Archives for posts with tag: walk on

It was hot yesterday. I still got “a lot” done. Well… I got the one thing done that mattered most to me in the moment; I put down the deposit on my new place. πŸ™‚ So… yeah… I’ll be moving really soon. Really. Soon.

This is happening.

Welcome to the future.

Hey – how is this happening so damned fast? I searched for months for a house to purchase, didn’t reach that finish line. When I moved into my own place, in May of 2015, it took literal months of shopping rentals to find what I thought I wanted, then my timing was forced on me and I had to take what I found immediately available that would suit my needs; that didn’t feel like a fast process. This, though… Sure, I was thinking about moving since the burglary back in November, and I was house-hunting all through the spring, but going from “Can I see it on Friday?” on a Wednesday, to “It’s yours if you want it…” on the very Friday I see a rental I like, to paying the deposit and planning the walk-through and keys for a date 18 days in the future, seems rather more efficient than I expected. lol

I struggled with the heat all evening. The plastic jar of coconut oil on the counter liquified – it never did that last summer, when there was a tree shading this unit. The new place has A/C. All evening, I smiled in spite of the heat; the new place has A/C.

See, there’s the thing, right? It’s time to walk on. There are opportunities and adventures still waiting for my choice to make changes!

Now I’ve only got to plan, and follow through on planning, step by step, all of things, each of the details… power needs to be moved to the new address… and the internet service… the gas needs to be put in my name… the insurance company will need the new address… all the cards will need to be changed over… all of the address fields in all of the profiles that require that information… and boxes. There will be boxes. Shit – it’s already time to start filling boxes. And I’ve got to call the movers.

Actually, this morning, right now, I’ve only “got to” sip my coffee, smile at the dawn as the sun offers its reminder that the day will be another hot one, and… go into the office. It’s a work day, today.

By the end of July, this will be where I take my morning coffee on a lovely summer morning… on my deck, surrounded by forest. πŸ™‚

It’s time to begin again.

Ever wake up to a lovely morning, resting contentedly in the context of a beautiful moment, begin your day and…

Change? Change. A change that literally “changes everything” – or least feels like it does – can rock my world, shake my foundation, and result in a surreal overload of mixed metaphors, mixed emotions, and general confusion that lasts…well, it used to last until well past whatever the crisis du jour happened to be, and there used to be a lot of them. So many changes and moments were overwhelming crises of circumstance that resulted in chaos, upheaval, and “too much to handle”.

Medical problems. Unexpected bills. Break ups. Lost jobs. Hell – new jobs. Good stuff can do it, too. Love? Love causes some major changes in life and decision-making about the future, I guess I’ve just tended to assume all that anxiety was “excitement”, or failed to notice it in the hormone storm of positive sex-charged emotion. I like to feel emotionally comfortable. I like to plan my life such that even the “unexpected delights” and surprises are not entirely unexpected, nor entirely surprising. I like to feel prepared.

Sometimes I’m not “prepared”. I’m very human. Life can be scary.

Context and perspective are helpful – change is still change. Soon this will no longer be a stopping point on my morning commute.

My anxiety flared up severely – and so did my anger – yesterday morning, as I left for work. I haven’t managed to fully resolve it, but I’m reached an equilibrium with my emotions that feels… manageable. It’s only over a rent increase, really. I’m angry about the circumstances, which seem sleazy, exploitative, and just… douche-baggery for profit. My anger started getting out of hand, my anxiety shot through the roof, and I still had to go to work. I talked things through with my Traveling Partner, gaining perspective as I vented my irritation, resentment, and anger as gently as I could Β (Seriously? He’s doing me a favor to be there for me, and isn’t at all involved or responsible, so “taking it out on him” would be inconsiderate and unkind.) So, I talked about it, over messaging, and stayed practical about it as much as I could. I wasn’t “looking for satisfaction” or confirmation that I am “right”, just a reality check, and some supportive understanding. He’s super good at those things, and our conversation ended as I reached the office, feeling… prepared, although still angry. I love feeling prepared!

I’m fortunate that I can fairly easily move, because now I don’t just want to – realistically, I have to (which is why I was feeling so angry, I was making very different plans). The suggested rent increase isn’t sustainable for me, and the circumstances of the increase are such that I certainly don’t care to rent from this landlord anymore, at all, and don’t feel valued as a tenant.

What a strange turn to yesterday’s lovely morning. Still, these days it’s such a mundane bit of adulting, writing about it almost wasn’t a thing… only… it’s still on my mind. I spent my lunch yesterday, and my evening, looking at available rentals, where they are located relevant to work, how much they cost, how soon they are available, and considering each in the context of real life concerns: features, amenities, utility costs, convenience to goods and services, nearness to public transportation (because now I have to move before we have second vehicle – one of the changes we discussed while we were hanging out night before last), nearness to green spaces, nearness to neighbors, and how quiet and safe the communities appear to be. It’s a lot to consider. It’s my life – and worthy of such consideration.

…I had other things on my mind, other things to write about…

I think back, smiling, to hearing my Traveling Partner remind me I already wanted to move (though I hate the process of moving), and that this – however poor the timing – is an opportunity to improve my quality of life through my choices. It’s true, too. The frantic panicked feelings all mixed up with my anger and my anxiety began to fade away as my options began to open up (through skillful Google-fu, and studious inquiry). The number of potential choices became a list of bookmarks in my browser, phone calls and emails to send inquiring about various rentals… houses…duplexes…apartments…condos…townhouses… My criteria stopped being based on “oh-my-fucking-god-what-the-hell-am-I-going-to-do-I’ve-got-to-find-somethingfast!!” and started being based on “wherever I move, the details need to improve, and can”. I struck everything from the list that didn’t achieve that – and still had a decent list of immediately available rentals to act on that shorten my commute, reduce my rent, and improve my day-to-day quality of life – and in one case appears to do so while also keeping me very near to green spaces, and increasing my quiet and my privacy. Nice.

I’m moving. I am okay with that. Change is. I sometimes wish it weren’t so much, so often, but… wishing is a child’s plaything, not a productive tool for managing change. So, I let that go. I confidently choose a move date. I’ll be somewhere new on August first. I don’t know where – but I know I’m moving.

Beginning again? And then some! πŸ™‚

…It’s a new dawn…it’s a new day… it’s a new life for me…Β 

It’s a weird morning. Maybe it’s weird because I slept in? πŸ™‚

Maybe it’s weird because I gave my landlady a heads up that I’d like to sign a new lease? While I shift gears and regroup on figuring out what I really really want out of a place of my own, it makes sense to save some money on the cheaper lease rate.

Adulting is hard – today it is also a little weird. Β I’m spending time with money – well, with planning, and budgeting, and yeah – all of the things. It’s not my favorite activity, but rather wonderfully it no longer sends me cowering into the nearest dark room on the edge of tears from panic and dire dread, heart-pounding, unable to breathe at the mere thought of debt, income, obligations, needs, and certain only of my likely failure and future poverty. The picture of my future I carry in my thinking is very different now. It’s no longer stuff that freaks me out.

I smile and think of my Traveling Partner out in the world, feeling a certain quiet “thanks” for a partnership that has had the strength to patiently support me on this journey, and his coaching and encouragement, his calm, his love. His utter conviction that achieving my dreams was within reach, given the knowledge, and the practice(s); I remain so grateful for his perspective, and affection.

I think I know what I want, now. Where I want to be. How I want to live. I have an idea of the steps I’ll need to take. I have a sense of the “order of operations” – the sequence in which I’ll need to take those steps, and what my priorities really are. This is huge. It’s less a settled sense of convenient certainty built on expectations, self-inflicted promises and daydreams about a future that is always somehow out-of-reach, and more a practical thing built on a calendar, a budget, and adult perspective on life’s logistical requirements (which must be handled ahead of life’s options and feature upgrades). Basic sufficiency. My own idea of a great future, less tied to societal expectations, convenience, or “ease”, and built instead on what I want, enjoy, and thrive on, myself.

…I wish I’d gotten here sooner…

I want to phone my Traveling Partner and say “I get it. I understand what I want. I have a vision. I’ve got this.” That probably tells you little about the details, but from my perspective it isn’t the details that make this bit share-worthy in the first place; it’s the getting here, the being here, and the going forward from this place. The map is not the world. The route is not the journey. My dreams are not your dreams. πŸ™‚

There’s work to do. Thinking work. Planning work. There are details to consider, and choices to make. A lot of choices to make; however much I narrow down the list of life’s apparent choices, I find I have more choices. Fractals of choices. Life being lived in a life worth living.

How much is enough? Once I’ve got that, what else is there, really, to yearn for?

Today I begin again. πŸ™‚

 

… Lately (although I’m not really sure if the perception is grounded in anything real, or even if it really has gone on for any measured amount of time, it merely seems so, perhaps…) I feel a bit adrift, as though I am awake and aware of change, in the midst of change, without the certainty of having chosen change specifically, or planned to its effect on my experience.

I am processing recent experiences, and I’m not all done with that complex internal process quite yet. A weekend of stillness in the forest, definitely a prolonged meditation on life – and change – and it was definitely needed. A weekend of the entire and complete opposite of stillness (and also the opposite of solitude), also in the forest, also a weekend of it – and also a prolonged meditation of sorts, on life’s interconnectedness which fulfilled a certain need for community (and then some). Β Next up, weekend-wise, a weekend of details, of tasks, of self-care, of considering the future, of making new choices from new perspective, of revisions, and sorting things out – also needed, and also a meditation of sorts, I suppose, particularly considering the contentment I find in order, and the somewhat excessive bit of disorder I’m finding myself dealing with, due to the chaotic nature of upheaval, and choosing change. So here I am, planning my weekend…

…Planning the future.

Beginning again. Again. πŸ˜€ There’s always room for one more beginning!

The time spent with my Traveling Partner was lovely connected time, wholesome “family” time, intimate shared emotional time; it was needed, and it is cherished. I smile each time I consider the weekend we shared. πŸ™‚ It was time so precious it changed my thinking. A singularly magical birthday shared with so many travelers on life’s journey… I hope I never forget the way it sparkles in my memory now.

“Fireworks”, a rose in my garden, a metaphor for change.

Today my Traveling Partner, this being I love so much and so deeply, will head out again for a place, elsewhere, to have his own experience. I’ll be here, having mine. I learned a lot this past couple of weekends about what I really want, and what really meets the needs of my deepest heart, and where I could choose to take life – the menu seems more vast than it did three weeks ago. πŸ™‚ It’s a lot to consider.

What next? Sleeping in. Sleeping in is definitely “next” on my to-do list, I think, and I’m so earnest about that one I’ve put it on my calendar. lol Where will the weekend take me? Where will I choose to take myself? I guess I’ll know more… later, further down my path.

It’s a good time to walk on. πŸ™‚

Doesn’t much matter where I am right now; there is a next step ahead of me on my path. No matter how many choices I have made, already, there is another ahead of me. Approximately infinite. Life definitely gives the impression that the actual living of it is the point of life, no further point, meaning, or necessity required… and, if this is true, then so long as I am indeed living my life, I have succeed at finding – and meeting – my purpose. πŸ˜€

What a nice thought to wake up to. πŸ™‚

I am contemplating my upcoming birthday, which has amusingly skittered way off of any attempt at original planning, and the things I had planned and looked forward are no longer expectations, although they rather strangely still linger on my calendar; I hesitate to remove them, not wanting hurt feelings… or… well, why exactly? lol I take a moment to clean up my calendar – because it is mine, and I actually use it; it matters to me that it guide me like a map of my future journey, as much as it ever can. πŸ™‚

My weekend looks very different than I’d planned it. My Traveling Partner’s commitment to spending my birthday weekend with me later became a request to accommodate other plans he wanted to make, and our time dwindled to just two brief events framing the long weekend (of course I am taking time for me!) Then, the phone call from the road last week, and a question – would I like to come out to a place, and spend the weekend with him…? We live rather separate lives in some regards, and the invitation caught me by surprise – I had to ask myself that question, separately from hearing it in his voice. Would I want to spend a weekend at a music festival in a remote location hanging out with this human being so dear to me – and like, many hundreds (more?) additional other humans that I don’t know? Um…

Maybe?

I sat quietly after we got off the phone, considering years of weekend Renaissance fairs – a different era of my life, and I admit, it went from delightfully fun, exciting, and reliably great times hanging out with friends to stressed, rushed, hurried, pressured, too broke, too much, too often, no down time, no “me time”, no privacy, no time to think, no quiet to recover in… and… the relationship I was in at that time couldn’t do much to lift me up or ease the strain. I was doing most of the “heavy lifting”, literally, financially, and logistically, and I grew… tired. Want to know why I gave up weekend road trips, weekend travel, and weekend event fun of all sorts? Because I got tired of doing all the planning, all the preparation, and all the work getting to/from and handling clean up at home afterward, too, and not just for me – for everyone in the household. It was too much to ask, and I continued to do it long after I’d begun to resent it, didn’t really speak up about it, and didn’t have the skills for setting clear expectations and reinforcing boundaries then, that I have (think I have) now. I just stopped doing it as the only way I could take care of me that I understood then, problem solved.

I’m not even in that relationship anymore. So… Fuck yeah, I want to head to the trees, hear some great music, and hang out with this delightful human being so dear to me! πŸ˜€ I happily accepted.

There’s not much for me to plan here; the event exists and is a thing. My Traveling Partner and his traveling friend/colleague have logistics handled; this is their thing. I still need to know things. (A hilarious conversation on its own, including such witty repartee as “What do I need to bring?” “Wear clothes. Bring the clothes you want to wear, be prepared for cold nights.”) As I inquired what I may need to do or bring or when I need to be ready… I started feeling stressed about the trip itself. Where am I going?? What will happen when I get there? Where do I go? How will I find…? What will I be expected to do, bring, carry, be responsible for…??? What the hell is going on with my weekend??Β LOL

Instead of drama or wild emotion, I tried out some new adulting skills. I allow myself to experience the relief and delight of experiencing this weekend in the context of a partnership in which I am actually not responsible for every damned thing. I consider my own baggage and issues as things that I am indeed responsible for managing, and identify where my stress is coming from. Time. Work. Agency. I suggest that I travel separately to ease my time-based stress about being back to work on time (knowing they live on a very different sense of time/timing than I do – and also don’t have any pressure to “punch a clock” work-wise). My heart soared when my Traveling Partner seemed pleased that I would take that step to take care of myself, meeting my own needs without requiring him to rebuild his plans, or troubleshoot my experience. Win and good. They’ll likely depart sometime today. I’ll leave tomorrow – possibly after doing a load of laundry. I feel comfortable, content, and excited about the weekend. πŸ˜€

Wherever my path leads…

This is an adventure, and I am eager to see where it leads. I’ll be away for a few days… if you find yourself missing me, perhaps return to the beginning, and begin again? I’ll be back before you’re all caught up to now, I bet; it’s a lot of words. πŸ˜€