I finished my walk with a contented sigh, and changed from my boots to my shoes, then looked over my list of errands and things to get done. I’ve got a couple stops to make on my way home. Routine stuff. “Normal.”
An ordinary beginning to a new day.
I look over my grocery list, hoping to avoid having to make several trips to the store, where one would do.
I breathe, exhale, and relax. It’s time to begin again, and I’ve got everything I need to enjoy a lovely day. What will I do with it? I sit with my thoughts a while, until the clock catches my attention.
I snarl quietly with cantankerous humor at the mindless “AI” (it isn’t) making suggestions regarding my grammar. Stupid thing can fuck right off. I’ve no interest in sounding “all same-y” as every other writer on the internet, so I’ll be using my own voice, thanks. lol That’s one very nice detail of being a human primates; I can choose the tools I wish to use.
I smile to myself, content with the morning thus far.
I’m parked where I can see the ocean, smell the scents of the seashore, and hear the sound of the waves rolling in. I arrived shortly before sunrise, but well past daybreak. Dense gray clouds cover the sky and obscure the horizon. There will be no dramatic hues of orange nor charming delicate shades of pearly pink or luminous lavender today. It’s all gray skies as far as I can see into the distance in all directions. I’m okay with that, it’s still beautiful.
What’s holding you back? Is it externally imposed, or something of your own doing?
I sit with my thoughts awhile before tackling the steep trail down to the beach. I listen to the gulls and the waves. I breathe the fresh sea air and enjoy the soft breeze and the morning mist. I breathe, exhale, and relax, letting go of the accumulated tension and stress of caregiving, waiting, and worrying. I’m in no hurry to do anything at all. I’m just being here, now, in this pleasant moment, in this lovely place.
The temperature is quite a bit cooler here than in the valley to the east. I dressed with that in mind and I am comfortable in spite of the chill of the seaside at dawn. The air is mild and not actually cold, but definitely suited to the baggy shapeless sweater wrapping me in warmth. I sit contentedly sipping an iced coffee. It’s a couple hours yet before I will check in to my hotel room. I don’t care about that at all, sitting here watching the waves roll in. Sooner or later I suppose I’ll do something about breakfast, but for now I have everything I want; this quiet moment is enough.
I remove my shoes when I reach the beach, and walk a damp mile along the wet edge, where the sand is firm with only a little risk of wetting my feet. The damp sand is cold and it feels at first refreshing, and later, chilly. I don’t mind. I enjoy the way the sand yields to my footsteps. I sigh and smile as I walk. I have this stretch of beach to myself, at least for now. This,too, is enough. More than enough. I drink in the satisfying feeling of contentment and fulfillment. I walk the beach grateful for the moment, and the opportunity to rest and “recharge my batteries”. I give silent thanks to my Traveling Partner, who is so steadfast in the support of my mental health and self-care, and to the Anxious Adventurer, whose presence in our life and home makes it so much easier to “step away” for a few days to get the downtime I need without continuing to carry the full measure of stress and concern for my injured partner while I am away. I am fortunate, and I am grateful.
… Gratitude feels really good…
Distracted by my thoughts, I stray too close to the incoming tide and soak my feet. I laugh out loud, but turn back the way I came and head back to the car. Dry socks feel luxurious and the warmth of socks and shoes is disproportionately pleasant after the cold walk back up the beach. I sit awhile with my thoughts, and write a bit. The lack of time pressure feels… amazing. I feel my shoulders relax. I feel a steady joyful calm creep over me.
Breathe. Exhale. Relax. It’s enough to be here, now. I sit with my thoughts awhile longer. There’s no hurry. I’m enjoying this. It’s enough. Later, I’ll begin again.
Another chilly morning, as I hit the trail to walk, think, and watch the sun rise. There’s a mist clinging in the low places along the marsh, almost as dense as fog this morning.
Flowers, trees, mist, and morning.
My tinnitus is ridiculously loud in my ears. My neck aches ferociously. I am grateful that my next stop will be an appointment for some myofascial release work that reliably helps…at least for a little while.
It’s a busy day ahead. Errands. Housekeeping tasks intended to keep life easy for my Traveling Partner and the Anxious Adventurer while I am away for a few days. I’m no expert on caregiving (at all), but the Anxious Adventurer has still less experience, and anything I can do to set him up for success while I am away is a win for me (and for my Traveling Partner, his father). So I’ve got a list of things to get done before I go, and a plan to leave early tomorrow – maybe even do my morning walk along the beach, or in the forest, on a trail I’ve never walked, somewhere along the way to the coast. I’m eager to have a break, with a real reduction in stress (because my Traveling Partner won’t be home alone trying to do things for himself he presently struggles to do).
I face the day calmly and with a sense of purpose. There’s quite a lot to do, but I did some of it yesterday, and I’ve made a point not to leave it all for the last minute. Helpful. Practical.
The sun rises golden against a shell-pink sky streaked with delicate lavender clouds. Pretty. The air smells of summer flowers. A doe with two fawns stands very still and quiet as I walk past (so still I didn’t see her there until I was almost next to her). Around the next bend in the trail, the buck stood watching me intently, before walking slowly back up the trail towards his mate. At the edge of the river, nutria enjoy a playful moment. I walk on. Every now and then my thoughts stray in the direction of more stressful concerns. I observe the thoughts and let them go. This is not the time for any of that. I bring my attention back to this moment, here, now. I watch the delicate lacy flowers that stand above the tops of the meadow grass. They wave just a bit in a breeze I don’t really feel.
Breathe. Exhale. Relax. Walk on.
I love these quiet solitary moments. I fill my soul on this feeling of peace and contentment, savoring small joys and wonder for later moments. My residual anger and frustrations with life and circumstances melts away and I feel a sense of being “my best self”. Pain doesn’t matter so much in this timeless now.
Breathe. Exhale. Relax. Walk on.
Like a lot of things, building emotional resilience is a practice. Creating an implicit sense of living life that is skewed towards the positive requires practice. One step at a time. One walk at a time. One moment of gratitude at a time. Savoring small joys and deliberately bringing my focus to what is working, what is pleasant, all of life’s little successes…it adds up. Incremental change over time works; we become what we practice. Practice is ongoing. It’s not a competition, there is no “finish line”, and the journey is the destination.
I breathe deeply, and keep on walking. It’s a lovely morning to begin again.
Yesterday was a good day, pretty much from the time I woke until I went to bed. I enjoyed the day, my work, and the companionship of my Traveling Partner. I sit with the recollection of my experience for a few moments, at the halfway point of my morning walk.
Today starts well, though I woke with a headache after a difficult night. My sleep was interrupted by my Traveling Partner’s restlessness. I had no difficulty returning to sleep, but I woke often, and when the night finally gave way to a new day, I woke feeling groggy and stupid. S’ok. It’s fine. I’m fine.
I stepped through my morning routine in much the same dogged persistent fashion as I later stepped down the trail; one foot after the other. It’s a practice. A process. If I just keep at it, eventually I get somewhere. In a few minutes, my steps will take me back up the trail to the truck (I offered the Anxious Adventurer the use of my car for work on these hottest days, since his has no AC), and then on to work. I yawn and rub my eyes. I still don’t feel quite awake yet, in spite of the sunshine making my eyes water when I carelessly look too closely at it.
… Sometimes persistence is more useful than enthusiasm…
I sigh to myself. I glance at the time, and count the days until my coastal getaway…12 days… I watch the shadows shift as the sun rises. Pretty morning… I guess I will get on with the day. Feels like a good time to begin again.
Another summer morning, another opportunity to be the person I most want to be.
Human primates are peculiar. I got so thoroughly involved in my delightful morning, yesterday, I completely forgot about my physical therapy appointment, which was planned to be my next stop after my walk. Instead, I went home and began enjoying my lovely morning further, with my Traveling Partner and the Anxious Adventurer. lol Costly mistake; the clinic phoned me to ask if I was “on my way”… Nope. Miles away, content at home. The caller politely reminded me I would be charged for the missed appointment. I replied that I understood and moved on with the delightful day, and spent it in relatively little pain.
It was a very pleasant and thoroughly relaxing morning. I enjoyed it. I spent much of the day exploring my new pastels, and reading, and some little bit on grocery shopping and helping my partner with this and that. I got some of the rest I have needed so badly.
Today there is laundry to do and errands to run, and housekeeping, but having some help is already significantly lightening the load and I face the day with real joy and enthusiasm. I sigh contentedly, sitting here by the side of the trail, at an”halfway point” I like that has a comfortable spot to sit down for a few minutes. The sunshine is warm on my back. The morning is mild and not yet hot, (but I can feel that it will get there again today). It’s summer, sure, but I can easily remember summers being cooler in this part of the Pacific Northwest than they tend to be now. I frown for a moment thinking about how thoroughly we’ve fucked up this planet. We could do better. It may be too late…
A beautiful morning in a beautiful place.
I think over my list of things to do and add some small tasks that make big differences. I’ve got more to offer, today, and I feel rested and strong. Funny how much difference the thought of having help makes. I don’t feel the need to plan ahead for exhaustion at the end of the day.
I sit awhile with my thoughts, watching the light through the trees change as the sun rises. I watch and wonder how I would capture the qualities of light and the various hues of green with my pastels. I feel content and centered. I breathe, exhale, and relax. It’s a good beginning for a new day.
Evening Light 