I’m contemplating the day ahead, and the commute behind me, and considering the things I’ve learned while driving. I mean, there are really some useful lessons that can be applied in a more general way, too.
You can only go as fast as the traffic ahead of you is going.
Driving conditions vary.
Letting anger control your behavior does not contribute positively to the outcome.
Other people’s behavior is not about you at all. Stop taking that shit personally, but also don’t be a dick.
Open road ahead feels like “freedom”.
Self-care matters; taking a break from stress is helpful.
Until you “get there”, the journey matters more than the destination.
Things I’m thinking about as I start my day. Figured I’d share. 😀
If the stress is getting to you, in life or while commuting, stop and take a break! You’ll thank yourself.
Driving conditions vary.
Traffic sucks. Do your best. Breathe.
Most of the misery you experience is something you create for yourself. You can choose differently. Your results will vary.
I sip my tea and consider this; people who will “cheat” the traffic rules to get ahead in traffic are likely to be the same people who cheat in life, in various minor and major ways. More to think about. Who do you want most to be? I direct the question to the woman in the mirror, and begin again.
I jot down some thoughts for later, before I hit the trail. I’m killing a bit of time waiting for a passing rain shower to move on from here to elsewhere before I start down the trail. I’ve got my boots on and my rain jacket. I’m ready. I’m thinking about how much small changes over time have added up to big differences in quality of life, health, fitness, and my relationships. I put those thoughts aside, and head down the trail.
I take the short trail up to a view point, just to grab this picture. There’s nothing extraordinary about it, I just wanted to.
I walk along noticing signs of Spring, although it seems quite early for it. There are trees already leafing out, and flowers beginning to bloom. Seasonal ponds reflect the sky and the surrounding trees from the calm surface of murky water. The ducks don’t mind the muck, quite the contrary, they seem to enjoy it greatly.
A pair of ducks enjoys a quiet breakfast together. Will there be ducklings soon? I wonder but don’t go looking for a nest.
Yesterday, I had the park entirely to myself, although it was a Sunday. Today, in spite of it being a Monday morning, there are quiet a few others enjoying the trail, and though I’ve done my best to give them (and myself) considerable distance, I find myself pausing along the edge of the pond, waiting for someone to walk on past. They don’t stop at the pond; they see me and quickly walk on past. At this early hour, the majority of the folks on the trail are seeking solitude. This is not the “family hour” of the morning. lol
I walk and enjoy the Spring air, fresh from the rain during the night. I tread carefully on the slick muddy path, and silently thank myself for choosing to walk with my cane this morning; it prevents me from losing my footing a handful of times as I walk. I reach my goal, a particular riverside viewpoint, and sensing the approach of another rain shower, turn back up the trail.
Spring flowers and young leaves are plentiful, already.
As I walk, I find myself thinking again about small changes. I’ve not once hit the trail for the first time in Spring and comfortably stepped along at my best pace for multiple miles, then returned home feeling energized and ready for more. If I’ve been off the trail for a few weeks, I start again a bit slower, and tackle shorter distances of level well-maintained (or even paved) trails and build up to the distances and quicker pace. If I haven’t been writing awhile, I generally start with fewer words, and build a practice of regular writing, before I seek to drop lengthy missives on an unsuspecting recipient of my correspondence. If I’m committing myself to a new fitness strategy, I don’t hit the mat (or the gym) with aggressive energy, seeking to max out my weight, reps, or duration – I start light, and build up to my goal. Lots of things seem to work best with small changes and incremental changes over time.
Small changes are on my mind. New doctors, new images, new results, all of these tend to mean new treatment plans, new strategies, and a different way of viewing (and caring for) this fragile vessel and the limitations it has. Improving on my present wellness and fitness isn’t an over-night single-change solution at all. There’s more to it than that, and even with great care and small changes, my results will vary along the way. It’s a journey. Steps on a path.
So… I walk and think, about miles and fitness and pain (and pain management) and what it takes to get the most (and the most joy) out of this fragile vessel in this one mortal lifetime. Walking is my most reliable form of exercise day-to-day – and I want to go further, faster. I picked up a soft elastic ankle “brace” (more of a stretchy sleeve that offers some compression and support than a proper brace), understanding that the biggest limiting factor for my walking is currently my ankle. So, okay. Small change, and incremental improvement over time – it’s a place to start. 😀 New lab results and images make it clear that much of my pain is due to chronic conditions (and in some cases degenerative), and the “penalty weight” I carry (being considerably more than any estimate of “ideal weight” for my size and age) definitely adds additional wear to my body, and it’s a lot to have to carry for this fucked up ankle, and a lot to support for this fucked up back (and neck)… so I give thought to things like nutritional density, calorie restriction, and small changes that could add up to – over time – less weight to carry around. I can’t say I’m super eager to embrace these changes, but lying to myself about the necessity doesn’t get me anywhere I’d want to go. So, I walk and I think, and I consider and I plan. I’ve already started adding some supplements that may improve my general well-being, bone health, energy… I’ve got a good doctor, and so far her recommendations have been skillful. My Traveling Partner is working on his health and fitness, too; being injured has hit him hard, and he’s taking his health quite seriously. (I don’t feel like I’m making this journey alone, which is also helpful.)
I arrive home still feeling encouraged, hopeful, and eager to continue to make small changes. I sip a cup of tea, a new favorite, and think about the Spring garden. Earlier this weekend, I got out into the garden (in a bit of a drizzle) and cut down the last dead bits of the previous year, and pruned Baby Love (a rose that doesn’t know the meaning of winter, apparently). This morning, I thought about early plantings and decided to make time to plant peas, carrots, radishes, and early greens. It’s time, if the calendar and temperature can be relied upon. 😀 I make a plan and get out the seeds.
…My Traveling Partner sticks his head in the door of the studio to tell me my phone is misbehaving. I offer to reboot the silly thing…
Another lovely day unfolds ahead of me. There are things to do, and in the doing there is healing and potentially improved wellness. I hope to be around for many more years to come, gardening, painting, hiking – and beginning again. 😀
I’m sipping my coffee contentedly and watching daybreak slowly develop from the foggy night.
The fog adds a hint of mystery to a familiar view.
The sky is suddenly filled with bodies; a murder of crows rising from the trees, forming a vast murmuration that swirls betwixt and around the buildings that surround the park just beyond the window. Their cacophony fills the air, and I find myself wondering what they are saying about the morning. It’s a chilly one. Exceptionally cold compared to most Winter mornings this year at 32 degrees Fahrenheit, but still, just barely freezing. I’m comfortable and warm, and grateful for it.
I smile and sip my coffee. I think about words and language and why a flock of crows is called a “murder”? It’s a lovely quiet morning in most respects. It’s a pleasant one, too, and yesterday’s difficulties seem distant and mostly forgotten. Very human. So often whatever is “now” seems mostly to have “always been this way” – it’s a most peculiar cognitive error. I find myself wondering what purpose it serves (or once served a more primitive version of this human experience)?
My calendar is quite full today. I face it without any particular stress. It’s been a week of doctor’s appointments (largely a byproduct of once again having medical coverage through my employer – I’m catching up on things health-wise), but today is free of that “planned chaos”. I sigh quietly. I appreciate myself for having avoided scheduling something into every single day of this week. lol “Way to do the self-care thing properly!” I think to myself, encouragingly. (I’ve been working on taking a kinder tone with myself, and making a point of ensuring my internal monologue is more positive than it has tended to be, historically.)
The sky continues to lighten. The crows have settled into the trees once more – or moved on to parts unknown to do whatever it is that crows do at this hour of the morning. I wonder about that for a moment before moving on, myself.
I run my fingers through my hair and feel the softness of it. The sensation is a pleasant one, but reminds me that I’m overdue to get my hair cut. My bangs are all but gone, and my layers are growing out. lol Funny bit of vanity. I catch myself enthusiastically thinking about getting it cut today, then pull myself back and remind myself of the busy calendar I just reviewed. lol It would not go well for my planning if I squeezed a hair cut into the day – or week. Too much already planned. I think ahead to next week, and chuckle; I’ll likely forget all about it until the week is underway and already planned. It’s just not that important to me. I let it go; it’s something to deal with some other time.
What matters most? I sip my coffee and think ahead to Spring and hiking and camping and getting away out in the trees or on the high desert somewhere under a big sky. When? The weather has been rather mild (locally) this Winter. I wonder when Spring temperatures will be steadily above 50 at night and above 70 in the daytime? I sit thinking about it, eager to begin planning… The time is not now. Not because it’s too soon to plan, but because the sky reminds me that it is a new day. Somewhere beyond the fog the sun has risen, or soon will. The smooth homogenous gray of the sky beyond the windows reminds me that the work day has begun. Planning for another day, another adventure, can wait awhile; it’s already time to begin again.
Life’s a funny journey, isn’t it? Most peculiar. I sip my coffee thinking about the drenching misty rain that fell throughout the commute, almost blinding in spite of the tiny droplets that made almost no sound as they hit the windshield. Nonetheless, the commuter traffic sped through the darkness as if driving on dry pavement in summer sunshine – forward momentum without clear vision, based on a recollection of previous travels and an assumption that the route has not changed. There’s a metaphor in there somewhere, and perhaps a lesson – or a warning. I followed the cars ahead of me, leaving ample following distance and hoping for enough room to stop suddenly if that became necessary. It was an uneventful commute. The rain stopped completely when I reached the city, and I was in sufficiently good spirits to laugh when I noticed the change.
It’s another day. Another adventure. Another opportunity to be the woman I most want to be – to be a better person than I was yesterday. Another opportunity to love well and deeply. I think of my Traveling Partner, still sleeping, at home, recovering from his injury. My heart fills with love and I send imagined kisses his way, hoping he is having pleasant dreams, and wakes in less discomfort than he did yesterday.
I sip my coffee in the predawn darkness, thinking of faraway friends, and time off plans that somehow feel rather far away this morning (I ended last week thinking my wee getaway was this upcoming weekend, but it’s the next weekend away, actually). I feel content, calm, centered – it’s a lovely morning, uneventful and peaceful (here).
For a moment, my mind wanders to far away conflicts and the horrors of war, and my mind recoils as if I had touched a sore place or pulled at a scabbed-over wound. I sigh, feeling my anxiety begin to surge, and I take a deep breathe, exhale, relax, and let that go. War is a terrible truth among human primates, and we seem too stupid to stop killing each other over bullshit and profit (at least for now) – but if I take that personally and let the terrible truths of war infect my heart, and my here-and-now moment, I’ll have no peace, myself, and render myself less useful in my life and the lives of those near to me. What a pointless waste that would be. I give myself the opportunity to acknowledge the painful truths – what else can I do? I’ve looked directly into the face of War, and stood upon his battlefields. I will no longer serve that master.
Fuck, healing is hard sometimes; we can’t unknow what we know, can’t unsee what we’ve seen, can’t undo what we’ve done. I breathe. Exhale. Relax. Begin again.
The predawn darkness slowly eases to a soft deep shade of blue gray beyond the windows. The city beyond this wall of glass begins to waken. Condo dwellers turn on lights, and begin making coffee. My inbox begins to fill with new requests and things to follow-up on. It’s an ordinary enough day. I feel comfortable in my body, and my pain isn’t much and does not distract me. My coffee is… okay, not great. Doesn’t much matter, it’s a small detail and of little consequence.
I take these few quiet minutes to pause for gratitude, and to appreciate how good things are, presently. It may not always be so good, and it would be foolish to let the moment slip away unappreciated. Aside from my Traveling Partner’s injury, and necessary recovery, most things are really quite lovely in my life, lately, and it hasn’t always been so. I smile, silently acknowledging that I’m definitely behind on some things, because I just don’t have it in me to do all of everything all the time for everyone – I’m quite human. Doing my best often means something doesn’t get done (looking your way laundry that’s been piled up, clean, waiting to be put away for … weeks). I am mostly okay with it. I am comfortably doing my best and also taking care of myself – and my partner. I feel myself “sit taller” – it feels good to have my own respect, and to recognize that I’m doing what I can, and that this is enough. It’s not perfect (I’m not perfect) but nothing is, and it doesn’t have to be.
Wanting to be the best partner I can be, I shopped around for a quieter keyboard that still meets my own needs… mechanical (for durability) and with a very fast action (because I type quite fast). I found one, and it arrived last night. I’m almost eager to stay home for work again soon, to try it out while my Traveling Partner sleeps… the whole point is to be quiet enough that he can sleep, in spite of my infernal ceaseless typing during the work day. He’s noted many times that my typing is very “emotive”, and conveys my stress to him (if I’m stressed, or agitated, or excited, or angry – it all comes through), which is not pleasant. He’s got his own issues, and doesn’t benefit from being twisted every which way sensing my emotions in another room. The new keyboard is an exciting change (for me)… it’s nearly silent, but still has the feel of a mechanical keyboard. As my fingers hit the keys on this keyboard that I carry with me in my computer bag, I find myself wondering if perhaps I should buy another set of those keys to replace these with? This keyboard is pretty damned “clicky” and I know it annoys colleagues when I get going for awhile. It’s not just my Traveling Partner…
The sky has lightened enough to see the stormy clouds filling the sky. “More rain later”, I think to myself. I sip my coffee – it’s gone cold. I sigh quietly, I know the drill – it’s time to begin again.
I’m drinking yet another cold coffee, and, as it happens, this one isn’t meant to be – I just didn’t pay it any attention until it had gone cold. Honestly, it’s black coffee, and it’s fine, and I barely care, so I just shrug it off and drink it. Lately, I’ve been choosing to reliably stick with some version of black coffee, no added sugar (ever), no cream, creamer, or dairy substitutes, just the straight up real deal. I feel better, generally, as a result. Funny the sorts of changes that matter.
My Traveling Partner and I have been choosing to reduce our sugar intake generally, which seems healthy. I feel less prone to emotional dysregulation, as a result. He also seems to be calmer and generally less prone to irritability. Helpful all around. Sometimes this one is tough; sugar is every bit as appealing as any highly addictive substance might be (at least for me) and I experience more sugar-related “cravings” than I ever experienced cravings over anything explicitly described as addictive. Weird, eh? One might think that sellers of things based on sugar might have some kind of economic interest in persuading the consuming public that sugar is “harmless”… the way they push it on people and sneak it into things. It certainly requires a high level of attention-to-detail and scrutiny to successfully reduce sugar intake.
The commute in was a strange one. Traffic was very heavy, likely a byproduct of recent inclement weather keeping folks home with the result that more people than usual went into an office today. I chose, relatively recently (last fall) to change my approach to driving (after I got a speeding ticket), and began practicing a much calmer more relaxed approach to my commute each day. The result has been noteworthy; every commute seems less aggravating, and this is whether there is any traffic or not. I feel more relaxed, and more centered in my own experience, without “competition” with other drives, and losing the vague sense of entitlement that often kept me on edge and genuinely irritated with what other drivers were doing. I mostly don’t care about that now, I just focus on getting where I’m going safely, without regard to when I get there, or what the driving conditions are like. It’s way more chill, and I find that it gives me time to think thoughts and enjoy the drive itself. “The journey is the destination”, applied to the commute. Another really good result from a relatively small change.
I guess what I’m saying is don’t underestimate the power of a small change to make a big difference in your experience. Hell, maybe those small changes actually matter most – because it’s more likely they’ll become regular practices relatively quickly with minimal upheaval. Something to think about.
I finish my cold coffee and glance at the calendar. It’s time to begin again.
Evening Light 