Archives for posts with tag: the forest and the trees

Some Fall, Some Are Cut Down

January 20, 2019 //
0

I was sipping my coffee between moments in the studio when I really noticed; there’s a tree missing from the view beyond my deck.

What I expected to see…

It’s not a great picture, and I warn you now, it isn’t from an identical perspective – and perhaps that’s why it nagged at me so much. Something is different, I spotted that right away, but figured, in the gloom of twilight, last night, that perhaps it was just more winter, fewer leaves, more lights in the distance… something.

…what I see today.

There’s a missing tangle of mostly-dead tree. Obvious as anything could be, once I allowed myself to really see it, absent my expectations. There’s something to be learned from that.

The healthy heart-wood of the stump left-behind, quite evenly cut, about 18 inches from the ground, tells me it was not lost to misadventure or high winds. Willful. Probably well-intended. I feel sad about it anyway, thinking about the owl that had been making her home there. The squirrels using it as a freeway ramp to the tree nearer the deck. The loss of privacy from neighbors beyond. Just… the loss of a tree. It’s painful. Oh, I’m sure a dead tree just hanging out there on the steep edge of the yard, where it suddenly drops off just past the fence, was a hazard of some sort, to something, but… fucking hell. I’m getting a little sick of people just taking my fucking trees away every-fucking-where that I move. Irksome.

There’s much to learn from contemplating this change. Trees fall. Trees are cut. Impermanence is. Non-attachment helps with the pain of circumstantial misfortunes. We have choices. Trees can be planted. Trees sprout. Trees grow.

I sip a delicious afternoon coffee – a perk of having a 3-day weekend, afternoon coffee always feels like luxury to me. 🙂 I contemplate impermanence, and change – and choices. I think about seeing. I mean, really seeing – eyes and mind both open to what may be new and changed. I contemplate acceptance; change can be hard. Recognizing what has changed is not without it’s own challenges. I breathe. Relax, and consider what I am practicing, and what I want to achieve. I think over conversations with my Traveling Partner; this last visit was rich with thought-provoking, inspiring, observations, and discussion. Connected. Insightful. Loving.

We become what we practice. (Remember, “trees take a long time” 😉 )

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Categories Allegories, Anxiety, Brain Injury, Despair, forgiveness, Free Will, Frustration, gardening, grief, Healthy Living, inspiration, Love, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, The Art of Being, The Big 5, winter

Home

August 14, 2016 //
0

I’m home. Gear unpacked, cleaned, put away for future use. There’s still the matter of sorting out thoughts and photographs; it was a peculiarly eventful trip out to the trees, but there’s little I can do about the matter of finding the words for it, at least for now.

The trail at Saddle Mountain bested me utterly, and by that I mean I didn’t make it to the top. 🙂 I’m okay with that, still counting it among life’s successes – it’s often more about showing up than whatever the outcome may be. I managed a half mile up the trail, and back down, and learned more about how having a clear-seeming destination can alter the characteristics of a journey. I enjoyed a day out among the trees, and returned home with only 17 mosquito bites. 😀

When I arrived with the sun there was just one site available.

When I arrived with the sun there was just one site available.

I secured my camp site early in the morning on Friday with the intention of staying the weekend, and I was surprised that the camping was basically full. I quickly learned it generally is so full that incoming travelers quickly grab every vacancy as departing campers make their exit. (The posted rules are ‘check out by 1 pm, check in begins at 4 pm’, but there is no actual gap between 1:00 pm-4:00 pm during which tent sites are actually vacant.)

Heading up the trail.

Heading up the trail.

I hadn’t planned to attempt the trail the first day, but the enticing coolness of the forest drew me in, and I found myself walking. The brochure describes the trail as a ‘continuous incline’ (it is) that is very steep in places (not an exaggeration) and recommends it only for fit, sure-footed hikers, in proper footwear (wise). I went anyway – great footwear, at least, and feeling prepared, if not ‘sure-footed’. lol

...Just keep walking...

…Just keep walking…

I took very few pictures on the trail. Many that I took didn’t turn out. I was amused to find one reminder of the trail difficulties turned out only too well…

The obstacle that stopped me reaching the Humbug Mountain view point.

The obstacle that stopped me reaching the Humbug Mountain viewpoint.

Life’s journey has obstacles and detours. Part of finding my way is making wise decisions regarding which to overcome, and which to walk away from. I was finding this small side trail enticing and lovely – and relatively easy, until I reached this point. It was clear that hikers had been scrambling around this (tree trunk? branch? snag? fallen-down-something-or-other-that-once-was-tree); in doing so, over time, the path itself had crumbled away. Looking things over, I couldn’t determine with the needed certainty that the bit of tree clinging there to the hillside would truly support my weight sufficiently well to swing over the gap to the other side… and honestly didn’t come prepared to splint a broken leg and drag myself to help from the forest floor below, so I turned back, reminding myself it hadn’t been my intention to hike the entire trail today, anyway.  🙂

I returned to camp after hiking further up the main trail. It took me almost an hour to reach the 1/2 mile marker, and I contentedly headed back to camp. I’d taken some lovely trail pictures – many of which I didn’t yet know hadn’t turned out at all. I’d find that out after I returned home. lol But it isn’t about the pictures, is it? Life, I mean? It’s more about the living of each moment with exquisite awareness…and that doesn’t require a camera, at all. 😀

There are small things of great beauty surrounding us; we only need to look for them.

There are small things of great beauty surrounding us; we only need to look for them.

Moments to be savored don’t really need a camera. “Pictures or it didn’t happen”? That’s no real concern of mine. I don’t need to prove I live; I am living. 🙂

Perspective comes in all shapes and sizes.

Perspective comes in all shapes and sizes.

I had come hoping to see the meteor shower, figuring the remote location and high elevation would work in my favor. I hadn’t counted on the dense forest. I found two likely locations for good viewing, though, the parking lot, and the mostly dis-used ‘day use area’ on the other side.

The best view of the sky I could find near camp.

The best view of the sky I could find near camp.

I contentedly checked out the somewhat haunted seeming “picnic area” that had fallen into disrepair. It was a rare bit of quiet off the beaten path, at least in those moments that I was fortunate to explore it all to myself. Searching for a specific picture, of a specific moment, I happily discovered that I’d paused syncing on my Dropbox, and ‘found’ quite a few pictures I thought hadn’t turned out. Nice moment. I smile, sip my coffee, and enjoy it.

Once upon a time...

Once upon a time…

I had found what seemed a likely place to watch the meteor shower, and a reasonably easy & safe walk in the dark (even with a headlamp or flashlight, anything up the trail would be too risky in the dark). I spent much of the afternoon in this strangely forgotten timeless place, content with the stillness and solitude, beyond the sounds of voices and automobiles.

Beautiful day for a picnic.

Beautiful day for a picnic.

I spent the day whiling away hours in meditation, wandering, breathing in the scents of summertime, and naming all the shades of green; it was a day well-spent.

How many shades of green are there?

How many shades of green are there?

The night passed less comfortably, and my astonishment at how discourteous and inconsiderate people can be was quickly exhausted. Weary travelers arriving past midnight, disappointed to find no obvious vacancies didn’t just turn around and drive on, instead they illuminated the night forest with high beams, certain that if only they had the light of day to work with, they’d surely see the tent site they need… The regular interruption of the darkness was accompanied by a soundtrack, too, the cacophony of loud voices, strident, frustrated, insistent – tired people wanting rest who did not plan to arrive “early enough” to secure a tent site didn’t generally put the onus of their failure on their own shoulders, and seemed to seek silent validation from the rest of us, by shouting their tale of woe to each other across the dark parking lot and into the trees. Quiet hours after 10 pm? The park was actually noisiest from 11 pm to well past 1 am.

On the one hand, I didn’t sleep. On the other hand, the periodic interruptions that woke me also ensured I was indeed awake between 1 am and 4 am, and enjoyed a decent view of the starry night sky, and got to observe the meteor shower for some little while, although the experience suffered for the regular arrival and departure of visitors seeking a place to lay their heads for the night (see my earlier remarks on discourtesy and inconsiderate decision-making).

Even a day later, I am more than a little bit irked by hike/camp travelers who arrive on site past darkness, unprepared, and making a crap ton of noise. Surely planning is a small investment to arrive at a destination in a timely fashion so as not to intrude on the pleasant experience of others? I’m pretty sure most people approach that from a ‘fuck you, your experience doesn’t matter to me’ position these days… that sure seemed to be the case from the perspective I had from site #9 at Saddle Mountain. That’s a trivial matter, and it’s behind me now… seeping into my awareness of other circumstances and experiences, and I hope that I will take it to heart, myself, and act such that while I am out in the world enjoying my experience, I’m not wrecking the pleasant experience others are having around me. A small amount of consideration goes a long way. 🙂

I woke early yesterday, and dithered through my morning coffee… stay or go? Stay? Go. Stay. Go? One cup of coffee. Stay. Stay? No… go. Another cup of coffee. I’ll stay. It’s cooler up here. I’m not sleeping, though… I’ll go. Back and forth. I started heating water for oatmeal… and noticed I’d packed most of my gear in the car without really planning to in any specific way. (Trip to the rest room; take a bag to the car… Trip to get more water for coffee; take my hydration pack to the car…) Apparently, I had decided to return home – and the decision felt comfortable, natural, and relaxed. No pressure. No stress. I was ready to go home and didn’t need any other reason.

It was a lovely bit of time away, and I returned home with plenty to think over. Today is a good day for thinking thoughts, and preparing for the week ahead. 🙂

 

 

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Categories Brain Injury, Free Will, Healthy Living, Mindfulness, more than a little bit of bitching, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Sleepless Nights, solo hiking, Summer, The Art of Being

The Forest and The Trees

May 7, 2016 //
0

I enjoyed an entire day of gentle stillness yesterday, no agenda beyond enjoying some chill time, no stress, no bother, no real ‘workload’. Much of the day was spent in meditation, seated on my cushion, or relaxing on the patio, watching the birds come and go, and listening to the sounds of the park in spring. No stress. Literally no stress. It is a remarkable feeling, and I’m glad I had the weekend away with my traveling partner to remind me what that feels like, so I would be prepared for it solo! There were some moments yesterday when my primate nature restlessly fussed in the background seeking some kind of escape from the peace of it; the chill time I had inflicted on myself requires as much discipline as any other effort. I resisted the call of social media, of favorite brain candy, of distractions by the dozens, and took the time I needed to really relax. There were still verbs involved. lol

I learned something over the minutes and hours of a wholly meditative day, yesterday; I need more time spent this way. I took a moment in the evening to reserve a favorite camp site in a favorite nearby(ish) state park with plenty of forest and good hiking trails – many that I’ve not yet hiked – for an upcoming weekend. Time out in the trees is very much the thing I need, without the constant temptations of distractions intruding in precious moments of stillness – mostly. All that remains is to coordinate the transportation details, get my gear together, and do a thorough gear check; it’s been more than a year since I last camped. Wow – so long? No wonder I am needing this time to refresh and recharge!

Number 23 is waiting for me...

Number 23 is waiting for me…

Life sometimes seems to get going so fast…the rushed hurried pace of planned events tangled up with the unexpected can become overwhelming without warning if I am not mindful of the potential. I’ve learned to limit how much I plan into any given day, even when I travel on vacation. I’m not the sort who makes detailed plans with a lengthy list of scenic landmarks to check off (Yep, seen it! Next!!), or noteworthy high-points identified by friends and associates that I feel compelled to similarly enjoy – that’s not my way. I do plenty of research on a destination (even this trip to the trees, in a park I am familiar with), and fill my thoughts with information about the opportunities, history, and scenic wonders – then I ‘wing it’. Once I’ve got a hotel reservation (or camping spot) the rest is surprisingly spontaneous, considering my fondness for planning. I don’t prefer ‘tour group style’ travel; I like to go and live.  Do I miss out on seeing that one fantastic whatever? Sometimes. Sometimes not. I rarely come home exhausted, irritated, or feeling vaguely let down, either, which is generally the outcome [for me] of traveling via landmark checklist. Your results may vary. 🙂

Another lovely spring-summer day ahead, a loose agenda (not quite a plan), and a smile on my face – it’s a good beginning, and a lovely morning to begin again.

Why yes, thank you, I shall.

Why yes, thank you, I shall.

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Categories Brain Injury, Free Will, health, Healthy Living, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, solo hiking, Spring, Summer, The Art of Being, Words

Charms and Potions

July 10, 2014 //
2

First, before I go farther, and carelessly hurt someone’s feelings over mystical or spiritual beliefs we may not share; nothing in this post is intended to slight someone else’s personal beliefs, challenge their system of beliefs, or deny them the chosen beliefs that comfort and guide them. Not even a little bit. This is not about that.

Finding peace and balance is a very personal journey.

Finding peace and balance is a very personal journey.

If you read this blog now and then, you are probably aware that I have a certain…cynicism is a good word… about medicine, and specifically the practice of medicine relevant to women, and our experiences. Still, so many of us get to a place in life where our desperation and suffering require intervention, because we are challenged to find solutions within, and many of us choose the Rx solution recommended to us. Sometimes that’s a life saver. Sometimes it is a game changer. Sometimes it is a real and very practical solution to get us through the hard times. For me… when my turn came the solution offered by the VA, in the form of first one pill, then another, then a handful, only seemed to be helping me, and only initially (resulting in ever-increasing dosages and frequencies being prescribed).  Certainly, being stupefied chemically, pacified, and ‘managed’ by way of the careful and regular consumption of mind-altering drugs (and yes, they are) got me promoted at work, and I suppose that matters… but I couldn’t write easily (and you know I love words!) and struggled to paint. When I could paint, it was often only the most wildly fluid abstractions that were still possible. I watched a lot of television, mostly court tv shows; there is something about the interaction of seemingly real authentic people facing challenges that fascinated me, even drugged.

"Metaphor" acrylic on canvas. Painted on Zyprexa

“Metaphor” acrylic on canvas. Painted on Zyprexa

My experiences with chemical intervention in the struggles I faced with my volatility, my PTSD, my temper, and my hormones were disappointing, at best. The drugs the VA gave me slowly wrecked my health, and along the way I gained a lot of weight. The worst thing about all of it? It didn’t ‘work’. I still had to go through it all, endure it all, and get to the ‘other side’ – menopause, better therapy, practicing what worked. I still had to address the real issues of my PTSD.  There was more to know and to learn about taking care of myself, meeting my own needs where I could, and I hadn’t yet found out about my TBI (which is sort of a big deal in the whole ‘taking care of me’ realm). Many of the drugs I was given turn out to be entirely contraindicated because of the TBI; other treatments were more appropriate, safer, more effective, less likely to cause my brain further damage.

Why do I mention it today? Because each and every time I ‘chose the red pill’ hoping for a miracle, I was disappointed when no miracle came. Over and over it broke my heart, to suffer. I felt like I would never be well, and never stop crying.  We put so much faith in our healers, our medicine men, our preachers, our faiths, our pills and cures and potions – and promises. We keep at it, too, as though the issue is not how we’re going about solving the puzzle, but more that we’ve just grabbed the wrong puzzle piece.  For some reason, we don’t just want relief, improvement, progress… we want it now. Right now. No delay and no real effort.  Pills are much easier than working to improve, so much easier than practicing a skill.  Choosing a different approach was much more challenging than choosing a different pill.

Sip of coffee. A calming breath. A reminder; this is not about you. :-)

A sip of coffee. A calming breath.

Pausing for a moment to reflect on my experience; I hope you are reflecting on yours, too, and in loving kindness, and awareness that your choices are your own, chosen by you, doing the best you can. I hope whatever you choose works to improve your experience over time, too, and if that means an Rx solution to some challenge or another, I hope you get the relief you need, and find wellness and contentment. You get no criticism from me; we’re different people. 🙂

It took me the better part of 2 years to get off the various psych meds the VA had put me on. It was harder than it had to be; there’s limited information of what the experience of going off some drugs is going to be like, and in some cases it is beyond scary, in others the damage left behind was unanticipated, and required further recovery.  Throughout the process I had the emotional support of friends and loved ones to complete the undertaking; very few of them ever thought I needed those drugs in the first place, although obviously something needed to be done. (Turns out it needed to be done by me, and drugs are not required.)

I can paint again. I can write again. I can think clearly (You, there in the back, no tittering!). Let’s be fair, though, I’m not doing nothing. I am doing a lot to take care of me, and it is an active process requiring my time and attention, my will, and my effort: meditation, yoga, study, practicing, modeling new behavior, role-playing the deconstruction of bad programming and conversations that could have been healing if handled differently, developing greater emotional intelligence, learning to ‘take care of me’… I barely have time for life and work, I put so much time and effort into learning to treat myself and others well, and healing, and achieving emotional wellness.  A pill would be much easier; there isn’t one for what I need.  (A pill never got me off the hook for doing the work that needed to be done, either, but often limited my ability to see that work needed to be done.)

Where am I going with this? Into the trees. 🙂 I’m taking time for me, in the woods, camping and meditating, hiking and sketching. Practicing. Change takes work. Sometimes work requires a bit of elbow room. It’s just 3 days, a long weekend alone, and I’m eager to get started; there are a few hours of work between me and… whoever I am when I walk out of the forest. Monday does not yet exist, and there’s still one last gear check, and packing it all up, loading the car, and a bit of a drive ahead. I have no particular expectations, there is no warning label, no contraindications, no risk of overdose. It’ll be me, and some timeless time alone with my heart. I hope I make skillful use of it, take care of my needs over time, and walk a path that leads… to another path, and probably more practice. lol

Walking my own path.

Walking my own path.

Did I mention? I’ll be away a few days. 🙂

Today is a good day to take a step forward. Today is a good day to breathe. Today is a good day to love and be loved. Today is a good day to walk away with a smile. Today is a good day to change the world.

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Categories Brain Injury, Free Will, grief, Healthy Living, Hormone Hell, Logic & Reason, Love, Menopause, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Relationships, Summer, The Big 5, women, Words

Walk It Off, Soldier

June 21, 2014 //
3

How often have I suffered, or hurt, and faced someone telling me to ‘grow a thicker skin’, ‘shrug it off’, ‘walk away’, ‘move on’, ‘let it go’… How often have you? It’s funny that comes up so often, I think, because it is only in very rare circumstances that such words have had any value, or benefit, in those moments of pain.  I’m not complaining, and I’m not angry.  I’m a bit puzzled, though; where did we – any of us – get the idea that the proper and effective way to soothe, support, or console another suffering human being is to tell them to stop suffering? It’s not particularly effective, and definitely sends a clear message to the suffering person that they are somehow in the wrong to hurt.

I wrote about a thousand more bitter words in that vein this morning, before I realized I had ‘gone off topic’… because this morning I am considering with some interest and amusement that I am actually at a place in life where I am indeed, in some small way, ‘walking it off’, and have been since my journey dog-legged through a crisis and veered hard in the direction of mindfulness, and self-compassion.  I’m not trying to ‘walk it off’ in a dismissive way, devaluing the nature of my experience, or to avoid meeting my needs, or to avoid facing the things that hurt so much…I’m not running away.  I am walking. A lot. I walk every day, and even days when my walking is simply the portions of my commute I handle on foot, I get a few miles of gentle contemplation, and forward momentum.  How is it that it matters so much? (The walking – and the walking with mindfulness, particularly?)

One journey or another; getting from here to there.

One journey or another; getting from here to there.

There’s probably science to it; I haven’t studied it.  I do know that on my most challenging days, when my brain fights any moment of stillness, of awareness, of self-compassion, or contentment, no matter how vicious the ‘brain attacks’ I inflict on myself; once I’m on my feet, and walking, the breathing takes over, and I begin to find peace. Sure, I may indulge in some negative thinking, frustrated rumination, or angry ideations in those first hundreds of yards, but once miles start ticking away, my head clears, my heart feels lighter and my mind is liberated, my thinking productive and lucid. Generally.

This morning I am looking back on the evolution of getting back on my feet. I am observing the steps I took – real and metaphorical – that got my weight down, got me off psych meds that were doing more harm than good,  got me away from the mesmerizing mental junk food offered by the media, the networks, and the cable companies. Got me away from a job that was killing my soul. I took steps – and a lot of them, most of them, were real steps – feet on pavement, feet on earth.

I felt real pride the first time I walked 10 blocks to the nearest grocery store – most of it uphill – after years of being sedentary and sedated.  I felt a sense of accomplishment when I was able to visit the big farmer’s market on Saturdays; for so long I had been so uncomfortably heavy I just couldn’t walk far enough to do it.  I kept at it. No car. Everywhere I could reasonably go on foot, I planned the additional time and didn’t take transportation.  I stopped asking friends for rides places. The weight kept coming off.  The milestones, and achievements of small goals, kept adding up, and the benefits have never stopped being rewarding. Beginning to commute on foot was a really big deal – and choosing to relocate to housing that put that within reach was one of the best things I have ever done to ‘take care of me’.  I’ve been ‘walking off’ the weight for a while now. It’s steady, effective, and gradual.  It requires commitment, consistency, and a hearty application of verbs, and it does work.  It only makes sense that eventually that process would take me further… parks… trails… getaways… sanity… wellness.

One step after another.

One step after another.

I had forgotten how much walking can also free my mind. A camera, some landscape, a journey… and the world becomes a wide open space, a distant horizon, a broad vista, and it’s different when it is more than a trip to the store.  The hiking I have been doing meets a lot of varied needs for me, and practicing mindfulness matters. Storming off angrily and furiously walking an aggressively paced lap or two through residential neighborhoods and retails spaces doesn’t have the same power to bring peace and healing as mindfully walking quiet remote trails, content and aware, and I’m glad I rediscovered that.

Wide-eyed and mindful, there is value in every journey.

Wide-eyed and mindful, there is value in every journey.

I’m spending this year, 51, walking Oregon trails. I’m making an effort to ‘walk away’ from my chaos and damage, and taking a gentler pace through my experience. I’m learning to treat myself kindly walking challenging trails; taking a walking staff or trekking poles, instead of risking injury by ignoring injuries I’ve already got, planning, being prepared, being aware.  I’m shrugging off drama, and ‘moving on’ from my trauma… by moving on; setting goals, trying new trails, exploring the unknown in real places as well as within.  I’m taking progress, growth, and  healing ‘a step at a time’ – literally.

Every path leads precisely where it takes me.

Every path leads precisely where it takes me.

I’m not sure when I really started down this path, as a thing all its own… was it the 5k last fall, on that dreadful rainy, stormy day?  That was certainly an achievement, and it encouraged me to walk farther, more, and more often.  It was a good next step from commuting on foot.  Trips to the beach and my partner’s recent camping/rafting trip definitely got me excited to take yet another step… and unexpectedly it has become a weekend practice to grab my gear and head for the trees, somewhere, for a few hours, quietly walking. Since that first hike with my partners – Cooper Mountain – I’ve also hiked Tualatin Hills Nature Park (through which was my original commute on foot, and a very emotionally safe feeling solo hike), and some of the trails of the Audubon Society Park. I’ve got Sunday hikes planned ahead for most of the summer, and two solo camping trips over weekends.  Friends and family already recognize my enthusiasm and commitment to this new activity; they recommend places they have been and enjoyed, and places they think I would enjoy, myself. It’s a point of connection between many coworkers, and I. I feel engaged, and involved in my life, and enthusiastic about each new adventure.

Life's curriculum isn't always about 'the hard stuff'.

Life’s curriculum isn’t always about ‘the hard stuff’.

Meditation. Walking. Healing. It sounds too easy, and if someone would have suggested it decades ago, I don’t know that I would have been sufficiently open to take it seriously, or to give it a fair try.  Still… I’m taking steps.  I’m moving on.  I’m… walking it off.

One possible future... and one beautiful now.

One possible future… and one beautiful now.

Today is a good day to plan tomorrow’s hike, and to smile and remember other hikes, and other good days.  Today is a good day to embrace what has value. Today is a good day to take another step. Today is a good day to change the world.

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Categories Anxiety, Brain Injury, Free Will, Healthy Living, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Summer, The Big 5, women