, with a longer exposure; the picture is not the reality.

A hint of daybreak coming is evident in a subtle change in visibility. The sky seems faintly lighter, the silhouettes of the trees darker and more clearly outlined against the sky. Details of my surroundings are becoming clearer. In the cold, I won’t be inclined to stop for long at my halfway point, and I won’t want to write with stiff cold hands. I take my time with it now, before I step out onto the trail.

My head aches. My tinnitus is loud. My arthritis is griefing me. My sinuses are congested with the lingering effects of having been ill. I could go on; being human can be messy, annoying, uncomfortable, and unpleasant. None of that shit is “the important stuff”, is it? Just distractions and obstacles on the path, right? Human. If I give in and let all the mundanities of pain and aging and illness command my attention completely, it tends to diminish the joy and beauty and wonder that are also very much part of this experience. Which has more value – watching daybreak unfold into a new day, or being vexed by pain? Where we focus our attention has a lot to do with the quality of our experience in a given moment. I sit with that thought as I watch the sky slowly change from night to day, content to enjoy this moment as it is.

I sigh quietly, thinking about 2025. It’s nearly over. There’s a whole new year queued up, ready for whatever we make of it. I have no “resolutions” or grand plans. I do have practices, and hopes for the future, and a handful of intentions I’d like to make good on. There are always verbs involved. My results reliably vary; this is a very human experience. I will do, and fail, and learn from my failures, and begin again. Sure, I’ll likely also succeed many times, and celebrate those successes, but I’m not likely to learn as much from them. (I hope to be appropriately grateful for the circumstances that are pleasant and comfortable. I hope to be gracious about help, and sufficiently self-aware to understand that I’m not “getting there” alone.)

We become what we practice. Choose wisely.

Dawn comes. Fog clings in the low places, obscuring the marsh trail and the meadow. It’s a bit warmer (35°F, now, about 1.5°C I think). Better for walking. I wrap my scarf around my neck, and pull my knit hat on. I look down the trail, feeling fortunate for this quiet solitary moment. It’s time to begin, again.

I woke rather randomly, feeling cozy and warm and not at all inclined to get up. I got up and dressed and left the house quietly, because it was clear that I wasn’t going to go back to sleep. I’d already “slept in”, for some values of sleeping in; it was 15 minutes later than I commonly wake. I feel rested. It’s fine.

The car was frosted, sparkling under the street lights, and the car door opened with a crackle, and some resistance. The morning air was quite cold. This is only the second hard frost of the season, the last one being weeks ago. Between them, it’s been mild and rainy. I started the car, and waited for it to defrost enough to see, and to warm up the engine. It’s not ridiculously cold, just freezing. I found myself grateful for the warm layers I put on this morning, without thinking much about the weather – it just happened to be what I had laid out last night as “options”. I wasn’t really thinking about options as I dressed, and I just put things on piece by piece, until I was dressed. I’m warm and comfortable. Suits the colder morning.

The trailhead parking is empty. I arrive before daybreak. It’s a little warmer here. Although still cold, it’s not freezing. Gloves, scarf, hoodie over sweater, cane in hand – I’m as ready as I’m going to get, but the cold and darkness are unappealing, and the frosty trail running alongside the marsh pond is more hazardous than it appears in some spots, and likely to be slick with frosty fallen leaves. I decide to wait for daybreak, more light, and maybe a degree or two of additional warmth. I’m in no hurry, it’s Saturday. I can write from the warmth and shelter of the car, sparing myself the experience of writing from the trail with freezing hands. I somehow doubt I will find sitting at my halfway point at all appealing on this wintry morning.

I stretch and yawn, listening to the traffic pass on the nearby highway. There’s not much of that this morning, only enough to keep me aware that this is not wilderness, and I already knew that. 😆

The darkness begins to ease, ever so slightly. I see hints of almost blue sky beyond the clouds, above the eastern horizon. It’s not quite 07:00… I sit quietly considering the lengthening days, noting with some small measure of wonder that the change is already so obvious. I don’t honestly prefer to walk in the darkness, it just happens to be “convenient”, for some values of “convenience”. I’m looking forward to seeing the sun rise as I walk this trail. It won’t be long; Spring is on the way.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. Meditation first, walking after, this morning. I’m okay with that. I do find habits, routines, and practices very useful, but being fixated on sequences or timing can create needless anxiety any time I deviate from some pattern that developed over time. That’s not healthy nor ideally flexible, and the day-to-day variance in timing and the order in which I do things prevents me from becoming “stuck” or inflexible. Rather than fight it, I try to embrace it without being bothered by it. Change is. I’ve found tremendous value in accepting impermanence and practicing non-attachment. Another breath, another exhalation, another glance at the horizon.

I sit with my thoughts awhile, reflecting on who I have become over the years. We become what we practice. This is reliably true. If you don’t like some characteristic of who you are, it’s very likely to be entirely within your ability to change that, through your own actions and decisions, with practice. Are your behaviors what you want them to be? Are you “your best self”, living your best life? What will you change today to become more that person you most want to be? What qualities make a person of “good character”? Do you embody those characteristics? You could, with practice. It’s your journey – your path to choose. Choose wisely.

One winter morning

The way ahead is visible. The path is clear.  It’s time to begin again, I suppose. I wrap my scarf around me, button my cardigan, and pull on my knit hat. Every journey begins with a step, and it looks like a great day to practice being the person I most want to be.

Giftmas comes and goes. It was delightful. I sit with my thoughts for a little while, waiting for the sun, or perhaps for the rain to slow to a sprinkle. This particular Giftmas is one to remember fondly, for sure; it was lovely from the first sip of my morning coffee to the last quiet moment as I drifted off to sleep. “No notes.” I wouldn’t change a thing about the holiday this year, even if I could.

The delights of this particularly good Giftmas holiday reminded me how little it is about the money being spent. This is a holiday season of limited resources for many people (including us), and we kept our budgets pretty minimal for this gifting holiday. More went into shared experiences, and far less into individual gifts. That’s okay, too. It was a fantastic holiday. (I hope yours was, too.) It was enough, and felt incredibly warm and connected and satisfying. Joyful.

… And it’s on to the next one; New Year’s Eve and day are coming up next, and only days away. Different celebration, different meaning and different milestones to observe. This year, as with every year of my adulthood, I’ll take One Hour for myself, at some point during the day, and I’ll honor the holiday by taking down all the holiday decor and putting it away again for another year. I find that it symbolizes change and renewal beautifully. It’s my way.

The rain stops. It’s still dark, and my boots hit the pavement with an unexpected splash; I am parked in a slight low spot, and step directly into a puddle in the darkness. I shrug that off, hopping quickly to dry pavement without soaking my boots through. Wet feet make an uncomfortable walk. I take my time, appreciative that for the moment, my feet don’t hurt. (I’ve been dealing with a flare up of plantar fasciitis for a few days.)

I thought about the holidays from this in between moment, as I walked to my halfway point. Capella (I think) is bright in the night sky, visible in a break in the clouds. I marvel silently over the gifts that stand out most in my recollection, some of which are promises of future delight (an interesting spice blend in a really cute little tin comes to mind), and others that will provide lasting comfort and joyful recollection (ooh, fuzzy warm spa socks!). Coloring books. (Yep, I’m a grown woman and an artist of many years experience – I still manage to be thoroughly delighted by a selection of cute coloring books.) lol I feel fortunate to share the holiday with people who get that what matters most is something unrelated to money. It’s the connection, the warmth, the sharing, and the sentimental fun of it all, far more than anything to do with a pricetag, I think.

… For a moment I wonder about what the person who won the more than one billion dollar Powerball prize on Giftmas Eve may have felt, somewhere in Arkansas (definitely a life-changing amount of money)…

The clock keeps on ticking, the wheel keeps turning, as the seasons change, and each milestone in a single human life is reached, then recedes into memory. This journey is the destination. How many steps (and practices, and changes over time) went into getting to this moment, and this beautiful holiday? So many. You may not be where you want to be in your life, right now, but you can choose to walk a path that may get you there – no guarantees that once you reach one goal or another that you will still see that outcome as “what you want” once you have achieved it. We’re somewhat more complicated than that, and we tend to “move the goalposts” as we play the game. There’s no map. No user’s guide. You choose your path. You define what success looks like. You do the work. Your life, on your terms – if you choose to accept the responsibility.

I sit at my halfway point watching the stars overhead twinkling brightly. It barely feels like winter here at all. The atmospheric river that brought the rain also brought these very mild temperatures. Like most things, it’s not likely to last. Winter will bring its icy blast at some point, but for now I enjoy the mild morning. I breathe, exhale, and relax, and take a few minutes in the predawn stillness for meditation.

Daybreak comes, the sky begins to lighten, I begin again; this path isn’t going to walk itself!