Archives for posts with tag: simple joy

I woke up slowly this morning, slipping gradually from strange distressing dreams of poverty, privation, and desperate futile “choices”. My dreams were anxious and restless. I dreamt of drinking terrible coffee on a sweltering morning, sitting on the edge of broken second-hand patio furniture – no AC, windows thrown wide to non-existent breezes through the night, hoping for a moment of cooler temperatures. I dreamt fretfully of having to choose between paying the electric bill and buying food, and of having to choose between filling a prescription or putting gas in an unreliable car. Would it even start next time I needed it? I dreamt of times gone by, and times I’ve never lived but recognize to be within the realm of possibility in a human lifetime. I dreamt of being in my final years, without means, without partnership, alone and deeply concerned about seeing another sunrise. I squinted at the rising sun in my dreams, anxious, then woke slowly to the lights coming on in my room, here, now, okay. Fucking hell. I’m not sure I’d call my dreams “nightmares” – there was no terror, really, only sorrow, and despair, and trying to so hard to make something of nothing last long enough to be… enough. My dreams were drenched in the anxiety of effort and insufficiency – and even in my dreams I found myself trying to find the best of it, to find the small joys in that dismal existence, sitting quietly with my coffee watching the sun rise. It wasn’t enough – but I felt some tiny fragment of hope and clung to it desperately.

…Fucking hell. I definitely do not need more nights like that

Still, I sip my (relatively shitty) cup of coffee this morning, thinking about luck, circumstances, good fortune, and how very hard a person can work at life, at trying to provide for their family, at trying to live well within limited means – and how easy it is to fail at all of that, anyway. People get mired in despair because life can be hard. Very hard. Sometimes it not only seems like there is “no way out” – it may even be true in some limited sense. Rough. Sometimes doing better or “finding our way” requires really difficult decision-making, or even what feels like a complete “do-over”. Scary. None of that is easy. You know what is easy? Being a jerk to people when you do not know, or can not understand, what they are going through. Super easy to be a raging asshole, lacking in compassion and consideration. (For a choice bad example, we need only look to Congress trying to pass a budget.) Maybe don’t do that, though, right? Just don’t be a jerk to people.

Simple joys are worth savoring and it doesn’t take much effort to be kind.

It’s a good morning to reflect with gratitude on my good fortune, and where I am in life right now. I breathe, exhale, and relax. I embrace the quiet somewhat rainy looking morning with a measure of joy; I am not in that place where my dreams placed me. I’m not wealthy (not even “affluent”). I have enough to meet my basic needs. My Traveling Partner and I are comfortable together, managing life together. We provide for each other; it’s likely neither of us would be in the same place in life without each other. I smile thinking of the cute 3D printed earrings I am wearing this morning – he made them for me. That he made them with me in mind matters so much more than their intrinsic value. They’re plastic – super cute and I love them. Diamonds could not ever please me on the same level at all – their cold sparkle would only remind me of what I don’t have and can’t (or have not) achieved. They would exist to say something to someone else, and I would wear them only to “make a statement” – and one which I don’t personally feel moved to make. I’m not competing with the world. I’m walking my own path. I don’t aspire to diamond jewelry – only to loving and being loved, living well (within our limited means), and finding joy in a life that is enough. But that’s me. You do you, I guess. 😀

Who are you? What do you really want out of life? Where does your path lead? You will become what you practice – what are you practicing?

My mind wanders. I reflect awhile on how best to avoid being a jerk to people (even when I’m tired, or in pain, or aggravated by something). So many people suffering, doing what they can with too little, just trying to get by… I think awhile on being kind, being considerate, demonstrating concern and compassion, and how best to be the woman I most want to be. “Being and becoming” seems to be a long, sometimes rather slow journey from the greed and demanding inconsiderate foolishness of childhood to … something else. Something better, ideally, something practiced and thoughtful, and patient, and wise, and… fuck I’ve got work to do on this “being my best self” stuff! So many negative examples out there in the world, too – I know who I don’t want to be. I know how I don’t want to behave. I guess it is a starting point, eh?

The clock is ticking, but there’s time to begin again. Do better. You have choices.

Cold morning. I woke a little early to quiet darkness, happy to maybe catch a glimpse of the full moon, but thinking mostly about primroses. I dress and head to the trailhead.

A first glimpse of the full moon – first one of the Spring.

Yesterday I planted strawberries in the flower beds, thinking they’d make a good ground cover. My Traveling Partner surprised me by having a decidedly strong negative opinion on that idea. He’d put a lot of work into the lawn, and he was worried about the strawberries spreading into the lawn and taking over. (Seems less than likely to me… but my partner knows plants.) Although I’m willing to watch for that and take preventative measures, the truth is, I’m also somewhat lazy, and prone to letting shit fall behind if I lack sufficient energy for the task. I see how under such circumstances, strawberries could become…weeds.

Rather than cause my beloved lasting stress, I propose replanting those strawberries in their own raised bed on the west side of the house, instead. He likes that idea much more. I’ll do that later today. The Anxious Adventurer helps out by assembling an inexpensive raised bed for that purpose from a kit I purchased at the garden store. (I could have done that, true enough, but I’m notorious for doing a pretty half-assed “good enough” job on such things, and both my Traveling Partner and his son like to see things built well.) I’m grateful for the help.

Those bare expanses of border around and between the blueberries? I decide I’ll fill those in with primroses, which are doing very well at the other end of the bed and needing to be divided as it is. Primroses, though? Primroses?

Pink primroses thriving in my garden.

The primroses are a story of their own, I suppose. I never had “a thing” for them before I moved into this house. They’ve grown on me as they grow in my garden. They were just a couple of garden store primroses added to the front flower bed by the previous owner for last minute “curb appeal” when the house was put on the market. There they were. Blooming. lol Just some random flowers, added to the edge of the bed, visible each time I left the house. Unimpressively commonplace, I used to think. Over five years those three original primroses have become large beautiful clumps, well-established and thriving, and blooming like crazy from the earliest Spring days well past the end of summer. They do so well, and they’ve got such fun bold colors, I’ve added a couple more, on some whim, each Spring. Those are spreading too. Don’t know why I thought strawberries were a necessary addition – just divide the damned primroses! Welcome them and take them seriously!

So, now I have what feels like a proper plan in mind and I’m impatient to proceed. My Traveling Partner’s lawn is under no threat from the primroses, the strawberries will do well in a raised bed protected from slugs, and I get flowers and strawberries. Win.

It’s hard to get a clear picture, sometimes it’s better to simply observe. It’s a metaphor.

I watch the moon set over the marsh, and add a reminder to read up on primroses. I really don’t know much about them. I guess knowing more makes sense. They’re pretty. Do they have history? Where are they native? Are there wild varieties? I know so much about roses. I know so little about primroses. Are there other colors and shapes that might look good in my garden, too? What else is there to know? I smile to myself. Such a simple thing to give me so much joy.

Where are you finding simple joy? What do you do to cultivate that in your life?

Begin again.

A mist has developed on the marsh, clinging to the ground, thick in low places. It’s a cold morning. I look down the trail. The full moon attracted quite a few early risers to the trail this morning. I lace up my boots and grab my cane. The clock is ticking and it’s time to walk the path I’ve chosen. Another day, another beginning.

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.

It’s a sunny Sunday morning in Autumn. It wasn’t frosty this morning, but quite cold (not quite freezing). The morning has been lovely. Intimate. Romantic. Connected. I enjoyed the shared experience of coffee with my Traveling Partner, and this lovely Sunday morning, savoring each minute.

Eventually, his morning and mine diverged ever so slightly; he heads into his woodshop, I sit down with my listing of things to do. I favor Sundays for thorough housekeeping and mindful service to hearth and home. 🙂 It’s become a practice, over time, and I find it a satisfying approach to ending one week and moving on to the next. It’s definitely more satisfying still, with this lingering smile on my face. I feel very loved. It’s a beautiful morning.

I take a minute for small things of value. Little things I enjoy and appreciate. I make room in my thinking for some moments of gratitude. What an interesting journey this “life” thing is, yeah? I think of faraway friends, and remind myself to send this one an email, that one a letter, maybe, just maybe, pick up the damned phone once in a while. 🙂 These lasting friendships are an important part of my journey, my history, my story – and my success along the way. Totally worth taking the time to check in once in while, with people who are dear to me.

A small bird lands on a branch of the pear tree beyond the window, and sits there briefly as the branch bobs in the breeze, before flying away for some other branch, in some other tree. An ordinary bird. An ordinary moment. I make a point of savoring the simple delight I take in the sight, nonetheless. (Have you ever stopped to consider how very few things in life – good or bad – are truly “extraordinary” in any way? If we reserve our joy for only the outstandingly joyful moment, aren’t we short-changing ourselves on many many hours of heart felt smaller joys? How sad.)

My coffee is almost gone. What’s left is cold. The sunshine reflected off the side of my neighbor’s house reminds me that the day will not wait for me, and I’ve got quite a list of things I’d like to do today. 🙂 It’s already time to begin again. 😀