Archives for posts with tag: sufficiency

I’m at a local trailhead, waiting for a break in the rain to walk this trail. It’s dark, not yet daybreak, and a Monday morning. The rain is falling hard, and the wind is blowing hard enough for the strongest gusts to create the appearance of waves on puddles reflecting the lights of the parking lot. If I were to walk now, I’d be soaked almost immediately, and having to fight my rain poncho every step as it whips about. No thanks. I’ll wait. 😆

The weekend was lovely. I sit thinking about the upcoming Giftmas holiday. It is shaping up to be a merry one, if modest in scale (appropriate to these peculiarly dark times here in the US).

My mind wanders to work. I pull it back to this quiet moment, here. Now is mine. At least, this “now”, right here is mine. I make a point to be present, here, listening to the wind and the rain. I think of other rainy moments that left lasting memories for one reason or another. In the distance, I see holiday lights shining through the trees along the creek beyond the vineyard, most likely decorating some otherwise hidden apartment balcony. Seeing the lights makes me smile. Seeing communities “dressed up” for the holidays in colorful lights is one of the best parts of the winter holiday season (to me).

Things on my to-do list for today continue to intrude on my consciousness – or try to. I continue to set a boundary with myself; this is not that time.

The rain stops, starts, and stops again. It’ll be daybreak soon. Can I get down the trail and back to the car before the rain starts up again? I decide to chance it, and grab my cane and pull on my poncho.

I’m most of the way along the trail before the rain begins to fall again, softly. I’m almost back to the car before the intensity increases from a soft sprinkle to a seasonally typical downpour. The heavy rain catches up with me just as I reach the car. I feel fortunate. I’m not soaked to the skin, missed the worst of the rain, got a good walk, and managed to avoid tromping through any deep puddles. I’m chilly and damp, but otherwise fine. I get comfortable in the car and start drying off with a microfiber towel from my gear bin, grateful for the gear I keep in the back for whatever emergencies might arise (and for hiking and camping).

The gear bin in my car sometimes gives a sort of “Mary Poppins” vibe; I often surprise myself with what is in there, and how prepared for what sorts of things I actually am. This delights me every time I open the bin with some need to address and find that I’ve got just the thing, although I often don’t recall that I put it there. 😆

The wind is blowing ferociously again. It almost drowns out the sounds of my tinnitus. I close my eyes and am fascinated by how much I am reminded of the seashore.

There’s really nothing particularly noteworthy about the morning. As is so often the case, it’s an ordinary weekday morning. The pain I’m in makes me aware of my fragile mortality for a moment, but as bad as it is, it’s not the worst I’ve known. Far from it. I’m grateful to experience the morning aware that things could be much worse; it is reliably useful perspective. I continue to sit with my thoughts awhile longer. I’ve got a little while left for myself before the desk in the library I’ll be working from today will be available. It’s still too early. I think about coffee.

I think about holiday cards (we haven’t done them this year and probably won’t; at some point I had to admit I don’t have the energy, or the will). I think about the last bit of gift shopping yet to do. I think about Giftmas morning and brunch. Biscuits and gravy this year? I find myself wanting to pair that with Bloody Marys, as my Dad would have done most Giftmas mornings. I rarely drink, and the thought makes me smile; it’s an idea built purely on nostalgia, and maybe some desire to celebrate a certain gratitude for the holiday magic my parents achieved in spite of hardship. I’ve carried that holiday spirit into the rest of my life, year after year, and I’m grateful that it continues to last.

Curtains of dense rain continue to sweep over the car. The wind rocks it with the firmest gusts. I am warm and dry, and grateful that I am not forced to be outdoors in this. There’s privilege implied in being free to choose to walk on a rainy day. I’m grateful for the choices I have in life. I may never be wealthy (nor have any notable affluence), but I do get to choose whether (and when) I walk in the rain. That’s more good fortune than many folks have. I sit thinking about that for a few minutes longer.

In spite of the darkness of the stormy morning sky, eventually daybreak comes, and it’s time to begin again. I sigh to myself, and get the day started.

I woke with a song in my head, and a lingering recollection of strange dreams, rich with layers of meaning, hinting at the importance of living life, rather than merely enduring it or haplessly existing while someone else calls the shots.

… Thanks, Iggy Pop, you definitely know some things about living life…

Choose. It’s your life, live it. Don’t just stand there, do something. It is your path to choose, your journey to make, your destination to select, and your success to define your own way. You have a lot of power to create change. There are, of course, verbs involved. Go where you will in life, no one else will do the work for you… but don’t let that stop you from making the journey.

I reach the trailhead before daybreak and sit with my thoughts awhile. The Giftmas holiday season is, at least for me, a fairly introspective time. I think about where I am, where I’m going, how I’ll get there. I think about my relationships: personal, professional, familial, and now, in the 21st century, even the parasocial experiences that may shape my thinking.

Daybreak comes.

This morning I wait for the sun. Why not? It’s a choice that also serves to improve my Traveling Partner’s experience; he’ll maybe get to sleep in a bit.

When the sunrise begins, with streaks of magenta in a cloudy sky, I stretch and grab my cane to get started down the trail. No rain this morning, but the ground is soggy, and I see that the farm fields on the other side of the highway are becoming a shallow seasonal lake (which it does every year, once the rains come). It is a favorite resting spot of migrating geese and ducks.

It is a new day, and a new chance to begin again.

When I reach my halfway point, the sun is up, hidden behind heavy gray clouds. It was lovely to see the colorful sunrise. I sit on a fence rail at the edge of the marsh, listening and watching, breathing and being. Sometimes that’s enough. A “lust for life” doesn’t require an Iggy Pop level of energy (in my opinion), it’s more about will, and choice, and presence. It’s about being – and becoming. Living life is an active process with so many options and opportunities to choose that we may feel inclined to narrow them down somehow, even telling ourselves we have “no other choice”. That’s rarely true.

I sigh to myself, then correct my posture, and inhale the morning air more deeply, filling my lungs with it, as I fill my heart with this finite, precious, unrepeatable moment. I exhale slowly, letting go of everything that is not here, now, in this moment in which I’m existing. I repeat this exercise several times, feeling lighter, and free of baggage (which I admit, I visualize as having set down on the ground in a pile nearby). I hear geese calling, and see huge flocks taking to the air as groups, filling the sky overhead as they pass. They also have a path to follow. I find myself wondering if they have choices?

Tis the season. A season of migrating birds overhead, and queues in retail spaces. It is a season of sharing and of celebration, for many. For some it is a season of hardship, struggle, and grief. Sometimes tempers are short, and people impatient with each other, but also so very kind and willing to help. Human primates are complicated. I sit thinking about how to be the best person I can, with what I know now. I have more, better, tools and a clearer idea of who I am and who I want to become over the course of this mortal lifetime. I catch myself wondering what might be “next”, just as the rain begins to fall.

Fat cold raindrops spatter my glasses. There’s no cover nearby and I didn’t wear my rain poncho. Choices. Consequences. I get to my feet. I look down the trail toward my next destination. Some shopping. Laundry. Wrap some holiday gifts. Get ready for a new work week. Sure, it’s pretty routine ordinary stuff, but there is room to fit joy in there, and love, and even optimism. Choices. Choose wisely.

I head down the trail. It’s time to begin again.

The soft beeping almost didn’t wake me this morning. I had forgotten to set an alarm, but that is rarely of any consequence, since I also rarely sleep past 04:30 or so. This morning the quiet beeping alarm that goes off at 06:00, my morning medication reminder, was what woke me. I slept in! I even “overslept”, if I want to call it that.

I smiled through my shower and while I dressed, half humming some merry tune. I feel good. Rested. It’s a nice feeling. I let myself feel it without resistance or argument, savoring the moment. I make myself a cup of pod coffee in the hotel room, and double check that I’ll be ready to join my colleagues at breakfast.

There’s a pretty long day ahead, although much of the afternoon and some of the evening will be the office holiday party. I wonder how well rested my colleagues will be? They continued the evening after dinner, heading to some local favorite for cocktails. I rarely drink, and wasn’t inclined to join them. It was around 19:00 when I got back to the room, as it was, and I was already too tired for much more.

City lights, a view from a taxi.

… But I’m not seeing much of SF! 😆 Sightseeing isn’t the point, though.

It’s a strange journey, this thing called “life”. Meeting some of my colleagues in person has been an experience of it’s own. There are some very smart, creative, kind people here, sharing this professional journey, and making their own ways in the world. I feel fortunate to meet them and be received and accepted as their equal. I’ve had some great conversations and many chances to practice listening. I even tried shawarma for the first time!

I tidy up the hotel room. Meditate. Take time to write a few words, and wonder how my Traveling Partner is doing this morning, and hoping he slept well and deeply.

Somehow it’s already time to begin again…

It was a long work day. It’s over. A few words exchanged with my partner, a hot shower, and an early bedtime; I set the alarm* a little later and crashed, hoping to perhaps sleep in.

I crashed hard, and slept deeply. I woke abruptly to loud laughter following a louder thump against a wall. Drunk on a Wednesday? The folks at the trade conference going on at this hotel are partying hard. I wake startled, heart pounding, disoriented. I get up for s few minutes, make a cup of coffee (decaf), and drink some water. It’s an unimportant moment, but I’m awake for a time.

I sit with my thoughts, feeling relaxed and… I don’t know, a little like “my engine is idling” and that I’m “in neutral”. I’m here, but inattentive to everything but the stillness of the moment. I definitely miss my beloved Traveling Partner, but I am also relishing the luxury of solitude and quiet… for the hours I get to enjoy that, which is more or less the same small portion of any typical work day. Like a lot of Americans, I work “too much”, in spite of being aware of the value of leisure, rest, and contemplation. The infamously exploitative American work culture demands a lot. I’m grateful to have a good job, though,, make no mistake. Swapping unreplaceable years of my finite mortal lifespan for cash is a shitty return on that investment of my time (could be worse), but I have adequately proven to myself that I am not likely to make a similarly good living painting full time. America may value “the grind”, but it does not value artists, regardless of the amount of work they put into their art.

Meh. I let that go and enjoy the quiet I’ve got, sip my coffee (decaf), and wait for sleepiness to catch up to me again.

I spend time meditating. I reflect on the day. I stretch, and do some yoga. I open the curtains of the darkened room, and look out the window onto the street below. No view, really, just a sidestreet and some dumpsters on the other side. I people watch awhile. I notice a new “floater” in my right eye. Annoyingly it seems inclined to sit smack in the center of my field of vision, bobbing about and drifting with my eye movements. I hope it goes away, or becomes so commonplace my brain begins to filter it out of my view. The clock ticks on.

I’m sleepy again. Perhaps I will dream of love? I smile contentedly feeling relaxed and unbothered. A good day. Tomorrow is soon enough to begin again.

*I failed to complete the process of setting an alarm somehow, or turned it off later. There would be no alarm in the morning. 😆

The “cold moon” supermoon is overhead. I can’t see it, tucked behind clouds, but the light shines through thinner clouds. I look up now and then, as I walk the dark marsh trail before dawn. It’s not quite enough to light the way. I carry my headlamp in my hand, enough light to see the trail escapes from between my fingers to create a pattern of light on the ground that swings and bobs with my steps. It’s enough.

I get to my halfway point thinking about sufficiency, and too much, and not enough, and fretting a bit about the cost of everything. I make a point to remind myself how good I do have it, in practical terms, in most ways. I’m fortunate and I am grateful. Life could be a lot worse – I’ve been there, too.

The morning is mild and quiet. I have the trail to myself. Some of that is about my choices; I’m here at an hour few people are even awake on a Saturday morning. I also benefit from pure chance and the decisions of others; there are some people who also walk the trail very early. They aren’t here this morning. I guess what I’m saying is that our circumstances are a combination of happenstance and choices. We don’t really know what’s going on with other people that has created a hardship for them, so perhaps best not to be a jerk about such things, eh?

I sigh quietly in the darkness. I think about the day ahead, a busy one for a Saturday. Next week, too. I’ve got a business trip down to the corporate office. The timing is not ideal, and I wonder why I didn’t consider it more carefully when the trip was being planned? Choices. Circumstances. Tis the season to feel like there’s too much going on, and not enough time for everything.

Yesterday’s work shift was a long one. Minutes into the commute home, I was in traffic, stuck at a signal light, waiting as the cars crept forward one by one, and only one car getting through each time the light changed. I managed to avoid losing my temper. My Traveling Partner messaged me about how far the slowdown extended, which was helpful. He handled dinner, and kept it warm for me, until I got home. It felt like pure luxury and true love to come home to dinner, and not be the person making it. I even had enough energy left to fold some laundry that my beloved had done, and prepare for a holiday event that will be later today. (Vending some items my Traveling Partner makes in his shop. I’m hoping it is worthwhile.) It could all have felt like too much, instead I had my partner’s help. That made a huge difference in my experience of the evening. (Note to self; definitely ask for help when you need it – and accept it graciously when offered.)

Lately life often feels like “too much”, and my resources for dealing with it feel like not enough. It’s… ordinary. Just a variety of human experience. Sometimes we are burdened with too much (or it feels that way), sometimes our resources (time, money, emotional resilience…) are not enough, or it seems so in the moment. Perspective helps. I sit with my thoughts. I have lived through real hardship and privation. This is not that. I have survived trauma and endured misfortune – but I’m here, now. I did get through it. There will be hard times. For the moment, things are okay for most values of “okay”, and I’m managing to avoid blowing things out of proportion. Helpful. With the economy in the shape it’s in, in such uncertain times, we’ve made a choice to scale back a lot of holiday spending. A lot. But I’ve had leaner Giftmases with fewer resources in worse circumstances… I’m grateful for what I have, and what I can provide my family.

Enough is enough. Even embracing sufficiency is a practice. And when I’m feeling overwhelmed? Boundary setting and careful decision-making are useful tools… when I remember to practice them!  I chuckle to myself. If, of all the world’s suffering, I could remove only that suffering that is self-imposed or chosen, I suspect it would clear up by far most of the suffering going on. It’s an interesting thought. It hints at real relief through actions we can reasonably take for ourselves as individuals, without suggesting anything as unrealistic as no suffering ever.

When I feel overwhelmed by my list of shit to do? That’s me. That’s self-imposed. I could choose differently, change the timing or reset expectations, ask for help, or…say “no”. That’s just one example of one way to restore the balance between demands and resources, in one mortal human life. There are others. Limited resources? Make more (meaning objects or goods), buy less. Do more reading and less subscribing and online shopping. It’s not everything. Sometimes our limitations are life or health threatening, and that’s a bigger scarier problem to face. It’s still going to be helpful to take those steps we can. Incremental changes add up. Our choices matter.

The early moments of a new day.

Daybreak comes. The sky begins to lighten. I can hear traffic from the highway adjacent to the park, on the far side of the marsh. I sit awhile, remembering tougher times, and reflecting on my life. I enjoy this solitary time for reflection and meditation. I try to recall why I was ever cranky about getting such an early start… I know I once was, but I can’t recall why. I cherish this precious time on some trail, walking with my thoughts, waiting for the sun to rise again.

I think about my beloved Traveling Partner, sleeping at home. I remind myself to fold the laundry he did yesterday. It’s nice having help with chores and household care again. I’m definitely going to miss him while I’m away next week… Just the thought, and suddenly I miss him right now, too. Silly human primate.

I’m startled by a splash in the marsh pond behind me. Ducks? Geese? Nutria? I only see ripples on the water. A spattering of rain begins to fall. I get to my feet. It’s time to begin again.