I’m waiting for the sun. Waiting for the gate to the park to open. Waiting to get a walk in, before the many hours of driving ahead of me today. I have a headache, but I wouldn’t have missed the moment by choice; the luminous full moon hung over the marsh, lighting the mists that clung to the ground and the lakes. I sat on the hood of my car in the morning chill, listening to the peeping frogs somewhere in the grass, and smelling the scents of Spring approaching.
One beautiful quiet moment.
The gate opened, and I moved the car and got my boots on and got going. Walking with my thoughts is a practice I know soothes my heart and calms me. Yesterday’s tears become today’s resolve.
Later, I’ll head to the store and do things to ensure my Traveling Partner is comfortable while I am away and mostly able to see to his own needs for a couple days, then I’ll hit the road. It’s not a ridiculously long drive; a few hours, about the length of a work day. I’ll take breaks and put no pressure on myself to manage any particular timing. I’ll just drive, get there, and deal with the circumstances with as much grace and love as I am able to bring to it.
… Saying goodbye can be so painful…
I plan to return as I departed, patiently, with care, and cutting myself some slack on time and timing. I’ll get home and resume living life, and doing all the little things that are part of that experience. I’ll hold my partner tightly and make a point to show him how much I love him. Time is short and we are mortal creatures.
I am so grateful that I have my Traveling Partner to come home to. The thought anchors me and gives me a feeling of safety and wholeness.
Knowing that each ending is also a new beginning doesn’t make saying goodbye any easier. But… I’ll go. I’ll say goodbye. I’ll return home… Then I’ll begin again.
I jot down some thoughts for later, before I hit the trail. I’m killing a bit of time waiting for a passing rain shower to move on from here to elsewhere before I start down the trail. I’ve got my boots on and my rain jacket. I’m ready. I’m thinking about how much small changes over time have added up to big differences in quality of life, health, fitness, and my relationships. I put those thoughts aside, and head down the trail.
I take the short trail up to a view point, just to grab this picture. There’s nothing extraordinary about it, I just wanted to.
I walk along noticing signs of Spring, although it seems quite early for it. There are trees already leafing out, and flowers beginning to bloom. Seasonal ponds reflect the sky and the surrounding trees from the calm surface of murky water. The ducks don’t mind the muck, quite the contrary, they seem to enjoy it greatly.
A pair of ducks enjoys a quiet breakfast together. Will there be ducklings soon? I wonder but don’t go looking for a nest.
Yesterday, I had the park entirely to myself, although it was a Sunday. Today, in spite of it being a Monday morning, there are quiet a few others enjoying the trail, and though I’ve done my best to give them (and myself) considerable distance, I find myself pausing along the edge of the pond, waiting for someone to walk on past. They don’t stop at the pond; they see me and quickly walk on past. At this early hour, the majority of the folks on the trail are seeking solitude. This is not the “family hour” of the morning. lol
I walk and enjoy the Spring air, fresh from the rain during the night. I tread carefully on the slick muddy path, and silently thank myself for choosing to walk with my cane this morning; it prevents me from losing my footing a handful of times as I walk. I reach my goal, a particular riverside viewpoint, and sensing the approach of another rain shower, turn back up the trail.
Spring flowers and young leaves are plentiful, already.
As I walk, I find myself thinking again about small changes. I’ve not once hit the trail for the first time in Spring and comfortably stepped along at my best pace for multiple miles, then returned home feeling energized and ready for more. If I’ve been off the trail for a few weeks, I start again a bit slower, and tackle shorter distances of level well-maintained (or even paved) trails and build up to the distances and quicker pace. If I haven’t been writing awhile, I generally start with fewer words, and build a practice of regular writing, before I seek to drop lengthy missives on an unsuspecting recipient of my correspondence. If I’m committing myself to a new fitness strategy, I don’t hit the mat (or the gym) with aggressive energy, seeking to max out my weight, reps, or duration – I start light, and build up to my goal. Lots of things seem to work best with small changes and incremental changes over time.
Small changes are on my mind. New doctors, new images, new results, all of these tend to mean new treatment plans, new strategies, and a different way of viewing (and caring for) this fragile vessel and the limitations it has. Improving on my present wellness and fitness isn’t an over-night single-change solution at all. There’s more to it than that, and even with great care and small changes, my results will vary along the way. It’s a journey. Steps on a path.
So… I walk and think, about miles and fitness and pain (and pain management) and what it takes to get the most (and the most joy) out of this fragile vessel in this one mortal lifetime. Walking is my most reliable form of exercise day-to-day – and I want to go further, faster. I picked up a soft elastic ankle “brace” (more of a stretchy sleeve that offers some compression and support than a proper brace), understanding that the biggest limiting factor for my walking is currently my ankle. So, okay. Small change, and incremental improvement over time – it’s a place to start. 😀 New lab results and images make it clear that much of my pain is due to chronic conditions (and in some cases degenerative), and the “penalty weight” I carry (being considerably more than any estimate of “ideal weight” for my size and age) definitely adds additional wear to my body, and it’s a lot to have to carry for this fucked up ankle, and a lot to support for this fucked up back (and neck)… so I give thought to things like nutritional density, calorie restriction, and small changes that could add up to – over time – less weight to carry around. I can’t say I’m super eager to embrace these changes, but lying to myself about the necessity doesn’t get me anywhere I’d want to go. So, I walk and I think, and I consider and I plan. I’ve already started adding some supplements that may improve my general well-being, bone health, energy… I’ve got a good doctor, and so far her recommendations have been skillful. My Traveling Partner is working on his health and fitness, too; being injured has hit him hard, and he’s taking his health quite seriously. (I don’t feel like I’m making this journey alone, which is also helpful.)
I arrive home still feeling encouraged, hopeful, and eager to continue to make small changes. I sip a cup of tea, a new favorite, and think about the Spring garden. Earlier this weekend, I got out into the garden (in a bit of a drizzle) and cut down the last dead bits of the previous year, and pruned Baby Love (a rose that doesn’t know the meaning of winter, apparently). This morning, I thought about early plantings and decided to make time to plant peas, carrots, radishes, and early greens. It’s time, if the calendar and temperature can be relied upon. 😀 I make a plan and get out the seeds.
…My Traveling Partner sticks his head in the door of the studio to tell me my phone is misbehaving. I offer to reboot the silly thing…
Another lovely day unfolds ahead of me. There are things to do, and in the doing there is healing and potentially improved wellness. I hope to be around for many more years to come, gardening, painting, hiking – and beginning again. 😀
I “slept in” this morning, still waking well before sunrise. My Traveling Partner was already up, and we enjoyed a cup of coffee together before I left for my morning walk. It was a pleasant moment together.
One perspective on the morning.
I arrived at the trailhead before the gate opened. There was a drizzly rain falling, but by the time the gate into the park opened the rain had stopped. Convenient.
I hit the trail happily, and watched mumurations of birds rising from the marshy lowlands, and flocks of geese moving on to their next stopping point on their journey. I listened to peeping frogs, unseen in the weeds at the water’s edge. I felt the morning breezes on my face along with an occasional raindrop. It’s a lovely gray cloudy morning with mists clinging here and there, looking rather mysterious. I walked along in solitude, content to be alone with my thoughts, still reflecting upon the dreams that had filled my sleep, and seem somehow relevant and worthy of further consideration.
When I got back to the car, it was still very much the start of a new day. I’ve got a short list of things to pick up at the store and a plan to go to the local nursery for some gardening items and inspiration. (It’s already time to think about Spring!) I feel an extra bit of relaxed delight with the day; it’s a three day weekend and I am in no hurry.
I sat for a moment after changing back to sneakers from hiking boots, just thinking my thoughts. The misty rain began to fall again, as if that pause in the rain had been just for me, to get my walk without being soaked. lol I enjoy the happy coincidence with a helping of whimsy before I begin again.
My morning coffee this morning is truly awful. Made it myself, and I’ve made a few bad cups of coffee in this lifetime – this one’s a standout among them. lol It’s early on a Saturday, in a small somewhat shabby hotel, in a lovely quiet spot on the Oregon coast, though, and if all I have to complain about is a shitty cup of drip coffee made in a poor quality plastic drip coffee machine from provided (and likely ancient) pre-measured ground coffee… well… it’s a damned good morning, generally, eh? 😀 I alternate sips of water (cool and refreshing) and sips of coffee (g’damn this is terrible), and check to see what time the nearest good quality coffee may be available this morning (it’s “off season” and quite a few of the small cafes and such are closed on a seasonal basis, taking a pleasant break during the rainy winter months). 07:00 a.m. looks like the earliest I could go out and fetch back a good cup of coffee, and by then I’m likely to be wanting a bite of breakfast and maybe a walk on the beach…
…I think things over while I sip my bad cup of coffee, and lean on the experience as useful perspective, and a launch point for a moment of gratitude; as bad as this cup of coffee is, it’s here, it’s hot, and it’ll do what coffee does to kick start my morning. It’s enough, and I’m grateful for a world in which coffee exists and is (still) reliably available to a person of average means. (Realistically, that may not always be the case.)
…Good grief this is a bad cup of coffee though…
I slept well and deeply again last night. Sleep pulled me down into it’s dreamy depths relatively early (again). The walking and the sea air combine to find me truly ready for sleep by the end of the day, and it’s quite lovely. I slept a bit more than 10 hours and woke to the sound of ocean waves pounding the rip-rap at the base of the hotel property, feeling rested and refreshed. The hotel has been surprisingly quiet on this visit, and I’ve enjoyed that greatly. The morning begins gently, and I feel pretty good – less stiffness and less pain than yesterday, which is promising for the day ahead.
I shut off the desk light in the room – I don’t need it to write, and it obscures my view of daybreak and the sunrise-to-come. I smile at the fractional moon overhead, as it sets, and marvel for a moment at the way it shimmers on the bay. I open the door to the balcony, and the chilly sea air. A handful of ships in the distance reveal themselves by their lights; I’d never see them during the daylight hours without a more powerful zoom than any I brought, the their lights twinkle away in the dim blue of dawn.
A brand new day. What will I do with it?
I sip my coffee, feeling “more awake” as the quantity remaining dwindles. I think about breakfast, and choose a local favorite breakfast spot I haven’t yet tried. I listen to the waves, louder just now for some reason. I watch the gulls soaring and gliding playfully on the early morning breezes and the updraft alongside the hotel wall. The morning sky begins to shed its deeper hues in favor of something closer to a baby blue or a robin’s egg blue. Looks like a good day to wander and wonder unfolding ahead of me. I smile and finish my terrible cup of coffee, and prepare to begin again.
I’m drinking my coffee before I start work. I am feeling contented and relaxed. Strange morning. Some sound or something woke me briefly at something like 03:35 this morning. I looked at the clock, turned over, and went back to sleep. The lights (of my silent alarm) don’t come on until 05:00; I had time to sleep, more. I sank into a deep dream. My Traveling Partner’s voice saying… something… roused me a bit some time later. I heard the door click closed, and woke thinking I must be running late (damned dreams) and sat upright abruptly, forgetting I had a CPAP mask on and very nearly dragging the machine to the floor as I sat up. Comical, later, but in the moment mostly just confusing for my groggy brain. I rose, dressed, and made my way through something like my morning routine, before kissing my Traveling Partner and leaving for work. All rather ordinary, really, but…
…It was a bit earlier than usual, and I was definitely not “running late”. LOL Nice commute, very little traffic.
I’ve been enjoying a fairly spectacular few days for the last little while. A week? More? It’s just been rather nice at home, and yeah even at work. I feel… mostly contented, generally merry, and frequently joyful. My Traveling Partner and I are enjoying each other quite a lot. (If you’re in a loving relationship, yourself, you probably know there are some ups and downs, and it’s not all “ice cream and blowjobs” all the time.) It’s rather like the cold-brew filter of my heart is drip-drip-dripping happiness into my experience all the time, a little bit at a time, and it’s been adding up. It’s quite lovely. I sip my coffee and reflect on my joys and precious moments shared with my Traveling Partner.
…Yesterday was a weird one. Not a bad day, and remarkable primarily because it was (and is) more or less a blur. I got to the office, sat down, answered an email before I even made coffee (it seemed to want to be answered promptly)… next thing I new the day was ending, it was hours later, and although I’d gotten a lot done, nothing at all stood out about the day, as if I simply hadn’t formed any memories of the moments of lifetime that had been consumed by work. I mean, I guess I didn’t. As I said; it’s a blur. I see my checklist has many items checked off, and I review it with care; my “today” will build off that list and awareness of what has already been completed, and what is yet to be done… short week, with my long weekend trip coming up quickly.
Last night my Traveling Partner asked about my itinerary and timing. He looked a bit disappointed to realize I’ll be leaving on Thursday, but I set up my trip to maximize my downtime, and minimize the impact to him/us; I’ll get two days off work, and spend just one weekend day away, returning home on Sunday to enjoy the day with him (and get a few things done before the work week begins). Evenings apart can have some lonely moments, though… I sip my coffee and think about offering a Zoom call or something for Friday or Saturday night. By Saturday evening I know we’ll be missing each other a lot. I fret for a minute over whether he’s really going to be able to care for himself (still recovering from his injury) sufficiently well to be okay on his own… but… he’s a grown-ass man, very capable, and would 100% tell me, and ask for my help (or to change my plans) if he needs me. He’s pretty good at “using his words” where that sort of thing is concerned (for which I’m highly grateful). He knows I need the downtime. Work has been intense. Life has been filled with effort. I’m tired and a bit overwhelmed by “all the people-ing”. A couple days solo is good for me – but the weather is not yet great for camping. So, a trip to the coast it is. This time I’ll bring my paints along. 😀
As I finish my coffee, I take a breathe, sigh, and hope today isn’t such a blur. It’s time to begin again.
Evening Light 