Archives for posts with tag: walk on

Today might be too much, I feel it already. Rare these days, so the feelings really stand out –  helpful, more than aggravating, and I could use more of it. I can’t put my finger on something specific right now, or be certain things will go sideways at some point, but the potential for it exists as a distinct recognizable set of physical sensations that add up to an experience I recognize. It’s been a difficult day or two, and although I’ve adulted through it with considerable skill, generally, I’m quite human and there’s simply the possibility – leaning toward likelihood – that today it may all catch up with me. Can I make use of this awareness to treat myself well and gently, still get the day done, and perhaps dodge a meltdown, too? I guess I’ll find out as the day unfolds.

Well, sure. This.

Well, sure. This.

“Too much” is sometimes a thing to deal with. It’s not any more real than a lot of what I find myself mired in. “Too much” often reflects an unhealthy attachment to an outcome, or expectations that are unreasonable, or assumptions that are incorrect, piling up with circumstances that don’t bear that sort of emotional weight well. It’s that way today. A date with an acquaintance became a disappointment. The new job felt like a certainty, but fell through. A routine visit to a doctor becomes a referral to a specialist to rule out cancer – first. Disappointment adds to insecurity, which adds to worry, which adds to fear, which slowly becomes a soup of darker emotions, and a high risk of an emotional moment…or two…or some sort of meltdown. All very real. All very human. I could cash in my ticket for “a good cry” – haven’t done that, yet. As is so often said, it would probably do me good to just let go…once I can. Making a clear distinction between ‘balance’ (and treating myself well) and ‘repression’ (just sort of squashing everything down into a manageable presentation that seems appropriate to others) has huge value; hiding from my hurts doesn’t really work for me. “The way out is through” is real and meaningful today.

I have my ‘to do list’ for the day. I have events on my calendar. Purpose. A plan. I’ve also got this fragile vessel of flesh and bone to tend, and that’s rather non-negotiable for general wellness. I reconsider my list, move some things around, ensure that I keep a compassionate eye on myself today. I decide to trust my judgement – who knows me better than I do? – a meltdown today, you say? I think I have an opening on my calendar for that… if I must. lol Maybe later? Sometime after lunch? (Maybe not – that would be quite nice.) Either way, it won’t be necessary or useful to take it personally; I’m here for me.

Storms pass.

Storms pass.

Looking my concerns in the face eases them somewhat, at least for now. I sip my coffee, and start going down the list of things to do today. Today is a good day to be, and to do. 🙂

I enjoyed an entire day of gentle stillness yesterday, no agenda beyond enjoying some chill time, no stress, no bother, no real ‘workload’. Much of the day was spent in meditation, seated on my cushion, or relaxing on the patio, watching the birds come and go, and listening to the sounds of the park in spring. No stress. Literally no stress. It is a remarkable feeling, and I’m glad I had the weekend away with my traveling partner to remind me what that feels like, so I would be prepared for it solo! There were some moments yesterday when my primate nature restlessly fussed in the background seeking some kind of escape from the peace of it; the chill time I had inflicted on myself requires as much discipline as any other effort. I resisted the call of social media, of favorite brain candy, of distractions by the dozens, and took the time I needed to really relax. There were still verbs involved. lol

I learned something over the minutes and hours of a wholly meditative day, yesterday; I need more time spent this way. I took a moment in the evening to reserve a favorite camp site in a favorite nearby(ish) state park with plenty of forest and good hiking trails – many that I’ve not yet hiked – for an upcoming weekend. Time out in the trees is very much the thing I need, without the constant temptations of distractions intruding in precious moments of stillness – mostly. All that remains is to coordinate the transportation details, get my gear together, and do a thorough gear check; it’s been more than a year since I last camped. Wow – so long? No wonder I am needing this time to refresh and recharge!

Number 23 is waiting for me...

Number 23 is waiting for me…

Life sometimes seems to get going so fast…the rushed hurried pace of planned events tangled up with the unexpected can become overwhelming without warning if I am not mindful of the potential. I’ve learned to limit how much I plan into any given day, even when I travel on vacation. I’m not the sort who makes detailed plans with a lengthy list of scenic landmarks to check off (Yep, seen it! Next!!), or noteworthy high-points identified by friends and associates that I feel compelled to similarly enjoy – that’s not my way. I do plenty of research on a destination (even this trip to the trees, in a park I am familiar with), and fill my thoughts with information about the opportunities, history, and scenic wonders – then I ‘wing it’. Once I’ve got a hotel reservation (or camping spot) the rest is surprisingly spontaneous, considering my fondness for planning. I don’t prefer ‘tour group style’ travel; I like to go and live.  Do I miss out on seeing that one fantastic whatever? Sometimes. Sometimes not. I rarely come home exhausted, irritated, or feeling vaguely let down, either, which is generally the outcome [for me] of traveling via landmark checklist. Your results may vary. 🙂

Another lovely spring-summer day ahead, a loose agenda (not quite a plan), and a smile on my face – it’s a good beginning, and a lovely morning to begin again.

Why yes, thank you, I shall.

Why yes, thank you, I shall.

This menu of choices is pretty vast… Even when life has backed me into a corner, when I’m willing to be honest with myself and willing to open my eyes to opportunities and possibilities previously unconsidered (or even previously discarded), the menu of choices life offers up is indescribably vast, varied, and there for the taking (more often than not). My results have varied – and not just the results of the outcomes of the choices; my own willingness to choose, the nature of what drives the choices, and the inclination to go one direction versus another has varied as well. I walk on, metaphorically, from one moment to the next – change is (very few other things so clearly are).

I woke to sunshine and birdsong this morning, and a lovely sparkling Friday without any specific plan and nothing urgent on my agenda. My ‘to do list’ has things on it like ‘be mindful’, ‘live beautifully’, and ‘enjoy the day’. It’s Friday, and while I am between things and focused on taking care of me, creative endeavors, and figuring out just what exactly the next thing could be, I keep Friday in reserve as ‘a weekend day’ – and why not? My path. I’m the one walking it. I say Friday is a weekend day. 🙂 My ‘new routine’ begins to sort itself out.

It’s nearly 7 am as I write this, and another detail of life these days is the consistency of my morning walk. I’ve loved the commute through the park almost enough to hold on to a job that was slowing tearing me down… keeping the walk makes every bit as much sense as letting the job go. Time to lace up my hiking boots and hit the trail! It’s a lovely bit of paved trail through a very well-kept little park (part recreational and part nature preserve, the meadow is dotted with playgrounds, and the forested trail winds back and forth across the creek), and I can get an easy hike between .5 miles (on days I can barely move) up to 6 miles. It’s a comfortable delight, and very nearby. I take my camera and my monocular.

A detour? An obstacle? An opportunity? A choice.

A detour? An obstacle? An opportunity? A choice.

There are a lot of choices in living well, in taking care of this fragile vessel, and in nurturing the being of light within. I get to make most of them myself. I take a moment to pause and appreciate what that really means for me as an individual, and what it can mean for my tribe, my community, my culture, and my world… choice is a big deal; we guide change with our choices. That seems fairly obvious a thought. I finish lacing up my boots and head out in search of wiser words, and more insightful thinking… today is a good day to be aware of how many choices I have, and to give thought to how I change the world through my choices. 🙂

“What’s in your wallet?” I chuckle to find jingles and advertising slogans ‘stuck in my head’ as I pack a bag for a weekend of adventure and love. I pack in a fairly structured way, beginning with thinking through what I hope to do, and envisioning getting ready for those sorts of things – what might I miss? I make a list (and yes, sorted by categories of things, it’s part of ‘who I am’). This morning, I take another look at the list and assembled the listed items, group them, pack them, and move on to the next trusting that the planning is adequate to the purpose. If I think of something I overlooked, I add it to the list as well as packing it; the list will be the last thing packed, and a handy resource on the other end of the weekend to ensure that all the things I thought I might need also make their way back with me. 🙂

I don’t make a point of calling this out day-to-day, but for the benefit of those joining me here more recently; having a brain injury definitely affects how I do what I do, and it is also a very… personalized? Customized. It’s a very individual sort of thing in some regards; what works for me to cope with my own gaps, losses, quirks, etc, is very likely to be finger-print-distinctive if compared to what someone else with a TBI does to cope with their own needs. I do well making lists… which is kind of a good thing, since I also feel a certain… compulsion… to do so. 🙂 We are who we are, right? I mention it, because it may be that some readers may come to this blog with the perception that there are ‘one size fits all’ perfect-fit solutions to the chaos and damage they – or a loved one – may be experiencing. It’s not that easy. Perhaps if it were as easy as following some handy steps on a cheat sheet shared by all who suffer a head injury, I wouldn’t still be noodling around blogging about ‘wtf??’, ‘how the hell??’ and ‘oh, hey… that worked’ in this haphazard trial and error sort of way? 🙂  We are each having our own experience.

Anyway… moving on… this morning I am finding myself fairly engaged with the process of preparing for adventure, and packing what I’ll need. I consider everything quite carefully, not wanting to drag around a lot of weight that doesn’t serve a definite need. I find myself wondering how I can shift gears, and look at life itself through the lens of packing for adventure, applying the power of metaphor (and perhaps some linguistic shenanigans) to extract a better understanding of bags and ‘baggage’ on life’s journey… Could I… ‘pack lighter’? Could I drag along fewer things that no longer truly serve a purpose? If I were to consider my needs with greater care, and lighten my emotional load? I learn so much about myself, and about life and living, by contemplating the whole of it within the context of some smaller process or task.

…My poetry notebook! Damn… I almost forgot to pack it. I mean…I can write poetry on napkins in diners, and even in the quiet moments walking along, in my own head (some of my best poetry never finds its way to paper)… but… I do like writing it down neatly in my notebook, and poetry is one style of written communication which I never leave behind. The weight of a notebook, versus the weight of the unspoken word? Yeah. The notebook goes with me. 🙂 (For a moment, the demon chorus in the background gives voice to a bitter and angry hurt woman of long ago, “What are you, fucking 12?” and I am briefly stalled on the hurt I feel, delivered by my own brain. I take a deep breath, and allow myself to recognize the profound struggle to be heard represented, and show myself a moment of real compassion – it has been hard, and there are times when I’ve hurt myself worse than the world ever would think to, and it isn’t at all necessary or helpful. I imagine a softer kinder me giving that bitter angry woman a tender hug and a smile, as I pack the notebook; it’s important to both of us.)

Of course... the map is not the world.

Of course… the map is not the world.

It’s a lovely quiet morning with a good cup of coffee and a packing list. Adventure awaits!

I spent yesterday sick. I was mostly over the symptoms by early afternoon, but the fatigue of it wrecked me for the remainder of the day, and I took care of myself gently, ensuring I drank sufficient replacement fluids, and got plenty of rest. Getting things done was not on yesterday’s agenda.

I spent the day watching storms, cartoons, and birds.

I spent the day watching storms, cartoons, and birds.

This morning I woke to the alarm, feeling rested and over whatever I was so sick with yesterday. My coffee is tasty and goes down easily. My shower felt good. Today is fairly structured; I have doctor’s appointments at both ends of the day, and on opposite sides of town. No rush – and no worries, really. It’s a pleasant feeling, and I glide through the morning feeling aware, and competent. I can always tell when I’ve been under the weather; there are dishes in the sink. This morning I empty the dishwasher and reload it while I make my coffee and don’t miss a single detail.

Birds at the feeder

Birds at the feeder

I hear birdsong outside the window and think about how much entertainment I got yesterday from the birds that have found the feeders near my patio garden. The bold red-wing blackbirds quickly shared the information, and as the day went on, more and more of them began to show up, even two or three at a time and sometimes bickering over who gets what. I sat bundled up on the couch ostensibly watching cartoons, but more often with my monocular pointed toward the marsh, or the bird feeder. By the end of the day, I could get an occasional picture of a bird at the feeder without my motion, reaching for the camera, sending them flying away. 🙂 It’s already rather difficult to recall that I was sick yesterday; I recall the day as having been well-spent.

I find myself wondering if that is one secret to finding joy in life – simply focusing on the joy, the small pleasures, being awake, aware, and more invested in the pleasant bits than the unpleasant bits, with the result that the unpleasant bits slowly fade from memory…? Seems possible. Certainly, I do find more value in focusing on the pleasant bits, regardless. 🙂

I write a few more paragraphs, mundane details of this or that. I delete them when I realize they are not relevant to anything much – or even each other. I think for a moment about the skillful writing of two rather different (and very dear) friends, and feel very relieved that I do not compare my writing to theirs day-to-day; we are each such different writers, with such different voices, it would be beyond painful to hold myself to such a standard, and really – there’s no comparison, we each have such different things to say. Every voice in the symphony is utterly necessary for the music to be most beautiful and most complete.

Today is a good day to be uplifted by life, to see the sky, to feel the rain, to be mindful of my fellow travelers on this journey. Today is a good day to walk on. Today is a good day for being and becoming.