Archives for posts with tag: the journey is the destination
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Finding My Way

January 23, 2024 //
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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.

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Categories Allegories, Anxiety, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, The Art of Being, turning 60, War and News of War, winter

Small Changes That Matter

January 22, 2024 //
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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.

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Categories Allegories, breathe, Free Will, Healthy Living, inspiration, Moments, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, The Art of Being, winter

767 Miles of Self-Reflection

July 24, 2023 //
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I drove down the coastal highway, thinking thoughts, and sometimes singing bits of songs I remember well enough to sing them as the sights go by. I stopped often, for various “view points” from which I had hoped to snap a few pictures. Most of those looked like this…

One of many “sights” along my route.

The entire northern section of my drive was enveloped in fog, or mist, or wrapped in low-hanging clouds. Not much to see. LOL

A couple cups of coffee later, the mists persisted late into the morning, well-past the point at which I had expected the clouds to have “burned off” with the rising sun. It was clear I wasn’t going to be pleasantly distracted from my thoughts by the tremendous views; those were utterly withheld from me. lol

For most of the drive, the world appeared to be mostly undeveloped, as if created instant-by-instant from my own thoughts…

It was still a lovely day for a drive.

It was early on a Thursday morning, though, and there was very little traffic. I made good time down the highway, as if toward a clear destination. Truth was, though, the journey really was my destination. I set out to spend the drive with my thoughts, and there wasn’t anything to distract me. It was hard to see it as a problem.

At several stops, and all weekend long, I made a point to take notes about the journey. Thoughts that seemed worth preserving beyond the moment. For convenience, I’d started a draft blog post, and just saved my notes there. When I look them over this morning, I’m amused that they seem almost poetic…

I sit quietly with my morning coffee, trying to assemble some group of words to share the experience of these recent days, mostly without success. I can’t do better than the fragmented notes I took along the way, and a handful of pictures. There’s something to learn from that, I’m sure. More to consider. Another opportunity for self-reflection beckoning me from a distant future moment.

I did eventually drive far enough down the highway to escape the cloud cover…

Looking back, between the clear blue sky overhead, and the deep blue ocean below, in the distance the clouds linger.

The camping wasn’t fancy, it was just a place to rest for a night. I stayed in managed state park camp grounds. It was fine. It was also quite crowded. The camps were clean, and well-maintained, but also rather noisy. In spite of the crowds, both were really pleasant places to camp, and I may go back, some other time, for some other purpose.

There was no real solitude to be found in these places, and each morning I packed up and drove on, content to make my departure with haste. I drove with purpose.

There were reliably flowers everywhere.

In the middle of all this driving, there was an important (and delightful) stop midway to visit an old friend. My longest female friendship of many decades. We haven’t sat down together in shared space in so many years – it was long overdue, and very grounding. It felt like a homecoming of a different sort.

…There are few things as precious as time spent in the company of good friends. I don’t do enough of it.

There is more to share, and a lot to continue to reflect on. There were lessons learned, and lessons observed – with much to learn still developing slowly from those observations. In general, the whole thing was time well-spent. A good time.

…I’m so glad to be home once more…

…so glad.

It’s already time to begin again. 🙂

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Categories Allegories, Anxiety, art and the artist, Brain Injury, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, gratitude, grief, Healthy Living, inspiration, loneliness, Love, meditation, Menopause, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Sleepless Nights, solo hiking, Summer, The Art of Being, turning 60, women, Words

It’s Not Like I Know

July 9, 2023 //
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I’m relaxing on a Sunday afternoon. It’s been a lovely day, and a great weekend. Oh, nothing unusual or strange, just a thoroughly pleasant weekend, filled with love and laughter. It’s been quite nice.

I went to my imaging appointment Friday. It also seemed quite routine, and entirely lacking in any stress or drama. I’ll probably have results tomorrow, the next day? Something like that. It hasn’t been on my mind since the appointment ended; I’ve been enjoying the here and now. The weekend.

I’ve got a few quite minutes to play with. I decide to write. I sat down thinking perhaps I had a thought worth sharing. I ended up watching videos of squirrels, guinea pigs, kittens, and… belly dancing. I know, weird assortment. I wasn’t looking to kill time, but managed to do so anyway. lol

Here’s a thing to know… I don’t know “everything”. Honestly, I know a fair few things, but I don’t put a lot of emotional investment into feelings of certainty anymore. It’s a waste of time to feel “certain” about most stuff; circumstances change, use cases change, recollections change, understandings change, hell – according to physics, it’s likely even reality itself changes. So… what the fuck do I know?? Damned little, when compared to the set of “all knowledge”, frankly. Why mention it? Because – my results vary. Yours will, too. Taking advice from random weirdos or “experts” on the internet isn’t reliably the best option if one is seeking knowledge. I’m just saying; read the fine print. Ask discerning questions. Listen to the answers to your questions. Practice non-attachment. Trust your gut feelings. Also be skeptical of things you “feel sure of” – those are also suspect. It’s a weird puzzle, this funny journey that is one human life. You can select some other human from all the available humans around and follow them… or… you can walk your own path. No map. Be your own cartographer. Test interesting practices yourself, and make your own decisions. It is an option. It’s potentially even your best option… depending on… a lot of things, including what sort of raw materials you’re working with intelligence-wise, emotional intelligence-wise (which may be more important that just “smarts”, by far), education-wise… and so many other resources and experiences that went into the you that you became over time. Can you trust yourself to be your own best friend, and also wise, compassionate, and willing to think critically? It’s a lot to ask, I know.

It’s easy to follow someone else. If they lead you astray, you don’t even have to take the blame for where you end up, eh? Soooo easy. On the other hand… there is so much freedom, and agency, and creativity, and opportunity, in walking your own path! …You just don’t know where you’re going to arrive, when you reach your destination. How could you? The journey is the destination. But, hey… would you have known, anyway? Maybe not. Not really – just a guess, or accepting someone else’s word for it.

Walking my own path has been (is) scary sometimes. No, I didn’t “get here” alone – there are other travelers walking their own hard mile, on their own journey, who happen to share some portion of my path as I walk. It’s good to have company, now and then. Perspective. The tales of travelers are often quite interesting – if not always 100% true. Walking my own path hasn’t amounted to solitude in any particular sense, it’s just a walk, a path, navigated largely on my own decision-making, but often in the company of others. I don’t ask them to follow me. I’m not following anyone else in any specific way. I often seek advice, sometimes I take it. Sometimes I don’t.

It’s a lovely Sunday to reflect on how far I’ve come in a decade. A worthy journey, indeed, and time to begin again. 😀

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Categories Allegories, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, inspiration, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, Summer, The Art of Being, turning 60

Git Gud!

July 5, 2023 //
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In games, life, and yeah, even self-care… my results vary. Practicing various practices isn’t about practicing as much as it is about improving. It’s about results. Lacking skill in one area or another is definitely going to mean I need more practice. lol Sometimes it’s just necessary to keep at it until I “git gud“. My results still vary. The journey is the destination. There’s no map. No “report card”. No one else to prove something to.

…Even with self-care, sometimes I just don’t “have what it takes” – yet. I need more practice (or better or different practices). I am sitting here reflecting on that, and drinking water on a hot summer day, from inside a cool air-conditioned office, looking down from the 7th floor to the sun lit city below me. My recent work trip to Palm Springs lingers in my thoughts. I spent a lot of time with my colleagues. More people (and time) than I typically spend on such things in a many weeks. Hell, I don’t spend a fraction of that amount of time (more than 40 hours by far) with even my dearest friends over the course of the average year. In fact, although we live together and spend the vast majority of our waking hours together, I don’t spend that much time with my own beloved Traveling Partner! Wtf. I am seriously “all peopled out” at this point. I’m craving actual solitude. It is affecting my mood.

…I was so close to getting some of that after we bought the truck, but it was a bit early for solo camping in nearby forest places at that point, and so my partner only managed to leave me to my own devices for a few hours, a couple times…

So I’m sitting here, thinking my thoughts, drinking my water, and wondering if I should be planning a bit of a solo getaway, and feeling like a jerk for it because I know my partner has probably had about enough of being alone, as far as what he may need out of my comings and goings. This is a challenge I rather suck at figuring out. So, I sit and think on it a bit, and then a bit more even than that…

…still thinking it over…

…What do I want out of such an adventure? Ease? Solitude? Trails to hike? Sunsets to photograph? Distance from other people – yeah, that one is for sure on my “must haves” list. lol Should I be planning to “go coastal”? Should I be planning to camp? How much time do I really need? Does that vary based on how much (feeling of) distance I can actually get? July has just one weekend open at this point during which none of my colleagues would be out of the office… convenient… I decide to request the time, and continue to think about what to do with it.

I finish off my water, and prepare to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, Anxiety, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, Frustration, Healthy Living, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, Summer, The Art of Being
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