Archives for posts with tag: sit happens

It’s a peculiar sort of morning. I slept through to my lights coming on to wake me, which is rare. I woke groggy and stupid,  confused about what day it is, and whether I have some major activity planned for the weekend ahead…I felt certain I was forgetting something (I was). Only just now,  after a walk through an oak grove shrouded in early morning mist did I remember; I’m taking the car in for some repair work tomorrow morning. lol Nothing critical to know today. Funny that I couldn’t remember.

Morning mist and solitude.

My tinnitus is crazy loud this morning,  something like very distant warning klaxons  going off, or “shimmery chimes” in a breezy garden… describing it accurately eludes me, though I often want to try. In my left ear, there’s a short morse code “phrase” buried in the static, on the right I hear the backup warning of a construction vehicle and chuckle to myself when I realize I am actually hearing that. I clear my throat, startling myself with how loud that seems.

My thoughts wander. I meditate after I change from my boots back to my shoes. I  sit in the early morning stillness,  grateful for the quiet moment. The work day will begin shortly. The bustle and fuss of adult tasks and caring for hearth, home,  and partner with recommence on the other side of this quiet time. I avoid thinking about how fucking tired I am at the end of these days. I feel encouraged by the progress my Traveling Partner is making and remind myself gently to “hang in there “. I’ve been doing my best, but it often doesn’t feel like enough,  and I’m not certain I have it in me to do more/better.

My back is already aching fiercely. I take medication for that, with a sigh and a frown.  I don’t like having to rely on Rx pain relief and approach doing so with some reluctance and considerable care. I’m looking forward to the drier summer days ahead, when I rarely need pain medication to manage my day-to-day pain.

…One of the most difficult things to come to terms with after I broke my back years ago was the likelihood that I would deal with chronic, nearly continuous pain for the remainder of my life… but it has proven to be the situation, and “wishing it away” doesn’t work for me nearly as well as facing it, accepting it, and learning coping skills for dealing with it. I try not to let pain call the shots, limit what I do, or prevent me from enjoying my life. My results vary. Some days are better than others. Today I fucking hurt. I’m in a pretty good mood though,  and that’s a win.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I make a point to let go of vaguely vexing miscellany that doesn’t require my attention. This “here and now” moment is pretty pleasant. I take time to enjoy it before I begin again.

I’m sipping my coffee and thinking about delight and awe, and captivating small wonders that press “pause” on some random moment, infusing it with something more than the ordinary.

Mushrooms in the lawn.

I strolled around the garden yesterday evening, taking a moment for myself to adjust to being home at the end of a very busy workday. The moment was carved out of the time between dinner and relaxing with my Traveling Partner. I could have been busy on housekeeping but chose, instead, to delight my senses with the garden in Spring. I turned a corner into the side yard, and laughed out loud with pure joy to see a rather large number of small mushrooms had popped up. This is the first Spring for the lawn that my Traveling Partner put in last summer. I’m still smiling about the mushrooms. They aren’t particularly significant or important (or useful to me in any obvious way), they just … please me. It’s enough.

I sit sipping my coffee thinking about how difficult I find it to carve out these small moments of delight for myself lately, and wonder what I could be doing differently to make that easier, and these moments more common. I read something recently about the experience of “awe” or wonder being very good for us cognitively. I know I enjoy those experiences, very much. The joy is reason enough to pursue the experience of awe, wonder, or delight, isn’t it?

I remind myself to start “taking a minute” to really sit with my thoughts, uninterrupted, after work. It’s a helpful practice that reduces how much small shit I’m likely to forget, and that matters.

The weekend is almost here. I think back to a delightful relaxed moment of solitude and thoughtfulness during my recent coastal getaway. I sat alone in the car, as the rain battered every surface. The noise of it was impressive, but not the sort of thing to interrupt my thoughts, quite the opposite; it was easy to focus on my inner experience with the rain drowning out all else.

A moment with my own thoughts.

It’s sometimes difficult to get those moments of solitary thoughtfulness. Doing so often requires explicit expectation-setting, and actually speaking up about the need. For some reason, I find myself reluctant to make a point of doing so, seeking instead to “find” those experiences of solitary reflection arising naturally from the flow of things – and that has proven time and again to be a poor choice. Unreliable at best. I sip my coffee and think that over for some quiet minutes. There’s a real need here. It’s clear I need to “use my words” to meet that need. Why would that make me so uncomfortable in the moment? I sit sipping coffee and thinking…

…The sun rises beyond the windows of the office. The sky is a pale blue streaked with white clouds high in the atmosphere, and dotted here and there with fluffier grayer clouds nearer to the rooftops. I wonder what the weekend weather will be like, and whether I’ll be able to get a hike in, and work in the garden? There is so much to do, too…

…It’s already time to begin again…

I’m sitting at the trailhead, waiting for the sun. I use the time to meditate, which doesn’t use all the time I have for waiting. I sit quietly awhile, reflecting on life, generally, and looking out over the seasonal lake on the other side of the highway observing the way the clouds and water reflect distant lights. I listen to the sounds of traffic, and my ceaseless tinnitus.

I take a moment to make a packing list for my upcoming weekend trip to the coast. I decided last night to take a paint box with me, and maybe spend some time painting seascapes and coastal landscapes. Should be fun and relaxing. My packing list completed, I update my to-do list for today, too. It’s not a lot, but the meal I plan to make for dinner has some specifics that will drag my ass into the kitchen for some tidying up, and I definitely need to finish doing the dishes so the kitchen will be ready for cooking a proper meal later. I’m making a Bolognese sauce and I plan to make enough to have some left to set aside for my Traveling Partner to enjoy while I am gone.

The day feels planned. Even the next few days seem pretty well laid out. Oh, for sure my lived experience will have some variations from anything I’ve put on a fucking list; the map is not the world. Still, I feel prepared, and that’s a feeling I like.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. This is a pleasant quiet moment, as I wait for the sun. The weather is unseasonably mild, and it’s not raining. I sit quietly, enjoying the moment for what it is before I begin again.

I’m sitting at the trailhead, early on a Saturday morning before dawn, listening to the rain on the windows of my car. I watch the lights of passing cars on the nearby highway sweep over the soggy roadside and the marsh beyond. I am waiting for a break in the rain and for the gate to the park to open. I won’t have to wait much longer on the gate, it opens at daybreak.

I’m sipping an iced espresso, more ice than coffee, and thinking about yesterday. New job. Well… Same job, but as a full-time employee rather than a contractor. I’m smiling as I recall the moment, because my boss seemed every bit as excited to make the offer as I was to receive it, and said some pretty great things about the work I’ve done so far. It feels really good to get that kind of validation.

… I remind myself not to take the compliments personally, just as I would if I had been grievously insulted; they’re words. Opinions. Impressions in the moment. They provoke an emotional reaction, sure, but my own lived experience reminds me they guarantee nothing and provide no assurance of a particular outcome.

… Still… I’m pleased and excited. It’s a step I wanted to take and it puts me in a good place for the year ahead. I sit quietly with the feeling of eagerness and contentment for awhile, waiting for daybreak.

Daybreak comes. The park gate opens. The geese begin their day and I hear them honking at each other before I see them overhead. The rain just keeps coming down steadily. Too rainy to bring the camera out. I wait, still hopeful I might get a break in the rain sufficient to walk a couple miles along the soggy marsh trails. Maybe. Maybe not.

I sit wondering what to do with the day before remembering it’s time to take down all the holiday decor and put it away for another year. I’d almost forgotten all about it. lol My heart is still celebrating, I suppose. It’s not that there’s all that much joy available in the world right now, more that it is more urgent that we savor the joy there is.

I sip my coffee (honestly more ice water than coffee at this point) swirling it in the cup to hear the ice rattle. Life can change so quickly. I sit with my thoughts, my joys, my sorrows. I enjoy the pleasant stillness and solitude awhile. No agenda. No demands on my time or attention. Just this moment, the rain, and the sounds of the geese… It’s enough.

… Later, I’ll begin again.

Well, it’s my last work shift before a new year begins. Damn this year went by so fast. It’s been… much. Google “2023” and there are plenty of articles and listicles and videos already available breaking it all down, in spite of the clock not yet running out on 2023. Another year behind us…

…Another chance to do better, to begin again…

I’m not a fan of “resolutions” as a New Year’s celebration. I mean, the intention is good – make a change. Good goal. Most people focus on fitness, diet, exercise, something they’d like to do, some aspirational change of habit… and most people, most years, fail on most resolutions. It’s just not ideally effective as an approach, I guess.

I’ve got a list of books I’d like to read this year (most of them are to do with work related topics). I’ve got a goal in mind to walk a given number of miles this year (and it’s a bit more than last year). I have it in mind to do a better job with my self-care day-to-day and to continue down my path, maintaining or even improving on the practices that generally tend to support my generally good quality of life. I’ve even got my eye on being a better partner – and a better person. A better listener? That, too. It’s a lot to shoot for. lol All good stuff. Reasonable. Useful. Lofty. I can expect it to be a lot of work. I can expect my results to vary. There will be verbs involved – many. I can expect more failures than successes – at least initially; it takes time to build a practice (and repetition, a lot of repetition). There it is. A new year “all planned” and filled with an idea of who this woman is who I would most like to be. It’s at least a starting point. I can’t call myself “resolved” though, and I don’t view these as “resolutions”… I’m just a woman with an idea of what I’d like to get done next year, or see changed. I’ll do my best.

I still make a firm practice of taking “One Hour” each New Year’s Day, to reflect and evaluate and wonder. It’s a meditation, a self-care practice, and a worthwhile means of celebrating the new year without a lot of boozy noise and distractions, which I’m not really much into, myself.

I sit quietly with my morning coffee, gazing at the waning moon hanging above the city. Quiet morning. Lovely. Peaceful. I got a better night’s sleep than I have in the last couple days, but woke early to find my Traveling Partner already up, himself, quietly watching videos. A moment or two of conversation later, and I made the drive into the city for this last shift. Then… the weekend, the new year, and the whole cycle begins again, with spending much of New Year’s Day taking down all the holiday decor and returning it to storage for another year.

I sigh out loud, sip my coffee, and get ready to begin again.