Archives for posts with tag: the wheel keeps turning

Happy Solstice. It’s here. The longest night of the year, the Winter Solstice, is here. Another year over. Another winter has arrived.

I woke early and considered going back to sleep, but it was obvious I’d be fighting my sinuses and rather than wake everyone else, I got up. The sun won’t rise until 07:48 this morning. Less than 9 hours later, it will set. Short day. Long night. Ah, but seasons are cycles and the wheel keeps turning. It is time once again for the days to begin growing longer. I’m grateful to see another solstice. I hope I see many more.

Something like a view.

I park at the trailhead after a drive that was eerily free of traffic. I park with a view of the eastern horizon, and of the shallow seasonal lake that develops each year in the farm fields across the highway from this nature park. In the darkness, the reflected lights of the communities beyond give the appearance of a “waterfront location”. It is a pretty illusion. I sit sipping my coffee, waiting for the first hint of the sunlight of a new day. It’s a colder morning. I’m grateful for thinking to bundle up a bit.

… another Solstice…

Yesterday was the new moon, which seems fitting. A clean slate, a new beginning, a turn of the calendar page – all ideas to do with renewal. I like that. I sit sipping a hot cup of cheap coffee in the darkness. The cup is warm in my hands. The coffee is still too hot to do more than sip it carefully. The hot liquid is soothing on my throat.

Giftmas is only days away. Presents are wrapped. The lights on the tree illuminated the living room softly as I left the house, and the recollection of that merry glow fills me with joy. I sit awhile thinking about holiday traditions and rituals. ‘Tis the season, after all. I smile when I think about the basket of sharable treats assembled and waiting to be placed on the table. I reflect on community and sharing and a moment of light and abundance, a celebration of triumph over the winter and the darkness.

My coffee becomes properly drinkable after cooling a bit. The challenge now is to drink it and enjoy it before it goes cold. I breathe, exhale, and relax, hands warmly embracing the paper cup. I meditate, enjoying the scent of the coffee, and the stillness and quiet of a Sunday Solstice morning. There is no traffic. The geese, still asleep, drift on the fields covered in shallow water and on the marsh ponds. A lone coyote darts across my view. I love this part of Oregon for the characteristics of wild and rural spaces adjacent to suburbs and towns. Seeing deer wandering through McMinnville as if they belong still delights me, and I’m alert for cototes, bobcats, deer, and racoons as I drive in the early morning. I see them often. Well, all but the bobcats, lynxes, or cougars, which are not only much more rare, but also much less inclined to enter human spaces if they can avoid doing so. It would be rare indeed to see a wild cat of any sort wandering about in town.

I sigh contentedly. The temperature is still a chilly 38°F (3.3°C). I’m grateful for my cozy sweater and my fluffy warm cardigan. I reach into the gear bin in the back of my SUV and find my wool hat, scarf, and gloves, by feel and pull them out. It’s definitely cold enough for putting on a scarf and hat. The gloves would once have been left behind in favor of shoving my hands into my pockets, but I reliably take my cane along these days, so gloves are no longer optional on cold mornings, if I hope to keep my hands warm.

I bundle up, saving my gloves for last to finish this bit of writing. My left foot is griefing me with a bit of tendonitis, and I am wondering how far I’ll really go, today, but I don’t give up on the walk completely. I remind myself to stop by the storage unit and get more (better) pictures of an item we’re hoping to sell, and maybe take a load of smaller stuff over to the new unit. I’ll spend the day mostly creating order from chaos (doing housework) and writing to far away friends, and listening to holiday music.

A little more light, a little more view.

I notice that I can now see the ground pretty easily, although dawn is still almost 20 minutes away. Good enough for trail walking, and I won’t need my headlamp. I stretch and yawn, and rub my aching shoulders. It is the Winter Solstice, and a new day is dawning. It’s time to begin again.

Early morning. Still dark. Nothing surprising about that; autumn is approaching. There are hints of all among the leaves and along forested paths. The mornings are chilly now. The nights have cooled off. The rains are returning. November isn’t far off, and the end of daylight savings time will switch things up a bit, but for now, that’s not relevant. What is relevant is that early morning is dark now. I sip my coffee looking past the window into the pre-dawn darkness.

“Hints of Autumn” 10″ x14″ acrylic on canvas w/glow, 2021

My own heart, in this moment, is filled with light. 🙂 Nice place to start the day.

Impermanence is a real thing. Darkness comes and goes. For some folks, there often seems more “darkness” than light. I think on that as I watch the first faint hints of dawn revealing the gray cloudy morning sky. The light does return. I think about that homily “it’s always darkest before the dawn”, and while I wonder whether it is literally true, I sip my coffee and observe the sky as it continues to lighten, on the way to daybreak.

The wheel continues to turn. The pendulum swings, the clock ticks. Change is. We may be mired in darkness in one moment; the sun will rise on another.

The pale gray sky beyond the window hints at rain. The clock reminds me that the work day is ahead. My coffee is mostly gone. I think about garden chores. I think about a walk later. I think about my Traveling Partner in the other room, and fill my thoughts will love and well-wishes for his day.

Another moment slips by. It’s already time to begin again. 🙂

Well, last night the guy repairing our A/C came by, fixed a thing, and wryly admitted that doing so hadn’t fixed the A/C. Something entirely else is wrong, and there are parts to be ordered, and it’s fucking hot, in the middle of summer, and uncomfortable as hell, and…

…And my Traveling Partner enjoyed the stifling hot uncomfortable evening in good company, together. It was fine. Hot, sure. Summer, definitely. We drank plenty of water. We stayed comfortable. I enjoyed a cool leisurely shower at some point. Later, I went to bed. It was hot. I still slept. As soon as the outside temperature was equal to, or less than, the inside temperature, we opened the windows to the breezes, and let the house cool down with the night temperatures.

I woke to the sound of rain, very audible through open windows. Lovely. The smell of petrichor quickly dissipated the last of the smell of burning electrical components of the A/C. The house is comfortably cool. I make a cup of tea and sit by the open door to the deck for some minutes, listening to the rain fall. I am thinking about how often what feels catastrophic in life is, after all the fuss and bother, really not that big a deal after all. 🙂

I listen to thunder in the distance, and the shhhhh-shhhhh of the earliest commuters heading down the rain-slick hill beyond my window. I consider how often a moment of patience, of non-attachment, of perspective, have preventing me (lately) from over-reacting to what seems catastrophic in some moment. It’s rarely helpful to treat some circumstance as catastrophic; so few really are. It’s a trap. Stuck in some past or future moment, we let our fear, or our anxiety, or our baggage, call the shots. It’s generally a poor choice.

We could have treated a failed A/C as a catastrophe (it isn’t). We could have bitched endlessly and ruined our shared good time together. We could have been nasty to the repair guy who showed up very late, and then “couldn’t even fix it”. We could have been sour with our landlord, who lives far away, and chose the repair guy based on cost and convenience to himself. Doing those things would not have fixed the A/C faster, and most definitely would have created problems in those helpful relationships. And…seriously? Are there not much more important things to be stressed or angry about than the damned weather, and an A/C failure in summertime? lol The entire fucking planet definitely needs us each to be our best selves – but that’s also a journey, and “the best I can do” right now, in this moment, is likely not the best you can do, or the best some repair guy can do, or the best someone else, over there, can do… we’re each having our own experience. We do well to do our best with each other, because we’re also all in this together. Less a contradiction, than something to meditate on. 😉

…So, we did our best to simply deal with the A/C failure, as we do with so many things that go wrong in small ways (which is most things, when they go wrong in some way), and this morning? The rain falls softly. The air is cool and fresh, and the day unlikely to be quite so hot. Good enough.

I sip my cup of tea, thinking about a friend in recovery. Life took a pleasant turn toward success and security for him, and… he relapsed. Fuck. Recovery is already hard without that. I find myself wondering if he knows to forgive himself? If he will remember to begin again, and simply go forward, counting his recovery time from a new date, or hell, even simply acknowledging that we fail, we fall, we stumble, we struggle – and it’s okay; we can get back up and start over. It’s a hard mile to walk. I wish there were anything at all I could do to make it easier for him. I reached out and let him know I’m still here if he needs to talk. I wonder if he understands? He’s taking steps. Even this mess doesn’t have to be catastrophic, but he’s blinded by his regret and shame, and weighed down by guilt and a sense of “letting people down”. Fuck that’s hard. I want to tell him to let it go, to trust that the rain will come, the wheel keeps turning, and this, too, shall pass.

(I hope you’re reading this one, that you get what I’m trying to tell you, and that you are okay. You can begin again.)

My morning started a bit early; the clock tells me it is time to get up. Well… sure…? lol I sip my tea content to be where I am in life, and present in this moment. This morning, after years of practice, years of new beginnings, years of “resetting the clock” and walking my own hard mile, it feels pretty easy, and very natural. It wasn’t an overnight transformation, although there were many epiphanies and “light-bulb moments” along the way – mostly, there was a lot of practice. I see on the calendar that I’ve got an appointment scheduled with my therapist; I scheduled it during a stressful time, shortly before my Mom died (was that really only a couple months ago?). I had to reschedule it, and there it sits on my calendar, in the middle of a week I’ll be out of town for work. lol I smile; rescheduling it doesn’t feel like a catastrophe, either. I don’t actually recall quite why I wanted it, from the vantage point of this rainy morning over a hot cup of tea. Progress. Incremental change over time.

I send my therapist a request to reschedule our appointment, finish my tea, and begin again. 😀

 

Whatever it is, this, too, will also pass. Good or bad. Fortune, or misfortune. Enjoyable. Regrettable. Memorable. Forgettable. The clock ticks. The wheel turns. Time and moments pass.

It’s been a bit more than a year here in this duplex. A bit more than a year living quite a bit of distance from my Traveling Partner. A bit more than a year driving his car, because he observed I needed it a bit more than he did at that time, and didn’t yet have my own. It’s been helpful having it, for sure. It’s been evident, over the year, that I need a car, myself, more than I realized. I’ll shop around a bit and take care of that soon. No rush. I’m pretty self-sufficient on public transit, and the bit more walking and exercise that takes will be good for me right now. 🙂 It was an important eye-opener to recognize that the driving commute was robbing me of some much-needed exercise that a walking (or part riding, part walking) commute provided, and how important that really is.

Today I return to the part riding, part walking commute I had planned to make part of my daily routine when I first moved in here, before I had the car to rely on. Hell, I may stick with that even after I buy a car. I’m not expecting it to be a hardship, just time-consuming, and with music, books, and my camera along for the journey each day, it’s not even likely to be “wasted time”. 🙂 I’ve “been here” before. The wheel keeps turning.

I’m grimly amused that my back hurts so fiercely this morning. It’s not my arthritis. Feels like I “slept on it wrong” and now have the back equivalent of a kink in my neck, as though my ribs were weirdly cramped together on one side for too long, and now hurt peculiarly in one spot, on the opposite side from which I usually feel most of my pain. Fucking craptacular meat sack – always breaking down or going wrong in some fashion. Being human can be so messy, and uncomfortable. Of course it would be the case today, in advance of a change in routine that requires more exertion, that I’ll also be more uncomfortable. So human. No doubt it’ll ease over time. I breathe, relax, and get a second coffee.

…No coffee along my commute route, now… Well. Shit. That’s a change…

I check the weather with more care than usual; it’ll matter what the weather is later in the day, and will be too late to second guess what I will need to have along in my day back by then. Sunscreen gets added to my day pack. The forecast says sunny, and peak heat at 90 degrees. I add a bottle of water, too. I set my cane by the door; I’m jumping right into a bit more walking than I’ve grown used to, and it will serve me well to be prepared for that to fatigue my ankle. No sandals today; hiking boots instead. Sure, circumstances change, and the wheel keeps turning, there’s nothing about that which suggests I must also be taken by surprise, or wholly unprepared for what life may drop in my path. 🙂 Planning is a thing I can do. (You too, if you choose to.)

Well, there’s a new day about to unfold ahead of me. A new journey to take. A new path to follow. I wonder where this moment leads? To find out, I only have to take another step. I only need to begin again. 🙂