Archives for posts with tag: walk on

I’m sitting here mostly dressed for work, reconsidering whether to wear a base layer; temperatures are forecast to get higher than 40 degrees today, and although it is cold now, it won’t be so cold by the end of the day. My base layer is probably too much. I don’t get up to change immediately; I’m comfortable right now.

My fingers keep finding their way across a snag, a small tear, on the cuticle of my left pinkie finger. I would do well to get up, use the tool created for the job of tidying that up, rather than picking at it mindlessly in the background until my finger is bleeding. I’m comfortable right here, right now, so I don’t bother to take care of it in the best way available.

There is a pan on the stove I overlooked when I did the dishes last night. I can’t see it from this vantage point, so it isn’t annoying me at present, and I do nothing about it for now; I’m comfortable.

There are so many times when my life fills up with small moments of discontent, little pains and inconveniences, details that could have gone much differently had I made some small change, or taken some needed action – things I’m aware of, things I notice, things I know to handle quite differently, and do nothing much about, because I’m “comfortable” – which is not at all the same thing as being “content” or being “satisfied”. Feeling comfortable can be a slow invitation to a degradation in quality of life; over time what feels comfortable continues to make room for things I don’t at all find satisfaction in, don’t at all prefer or find ideal, don’t even actually like, but have simply grown to accept as a given, as tolerable, as “what it is”. I start overlooking those details more and more, and the disorder can spread quickly.

It’s a Monday morning. I like Monday mornings for beginning again. All manner of new beginnings feel so orderly and proper on the first day of something… a new week, a new month, a new year. It’s a lot to expect of a moment, to be a deliberate starting point for something important, something… uncomfortable. Change, willful change, is not generally comfortable, in my own experience. There are verbs involved. Choices. Practice. Awareness. Repetition. Frustration. Beginning again. Comfortable does not define the experience of making changes… There sometimes seems a lot to be mindful of, a lot to keep an eye on, a lot to manage – there probably actually is. Some things get missed in any one moment. Being human is a thing and it is rarely an experience characterized by any quality of “perfection”. We are beautifully flawed, and incomplete, each on a journey that lasts the entirety of our experience.

I set aside my half-finished coffee and allow myself a moment of discomfort. An efficient manicure, a rethinking of the day’s choice of clothing, emptying the dishwasher and reloading it: there is effort in living well, in good self-care, and even in life’s simplest pleasures. “Comfort” is sometimes deceiving. I am by far more comfortable having completed these tasks than I was considering them, but it can seem so much easier in the moment to choose the path of least effort. There’s something to learn there, and I make a note to think about it more, later.

Mondays are good for beginnings. Cold winter Mondays, started well before the dawn, are good for plotting a new course on life’s journey, for rethinking previous first steps on journeys well-underway, and for reconsidering some scenario or another that has previously been less-than-ideally satisfying, and perhaps too comfortable. I am hoping not to be misunderstood as seeking discomfort or unease, it’s really not what I’m after, myself. It’s more than I find the sensation of being “comfortable” to more than occasionally put me at risk of complacency, or “settling” for something less than what I’m really going for, under circumstances when there are verbs involved, and I’ve perhaps stopped actually taking action.

I sip my coffee reviewing my physician’s recommendations for changes to my dietary habits intended to improve my health and, over time, fitness. I am deeply uncomfortable. lol It’s a lot of change… at the same time, none of it is really “new information”; I’m facing a long list of known best practices. There are verbs involved, though, and I’m going to need to overcome my comfort with what has not been working well for me. Well… at least it’s a Monday. Monday’s are great for beginning again. I’m going to need to do that a lot. ๐Ÿ™‚

I’m standing at the starting point (another one) of a journey (again). I’m ready to walk on. Today is a good day for change.

Today I’ll head to the office. My clothes are appropriate for the weather. I’ve got a warm coat. I’ll put on a hate, scarf, gloves, and my Yak Tracks (even though my hiking boots have good tread and are very “grippy”, they’re not the “tool for the job” on icy surfaces). I’ve got a hiking base layer on under my work clothes. I don’t expect to make the trip as quickly as some dry autumn morning. I don’t expect my footing to be as secure as a summer day. I’ll take my time and make the trip without rushing myself, unconcerned about timeliness, and focused on safety.

Not all journeys are “the same”; we are each having our own experience. I live in the Portland (Oregon) area, and although we playfully mock ourselves for coming unglued over two inches of snow, here, the icing over that happens regularly is genuinely a hazard. I stayed home yesterday; travel wasn’t very safe, and working from home is an option for me. Today, I’m choosing to make the journey less because there’s any great improvement in the safety, and more because the specifics of the work to be done will benefit from being on site. I miss my Traveling Partner like crazy, but his safety matters more by far (and Giftmas is almost here, and we have plans to spend some time together over the holiday, making it easy to be patient).

We are each having our own experience… and in this icy winter weather, we are also “all in it together” as soon as we step out onto the pavement, or get into our cars. How do I find balance between taking care of me, and being fully considerate of my fellow travelers? It’s a question that has a permanent place on my list. What matters most? Another good question. How can I help? A goodย question to have ready, generally, and excellent for use in tough circumstances.

Today is a good day for care and consideration, for taking care of me, for looking out for others. Today is a good day to put safety first, and to be aware of those that could use some help or a moment of kindness. Today is a good day to dress for the weather, and approach the journey with a measure of caution. It’s winter out there. I can choose whether I see it as a wonderland, or… something different than that. I can choose how I see the world.

Each having our own experience.

Each having our own experience.

I woke a little ahead of the alarm and spent the time meditating. The morning is comfortable, in spite of the slight chill in the room; it is winter, after all, and the nights are colder now. Yesterday’s snow was expected to melt away during the night, but I woke to the ground still mostly covered in white, the parking lot still icy. Go to work? Work from home? I’m glad I have the choice… I don’t yet know what that choice will be. I sip my coffee contentedly.

I am eager for the weekend, although the work week has been pleasant and productive; there are things to do here at home. My TV was recovered after the recent burglary… it still sits on the floor, not yet plugged in. I had hung paintings and arranged holiday decor in the space it once occupied, and I’m finding it strangely difficult to put it back. ๐Ÿ™‚

Life, day-to-day, is pretty ordinary stuff… It was fairly recently that I started to understand that it happens that most of life’s happiness and joy is tucked away in the most ordinary things about my life. Chasing the grand, the exotic, the elaborate, the costly… none of that improves the odds on being actually happy, in fact, all the chasing seems to reliably take me a very different direction than “happy”.

I hear cars slowly crackling through the ice in the parking lot as the earliest neighbors leave for work. My turn, soon. I could work from home, but the tasks left for Friday this week will be slow going on a laptop screen. I’d definitely be more efficient, and benefit more from my skills, with the big dual monitors in front of me. The windows are a distraction… less so than having myself comfortably wrapped in Giftmas – I’d probably wander off from working and start baking, forgetting that I am still “on the clock”, a poor choice. Working from home, I’d also lose my walk. Huh. Well that was fairly easy as decisions, go. I’ll at least make the attempt to go in to the office. ๐Ÿ™‚

Today? Today is enough. ๐Ÿ™‚

By the end of the day yesterday I was in so much pain I was showing every moment of my 53 years, and possibly borrowing some extra years, besides. Today, I’ll be kinder to myself and resume walking with my hiking staff, because the additional support is helpful. Winter isn’t my favorite season, and it’s mostly to do with my arthritis. I’m not bitching, really, it’s just a thing that is part of my experience, these days.

One morning...

One morning…

I got home from work, cold, tired, in pain… I put it behind me with a leisurely hot shower, pain medication, and a quiet evening. At some point, I was commenting on my pain to my traveling partner – as I recall, something about it “being much worse than…”, and he gently reminds me that it is always worst just as fall shifts to winter. He’s right, and the reminder stops my aggravated fussing with new perspective. I crash early, but don’t actually fall into a deep restful sleep for hours – I took an Rx pain reliever. I took it knowing it had a fairly predictable risk of messing with my sleep. Two nights in a row without getting the sleep I need; it shows in my typing. My spelling and syntax are off, and I make more grammatical errors even than usual. I am so tired this morning.

...followed by an evening...

…followed by an evening…

It’s Friday. I miss my Traveling Partner… but all I can think about is sleep. And laundry. How is it that there is so much laundry to do (and conversely, so little clean stuff to wear)? Did I not do laundry this past weekend…? Why didn’t I? (Does “why?” matter? Really?) The weekend ahead feels reassuringly planned around the obvious needs: housekeeping, laundry, and taking care of this fragile vessel (sleeping – oh, please let there be sleeping!!!). I can’t recall if I have plans with my Traveling Partner… maybe we do. Maybe we don’t. Maybe that won’t matter and we’ll see each other regardless… His birthday is this weekend. I catch myself thinking I’ve overlooked getting him anything, and then bust out laughing, out loud. I’ve totally already taken care of that – he’s enjoying his birthday/holiday gift in advance this year. ๐Ÿ™‚ I know he has plans to go out, to party, something boisterous, something joyful – and I’m stoked that he does. I’m uncertain whether I will seek to join him… for the moment, what sounds exciting to me is… sleeping. lol I take a moment to consider his planning, and remind myself to invite him to come around for brunch or lunch or dinner or something on Sunday…

...a different morning, similarly gray...

…a different morning, similarly gray, still very much its own morning…

I spend some minutes contemplating perspective, and how subtle changes can still seem to change “everything”, and how the “everything” I think I know amounts to so little of all of the everything that actually is. ๐Ÿ™‚

...each morning, from the same vantage point, another perspective on life...

…each morning, from the same vantage point, another perspective on life…

There is more to know that I ever will know. More to do than I will ever be able to make time for. More choices on life’s vast menu than I can hold in awareness.

...mornings...

…mornings…

Some days are easier than others. Some are more exciting or stranger or peculiarly without memorable feature.

...evenings. Each very much it's own moment.

…evenings. Each very much its own moment.

Today is a good day to take moment by moment, task by task, opportunity by opportunity. I listen to the rain fall. Each raining morning so similar, each nonetheless its own moment, a unique experience – a chance to begin again. A chance for a shift in perspective.

 

I’m sipping my second coffee. The first disappeared quickly as I sifted through invoices, receipts, and purchase records looking for all the details the insurance company needs. It is a subtly de-humanizing process, this requirement to prove that I life the life I do, have the things I have accumulated over a life-time. It is very telling of the sort of creatures we human beings are that it is a necessary thing to require such detailed documentation; we’ll lie for money. I’m not pointing fingers, and it’s not “about me”, so I am not taking it personally…but, damn, what ugly caricatures of our own potential for greatness we tend to be. I’m not angry… more disappointed.

It is a quiet morning. I slept well and deeply, going to bed far later than usual and waking very much at a ‘sleeping in’ time of morning. That’s often what it takes for me to get enough rest. I don’t stop to wonder why. I take time to enjoy feeling rested. ย I still don’t feel “safe” here, and I catch myself repeating the narrative as though it was the break-in that created that change in how this space feels, in some abrupt distinct very defined way – was it really? Not if I’m being entirely frank with myself; the process of letting go my attachment to this place, to ease the process of moving on, is certainly a more likely beginning – but those tentative first steps in the letting go direction surely made me far more vulnerable to that moment when my sense of safety was undermined so dramatically. Was I ever as safe as I felt? No more so than I am as unsafe as I feel now. Perspective. Still a thing.

When I exist engaged in this moment, here, now, present, awake, aware, there is little clear sense of “more than”, “less than”, or a need to set a threshold and maintain or monitor the outcome. It feels good to be. Content in the moment, because this moment is safe… or feels so. I suppose if I lived under siege, and had to dash to a remaining grocer through a hail of sniper fire, or gaze warily into the sky for unseen drones, or wait, breathless with terror, between bombings, or sleep lightly for fear of the knock on the door, no one moment would be any safer than another, either. Perspective.

I’ve survived some things in life. It has cost me dearly more than once to be able to stand here, in a quiet space, and say so. The price was worth paying. I’m here, in this quiet moment. It is enough. A moment of terror, a moment of trauma, a moment of abuse; we all survive some terrible moments, and our own pain is pretty nearly always the worst we can imagine. Without perspective, we might wander about continuing to allow ourselves to think that is the true truth of it. It is not; right now, somewhere, someone else isn’t sure they will get out alive, while I have a very different moment. I breathe. Sip my coffee. I find room to really savor how good this moment is.

Today is a good day to be mindful how little it takes to be okay right now, safe in this one moment. Today is a good day to embrace sufficiency, and to treat myself well and with great kindness. Today is a good day to remember we are each having our own experience – and some of those suck for some of us, maybe even right now. Today is a good day to listen, to care, and to make amends for the wrongs we’ve done – not because any one of us is more deserving than any other, but because we choose to be better than the human being we were, yesterday.

It’s time to walk on. ๐Ÿ™‚