I’m grateful for the terrible cup of coffee in my hand as I walk this morning. I switch hands with it, warming each in turn, walking and watching the sun rise. There’s mist in the low lands along the marsh, but it looks like blue skies above, so perhaps a sunny day ahead?
I stop and set down my coffee to take an occasional picture.
I walk and watch the dawn become day. The air is crisp, clean, and cold. Frost edges the shrubs and dry grasses. The gravel of the path crunches under my footsteps. Lovely morning for a walk along the edge of the marsh, in spite of the cold.
The path beyond me beckons.
I walk with my thoughts. My heart is filled with love and gratitude. What a pleasant holiday my Traveling Partner and I shared! The meal was excellent. The day was merry, and we delighted in each other’s company all day long. We each exchanged holiday well-wishes with friends and loved ones over the course of the day. We had everything we needed and more, and it wasn’t necessary to go out into the world or run any errands. We enjoyed the day at home.
It’s a new day now. I’m enjoying this quiet time on the trail on a chilly Autumn morning. I wonder if my partner went back to bed for a bit more sleep? I smile and finish this dreadful cup of coffee before it goes cold, and drop the cup into a trash can on my way back to the car. It’s already time to begin again.
I’m sitting in the car, parked at the trailhead of a favorite trail. I’ve got a cup of coffee, and I am sitting in the predawn twilight listening to the rain and feeling the wind rock the car. I’m hoping for a break in the rain as day breaks, it’s sort of the point of being here so early on a Saturday morning, but I don’t honestly care one way or the other. I’m mostly out here at this hour hoping my absence gives my Traveling Partner a chance to sleep in after a restless night, without me clattering about the house.
The winds toss the big oaks on the hillside and scatter their leaves. The rush and roar of the wind reminds me of other times and places. Strangely moving, although I don’t really get why. I sit here weeping quietly. The marsh birds seem to be enjoying the currents, eddies, and updrafts of the stormy winds. I’ve got a decent view and content myself with sitting quietly and listening to the rain fall, spattering the car.
It’s Veterans Day. I think about “then”. Complicated memories. I pause my thoughts to wonder if I am always so sad each year when it comes around, but I can’t recall with any certainty, and I’ve shredded all my old journals, and I don’t have many connections that have known me long enough to say. I did bring along extra tissues. If nothing else, I knew I would be feeling blue today. I let the tears come.
A huge flock of Canada geese passes overhead. I think of my Granny, and find myself missing her greatly right now. I miss her strength, perspective, and wise counsel. I miss her laugh. I miss long Sunday morning drives, and walks together down country lanes.
My head aches and the tears keep coming. I let them. Eventually I will either venture out for some time on the trail (if the rain lets up), or I’ll dry my tears and put on “my public face” and do the grocery shopping before I head home. My arthritis continues to feel “worse than ever” this year, but acknowledging that I am struggling with a bout of depression, I have to wonder if it’s just amplified by misery and sorrow? Would I feel better if I just felt better? Seems likely but I don’t know what to do about that.
As the sky lightens without any hint of sunshine, mumurations of migrating flocks rise up from the marsh into the winds. The car continues to rock with the strongest gusts. The grasses and shrubs flutter. Storm flung leaves fall onto the car along with the rain. It’s all very Autumn. I sit enjoying the stormy weather. It’s appropriate to my mood. I’m alone here, and no one will be made uncomfortable by my tears. They fall as steadily as the rain. I take them no more personally than raindrops, since I don’t even know why I am crying.
I sit thinking about how best to have a nice time with my Traveling Partner, without burdening him with my bullshit and baggage, or carelessly mistreating him because I am in a shitty mood. How best to comfort and support him, nurture the relationship, and look after hearth and home without denying myself the same care and consideration…? What to share and what to “save for therapy”? How to be kind when I feel wounded? How to work through the chaos and damage without creating it for my partner? How to refrain from taking things personally that sure feel fucking personal sometimes? I’d very much like to be a better person than I am. I know I am a better person than I once was. Like a child on a long walk, I find myself crying because it just feels too far.
… A harsh inner voice griefs me yet again over self-pity and catastrophizing utterly mundane real-life bullshit that everyone probably goes through at some point. I don’t stop crying, but I do take notice of how incredibly unkind my “self talk” often is. I should probably work on that. I’d feel better if I did, most likely. I know where it comes from, and I understand it to be all tangled up with my challenges with internalized misogyny – a result of so many crushingly cruel, diminishing, or abusive relationships of one sort or another with male human beings (and male-dominated institutions). I don’t know what guided the path I took that brought me here. Perhaps it just seemed easier to nod and smile and try harder to be one of the guys? There were (and are) some real benefits to being that woman. There has been a real price to pay. This shit isn’t unique to my experience.
… I could do better…
The rain keeps falling.
There’s grocery shopping to do. Meals to plan. Thanksgiving is coming and I’d really like to feel thankful when it gets here. The laundry has piled up – which should have been a clue that I was spiraling down. There are outside chores to prepare the house for winter, this weekend. There are paintings as yet unpainted and new recipes to try. There’s a precious relationship to work on and holidays coming. It feels like so much and I am fearful that I am not up to the challenge… I can only do my best.
I am sipping my first coffee. It’s quite late in the morning on a Sunday. Feels like a lazy day, but I’m in the studio, after a lovely walk on a misty morning. The marsh trail is closed for the season. The all-year trail is still open, and quite lovely. The trees are wearing Autumn colors, and the migrating flocks of birds entertained me with their murmurations as the dawn became day.
Walking Autumn trails.
My Traveling Partner is in his creative space, printing parts, re-assembling a 3D printer, and doing his thing. I’m in my studio, in a similarly creative mental space. This morning my head is filled with art and meaning, connections and inspiration. I am thinking about the past – and the future. I am listening to music that connects those elements of my life in an entertaining way; Cyberpunk. This Billy Idol album came out in 1993 – well-before I had a computer on my desk, myself. I had read my share of William Gibson, of course, but pc’s were not yet commonplace and “smartphone” wasn’t even a word yet. I had yet to form the future friendships that would come to rely on internet connectivity to sustain them over time. Listening to Cyberpunk now, it has a lot of peculiarly prescient elements that now seem almost mundane and just a little “so what?” I find that quite interesting. It remains one of my “forever favorite” albums. My favorite track? Probably Adam in Chains… I think back on “that time”, and find myself wondering how I didn’t “pick up on” the value of mindfulness and a serious meditation practice then…? How did it take me so long to get here? I remember listening to Adam in Chains with my headphones on, or alone at home with the stereo cranked up, stressed to a breaking point, drifting deeper into a meditative state following the flow of the music…finding temporary peace. It wasn’t a practice, just a moment.
…Listening now, it lifts me and lifts me, and I feel a wholeness and contentment and joy, although the lyrics and music are not of a happy place or time…
I could have come farther, faster, sooner if I had made the connection, perhaps… It’s a complicated journey. I took some detours and some dead-end paths. I’m not even sure I regret those, knowing what I know now; it’s been a life well-lived. There’s no knowing which small detail, changed, would change all the rest. Would I give up even one friendship formed later to have healed sooner? I don’t think that’s a choice I’d want to make. If finding mental health, wellness, and emotional stability would have come sooner, but at the cost of never making the acquaintance of my Traveling Partner…? Would I have chosen sanity over love? I don’t know that I would, given a chance to make an informed choice. Love is pretty splendid.
Art inspired by life, new work in progress waiting for attention.
I tinker while I sip coffee and write. I pause the music when my Traveling Partner pops in to show me newly printed parts from the new 3D printer – pretty amazing stuff, and I delight in both the quality of the results and his obvious satisfaction. I re-connect the Bluetooth antenna to my desktop computer in order to pair the Cricut; it’s a pain in the ass to balance my laptop on my knees in the studio, when I could be using my desktop computer for the design work so much more conveniently, and it’s been holding me back a bit. The beat pounds in my ears as I type. My coffee is still warm, and well-prepared. It’s a good day for art and play and love – I feel inspired.
I’m a slow learner. I mean, I’m often “quick to understand”, but it can take a surprising amount of time and repetition before something I’ve been exposed to as an idea actually becomes part of my enduring thinking. I need a lot of repetition, and practice. Which is sort of good, from the perspective of potentially protecting me from succumbing to momentarily appealing dumb shit, but it also kind of sucks, because it just takes a long fucking time to get even long-studied knowledge past my impulse control challenges or resistance to change. Pretty human, honestly. It frustrates me. I’m thinking about it.
This Hallowe’en season I succumbed to my impulsivity with regard to noshing on goblin snacks far more often than is heathy for me. I did notice (that’s not nothing). It was definitely not “good for me” – and I’m making a point of paying attention to it. I found myself vexed by my impulsivity once or twice, even as I popped a tasty sweet into my mouth that I didn’t even actually want. Wild. Thought-provoking. So. I was thinking about it and found my way around and about to asking myself a couple questions pre-sweet, and mentally insisting that I ask & answer, every time. Every temptation (food-wise, I mean):
1. Do I need it to survive?
2. Do I need it to sustain my current activity level?
3. What need does this try to satisfy?
4. Is there a healthier or more nutritionally suitable choice?
It may seem rather facile or silly – or just fucking obvious. It also worked (for me). I more or less immediately cut out the nibbling or grazing on sweets (the sugar is really not good for me). Feels like a win. I’m hoping to hold on to this bit of progress, and maybe see where it takes me. Small wins matter a lot more than we tend to give them credit for. 😀
…Time passes too quickly to wait for New Year’s Day to make a change!..
It’s a big day, today – just a Saturday, but a new business machine makes its way into the shop tooling today. I can tell my Traveling Partner is excited. He’s practically vibrating with anticipation. I’m excited, too; I have “a thing” for interesting machines.
…The machine arrives. My partner confirms it when I ask. There it is on the dining table, quite real, sitting there after the initial unboxing, taking up space (it’s not yet a familiar sight). My partner asks me to bring him his smaller flashlight, and to open the curtains for better light, and for help with picking up the packing material that is strewn about. I open the curtains, bring the flashlight, and pick up the packing material (putting it back into the shipping box, just in case there’s any reason it may need to go back). I get back to my own doings, and these musings, shortly afterward… it’s a pleasant day for another cup of coffee, so I made one. But… it’s pretty late in the day (after 4 pm), and I’m probably more thirsty than truly wanting a coffee, so I also get a big glass of ice water, and wander back to my studio. I quickly find myself drinking the water, ignoring the coffee.
…Which brings me back to those damned questions! LOL
A full moon setting one recent frosty morning.
It’s never too late to begin again. I mean, if there’s life left to live, there are choices and opportunities ahead. Don’t like things as they are? Do something differently. Maybe it won’t change the world, but it can certainly change your experience of it. 😀 Sometimes, that’s enough.
…I didn’t say any of it is easy. Some of the questions are hard questions. Sometimes I don’t like the answers. Sometimes the choices are complicated. Sometimes the opportunities seem limited. Sometimes I feel trapped by my circumstances (although often it’s only my own thinking holding me back). I just keep at it. I mean… what else?
I take a sip of my rare 3rd coffee, and recall a time in my life when I pretty much drank coffee all day, from the first cup after waking, until I finished a final after dinner coffee sometime much later. I had coffee at my desk while I worked, and coffee in my canteen (when it should have been water). I had a favorite mug at home, and a favorite table in the nearest cafe in every town I lived in as an adult. It’s not about the coffee. It took me awhile to understand that. It’s always been about the moment, and coffee just happened to be the handy vehicle for living it, for me personally. The obvious reason to take a break. The good excuse to sit down for a minute. The excellent opportunity to get together with friends. The very mundane process I could use to anchor myself to reality in a moment of emotional crisis.
This is an excellent cup of coffee. It’s a very pleasant moment. I breathe. Exhale. Relax. I’m here. Now. It’s a good place and time to be this woman I’ve become over the years. I’m good with it. It’s enough.
So… about that next new beginning…? I wonder where this path leads?
I woke to my silent alarm, but only once the lights were at full brightness. I got up, dressed quietly and managed to leave the house without making any loud or abrupt noises, hoping my Traveling Partner slept through my departure. He needs the sleep after a restless night, I know.
Morning mist, early walk.
I enjoyed a nice walk along a partially lit trail which meanders through oak groves and vineyards, returning to the car before ever hearing from my partner that he has started his day. I stretch and do some yoga. I take time to meditate. I double check that I am on time with my morning meds.
I look at the time and make a note that I will need to return home by 09:00, regardless, to begin the workday, but I still had some time… So, I decided to write a bit. I chuckle to myself; it would be easier on my laptop, which is specifically portable for exactly this sort of thing. lol I should perhaps begin bringing it along in the morning…
… So far a pleasant morning. I slept okay, aside from being confronted crossly by my partner when he found himself wakeful, struggling to breathe comfortably, and wondering what was up with me, and whether I might be the cause of his discomfort. I eventually got back to sleep. I was also awake, having been awakened when my mask seal broke (I probably turned over awkwardly) and needed to remove and reposition it. Correlation is not causation, but perhaps my sudden movement to remove my mask woke him? Or the sound of air leaking past my cheek? I don’t know. Well. Shit. At least it’s not my snoring keeping him from sleeping.
I keep my eye on the time, hoping that he wakes up before I come home; I just don’t want to be the thing that wakes him up, this morning. I’m in quite a bit of pain, and a little grumpy myself as a result, and I know how cranky he can be when he doesn’t sleep well. I don’t feel like dealing with any of that, just want to get on with the day gently and enjoy a good cup of coffee with my Traveling Partner before work…
… Or just work, if he’s not in that place himself…
Sometimes adulting is hard, and inconvenient. Sometimes I’ve just got to begin again and do my best to do better. 🙂
Evening Light 