Archives for posts with tag: sufficiency

I sip my coffee quietly, head aching. Back aching. Sort of “waiting on the next moment”, in the morning stillness. No walk, no commute, this morning, there are ice storms in the weather forecast and my Traveling Partner asked me to work from home, rather than worry about my safety on the road. So far this morning, the temperature is unexceptional, there is no rain falling (freezing or otherwise), and it’s a dry and clear winter morning. I did sleep in, though, which was quite nice.

My beloved wakes, and asks me if I would make his coffee and some breakfast? I step away from my desk, unsurprised, and do so, feeling contented and loved. He seems to be in a decent mood, but I can tell he’s also in pain. I remind myself to be patient and kind as the day wears on. As I make his coffee, I am reminded that the dishes need doing (hard to avoid that reminder; they’re in the sink, and I dislike that so intensely it’s hard to put words to it), and also that I have a prescription to pick up at the pharmacy if the weather holds out. Later. Later. I make myself some oatmeal, and get back to my desk and let my just-woke-up partner finishing waking up while he enjoys his breakfast.

It’s an ordinary enough morning, for one built on exceptions to the routine. In spite of the pain I’m in, I’m in a good mood, and feel pretty well-rested. Funny how much difference good sleep can make, isn’t it? I breathe, exhale, and relax. I take my morning medication. I eat my oatmeal. Walnuts and dried fruit with a bit of ginger, this morning, and it’s pretty good. My coffee is excellent. Good beans. Careful pour over that I made myself. It is, of course, precisely the way I like it. lol Sometimes little satisfying rituals, like making a cup of coffee “just so”, can be so intensely soul-nourishing. Definitely a fond practice, for me, although too often I rush through things or grab whatever coffee is near at hand and call it good enough – it’s not at all the same experience as taking the time and care to do it skillfully, with intention. There’s something to be learned in such things. Will I ever learn it? I hope I at least keep practicing. lol

I sip my coffee, grateful to have it. I am grateful for this warm cozy home, and the sound of my Traveling Partner getting his morning started in the other room. I’m grateful for this work space, which my partner set up with me in mind, measuring things and getting the ergonomics just right for me so I would be most comfortable, even on long work days. I’m grateful for the convenience and warmth of “quick cooking” oatmeal, and a pantry stocked with nuts and dried fruits and things with which to prepare meals. I am fortunate. It’s worth a moment of gratitude, however ordinary these things may seem. Running water. Indoor plumbing. A gas fireplace. Carpets and rugs over well-maintained floors. Electric lighting. You too? Probably – for most of these things – they aren’t all that out of the ordinary for a family in a small suburban home in the United States. It’s not a lavish life of luxury, generally speaking, although I have some things other people may not have for themselves, there are also a great many things some people have that I go without. There’s a variety of human experiences. I’ve lived worse off than I do now. Some people are by far better off than I find myself. It’s not a race or a competition, and I’m content to simply find my joy in sufficiency, and appreciate what I’ve got, without striving aggressively for luxuries “within view” but beyond my means. This is not a time for that. (Is it ever? Greed is an ugly quality.) There’s no knowing what the future holds, so I enjoy this “now” with appreciation and gratitude.

I sip my coffee and think about “the future”. With so much chaos, destruction, and despair in the world (and in this country) right now, it’s something I worry over a bit. What does the future hold? How do we create a world in which everyone can thrive? The wealth of the world would provide for us all, if it were not held in the hands of a small few who do not make use of it, just pile it up and point to their pile and remind us all how very privileged they are, while others struggle and suffer (and often at the hands of those very wealthy hoarders of privilege). It’s not a good look. I keep expecting humanity to do better. (Don’t you?)

I breathe, exhale, and relax. It’s time to start the day. Time to do my own best, moment to moment. It’s time to begin again.

I woke feeling much better this morning, to the sound of the very irritating alarm that reminds me to take my morning medication, which goes off a couple hours after I am usually up. I groaned quietly and silenced it quickly, hoping not to wake anyone. I got up, dressed, and made coffee for my Traveling Partner to enjoy when he wakes, appreciative of the heated mug that makes that possible.

I headed out happily, eager to be on the trail, aware that my rare sleeping in and late start this morning means I’ll be walking the trail at dawn, enjoying the sunrise. It’ll be weeks more before that’s a regular experience. The bitter cold hit my face and filled my lungs before I even got to the car. It’s another cold one.

A sliver of moon, a winter morning.

When I got to the trailhead, I wasted no time putting on my boots, and wrapping up in my scarf, hat, fleece, and gloves, and grabbing my cane. I started down the trail with nothing else on my mind but the trail ahead and the dawn on the horizon.

My footsteps crunched along the frozen path. The frosty marsh grasses sparkled as I passed. The marsh ponds were frozen along the edges, the smallest of them frozen all the way across. The sky was streaked with abalone pink, and the air was quite still. Even the flocks of geese passing overhead were silent.

Further along the path, oaks stand watch.

I walked the trail without much on my mind this morning. Breathing the cold winter air, grateful for the solitude. Some mornings I walk with my thoughts, this morning I just walked, watching the dawn become a new day. It was too cold to take many pictures, and it was lovely to simply walk and be, focused on the moment, present in the marsh around me, without preoccupation or concern. The world can wait. These moments were mine.

I walked on, cherishing the familiar miles. Grateful for this beautiful place to walk. Content and joyful, and satisfied with my life as it is, and feeling a little foolish to ever doubt or feel discontented when I am so fortunate. I breathed the winter air, and exhaled my warm breath as a fog. I relaxed as I walked on, present in the moment I was living and feeling pretty good in spite of the humdrum reality of physical pain. The joyous moment seemed quite sufficient and then some.

I returned to the car, ready to begin again. Grateful for the lovely morning, the beautiful sunrise, and the life I am so fortunate to live. It isn’t “perfect”, but it’s definitely enough.

… Later I go get my hearing aids…

I’m sipping my coffee, reflecting on the year behind me and thinking ahead to the year that has newly begun. “The journey is the destination.” So it’s said. So I hear. I accept that as a given, actually, after walking my path awhile. It’s the first “proper Monday” of the new year as I sit here at my desk, and I’ve a pen and a small notebook at hand. I make notes as I reflect on my life and my achievements, missed opportunities, and occasional disappointments of the year behind me. The notes are in two columns this time around; “stepping stones” and “pitfalls”. The stepping stones are things I can adopt or continue as practices that will tend to build the life I want to live, and help me become the woman I most want to be. The pitfalls are those things that may tend to hold me back or undermine my progress. Simple stuff.

I’ve given my year a “theme”, intended to represent a destination of sorts, on which I can anchor my intentions, goals, and priorities. This year my theme is “living a quality life”, which I am defining as living my best life without exhausting myself (or my resources).

My list of stepping stones is quite practical, and seems very achievable. It’s not even long, and is made up mostly of things I greatly enjoy. How handy is that? This is by intention; it’s easier to practice things that are either very enjoyable or which have an immediate “pay off”. There are only two wholly conceptual items, but they are important ideas for the year ahead: presence, and consistency. I see them as being necessary to the success of everything else on my list.

  • Learn a language (I’m already working on this one, by working on rebuilding and improving my Czech language skills, which are quite rusty)
  • Read more bound books (I’ve got a stack of them, and I’ve already finished one – but it’s not a race, and comprehension is a key part of the experience)
  • Paint more (this one is a bigger deal than two small words imply, and meets many needs)
  • Walk more/further (788 trail miles in 2024 – can I hit 1000 in 2025? Self-care? Meditation? Fitness? A bit of all that and more.)
  • More strength training (an important part of fitness and health as I age, and utterly necessary as I continue to lose weight and use semaglutide to manage my blood sugar.)
  • Food/diet – explore new recipes and skills (and write down the successes in the new family recipe binder my Traveling Partner gifted me this year! The semaglutide being what it is, food has become a very intentional thing, which seems healthier, too.)
  • Drink more water (the science says it really matters – and I definitely feel better when I do.)

My list of pitfalls is surprisingly short, but each item on that list is a potential chasm – a sinkhole more than a pothole on life’s journey. Self-reflection lets me get down to basics in a way that prevents me from petty self-criticism or negative rumination, and provides me with positive observations I can really work with to limit poor behavioral choices, and to develop better practices that are themselves in line with my “presence” and “consistency” stepping stones. Win!

  • Autopilot (no lie, I like things easy, and I rely on habit and routine to stay the course with some healthy practices, but leaving things on “autopilot” is the literal opposite of being present, and it comes with some troubling negative consequences. It’s worth learning to remain present, aware, and mindful even when being consistent with some routine practice – and potentially more joyful.)
  • Failed practices (being human, failure is a thing and there’s no dodging that, but healthy practices need… practice. Resuming a valued practice that has momentarily failed is a matter of beginning again. Worth the effort.)
  • The fallow garden (literal and metaphorical; 2024 was a terrible year for my garden. My Traveling Partner needed more from me than I truly had to give, and that wasn’t negotiable from my perspective – other things, particularly my garden, fell by the wayside and need new resolve and attention in the year to come.)
  • Malaise (it’s easy to let fatigue push me to failure through exhausted inaction, it’s hard to overcome, but good self-care and careful management of time and energy are worthy tools to prevent falling into this trap)
  • Resentment (another all-to-human trap, this one is avoided through connection, openness, skillful communication and boundary-setting, and reliably consistent self-care)
  • Sugar! (Just keeping it real, this shit is like poison for me.)

This stuff isn’t complicated. Just some notes taken as I reflect on my life and consider what I want out of it. What do I want? I want joy and contentment. I want improved wellness. I want improved intimacy and connection in my relationship(s). I want satisfaction in life and “order from chaos”. I want to live on principles of sufficiency, within my resources. As I said – it’s not complicated stuff, and mostly seems pretty doable. It’s not “fancy”, and as goals go these seem rather more “within reach” than grandly aspirational. I still have to really work at all of this, though. I’m quite human.

I make a point to “set myself up for success”. I’m not looking at the calendar telling myself I need to be a size 8 by next Thanksgiving, or that I’ll be fit to run a marathon by the 4th of July. I’m not making a long list of weighty tomes and demanding that I finish them all before the next new year. In fact, these mostly don’t adhere to “SMART” goals at all. (SMART goals are specific, measurable, achievable, relevant, and time-based, great for professional project management.) My life is not a corporate entity with a 5 year plan and key performance indicators that must be reached to qualify as a success. lol I’m not saying SMART goals are not worthwhile in a great many use-cases. It’s more that I’m a human being, living a life that I’d like to enjoy. My mortal time is finite and precious. So… these are my goals, approached my way. The success is defined by me, based on my values. This works for me. It’s enough.

Speaking of limited time… it’s already time to begin again. I make myself a calendar entry to remind me to look back on this moment of self-reflection later, and see how I did when this year ends. (I do find purposeful self-reflection very useful.)

…I wonder where this path leads…

Seems to be very effective so far… probably doesn’t hurt that the path is mine, and that I choose it myself.

I’m sipping my coffee from the relative comfort of the office, having just put the finishing touches on the budget for this payday. I sigh quietly. The big gift-giving holiday of the year is behind me, now, and although the glow and warmth and merriment linger in my recollection and my sense of things, it’s definitely time to put my focus on paying the bills. We’ve got to pay for our fun, and this is a pretty solid, reliable truth of the human experience. Choose your adventure; pay the price of admission. There’s always a price to be paid. Big choices, small choices, moments of overreach, investments in a future we earnestly desire – doesn’t matter “what it’s all about”, sooner or later the bills come due. Running from it just makes the interest pile up (metaphorical or actual – things don’t get less expensive if we try to avoid paying the cost).

I sit with my osteo-arthritis pain; the bill I pay for choosing to live – and to do so without violence. That broken back that griefs me on the regular? I find it hard to feel real regret over that; I chose life, my actual own life, rather than face likely (imminent) death at the hands of my violent ex-husband. Was the price too high? Hardly. It was very much worth the price I’ve paid – and will continue to pay. Doesn’t make it less expensive.

Thankfully, most of the time the bills that come due in life are merely actual bills – the payments we have to make for some moment of fun we chose to have. This morning, I’m looking over my budget, grateful for the job that pays for the life my Traveling Partner and I are fortunate to share at this point in our lives. We’re not wealthy, and probably never will be (I don’t think it’s really a goal for either of us, honestly – we just want to enjoy “enough”), but the pantry is stocked, and we’ve got electricity, heat, running water, and highspeed internet. We’ve got books to read and a well-outfitted shop in which to make things (or fix things). We’ve got our little garden, and our life together. It’s enough. It is, in fact, the best life I’ve personally ever been so fortunate as to enjoy, and it’s definitely worth the price I pay when the bills come due. Isn’t that the important thing? That it feels worth it, I mean? That it feels like enough?

I sit with my gratitude in this quiet moment, hoping that this good time in our life together lasts a good long while. The future isn’t written and the world is full of turmoil. It’s hard to say where the future will take any of us, or how long one mortal life may last. I look over the budget one more time, and ask a question I know matters – although I don’t like to consider it; what can I do to protect my partner’s future from uncertainty if “the ultimate bill” comes due, and he’s left to go on without me? I don’t run from that thought these days – it’s too important to overlook it, and the bills always come due, eventually. That was a hard lesson to learn, but it’s an important one. So, I recommit myself to freedom from debt and building our savings; if either of us is left to deal with life alone, it’d be nice not to worry about debt. We have shared values and a shared understanding on this detail, and we plan together. It’s a partnership, for real. I smile to myself; it feels good to have a proper partner on life’s journey. More to be grateful for.

I sip my coffee. I breathe, exhale, and relax. It’s a mortal life, sure, but so worth taking time to savor each precious moment. I look at the calendar – 4 more days to the near year. Already? Already. Time to begin again.

I’m at the trailhead, changing shoes for boots, and appreciating the quite nice Alpaca hiking socks I got for Giftmas from the Anxious Adventurer. They’re cozy and splendidly comfortable, durable and warm. I’m enjoying a chance to walk this trail in the drizzly daylight of Giftmas day. I have it to myself. I smile, and sigh to myself, filled to overflowing with contentment and joy, and yes – I feel happy. Thoroughly actually happy, which is a sufficiently rare feeling that I am inclined to savor it with a grin, and my whole self, fully present. I get on with my walk.

Gray and drizzly on the outside.

I get to my preferred halfway point. The rain isn’t much as rain goes around here, but even so, I’m grateful for the pause in the fairly steady drizzle, while I stop for a moment. The rock I’m sitting on is mostly dry. I covered it with my fleece to keep from getting my jeans damp as I sit. It’s a mild afternoon. After I get home, I’ll get started in dinner tasks. I’m making a roast in the Dutch oven. Should be tasty.

I smile to myself like a kid, without embarrassment or reserve; it’s been a wholly splendid merry holiday and I am still all aglow inside from merry-making and joy. We woke early, my Traveling Partner and I. We opened our stockings together, while the Anxious Adventurer slept, and later enjoyed watching him open his. So fun!! Then the gifts. We took them in turns, enjoying the moment with each other as each new treasure was revealed. Wow. Just… Wow. So much fun. I’m sure there are folks who spent more, or gave more lavishly, or selected more exotic gifts, but there’s no way anyone put more love into their holiday than we did into ours. I’m still reeling from how loved I feel. How…”visible”.

… This is definitely among my top ten best Giftmas holidays ever. Maybe in my top 5 (and I’m including childhood holidays, when Santa was as real as any other person)

Like a software upgrade for a human primate.

I’m eager to read each of the books I got (and there are several, each amazing), and to get started putting my own recipes into the new personal recipe book my Traveling Partner got me. It’s really nice and a great improvement over the tattered old one that has lingered from my first marriage. Everything about this holiday feels so… perfect. Crazy. Not sustainable, obviously, but I don’t expect such intense feelings of joy, delight, and satisfaction to endure. It’s a moment. Quite a splendid memorable happy moment, worth savoring and cherishing. It’s already time to begin again, though. Moments pass.

I smile to myself, thinking my thoughts. I gaze down the trail. It’s sprinkling again. Time to walk on. I feel refreshed by the walk in the fresh winter air. I’m grateful for the mild weather, rain and all. I think ahead to making dinner. It’s not a fancy menu, but the roast is a good cut of beef, by itself a treat. So many of these delightful holiday moments have been built on “simple ingredients”, handled well. There’s something to learn there.

I let my smile lift me to my feet. I breathe, exhale, and relax. Time to begin again.