I got home from work yesterday, grateful to have survived humanity through one more commute. Fuck, there are a lot of stupid people “out there”… Each homecoming at the end of a work day in the office feels worth celebrating.
Carrots from the garden
I began the evening by picking some carrots from the garden to roast for dinner. They’ll make a nice side dish for the tarragon chicken I plan to make. I’ll use tarragon from the garden, too. This a real treat, because the tarragon is relatively young (planted this year, back in March I think) and still getting established.
The evening was lovely. We hung out awhile, listening to music, watching videos, and enjoying some “family time”. Pleasant. I ended the evening at more or less the usual time, in more or less the usual way. I had a plan to sleep in, have a walk, and go to a morning appointment, and do grocery shopping on the way home. (So far so good, I suppose. I didn’t sleep in at all. I woke without an alarm, at some ridiculous hour, for no obvious reason. Definitely no sleeping in, though I was groggy for the entire drive to the trailhead.)
The morning greeted me with a fat full moon hanging low in the predawn sky. I watched it set, and the sunrise begin, as I drove. Lovely.
A last glimpse of the full moon setting, from a favorite mid-point on my walk.
The summer air is fragrant with a spicy floral scent of something blooming. I can’t describe it, and don’t know for sure what the fragrance is. I breathe deeply. I walk the trail marveling at the dense mist clinging to the ground. The sunrise is hues of peach and pink, edged in delicate gold. I feel fortunate to see such splendor with my own eyes.
Here’s the thing… I’m not in a great mood. I’m cross and fatigued and in pain. Yesterday evening, my shitty mood from sleeping poorly the night before continued to linger. Shitty moods and difficult moments are part of the human experience, but they are not all of it, even in those difficult moments. What I remember most about yesterday are those beautiful carrots from the garden and how delicious they were. What I will remember about this morning will more likely be the scents of summer and the beautiful sunrise, not my headache or my crappy mood. Learning to savor (and be present for) the small joys in life has tended to make life more pleasant, generally.
I sit, smiling, in this favorite spot, watching little birds and chipmunks and squirrels enjoying the morning. I watch the sun rise. I watch the shifting mist flow over the ground, moving with the air, almost as if it were liquid. I watch the moon set, disappearing below the edge of the western horizon. I’m not in any rush. Lingering over this pleasant moment is more than enjoyable; it is restoring my joy and merriment. Each pleasant moment, and each breath of fragrant summer air brings a sense of joy, and my mood slowly improves. My irritation diminishes. I’m still tired and in pain, but it matters a little less with each passing moment of enjoyment in this place. We become what we practice. 😁
I reach a point of quiet contentment and general satisfaction with the moment, and with life. Nice place to find myself. I breathe, exhale, and relax. Sunlight fills the meadow and lights the tree tops. I sigh as I get to my feet. It’ll be time to begin again by the time I get back to the car.
G’damn I am so tired. I’m in pain, and I’m tired. I feel like I’m running in place and expecting to catch-up. I’m laughing over it, for now (mostly), because like it or not it’s largely my own doing. Self-care is hard. It requires choices and clear expectation-setting. Everyone around me seems to want something (and it is often completely expected and normal – as with paid employment for example), and I keep bumping my own needs lower and lower on my list of shit to do until… I don’t. Or can’t.
A new day, a new opportunity to begin again.
When I take a minute and put things into perspective, I know that going off my Ozempic for a few days, then abruptly back on at the dose I’d been taking (no ramp down, no ramp up), it likely fucked with my emotional stability and mood management and “sense of things” – and I may still be dealing with that. I also know that enduring pain without prescribed pain management measures can be very physically fatiguing. So, I guess I’m not surprised by feeling sort of chronically overwhelmed and on the edge of exhaustion in spite of feeling that “things seem pretty normal, though”. I breathe, exhale, and relax. I set reminders for healthy breaks. I double check that I have my medication for the day with me (I forgot it yesterday and had to rely on back ups that I keep in the office, most of which I clumsily tossed into the toilet by mistake – it was that sort of day, honestly). I make a point of taking it on time. I take my walk, but it is shortened by the pain I’m in, in spite of level pavement and having my cane. I feel like I’m working damned hard for very little result.
…The thought brings tears to my eyes, which is a level of emotionality that is unusual for me, these days…
I’m suddenly swamped by a feeling of being wholly inadequate and “not good enough”, like, at all. This is an entirely subjective emotional experience not connected to any real world event or interactions, most likely brought on by fatigue and abnormally high self-imposed expectations. Circumstances being what they are, and “good enough” being very subjective, and me being – in general – “fine” for most values of “fine”, I’m fairly certain that this feeling of inadequacy is nothing more than some rando inner demon having its moment, attacking me from within – that’s what demons do. lol I sip my coffee. It’s also “fine”. Not great. Not bad. Just… coffee. I’m okay with it. I reflect on that for perspective. This cup of coffee doesn’t have to be better than it is to achieve it’s purpose successfully, it just has to be available for me. It is that and that is enough.
In spite of the deer eating the tops of all my tomato plants, I’ll have a few tomatoes. Enough.
…”Enough” can be a tricky concept to hold on to, sometimes…
Getting caught up in chasing more, better, or other than whatever is can be tiring and distracting. Finding balance sometimes means making a point to practice a sense of sufficiency in a purposeful focused way, in spite of the to-do list, the goals, the aspirations and ambitions… all of that is immediately irrelevant once the sands in the hour glass run out, eh? The whole of the experience, the journey itself, isn’t characterized by any one achievement or detail, and exhausting myself chasing the details is probably a pretty poor choice. I remind myself to slow down and take care of this fragile vessel. Sometimes that takes more effort, or more time, or more care – or more saying “no”, in spite of wanting very much to say “yes”. I sigh to myself. It annoys me to need both more rest and also more exercise.
…”Finding balance” is largely a matter of cultivating and practicing balance… (I’m not saying that’s easy. Honestly, it’s fucking annoying.)
“Baltimore Belle” blooming in my garden.
I try to lift my spirits with thoughts of flowers in my garden. Far away friends. Upcoming camping trips. It’s not really helping much; I just feel run down. My tinnitus is crazy loud in my ears and I wonder (again) how fatiguing it may be that I make attempts to distract myself or diminish my awareness of it, somehow? (It takes real effort, actual work, to present an appearance, regardless how effective the results may be – and my need for self-care increases with my fatigue.)
…Too much bitching…
Not enough time spent looking at flowers in the garden.
I breathe, exhale, and relax. I take some time to meditate before beginning the day’s work. What next? Self-care. Seems obvious, but I’m sometimes fairly crappy at following through on it when I most need to. There are verbs involved. Practices. Consistency. Effort. Will. It’s necessary to do the things, not just hold awareness that they are needful, and not just talk about the relative importance. I sigh, again, feeling frustrated and impatient with myself. It feels like too much, and I put my head down on my desk and let the tears come. It’ll pass. It’s not important, really, it’s just a moment.
The bananas and strawberries? Just fruits. I’ve got some very ripe banana in the freezer for making banana bread when things cool off enough to bake – and when I’ve got the energy for it – and I recently enjoyed some delightful genuinely local (picked that morning) strawberries from a farmer acquaintance (which was nice, since the birds got most of mine this year). I suppose I’d meant to say something more or different about them when I sat down to write, but the moment took me a different direction. Very human.
I sigh again, feeling too human to get enough done. I look at the clock. Still ticking. It’s time to begin again. Again.
I slept in, like, properly slept in, waking a couple hours later than I ordinarily would, feeling well rested, and ready for a new day. Being home feels good.
A familiar view from a favorite trail.
My legs ache. It’s just sore muscles, from recent days of more than usual walking. I mostly ignore it, and walk on. The blue skies of recent days have yielded to encroaching gray clouds gathering overhead. The air feels heavy with higher than typical humidity. I keep on walking, through oak groves and alongside meadows and vineyards. I pass by a creek, and lush dense weeds and wildflowers that grow along the banks, edged by trees. Farm workers in the vineyard eye me warily as I pass. I wave. They wave back. We have nothing to fear from each other. I continue walking.
It was an ordinary walk on an ordinary morning. I hope I have many such walks (and mornings) ahead of me. Gray skies or blue, the details matter less than my ability to walk on, and my freedom and opportunity to do so.
I sit quietly after my walk, on a convenient picnic table tucked among the oaks trees that line the beginning of this particular trail. It’s not remote or exotic, and lacks any sort of features that might attract crowds. It’s just a convenient local trail, well maintained, paved and mostly level, and even lit in some sections (which is nice for very early mornings before sunrise). It feels safe and familiar, and long enough to be satisfying (it’s about a mile and a half all the way around), but short enough to be quite manageable even when I’m having some difficulties. This trail is rarely crowded, which is a nice bonus.
My tinnitus is annoyingly loud in my ears. I do my best to focus on other things. I breathe, exhale, and relax. It is a pleasant morning and I am happy to be home. I remind myself to stop at the store on my way home, but can’t recall what I need to get. I chuckle to myself; I have an app for that. I probably rely on that too much.
I sigh contentedly, savoring this pleasant moment before I begin again. The clock is ticking on a new day. It’ll soon be time to begin again…
Where does this path lead? What will I see along the way?
My tinnitus is loud this morning. Distracting and annoying. I get my walk started early, close to home, but the sunrise had already begun. The sky is shades of orange, pink and dusty blue, and the western hills in the distance are soft shades of blue and gray. Feels like another hot summer day ahead, maybe not as hot as the past couple of days have been. Hot enough to feel like summer, and even the cooler morning temperature hints at the afternoon heat to come.
Sunrise, a new day, a new beginning, a new opportunity to choose.
I walked with my thoughts accompanied by assorted little birds hopping and flying along. Chickadees mostly, and robins; though I hear the songs of other birds I don’t see them. A small herd of deer bolts into the trees when they hear me approach. The lovely morning might have a certain sparkling Disney sort of vibe if it weren’t for the sound of traffic nearby, and my damned tinnitus ringing and buzzing in my ears. Still, it’s a pretty morning, suitable for all manner of beginnings, and I’m grateful to see another sunrise.
I spot a woodpecker on the trunk of an oak tree, in that instance before he begins drumming away at that bark, either communicating or seeking a tasty morsel. He’s loud too. I laugh and startle him, he flies off to a different tree. I keep walking, until I reach my turn around point, where I stop awhile.
I sit in the early morning shade of the trees along the creek, smelling the scents of Spring flowers. The sun continues to rise on the new day. I think about doing a couple days of camping next week while I’m off, and maybe some painting. I make some room for my mixed feelings. I very much want my time to be wholly my own while I am painting, but I also experience strange pangs of separation anxiety when I contemplate it. That’s odd for me. I don’t really look forward to sleeping on the ground, getting up is more difficult every year. On the other hand, I’m yearning to sit quietly, gazing into the trees without being aware there are dishes to do, or errands to run, for endless seeming unmeasured minutes. I don’t expect to sort myself out on one morning walk. I sigh to myself and let my thoughts move on.
… G’damn my tinnitus is annoying…
Camera or pastels? Camping light, or glamping? A remote site that requires a bit of a trek to reach, or car camping with amenities? Well equipped camp kitchen and outdoor cooking, or freeze dried hiking meals that require little prep or clean up? Effort or ease? What do I really want for (and from) myself with my time? I watch the sun rise and think about it. I’ve got all the gear and most of the needed supplies whatever options I choose. It’s the choosing that is so difficult; it requires a level of frankness with myself about my current needs and limitations that feels mildly uncomfortable. I sigh quietly. There’s time to consider the options.
I get to my feet and turn to face the sun. It’s time to begin again.
I drove to the office this morning, watching the sun rise, and happily singing a fairly dreadful rendition of Three Dog Night “One is the Loneliest Number“, not for any particular reason, it was just in my head. I felt merry and at ease, and traffic was light. Lovely morning for a drive. Mt Hood was a soft mauve silhouetted against the pastel peaches and pinks of the dawn sky as the sun peaked over the horizon, a vivid firey orange. It feels like another hot day, and the forecast agrees.
Yesterday was lovely. I didn’t do much in the way of activities or chores or errand running, I just relaxed at home, watched a couple videos, and read the new cookbook my beloved Traveling Partner had given me as an early birthday gift some days ago. My Traveling Partner is correct when he observes that I rarely manage to sit through and enjoy an entire video I’ve selected, due to hopping up to help him out or handle some needful detail immediately when mentioned (otherwise I may forget all about it), and it is sometimes an impediment to really getting to relax and recharge. Yesterday, I even indulged a favorite personal preference in the world of online video content; a real-time walk someone took video of, through a place I’ll likely never visit. It was a walk through a famous buddhist site in Japan – no music, no chatter, no ads, just the walk through a beautiful space. Restful and inspiring, it was a relaxed and peaceful interlude to spend with myself (and for a little while, until he got bored with it, shared with my Traveling Partner; he definitely prefers a somewhat faster “pace” to life, and wandered off to do his own thing before the (long) walk ended). I enjoyed it enough for the time to be memorable.
Yesterday was “enough”. Most days are, actually. That nagging sense of striving and seeking and trying and struggling and working to reach some seemingly unreachable goal for some vaguely defined purpose that seems so unrelenting and commonplace is largely self-imposed. Meaning to say it’s something we willfully put ourselves through. I can let that go. (So can you.) Just because I don’t have something, or haven’t lived some particular experience, or achieved some point of success envied by others doesn’t mean I need that for myself. Like… not at all. I may not even want that thing for me, myself, if I take a moment to think it over. Sure, a new car might be nice… but I don’t actually need one. A bigger house on more land? Sure, there’d be more room to spread out, more room for storage, more room for this or that feature in life, more room for shop space, maybe more land for gardening, and even for chickens… that all sounds delightful, and I certainly would not mind. Hell, I’d embrace it (it would be ever so much less effort than managing things in this smaller space). It would be nice. But… It’s not necessary for most values of necessary. New clothes? Nice to have, but not necessary. Another rose bush? Another raised garden bed? Luxuries. Quiet days solo on the coast in some lovely beachfront hotel? We’re definitely talking pleasantly unnecessary now, aren’t we? It’s sometimes hard to discern the difference between “nice to have” and “necessary”. (Sometimes it’s pretty easy given adequate honest self-reflection.) How hard are you willing to drive yourself for the things you think you have to have in life? How much easier could life be if you only put that much pressure on yourself for things that are truly earnestly urgently actually necessary for your healthy survival, and leaving the rest mostly to chance, reliant on your wise decision-making generally, and skillful use of personal resources day-to-day and good planning?
What does “enough” look like?
I’m just saying, I guess, greed isn’t a good look, and it’s not a healthy character quality. I work a lot to let that shit go, and to cultivate a sense of sufficiency and contentment in my life. (Not past tense, I actively work on it.) I have what I need, generally. There are things I’d like to have or achieve, but when I’m being very honest with myself, they’re nearly all lavish extras that I don’t actually require to live a good life. It’s human to want more, better, and extra. It’s human to want to go and do and be. Ambition and aspiration are part of what we are, as human primates and thinking reasoning beings. On the other hand, discontent and dissatisfaction and greed are also part of our very human struggle to be and become, and these tend to foster a lot of unpleasantness, anxiety, frustration, sorrow, and struggle. I try to balance any yearnings for things I don’t have or have not achieved with frank reflection on (and gratitude for) those things I do have, that I have achieved, and that I am fortunate to enjoy day-to-day. The result of this practice is that I’m generally contented much of the time now, and comfortably able to enjoy my life as it is, and appreciate how good it does tend to be. It’s human to want, it’s human to struggle – it’s a better experience to find a sense of sufficiency to rest in. It’s a practice, and there are verbs involved. (And no one can do this work for you; you’ve got to walk your own path.) No overnight results, but it has been very much worth the effort. I’m able to say I’m happier for it.
…It’d still be nice to have a bigger house, with a larger bit of land under it (I do truly love my little house and I am happy here)…
I enjoy the roses blooming in my garden – there are still weeds to pull and work to be done, no getting around it.
I sip my coffee and smile quietly to myself. I am grateful to be in such a good place in life that seeking and cultivating a sense of sufficiency is something I have time for; this too is a bit of a luxury. (When we’re mired in struggle perspective can feel quite out of reach and seeking it may feel like a drain on our resources we can’t easily afford.) What is “enough”? Is it different for everyone? Is there some definition of sufficiency that is reliably true for every individual everywhere? What would that look like? Would it be a reasonable practical goal to ensure every human being has that minimum quality of life? What would that look like? Would I be content with the same “enough” that everyone else around me has, or would I find myself yearning for more? What about you? Do you “have enough” in life? What necessities are missing? If you do have “everything you need”, what are you still yearning for? Are you on the path that takes you there? Are you even willing to walk that path? Just thoughts I’m thinking over my morning coffee as the golden summer sun shines through the trees beyond the window of this office.
…If I were to change jobs, the view would change – would my thoughts on sufficiency change with my point of view, or my income?
Time spent in the garden isn’t always about labor.
I smile and think about my garden. I got way less done than I’d hoped to this past weekend. Turned out I needed something different in the way of self-care. I needed relaxed lazy time reading books and napping, and laughing with my partner. I needed healthy rest and easy-going companionship. I needed icy delicious strawberry granita made on a whim. I needed take out on a hot night instead of cooking in a hot kitchen. I needed to put my feet up, even though I also needed to get laundry done. I mostly did just those tasks that were required, and the rest of my time I spent on comfort and leisure, a rare treat in a busy life. I’m grateful I have that choice.
Life’s Strange Diner has a big menu, but it isn’t really possible to sample everything on it, however rich or fortunate any one person happens to be. We’re human, and live finite human lives. The clock is ticking, and there are choices and verbs involved. We can only do or carry so much. We can begin again, if we find we’ve fallen, or feel we’re on the wrong path, but we’ve got to do that work for ourselves, and each one of us has our own limits and limitations to deal with. It is an interestingly varied experience, this human journey. I imagine the menu in any diner, on any summer morning, and wonder what I might choose differently in this moment, given time to reflect on where this path leads, and what I really need in life? We can’t choose differently then, but we can choose differently now – what gets us “there”? Where does this path lead? The clock is ticking. What will I choose? Isn’t it time to begin again?
Evening Light 