Archives for posts with tag: stay on the path

I am waiting for the sun, at a local trailhead. I’m not in any hurry, and it is a calm, quiet morning. The forecast says maybe it’ll rain, later. For now, I amuse myself wondering if that’s lightning I just saw. What I definitely saw was a brief very bright diffuse flash of light somewhere beyond the clouds obscuring the predawn sky, and then, later, another. I didn’t hear thunder, so I guess that if it was lightning (what else would it be?) it must be quite far away.

In the darkness, before dawn, it’s easy to wonder.

Another work day. Nothing much to say about that.

My tinnitus is crazy loud in my ears. My spine is a column of pure pain; I tell myself it’s “only” arthritis. It’s an unhelpful bit of exaggeration, but I count on it to persuade me that the pain can safely be ignored. I take my morning medications, which include prescription pain relief. It helps some, but only serves to “take the edge off”. It’s been a long time since it was any more effective than that.

I sigh to myself and grab my cane. I’ve got enough daylight now to walk this trail safely. I get started…

… I walk, lost in my own thoughts, and find that I’ve gone down and around and back to my starting point, already. It’s still early, barely daybreak. I decide to walk the loop again (it’s only about a mile and a half)…

I stop at a favorite resting point, when I reach it. My mind wants to dart ahead, to focus on work, but it is not yet time for that, and I pull myself back to this moment, here. The sky is gray, and cloudy, with the look of a sky that might rain, maybe. The air smells of rain, too. Another flash of distant lightning, another hint at rain.

Weather…or not.

The hills far to the west are hazy, looking more like a watercolor impression of hills on the horizon, and a bit unreal. This moment even feels a little unreal. Too quiet. Too still. The darkness of the trees between me and the river beyond seem vaguely spooky, although they have no secrets. It’s just a row of trees along the river bank. I walk here often.

I watch the sky continue to lighten, as daybreak becomes dawn, and an unseen sun rises somewhere beyond the clouds. The sky shifts from night black, to the deep blue of dawn, to the gray and cloudy sky I see now, and hints of pale blue behind the clouds peeking through where the clouds shred slowly as they move… north? North. I breathe, exhale, and relax. Somewhere nearby, the noise of a trash truck interrupts the stillness.

I sigh to myself as I get to my feet to finish my walk and head to work. Whether or not it actually rains, there’s still weather of some sort. Whether or not my path takes me where I expect to go, it still leads me somewhere. Having the experience is what matters most – the being and doing are the point. The journey is the destination. Isn’t that enough? I think about that as I stretch. The clock is ticking, and it’s time to begin.

It was dark when I left the house for my walk. It’s still dark now. I decide to meditate and write before my walk, instead of during, or after. I’m not in any great hurry, this morning, and it would be helpful to shift my routine to begin and end just a bit later each day, if I can. (The local university library is open to the community, and is a very pleasant and convenient place to work, but doesn’t open until 08:00). I can definitely take a few minutes for myself, early in the morning.

This first week at the new job is going well. Expectations are high, and I feel comfortable with those; everything asked of me is within my abilities. I smile contentedly to myself. It’s also very nice to have found a new very local place to co-work that isn’t a cafe. I like being near to home in case my Traveling Partner is faced with some urgent need, though that’s quite rare now. It’s nice to get home after a busy work day without the experience of a long sometimes aggravating commute.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. It’s just me, and this quiet moment, waiting for enough daylight to see the trail without a headlamp. The sky is already turning a deep bluer-than-black and the trees are clearly silhouetted.

A moment of quiet, a ticking clock.

I think about work, and life, and rest, and the ongoing challenge of finding balance midst the chaos. Still feels like the world is burning, and I’m deeply disappointed in American “democracy” every time I contemplate the shit storm that is the current “administration” – seems more like a clown car, driven by a rapid squirrel, full of angry weasels with a trunk full of explosives, headed straight into a fucking dumpster fire, but I’m sure my expectations that elected officials be both qualified and ethical is unreasonable. Fucking hell, do better, People. Cast your vote with at least a modicum of basic consideration for the consequences, if you are unable to choose wisely based on demonstrable truth. I’m so over all of the partisan bullshit, corruption, and self-serving bootlicking of billionaires and special interests.

I breathe deeply and exhale slowly, and let all of that go. Daybreak is here. The trail begins to reveal itself. I lace up my boots and grab my cane. It’s time to begin this new day, and follow my path where it leads.

I am relaxing at camp, drinking coffee, and listening to the sound of little girls playing. It’s hard to be annoyed by their obvious joy and merriment as they play some version of make-believe.

My night passed in relative comfort, for some values of comfort, I suppose. It could have been worse, and I’m not ill, so there’s that. My guts were a mess and I definitely would have liked a camp site closer to the restrooms, but I got by without too much bother (trust me, you don’t want the details 😂) and eventually slept soundly and restfully.

One of my “neighbors”.

I sit with my coffee and my thoughts, watching the wildlife carefully exploring the edges of my camp. Birds. Bunnies. Squirrels. Chipmunks. Sooo many chipmunks! I got the solitude and quiet that I was looking for out on the trail. Camp is calm and relaxed but, at least for now, not especially quiet – but as I said, it’s hard to be annoyed by “a joyful noise”.

Another friendly visitor to my camp.

I hiked on aching legs, at a gentle pace, and got a couple miles in, early. I strolled down to the lake after my first coffee, and sat for a little while watching the reflections on the water. No drama. No fuss over this or that. No errands to run. No chores to do. Just me watching the minutes slip by like ripples, feeling the breeze and listening to the sounds of birdsong. Quite a lovely morning.

Reflections on the lake, a calm cloudy summer morning.

Now back at camp, I’m doing more or less the same thing; sitting quietly, listening to the sound of the forest around me, and sipping a cup of coffee that is much better than the first. 😆 While I am grateful for this good cup of coffee, I have no explanation for the variance in quality – and I don’t bother looking for it. There’s no need. It’s enough to enjoy the moment and to appreciate the good cup of coffee. This is often true of circumstances. It may be enough to be present, to be grateful, to enjoy the moment, without seeking to explain it, define it, or troubleshoot some detail. So… I just go with it. It’s enough as it is.

There are so many paths to choose from…

I watch the chipmunks creeping closer. There’s a particularly bold one who definitely wants to check out the top of the picnic table, but hasn’t decided whether I’m a threat. I sit quietly, waiting, watching. Camp is getting noisier; campers are preparing to leave. I look over my trail map, and consider which trail to attempt next. The choice is mine – and eventually it’ll be time to begin again. For now there’s no hurry, just chipmunks, and this moment. 😁

I woke rested and feeling comfortable and awash in a feeling of contentment. I got through my morning routine without making some sort of loud noise. I made it to the trailhead before sunrise, but just after daybreak.

I caught a glimpse of Mt Hood and the beginning of a colorful sunrise.

It’s a beautiful morning. I sigh contentedly and lace up my boots. The trail is dim but not dark. There are little birds everywhere, and the air smells of flowers. I’ve got my cane, my camera, and this moment. It’s enough. There’s a work day ahead, but that’s later. I need to remember to water the garden, but that time is not now. I’ve got an appointment to keep in the afternoon, but that requires no attention from me, yet. It’s just me, this trail ahead of me, this moment, and a glimpse of the sunrise.

I grin happily to myself and grab my cane to get started. The clock is ticking and it’s time to begin. Again.

The map is not the world. The plan is not the experience. I’m chuckling to myself over my iced coffee, hastily prepared on my way out this morning. I woke at my usual time, but ahead of my alarm. I woke from a sound restful sleep that followed a deeply relaxing day of self-care and creativity.

… I woke thinking it was Monday, and that I was “running late”…

I rushed through my morning routine, quickly made coffee, and quietly left the house (very much in the usual way). I was heading to the office in dense traffic and a drenching rain before I remembered that I’m off work today (and tomorrow… and next Monday…), and that I’ve got very different plans than work. It is, however, raining quite hard, too hard for unfamiliar mountain roads in darkness, too hard for plein air painting with soft pastels, later.

…I hope the rain stops…

I head to a nearby familiar local park with a favorite trail to wait for daybreak, and (maybe) a break in the rain. I’ve got plans, sure, but I’ve also got backup plans (mostly amounting to alternate destinations). Rather than frivolously wasting fuel going all the way to one location then to another, I give myself some time to wake up properly, get my bearings, and wait for more daylight while I think things over. The whole point of this time off is to do with relaxing and indulging artistic inspiration. There’s no need to rush at all. No rules imposed on my decision making beyond being safe. No “timeliness requirements”, no “KPIs” or “SLAs”. If I wanted confirmation that I need this break from work, this morning’s somewhat panicked wake up certainly provided that!

It’s still quite early. The rain pauses long enough for a quiet walk in the pre-dawn gloom along the well-maintained partially lit trail. I gather my thoughts and consider the various locations I’d identified as being of particular interest this week. (Damn, yesterday was such a lovely day! Such a beautiful place!) I’m still inclined to head to the view points I’d selected (already a backup for my original plan, which is at high risk of snow and difficult to access under such conditions), but it’s not a route I care to drive in the dark on a rainy day. I sit with that thought awhile.

One point of view, and a pleasant recollection. Mt Hood in the distance, yesterday.

At some point, a spirit of adventure and eagerness to explore becomes a careless disregard of safety. At some point, a strict focus on safety becomes a fearful reluctance to experience something new. There’s a path between those choices. That’s the path I’m looking for, and hoping to find fulfillment, inspiration, and joy along the way. The “destination” may not actually be important to the experience. The journey is the destination.

I sip my coffee, grateful for the time I’ve taken for myself. Grateful to have recognized the need and acted upon it. Grateful for a partnership that supports and nurtures me. Grateful to see another sunrise. The sky slowly begins to lighten. Soon it will be time to begin again… I wonder where this path leads?