This morning I woke early, watered the lawn before sunrise, and enjoyed coffee with my Traveling Partner. I left the house at more or less the usual time. Instead of an iced coffee, I picked up a bottle of water on my way to the trailhead, because I stupidly forgot to refill my water bottle. It’s going to be another hot day and I didn’t want to end up dehydrated walking the trail as the sun rises.
As I drove, the sun breached the horizon, a demonic angry red, seeming larger and more intense in the sky than on other mornings. It was such an astonishing sight that I grabbed my phone as I drove hoping to snap even one blurry picture – because that was some unbelievable shit right there! Wow. So huge in the sky and such a fierce relentless hue, it seemed as if disaster must surely be imminent. I failed to get a picture. I succeeded in not causing (or becoming victim of) a collision.
As I rounded a later curve in the road, I saw the sun, now fully above the horizon, still looking massively large in the sky, and only slightly less strange in color, a bold deep orange slowly rising in a hazy summer sky. It’s going to be another hot day for certain. I’m glad I took time to water the lawn and the garden.
Summer heat ahead. A strange mist clings to the low places.
I hit the trail and walked my miles. Returned to the car still thinking about that crazy sunrise. Climate change? Distant wildfires? Summer heat and haze? I find myself wondering if I will ever see such a sunrise again…or will a day come when every sunrise seems to herald possible disaster or appear on the horizon as some sort of dreadful sign of worse to come? I hope not…? But what a sight!
…We may yet have a chance to avoid destroying our planet… We might want to do something with that, eh?
I’m sipping an iced coffee, perched on a stretch of fence, watching the sun rise. Another hazy warm summer morning that foretells of heat to come. I’ll be in the chill of an air conditioned office for much of the day. Right now I am sitting outside, along the edge of this trail that wanders betwixt marsh and river, looking out across an expanse of meadow, breathing summer air scented by flowers and grasses. It’s a pleasant moment and my being here, now, is mostly due to my Traveling Partner’s need to get some sleep in early morning hours, and the resulting habit of mine that has developed over time; I walk in the early morning hours (avoiding making a bunch of noise knocking about the house while my Traveling Partner tries to sleep).
Another summer morning. Another sunrise.
I smile and breathe the summer scented air. It would not be an exaggeration to place the “blame” for a lot of my current living situation and quality of life on my Traveling Partner. When he and I began to become close, I was in a very different situation (professionally, financially, domestically, medically, and romantically), and from the beginning he questioned (often) why I was in that place instead of living quite differently (and better). He suggested I could do more/better with the resources I had, with my background and experience, and with available options that seemed so obvious to him. He encouraged me to choose differently. It was 2010. He nudged me into getting my first smartphone. It started with that small change, and with the change in my outlook on life that developed and began to deepen through that first year together. He really “backed me up” and encouraged me in a way no previous partner had.
…He has reliably encouraged me to be my best version of the woman I would most like to be that I possibly can…
How I live my life is in my hands. My choices are my own. I am responsible for the consequences of my actions and my words and deeds. (Good and bad.) But… I likely wouldn’t have made many of the choices I did, when I made them, or pursued the results I have gotten, without the love and encouragement, and day-to-day confidence in my abilities that my Traveling Partner has shown me. I playfully “blame him” for much of my experience of success in this latter portion of my life. I doubt I would be in this specific here and now without him. I’m grateful, both for his enduring love and friendship, and also to be here, now, living this life. However long this lasts, it’s pretty pleasant and generally comfortable, and I hope I never take it for granted.
… I’ve done the work to get here, but I wasn’t alone on this journey; it’s been a shared experience. We’re in this together…
The sound of distant traffic reminds me this is a work day. I could happily sit here with my coffee, listening to birdsong and breezes until the heat of the day made it uncomfortable, but there’s work to be done, and it’s part of maintaining this pleasant life I share with my Traveling Partner (and the Anxious Adventurer, for some while to come). I glance at the time, on my cute wrist watch, a gift from my partner earlier this year. I’ve got plenty of time to make my way back up the trail, and my coffee is gone…
Stress complicates things. Letting it go, when I can, makes sense for a lot of reasons. Ruminating about past events that can’t be changed isn’t very helpful. Worrying about future events that have not occurred is also not helpful. Learning from past mistakes and being prepared for future events or decisions are both excellent strategies, though… Finding balance between the extremes is a worthwhile endeavor.
I breathe, exhale, and relax. I purposefully let go of my stress. I make a point of not exploring deeply what may be driving it. Honestly, it’s just too easy to make it much worse by giving my thoughts over to it, so instead I focus on here, now, this moment – a very useful practice.
… And anyway, the things that cause human primates stress are pretty commonplace, aren’t they?
I breathe the scents of summer as I sit at the halfway point of this morning’s walk. The air smells like rain and the sky overhead is obscured by dense clouds, dark and stormy gray to the north and east, and a smooth homogeneous wash of paler gray to the south. The sky was a clear mild blue across the western horizon at daybreak, but now it’s a soft neutral gray, too. I listen to birdsong and the sound of traffic on the nearby highway.
…My mind wanders to my to-do list, and my anxiety surges. I’m reminded that my Traveling Partner’s health challenges are worrisome, and I struggle to calm myself, briefly. Life has some difficult moments. I feel fortunate to share many of those with my Traveling Partner. I breathe, exhale, and relax, again. I allow myself to acknowledge the legitimate stress that results from my partner’s injury last fall, and the challenges of getting him a skilled diagnosis and the care he needs. (He’s right; our system is badly broken and it shouldn’t be this hard.) Another breath, another attempt to let the stress go. It’s not particularly helpful to get wound up and angry, or to become mired in frustration, feeling beat down or hopeless. Perspective can be hard to achieve. I keep at it. Practicing.
…Breathe, exhale, relax…
Sitting here, the tallest meadow grasses obscure me from the trail. I watch the grass sway in the gentle breeze. I enjoy the solitude. My tinnitus is loud in my ears. It vexes me, but I get some sense of relief by turning my attention elsewhere, listening to the sounds around me: distant traffic, chirps and birdsong of the early birds, the sound of rustling leaves. Quiet sounds, but audible when I turn my attention to those.
… Breathe, exhale, relax…
My background stress day-to-day has reached a point where my morning walks fuel just about enough resilience to carry me through the day, but rarely further. Nights are sometimes difficult, restless, wakeful, and full of troubling dreams. This time I take for myself is now pretty necessary, just due to circumstances, instead of being a pleasant luxury. My Traveling Partner sees it too, and frequently encourages me to take care of myself as a priority. The challenge is that the whole messy business has a certain “failure is not an option” feel to it that is a major cause of my stress. Yeah… That’s a thing. I sigh out loud, missing my Dear Friend acutely; I would benefit so much from talking all this over with her!
… Breathe, exhale, relax…
Just moments in a lifetime. This too will pass. Change is.
I brush the bits of leaves from where they’ve clung to my jeans, and stand and stretch. There’s a list of things to do and time is short. I turn to the trail, to head back to the car. It’s already time to begin again.
Before I can ever answer the question “how do I get there?”, I guess it’s necessary to have some understanding of where it is I am wanting to go…
Beginning again starts… somewhere.
Yesterday was a very nice day, marred only slightly by a too-common moment of discord that seems, now, both completely unnecessary and also entirely human. I breathe, exhale, and let that go; there is no need to let it define the day.
I was on the trail this morning shortly after daybreak. I had the trail to myself. I enjoy the quiet time spent with my own thoughts. These morning walks and meditative interludes along a quiet trail are keeping me sane. Mostly. I would do well to do more, better, with regard to my self-care, and I am aware of it. I sigh and file that thought under “I’m doing the best I can” and promise myself to give it more thought another time.
Today I’ll begin the work of moving things around in the house to accommodate my Traveling Partner’s son for some little while. I’m simultaneously eager to be helpful with getting him a good start in the community here, and also saddened to be giving up my wee library (and meditation space) and having to compress my art studio to become my “everything space”. It’s the only way to comfortably make room for a third adult human being. I have no objection to making the necessary changes… I just worry a bit that they won’t be as temporary as discussed going into it, and I’m going to have to be diligent about my self-care and making a point to get the time I need away from people. It’s probably going to be a bit more difficult in some ways, but probably easier in others.
… There’s definitely a bunch of manual labor involved in these changes, and I will need to manage my time and energy with care…
I sit with my thoughts awhile, at the halfway point of my walk. I’ve got a few things on my mind and most of those center on how I can most successfully reduce my day-to-day stress, and also how to develop more resistance to being provoked into anger or anxiety. I’m not as resilient as I am able to be when I live alone, and there are a great many triggers in my environment. Adding another person to my living situation doesn’t make things easier. Once my PTSD flares up, it can be very difficult to regain perspective and emotional balance. I’d very much like to improve that situation and enjoy more lasting calm and contentment, and realistically can’t count on anyone else to “make that easy”. The verbs and practices are mine. My results vary.
… Humans are going to be human…
… We’re each having our own experience…
I breathe, exhale, and relax, aware for a moment that there are no notifications buzzing my arm; I’m wearing a watch, instead of a connected wearable device tracking my every action and pinging me with reminders. It’s quite nice. I even remembered to take my morning medication without any of that. I smile when I recall that my Traveling Partner picked this watch with me in mind. I like it very much.
Another reminder that I am loved.
The sun is well up in the morning sky. Looks like another hot summer day ahead. My step son messages me that he’s on the way to pick up the U-haul truck for his move. Events are in motion. Change is. There’s much to do. It’s already time to begin again…
I breathe, exhale, and relax, and prepare to head back up the trail.
I woke too early, and faced with my Traveling Partner’s stress after a bad night, I quickly agreed to just go ahead and get dressed and go to work (at a cowork space) and got dressed and left. The cowork space available to me now doesn’t open until 07:00 a.m., and it was not yet 04:00 a.m., I figured I would just drive to the nearby nature park, and get a walk in as the sun rose. This works for me.
I made a stop at the 24-hour gas station, on my way by and bought a can of cold brew coffee. It was still so early, none of the coffee places were open yet, but I really wanted some coffee, and my headache was making that feel non-negotiable. So. Canned coffee it is.
…And also? Fuck pain…
I got to the nature park so early, it wasn’t open yet, either, and I had to wait for the gate to open at daybreak. Thats okay; I’m good at waiting. It’s just unusual to wait for the gate on a morning when the sun rises so early. lol
Yesterday, I spent my birthday with my Traveling Partner. We hung out watching videos most of the day. It was a simple day relaxing at home, complicated by my partner having had an allergic reaction to medication he’d been given. Seems like yesterday saw him over the worst of that. (Fucking hell, he’s been through so much this year. I wish I could do more to help.)
I’d have worked from home today to be around to provide support and care giving when needed, but my partner is likely to be incredibly irritable today as he finishes the process of coming off the medication that he reacted to… We both agreed, yesterday, it would probably be best if I wasn’t home for that if possible. (This morning’s early wake up call was a bit unexpected, but beyond that, the day seems pretty routine.)
…G’damn, canned coffee is honestly pretty fucking awful…
I had the trail to myself when my walk began, shortly after the gate opened, and after a brief text conversation with my Traveling Partner that tended to confirm his impression that he’d be so grumpy today that my best choice would be to be elsewhere. It stung a bit to have my loving-kindness thoroughly misunderstood, but I understand the shit he’s going through. I let it go and got on with my walk. The trail became fairly crowded quite quickly for so early (and on a work day), but summer is nearly here, so perhaps I should not be surprised. Other than some silent greetings, a hand wave or a nod or smile in passing, there seemed a tacit agreement that it’s too early for speaking, and I continued my walk more or less alone with my thoughts.
…The sunrise was as close to being “boring” as a sunrise can be, with the dawn coming to clear skies, and nothing more exciting than a hint of yellow low on the horizon. I’m nonetheless supremely grateful for a new day and a chance to begin again. 61, eh? 😆 Feels just like 60…
Grateful for another sunrise.
I stop at my halfway point to sit, meditate, and write a few words. This bit of writing is a practice I find incredibly helpful for gaining perspective, and for practicing non-attachment and gratitude. It’s a bit like practicing self-reflection “out loud” to share my thoughts with you this way, though we may never meet, or discuss what I’ve shared. I often use the opportunity to reframe my bleaker or more difficult moments in a way that provides me greater depth of understanding, more insight (I hope), and positivity. I admit it; it takes some effort to be positive and practice gratitude, sometimes. I’ve definitely found it worthwhile as practices go. Cynicism, pessimism, and negativity never served me very well at all, and actually seriously limited my ability to grow, to heal, and to thrive. I’ve never regretted giving those up in favor of optimism, positivity, and a zest for living a life rich in joy and wonder. I can’t force anyone else to see things my way, or make this change in thinking. It’s enough to share that it has been meaningful and worthwhile for me personally to make this change. (It does take practice and my results do vary.)
…The sun climbs higher into the clear blue of the June sky, as I sit with my thoughts…
I hear voices approaching from around the bend in the trail and check the time. Looks like time to head back to the car and make the drive to the cowork office.
Evening Light 