Archives for posts with tag: The Art of Being

I’m sipping my coffee and watching the dawn become a new day. No colorful sunrise this morning, the sky is a rather bland mostly featureless gray of clouds that seem not to have made up their mind whether to be threatening and stormy or just… gray. It isn’t raining. It isn’t cold. It’s also not exactly dry, nor is it at all warm. A Spring sort of morning, betwixt things. “Nothing to see here”, and my mind moves along, exploring scattered thoughts that lack cohesiveness or theme.

I got into the garden yesterday, after work, feeling extra motivated after seeing video of deer eating my damned roses (again, as usual – I guess they’re tasty). I pulled some weeds, and added a generous layer of compost to the vegetable bed. I planted early stuff: peas, carrots, radishes. I’d have done a bit more of that, but I was exhausted before my list was. lol The rest of the evening was spent fighting my sore feet and aching back, but feeling contented and joyful that I’d at least gotten things started in the garden for the year. This morning, my legs ache, but only a little bit, and it’s the healthy feeling of working hard and gaining strength. I can’t really fuss about that, it’s part of the process of improving my fitness, generally. lol My aching muscles bring my thoughts back to the garden every time I notice them. 😀

I took time to really look over the garden yesterday evening, with an eye for where a couple new roses could go, and maybe a little bench. I’m stymied by the lush green of the lawn my Traveling Partner put in last year; it’s so beautiful it’s quite difficult to imagine removing even a scrap of it, although a quiet corner with another flower bed and a bench would reduce the amount of lawn requiring care. I turn the idea over and over in my head, and look over pictures of the yard and garden, from a variety of angles. No doubt I’ll end up asking my Traveling Partner for his suggestions and thoughts, and he’ll likely tell me he doesn’t care about that and that it’s my garden… but it does matter, and this is his home, too… I sip my coffee, smiling, and thinking about how much love is like… dark matter? Filling all the space in my relationship with my partner that isn’t filled with something else. lol (And this is the kind of dumb shit non-physicists say using the language of physics because it sounds pretty or profound or somehow meaningful, but probably isn’t any of those things due to limited actual understanding of the underlying concepts. lol I just mean to say I love that human so tremendously it seems to require cosmic concepts to convey it.)

…A bench, some roses, some flowers… maybe a small fig tree… could I make all that fit somewhere…? I’d sure like to. I see a wee quiet spot with a bench shaded by a fig tree, a small figure of Guan Yin seated on a lotus tucked among trailing roses and fragrant herbs and flowers, scents of Spring filling the air, and small birds perched here and there… There’s a corner of the lawn, toward the front, that seems… too “square”, and I wonder if perhaps a curved or triangular bed might soften the edge, and also provide a place for a bench, with a view of the rest of the garden, and the house so welcoming just beyond… For now, there’s no clear plan, just a lot of day dreams and imaginings, and memories of a friend. That’s okay, every journey happens in steps. 🙂

[…I miss you, dear friend, that’s certainly true, but when I am thinking about the garden, or working the soil with my hands, pruning roses, planting, lost in my own thoughts, you seem to be there with me, and I guess that’ll have to be enough.]

Tears well up ever so briefly. It’s not really a morning for sorrows, and there is work to be done in the here-and-now. I stretch and sip my coffee – it’s time to begin again.

I’m sipping my morning coffee and thinking my thoughts. The weekend was a pleasant one, comforting, healing, and nurturing. The time spent with my Traveling Partner in his steady comforting presence has gone a long way toward processing my grief over losing my dear friend. I’m still stricken with a moment of sadness when I think about the loss of her presence in my life, but it’s more poignant and less acute, and that’s progress.

A little March snow.

The peculiar March weather continues, with occasional passing snow showers, and strangely icy mornings, and mild rainy afternoons. I never made it into the garden over the weekend. Between the pain of my arthritis, and a rather long list of other shit also needing to get done, and also wanting to spend time with my Traveling Partner, I chose differently, although I did get the compost I need to get started with Spring planting. The days are noticeably longer, already, so perhaps one day after work this week…?

I’m not feeling any sort of regret over not getting into the garden. I spent plenty of time there “in my head”, thinking about flowers, and roses, and vegetables, and Spring. Time well-spent. Time planning the season ahead is still time “in the garden”, and besides, I got quite a lot done this weekend, and I’m coasting on that sense of accomplishment as the new work day (and week) begins. (I finally got all of my laundry folded, hung up, and put away that had piled up – ignored – after my Traveling Partner was injured and needed a lot of my “spoons” to be available to care for him. Laundry in a basket was not my highest priority!) Being able to put so much attention and energy on quality-of-life-maintaining tasks without finishing the weekend completely exhausted was a win. I’ll take it.

…Do the things, when and if you can. Yes, there are verbs involved. Yes, your results may vary. For sure, you may not always achieve your goals, or get the outcome you were hoping for, but the doing itself is a worthy achievement, and the clock is always ticking…

Last night, after a day of doing load after load of laundry, and even putting it all away, and also finally properly and fully unpacking from my last trip away from home, I cooked a proper meal at home. No cheats. No convenience foods. Real home-cooking. Hell, my lunch today will be leftover stir-fry from last night, and it was yummy. 😀 I’m pushing myself harder on the trail when I go walking, too; more distance (a little at a time) and picking up the pace. One byproduct of saying goodbye to my dear friend was the visceral reminder of how fragile this mortal form actually is, and the unfortunate potential to lose an ability over time through lack of continued use. One injury, one prolonged period of recovery, can become a major fitness setback – to the point of potentially losing the ability to do something basic like walk easily, or pick myself up off the floor. Scary. As was the case when my Mother died, I’m feeling a renewed sense of commitment to my own fitness and wellness – and I don’t plan to waste that momentum. I’d like to be around for a long time more, enjoying life with my Traveling Partner, seeing and doing new things, and enjoying the things that I love.

Do something. Keep doing things. Fail or fall, and begin again. And again. It’s just another practice…

…My legs ache this morning, from yesterday’s efforts. I’m okay with this, and I’m feeling it in the context of progress. I raise the sit/stand desk to standing height and get on my feet for awhile – it’s time to begin again.

I’m sipping my coffee and thinking about the 20 year conversation documented in my archived emails that is the friendship I shared with my recently departed dear friend. It’s finally over, and that feels… strange. Over that 20 years, (which wasn’t the entirety of our friendship, just the portion documented in email exchanges) I sent 982 emails, and she sent 712, and then there were all the replies, and many of these include additional bits of back-and-forth within their threads. We spoke of art, love, life, work, and we shared music videos, cat pictures, and snapshots from assorted vacations and trips here and there. As my dear friend aged, some technological advancements became more challenging to adopt, and sometimes her health, or mine, was an impediment to replying (or replying at length) – sometimes it was just too hard to be on the computer, or to type on our cell phone. We never failed to stay connected, to keep in touch, and to start the conversation anew in a few days, or weeks.

We often shared moments of humor, some of them quite poignant “fun/not funny” sorts of moments. Sometimes we shared our challenges, seeking each others comfort, wisdom, or perspective. Sometimes we vented, seeking nothing but understanding, a chance to be heard. Life wasn’t always easy for either one of us.

We first met back in 1995, briefly. I was introduced to her by her son, rather casually, shortly after I began hooking up with him, in the midst of my divorce from my violent first husband. I was 100% pure chaos and damage, trying to rebuild something of myself out of the emotional wreckage that remained after I left my ex-husband. I wasn’t actually in a good place for a relationship, and a 32-year-old woman dallying with a much younger man when she so obviously needed to work on her own shit wasn’t a good look – and my (not yet) dear friend called me out on it, with frankness and clarity, and without being hurtful. She wasn’t wrong. She set explicit boundaries that she wasn’t in a place to make room for me as “family” on the basis of a couple of fun weekends. My motives were not clear (not even to me, and that was part of the problem).

My relationship with her son lingered, deepened, and became something lasting. My friendship with my dear friend did, too. Life throws us some curve balls, though, and later on my romantic relationship with her first-born failed, rather abruptly and painfully. My friendship with my dear friend showed considerably more staying power (obviously, or I wouldn’t be writing these words, now). We grew to rely upon each other, to stay in touch through all our changes and ups and downs and challenges and triumphs. It’s been a blast – hilarious and joyful and fond and intellectual and fun and… g’damn it I miss her already. Shit. She was that friend who got the first look at any new art (after my Traveling Partner), the first to read my poetry manuscript (still unpublished), and often the only one to be my confidante when I struggled with my emotional wellness or mental health, or a romantic relationship, outside of therapy. Losing her feels… so lonely.

…This morning I sip my coffee and I miss my dear friend. I had sat down at my desk first thing with an amusing thought stuck in my head, after my commute to the office. I opened my email and started to share it with her… then remembered. A few stray tears spilled over, and I feel them wet on my cheeks, even now. I didn’t bother to wipe them away. Fucking hell. So human. Death leaves us behind, standing on the precipice of a new beginning…

I don’t know what comes next, or what may someday “fill this space” in my heart where my dear friend’s laughter lived. I just know I’ve got to begin again…

…Some moments later, I sit back astonished to realize my dear friend and I had known each other for 29 years. Wow. More than 48% of my entire life was experienced in the context of this long association and continued dialogue. It’s no wonder I’m missing her, eh? This bit of perspective provides me an unexpected measure of comfort; it only makes sense that this hurts so much – we shared so much. I finish my coffee, and look out into the gray morning sky, thinking my thoughts…

I’m sipping my iced coffee and thinking about mortality. Not really a surprise after visiting a dear friend who is facing hers. Thing is, there are options and “ways to go”, and I’m not surprised by my dear friend’s choices, and I’m so fucking grateful (and relieved) that she’s gotten to make those choices with her own voice and mind and will, and that her family loves her enough to respect those choices. It’s a difficult time. Saying goodbye was less trying than simply somewhat sorrowful (and also unexpectedly joyful and deeply connected), and in part that was because my dear friend is cared for by people who love her, who have also managed to keep their senses of humor intact, and are so skilled at balancing respect for this dear woman who has been so much to us all, while also fending off the medical bureaucracy and bullshit (yeah, there’s a surprising amount of that) to ensure she is cared for and comfortable while the clock ticks. I’m glad I went to visit.

The private anecdotes illuminate the loving good-nature of my dear friend, and her continued sense of humor and awareness of her circumstances. I won’t be sharing those, they feel too private – but g’damn do I love this woman, and admire her strength and practicality. I hope when it is my turn, I have some measure of her strength, wisdom, and will. She’s managed to make things so much easier on her family simply by having known – and communicated – what she wants for end-of-life care for a long time. Fuck it is going to be a lonelier world without her in it!

…What I’m saying is, think about what you will want when “that time” comes, and then actually say words about it to those that you love. Don’t run from it. We are mortal creatures, and at least as of 2023, there’s no dodging that.

I arrived home last night after as close to an effortless drive back as could have been achieved. Almost no traffic, things moving along smoothly at slow points through small towns, pretty good weather… even the rain that began to fall midway through the drive stayed quite well-behaved and wasn’t much of an impediment to safe driving. I got home more than an hour earlier than expected, but that was mostly due to taking shorter/fewer breaks. I took plenty of those, and more frequently, with the result that I didn’t need so many or such long ones. Funny how that worked out. There’s a self-care lesson there. My Traveling Partner was pleased to have me home. I am happy to be back. Feels good. Comfortable. Familiar.

…The comfort and familiarity of home reminds me of the disappointing blandness of the hospital my dear friend is currently in. How the hell is anyone supposed to heal in that unengaging, unappealing environment?? I sip my coffee and think about that for some minutes…

The pre-dawn darkness became daylight… I barely noticed. There’s quite a lot to catch up on with work… time to begin again.

I’m packed, except for the laptop. The car is loaded, except for the laptop, and my handbag. Phone is charged. Charging brick is charged (I find it better for “topping off” the phone than the car’s USB port, and I can slip it in a pocket). I feel ready to hit the road, ready to head home. I’ll have a bite of breakfast and a cup of coffee in the hotel breakfast bar, and getting going shortly after, which should put the entire drive in daylight. If all goes to plan (though it rarely does), I should be home before 16:00, and get to enjoy dinner with my Traveling Partner, without hurrying or creating unnecessary stress for myself. 😀

…Funny, the trip down was sunny and mild. The days here were mostly also sunny and mild, with some brief rain showers and coastal fog yesterday. Today? The air is damp, it rained during the night, and the car is icy. The morning air is quite cold. I’ve used up the in-room coffee, and forgotten to ask for more. Definitely time to go home. lol

What a pleasant visit, in spite of the trying circumstances. No one wants to say final goodbyes to cherished friends, but if I’d had to script it, it may very well have gone something like this, and I feel so incredibly fortunate to have had the chance to enjoy my dear friend’s lucid companionship and humor once again. I got pretty lucky. My dear friend was often awake and aware, while I visited. We enjoyed lively conversation, some of it quite deep. I was thoroughly welcomed by her family, gathered to care for her, and make decisions. The only better outcome would likely involve modifications to how mortality works, and some kind of extension of our all too brief human lives, or perhaps some more robust mortal vessel than those we’ve got. Not this year, I guess.

So, I give the room a last look around to avoid forgetting anything. I’m definitely ready for coffee. I guess I’m also ready to begin again.