Archives for posts with tag: the clock is ticking

Interesting day, yesterday. My travels took me up winding mountain roads to new places, new trails to walk, new spots to sit and think and listen to birdsong and breezes. I found a new forest to “lose myself” in, on miles of well-kept trails.

One trail leading to others, some narrow, some steep, some descending to creek beds, others tracing the ridgeline.

Elsewhere, high on a hill, out in the countryside far from the noise of city and suburb, I found a new place to paint with a remarkable view. Well…on some other day, perhaps, or some other moment, the view will be remarkable. lol Yesterday, the view was misty, and obscured by the low hanging clouds that had wrapped the mountainside.

A new favorite place to paint, weather permitting.

The mist didn’t stop me from painting. It’s beautiful there, exactly as it was. What stopped me from setting up and painting the lovely scene was the rain that fell steadily. There is no cover, there, and I wasn’t set up to deal with that. Water falling from the sky is no way to treat soft pastels! lol I sat listening to the rain fall contentedly, thinking about how to set up my easel in the car, such that I could comfortably paint. It’s a smallish tabletop easel, and it seems likely it might be possible. I was entertained by that thought, and satisfied to sit quietly, listening to the wind in the trees and the sound of raindrops on the roof of the car, waiting for the rain to stop. It never did.

Mist and mud.

I whiled away a good bit of time enjoying my thoughts and the moments as they ticked by. I got out into the wind and rain to explore the muddy slopes and trails that clung to the hillside, twice. Time well spent, but the park is a small one and I quickly completed the few short trails, and got soaked and chilled in the process. No complaints, I enjoyed the morning. By afternoon, my thoughts were of hearth and home and the prospect of a hot shower and warm dry clothes.

The dense fog accumulating seemed to be a hint that it was time to head home.

The mist became a dense fog, and I decided to head home rather than risk a more hazardous drive later. (Conveniently, my Traveling Partner was missing me, and eager to welcome me back.) The drive home seemed both shorter and easier than the drive to the park had been.

Damn that hot shower felt so good! A simple luxury elevated by a chilly rainy morning hiking muddy trails. Perspective.

Now, it is morning once more, and another new beginning, another day off spent (hopefully) painting in some beautiful place. I am listening to the wind and waves at a favorite bluff above the beach at Road’s End. It’s not my destination, today, but a good spot to wait for daybreak, and watch the dawn come.

A long exposure lets me capture something of the moment, although it’s barely daybreak and still quite dark.

I have this place to myself, other than the gulls already busy overhead, and quite noisy. Another beautiful place. A soft misty sort of rain covers the windshield in tiny droplets. I don’t hear rain, just the wind and the waves on the seashore. I laugh quietly to myself. Will I be “rained out” (in?) again today? It was raining quite hard when I left the house a little more than an hour ago. The forecast is rain, everywhere, all day. I’m not bothered; the moment is my own, in spite of the rain.

I wonder briefly about the affairs of the world, then let all that go; it is reliably an insane clown car tossed into a dumpster fire in this current administration and I really don’t want to hear another word about the insanity, the corruption, the cruelty, the lies, or elon-fucking-musk. 100% of all of that can wait. For the moment, my own sanity and self-care are by far more important (to me). It’s not as if anything particularly unpredictable is going to develop. I breathe, exhale, and relax. I let all that go, and pull myself back to “now”, the wind, the waves, the gulls overhead – this moment, here.

A misty gray dawn, a new day.

The dawn comes. I swap my soft shoes for my sturdy hiking boots and grab my cane. I love this beautiful place, familiar and cherished. I stop here as often as I come to the coast. This view brings to mind my Granny, who loved the sea, and my Dear Friend, although she and I never made it to this place together. I’ll walk down the steep rocky, muddy, path and walk the shoreline for some little while, before I head down the road to the place I hope to paint from, today. Whether I do or not, it’s a new day, and it is mine. I don’t know where this path leads, in any specific way (metaphorically speaking), but I know I will see some beautiful places.

… Funny… when I planned my time off, the forecast had suggested that these would be mild days, with a limited chance of some rain… I laugh at myself trying to plan around the weather. The plan is not the experience. The intention does not determine the outcome. It doesn’t really matter, my time is my own, and the clock is always ticking – I’ll just have to walk the path ahead of me as it is.

Where does this path lead?

It’s already midmorning, still chilly. I’m warming up in the car between hiking and exploring trails, picnic tables, views and moments, and the planned purpose of this adventure; to paint. The honest underlying purpose has already been well met for this day; I have walked new trails, seen new views and new places, and experienced entirely new moments. My mind and my spirit feel refreshed and alive – so alive! It’s lovely. This is a beautiful place, and so early in the Spring (and the day) it is uncrowded.

A beautiful place for thinking and painting.

… There is a popular disc golf course adjacent to the picnic table I finally settled on, but it’s quite a chilly day, so only the most fanatic players are venturing onto the course this morning, and they are few, and no bother…

The sky is a soft featureless gray, at least for now. The river below the steep edge of the bank flows steadily past. It looks fast, deep, and cold. The geese bobbing along near the far shore don’t seem to mind at all. They call loudly to each other. Overhead a bird of prey surfs the air currents, circling a tall tree with a large nest near the top. I wonder if it’s theirs? Are there baby birds in the nest? I sit quietly, watching, listening, enjoying the moment grateful for the military experience of a lifetime ago that prompted me to bring spare socks. Cold wet feet are miserable. My feet are warm and dry, in spite of the muddy trails and occasional puddles.

One point of view.

There’s no reason to rush. I sit, warm, and filled with contentment and joy (and coffee). It’s a nice moment. I savor it. I am hoping the sun will break through for a little while, shortly. Regardless, I’ve found a nice spot for some painting and a chance to begin again.

Where does this path lead?

I’m sipping my coffee and thinking about the future. I wonder what it holds? I mean, besides uncertainty… It’s not yet written. I’m making it right now (so are you) with every choice, every action, and my participation in any circumstance in which I may be involved (and perhaps some in which I am not directly involved at all). The future is… complicated. We can’t see what is on the path ahead, but we keep right on walking toward the next bend. We have to; the journey is the the destination. Even standing still (metaphorically) doesn’t halt our forward progress through time. The clock is always ticking.

I’m 97 days away from my next birthday. There were years in my life when I could not imagine being in this place, or having come this far. I couldn’t even begin to plan for a future I felt fairly certain (at some points) that I would not live to see. I did a pretty shitty job of being prepared for this place in life… older. Aging. Feeling my capabilities descreasing as my wisdom and joy in life increase. Wanting to retire but needing to continue working. “Complicated” doesn’t begin to explain it in any simply way, it merely obscures the nuances of the truth. I’m not even complaining – I’m just thinking about it and feeling rather mortal. My time is finite. I wonder how much I have left? Would I choose to “live forever” if I could? I think I might, actually, yeah – even as unprepared for that as I am. I rather enjoy living this life, and seeing each sunrise. I’m definitely not bored with it, and there is so much more to learn and do and see and experience.

I’m not feeling discontented this morning. I’m not even in much pain – quite manageable, and I’m grateful for that. I got a good night’s rest, after a rather trying day yesterday, and I’m feeling fairly relaxed and on the edge of feeling actually… merry. Joyful. Grateful. Almost… happy. But I still wonder how many grains of sand remain in the hourglass… and what lies beyond?

There are things to do – I have a list – and I’m looking forward to most of them. The weather has been tempting me out into the garden, and it’s a lovely way to occupy my time productively, and happily. I smile when I think about my childhood resentment of having to spend time on my hands and knees weeding the garden, or preparing the soil, or moving things from here to there to help out in a garden I had no particular fondness for. I think I was only about 19 when my perspective on that changed. Certainly by the time I was 22, I was eager to create and nurture a garden of my own. I remember my very first roses fondly (Mr Lincoln, and Olympiad, which were part of the landscape of a little house in Texas I’d moved into). They changed my mind about roses, and I’ve grown roses ever since. Isn’t it strange how our perspective can change over time? How what matters most evolves over a lifetime of experience?

Roses on a sunny day. Impermanent. Like moments.

Beyond the garden, my to-do list is all practical things, part of taking care of hearth and home. I’m yearning to paint, but there are things that come first as priorities. I’m hoping perhaps to make a trip to the coast over the vernal equinox, to relax for a few days and paint, and get some solo time…but… there are costs to consider, and I’d very much like to avoid “Spring break” crowds (just not my thing, too much noise and chaos). I frown at my calendar… when is Spring break, anyway? I feel almost relieved to see that Spring break is the week following the equinox…but… can I make it work? I sigh to myself. I can remember being less “responsible”, but while that seemed to be “more fun” in some ways, it was a rocky path and one that I don’t care to walk these days. I’d rather plan with care, and choose wisely, and work within the limitations of my resources in a practical way. Less stress. Weather permitting, I’m pretty comfortably equipped for plein air painting, and there are some lovely spots for it locally. I could just take the time, stay fairly close to home, and make day trips to see things from a new perspective, paint awhile, and return home. I sit with that thought and sip my coffee as the sun rises. It starts to sound like a real adventure of a sort I rarely indulge. My mind wanders the map in my head of places I could go, handy picnic tables with pleasing views… will the weather cooperate?

I sit awhile longer with my thoughts. Soon enough it will be time to begin again.

I am waiting for the sun, a bit impatiently. I don’t have to wait; it’s a mild morning after a rainy night, and my headlamp is right here. I’m choosing to wait, and I’m not in any hurry. The sense of restless energy and impatience aren’t so much a choice as they are a temporary state of being. Feelings. Sensations. Emotions. I observe them, but don’t make decisions based on them. I choose the quiet waiting. I am eager for the day, and in pain, but neither of these things are decision-making details. They merely are what they are, part of the experience of this moment in all its unrepeatable richness. I breathe, exhale, and relax. I wait.

A smattering of raindrops falls briefly, tapping the roof and windshield of the car excitedly. The shower passes quickly. It’ll be another fifteen minutes or so until daybreak. I’ll start down the trail then.

I sip my coffee content with the waiting, thinking my thoughts, experiencing this moment. It is enough. Each sip of my coffee carries along with it the scent the barista wore today. Where her perfumed fingers had pressed the lid down onto the cup securely, the fragrance lingers. Flowers mostly, and a hint of something classic I can’t name, and each sip makes me wonder again what the name of the perfume is. It is familiar and I can almost remember it.

…At intervals, brief rain showers pass by as I wait…

I don’t bother looking at my news feed. This isn’t the day for that and it has no power over me. No anxiety. No chaos or damage. No anger, frustration, or drama. Just a quiet watchful moment, waiting. It’s a pleasant beginning to a new day and it is enough. Later I’ll run some errands, work on finishing the move from one storage unit to another, and get some routine housekeeping tasks out of the way, but none of that needs my attention now.

Eventually, a new day.

Day breaks, gray and rainy. An enormous flock of geese, uncountably large, passes overhead, unconcerned with the rain. Me, though, I continue to wait – grateful I’m not out on the trail already, caught betwixt rain showers out in open. Now I wait for a break in the rain, watching daybreak become dawn. I smile, content with things as they are. This too is enough.

I look over my writing. “First person, singular,” I think to myself, unbothered by that. I check for spelling mistakes, with care. I breathe, exhale, and relax. It is a new day, a new moment, and a new opportunity to make my choices and live my life. I am here, now, and it is enough. I smile and sip my coffee. This too will pass; moments are fleeting.

Soon it will be time to begin again.

Busy, productive weekend. Even feels like my Traveling Partner and I connected more deeply in some important ways than we have in a while. That feels pretty good. Fucking hell, though, life is a bit stressful and I am so tired. It’s just ordinary human fatigue of the sort that results from pushing one’s self too hard to do too much for too long. It’s a familiar feeling, though it has been awhile since it could “so easily” pull me down like this.

… I woke disoriented, unclear about when or where I was this morning, confused by the clothes I had laid out for today (“Where’s my uniform…?) and feeling the purposeful “relaxed tension” of military readiness – until I moved, and my aching back reminded me that time has passed and I am not that strong, aggressive, laser-focused, mission-driven, can-do young woman who thought she understood who the good guys are, and what the point of it all might be. lol Weird way to wake up. I feel exhausted before the day begins, and there is already (still) so much to do… I could definitely use the energy of that younger self!

…and also? Fuck this headache.

Emotionally, I feel like I am treading water, not yet at risk of drowning, but too fucking far from shore to feel secure facing this predicament. Life is “a lot”, right now. I’m doing my best. Sometimes, maybe even most of the time, it’s enough, but I sure don’t feel like I can count on that.

It’s fine. I’m fine.

Work is fine. Love is fine. Life is… complicated. 2 out of three in the “wins” column? I probably shouldn’t bitch, I’ve had it much worse. Hell, life isn’t bad, just complicated right now. There’s a lot going on, and change is in motion (some of it I chose myself, and while I can certainly question my timing, I can’t really complain about getting what I asked for).

I breathe, exhale, and relax. Self-care becomes huge at times like these, and I tend to do well if I already have firm reliable self-care practices in place that are habitual and just part of everyday life. I’m kicking myself a bit over self-care failures over time, recently, but trying to also be kind to myself. “Just begin again. Keep practicing.” I remind myself.

The morning feels chilly, though it’s a mild 51°F this morning. I don’t need a jacket as I walk, but quickly notice the cool of morning when I paused to take pictures. Sitting here at the halfway point, I regret the sleeveless top I’m wearing, though I know it will feel like a good choice in the heat of the afternoon, later.

I sit with my thoughts. I won’t sit for long. I’m filled with restless energy that needs an outlet. That’s okay, it’s a work day, and my to-do list is rather long, presently – there’s no shortage of shit to do, or things that need my attention. I’m presently faced with a to-do list that continues to grow slightly faster than I am working it off, so running out of shit to do? Not a challenge I have to deal with. lol I guess I am grateful? I probably should be.

The sun rises above the hills on the horizon, golden and bright. A new day ahead. What will I do with it? When night comes, will I be satisfied with how I spent my time? How will I care for this fragile vessel? Can I tread water long enough to reach the shore? (Metaphorically speaking, swimming might be a better choice…)

I breathe, exhale, and relax. Soon it will be time to begin again, to face the next challenge, the next moment, and the expectations of the woman in the mirror. I’ll do my best – that will have to be enough.

We become what we practice. Feels like a good day to practice maintaining perspective, and non-attachment, a good day to practice kindness, compassion and consideration. I’m definitely going to need the practice… I’m very human and my results vary.

…Change is. Are you ready for it? Time is short, and the clock is ticking…