I woke from a long afternoon nap in my sun-warmed tent, just before it began to get quite hot as the shade in that corner slipped away. I woke with a certain feeling of soul-deep satisfaction and contentment, a song in my head, and my Traveling Partner on my mind.
It is late in the afternoon, the beginning of what feels like evening to me.
Blue skies and perspective.
A full day properly alone with my thoughts, walking unfamiliar miles, immersing myself in self-reflection, meditation, and getting a deeply restful (long) nap, and somehow I’m ready to go home. I miss my Traveling Partner. He misses me. (And there’s rain in the forecast for Wednesday now, too.) I needed this. I don’t really need more.
… I’m glad I got the cot, and I’m glad I switched up the camp site; my effort went into the trail miles instead of setting up camp, and dreading tearing it down again…
I’ve got the evening (and the night) ahead of me. Another hike in the morning. Then, home to a hot shower in my own home, and sleep in my own bed. More than that, home to my beloved Traveling Partner’s embrace – and also, tacos. 😂 Yep. “Taco Tuesday” has become a thing at our house. Fun. Also tasty. Also not me cooking! 😁
Once upon a time, my getaways were definitely about getting away from something, if only for a couple of days. These days they are not that at all, they’re just an effective means of “going deeper” with the woman in the mirror and getting a different kind of rest in a busy life. Once I “get where I’m going”, I’m eager to return home.
Foxglove is blooming in the meadows and along the forest trails.
For the moment, here, now, in the evening, (and lacking any tacos) I’m mostly focused on… Dinner. How practical. How human. A chilly breeze rustles the leaves and hints at sun down and a cool night ahead. The clock is ticking, even in this timeless place. It’s a good time to begin again. Again.
I’m sipping my coffee in that pleasant space between finishing the budgeting for this pay period and digging into the work of the day. There’s a cloudy sky beyond the window of the office, and the morning termperatures are cooler than they have been – of course; I’ve got a camping trip planned, so obviously the weather will turn chilly and possibly rainy. LOL
A moment of celebration, love, and delight; delicious, and worth savoring.
I smile every time I think about my birthday. What a lovely day, and in every regard thoroughly satisfying. Oh sure, more money/youthful energy/time perhaps it could have been more elaborate in some way, or involved other activities, but frankly the day’s simplicity and very high “chill factor” made for a completely delightful experience that met my needs. I feel loved and appreciated and celebrated. It’s a pleasant feeling, and I sit with the recollections, savoring them and sipping my coffee. 62, eh? So far, so good. I certainly feel more prepared to handle adult life and challenges than I did at 21. Or… 30, 40, 45, 50… I am, as they say, “a work in progress”. The profound value of incremental change over time is that it is a reliable path forward toward other (better?) things. I am more the woman I most want to be than I was in any prior year, and I keep making progress as a human being, learning and growing – and practicing.
I’ve learned some things over time, and I’ll share them (though I suspect we’ve all got to learn things our own way, and walk our own hard mile, regardless how much wisdom or knowledge may be available at our fingertips). I’ve learned that:
there is no rational justification for genocide, ever.
governments wage war because war is profitable.
human beings will persist in confusing anecdotes with data and can be easily mislead.
some people prefer to bitch about crap they could easily change rather than do the work to change it.
it is possible to find joy amidst chaos and tragedy.
change is, and although it can’t be prevented or avoided, it can be embraced and guided.
terrible hateful people walk among us, and they look like everyone else.
it’s very hard to be angry and grateful at the same time.
we can each choose our own path.
there’s always more work to do, and it is important to take breaks, and rest.
no one “makes it” on their own.
we can choose what we fill our thoughts with.
character and ethics matter, a lot.
if your only argument is name-calling or personal attacks, you have lost that argument (whether you accept that or not).
when “choosing sides” it is important to be clear about what the side you choose actually stands for.
critical thinking takes more work than most people are willing to do.
most of the things in life we stress out over aren’t actually worth that amount of emotional energy.
sometimes the “easiest” path requires the most work.
we become what we practice.
It’s not much. Certainly I’ve learned more, other, things – or – maybe I haven’t? Sometimes some lesson I thought I’d learned comes back to bite me because I had not truly put what I thought I learned into practice, reliably. Words are easy. Deeds…? That gets more complicated, doesn’t it? I feel my smile take a somewhat cynical twist, and sip my coffee. Life is a strange journey without a map, toward a destination we don’t necessarily choose with our eyes open (or recognize when we approach it). It’s a bit like seeing a funhouse mirror suddenly snap into a very clear focused reflection when I find myself very clear on some detail that had previously eluded me. My results often vary, and there are so many verbs involved…
The site I reserved for my upcoming camping trip, from the perspective of a moment in time 10 years ago.
It hits me in a moment what I really want out of my camping trip next week; time with my thoughts. I don’t really feel inspired to paint (yet), or even to take photographs (though I know I will). I want quiet solitary time with my thoughts, and a pen and some paper. lol Very low-tech, no fancy techniques, tools, or apps required; I want to walk trails, and watch clouds, and meditate. I want to breathe the Spring-becoming-Summer air, and take a closer look at the moss, the lichen, and the wildflowers. I want to sit quietly watching a braver than average small creature approaching me slowly with curiosity. I want to feel the weight of the world lifted from my shoulders because for a little while it will have nothing whatsoever to do with me. I want to “give my soul a rest” from the chaos of the world. I want to miss my Traveling Partner, because through missing him I discover again how deeply immersed in this love I really am. I want to unplug from the rest of the world and reconnect with my own deepest inner self. I sip my coffee and laugh to myself – seems clear enough. Now I’ve just got to do the verbs. lol
The clock ticks on. 62 now, and for the next 364 days to come. I hope I make good use of my time. I hope I live well and wisely, and love deeply. It’s time to get started on another year of living. It’s time to begin again.
I’m sipping my coffee after a short suburban walk around the neighborhood where the office is located. In one direction, it’s all residential streets and quite cul de sacs, filled with pretty landscaping and flowers in bloom, and it makes a nice walk in the cool of the morning. It’ll be hot later on, and it’s clear that summer is approaching. I dislike taking my walks in the heat of the day, in summertime, so this early morning habit becomes quite a practical thing this time of year.
“Sweet Chariot” blooming.
I enjoyed the garden yesterday, and new roses intended for the bare slope beneath the back retaining wall finally arrived. They’re waiting for their moment for planting, which looks to be Monday since I’ll need help with that, and in the meantime they sit on the deck in partial shade, getting used to the climate and being watched and watered until Monday comes. R. eglanteria is a favorite species rose (for me), and I love the apple scent of the foliage and flowers. In the conditions here, it should root firmly, spread nicely without becoming “invasive”, and do an excellent job of preventing erosion where they are planted. I’m hoping that perhaps as they grow they’ll also be sufficiently interesting to the deer to distract them from my garden. lol (“Good luck with that, Lady, the deer are probably still going to eat your damned roses.”)
“Rainbow Happy Trails” blooming, each blossom like a tiny sunrise.
I think about other garden projects while I sip my coffee, and think ahead even to the autumn gardening plan. It’s not really time to bother with that, but it’s good to have a plan in mind. I giggle to myself when I realize I’m thinking about where to put still another rose or two, as if I haven’t already wedged in a ridiculous number of them for the space I’ve got. Most of the roses in my garden are smaller varieties (some are miniatures), which make good use of the limited space, and are uncompromisingly beautiful. In this case, size does not matter at all. I’m more interested in the health of the foliage, the beauty of the blooms, and the quantity and fragrance of those flowers. I love stepping out the front door and being immediately surrounded by an invisible cloud of sweet rose fragrances, which tend to “pool” in the entry way.
“Nozomi” thriving, in full bloom; she’s so thorny it is very difficult to weed her as much as she does need it.
I enjoy the sanctuary of my garden when I’m a bit stressed out. I love the moments I spend there daydreaming and reflecting on life when I’m feeling a bit stalled. I enjoy the practical metaphor for living that my garden represents, too. My garden teaches me, nurtures my spirit, and produces yummy vegetables, leafy greens, and moments of rest in a too busy world. I still have to work at it. We become what we practice. We harvest what we plant. There are verbs involved in life and gardening.
A tiny bug on my romaine.
I breathe, exhale, and relax. It’ll be late in the afternoon when I am next in my garden, watering, maybe weeding, planning the weekend project for better protecting the vegetable bed. I’m already thinking about it, which isn’t at all “being present in the moment”, because right now I’m in the office, beginning the work day. lol There are other things to do. Other places to focus my attention. Human primates are hilarious. I smile at my flights of fancy and eagerness to be in the garden; I don’t actually prefer to do the amount of work it takes to keep the garden beautiful, but it is work that must be done if I wish to enjoy a beautiful garden. There it is – the secret sauce to living well; do the work.
There’s also a certain amount of luck and happenstance involved…
I smile at the thought that “all it takes is hard work” – it’s a very “Republican perspective” on success, and it is misleading. Yes, it’s important to “do the needful” to succeed in life (or work, or love, or gardening), but also – there’s the matter of luck, good fortune, and circumstances being in favor of whatever thing I’m attempting to do. No one truly finds success alone, and while there are surely verbs involved, and yes the work we put in does have a lot to do with the success we find, there’s also no getting around the idea that we are each also very dependent on luck, and often the help of others. Maybe things just don’t go our way? Maybe the deer eat everything in our garden down to the ground and we’ve got to start completely from new seeds or plants and do it all over again? Maybe our crops become blighted, or consumed by some tiny creature? Maybe we become injured and simply can’t do the work required? I feel fortunate; although the deer ate my bean plants, those plants are recovering, putting out flowers, and seem likely to grow some actual beans before the summer is over. The tomatoes are also recovering. That’s a win, although it’s still possible the deer will have another go at my damned vegetables before I have a harvest. lol (It’s a helpful metaphor.) I’m fortunate that I also have help when I need it – I need only ask.
I sigh to myself and sip my coffee. It’s a lovely morning to be in the garden. I’m in the office. There are things to do here, too, and at least for now my time is not my own. I glance at the clock and admit to myself that the work day has begun. I look over my calendar, and my email. It’s time to begin again.
The sunrise was over by the time I reached the trailhead this morning, but I watched it as I drove. Beautiful. The bold orange streaks of cloud seemed gilded, the golden edges feathering across the baby blue sky. The mountains on the horizon were a lavender silhouette, and the colorful scene evolved, changing hues as the sun rose. Tangerine. Magenta. Pink. Lemon yellow. It was lovely.
I chose the farthest of two trailheads for the park; it’s usually empty. Not this morning, there’s only one parking space left. I get it. It’s a beautiful morning for a hike. The meadow flowers fill the morning air will the scent of Spring. The birds fill the air with their songs and chirps and screeches. The gravel trail crunches beneath my steps. The sunlight illuminates the meadow grass and the leaves of the trees.
I walk and keep walking, until I get to my preferred halfway point and stop to write and reflect. I listen to the sounds of the Tualatin river from my convenient vantage point, reflecting on this and that. Breathe, exhale, relax…
One point of view among many, one moment along the way.
“What’s the point of any of this?” I find myself wondering, and sitting with that thought for awhile. It’s a question. I don’t have an answer, really. I guess there’s a chance that there’s no point at all… We’re born. We live our finite, ordinary, mortal lives. We learn what we can. We accumulate objects and mementos that we will inevitably leave behind. We eventually die. Some of us may make some profound mark on society or advance human progress in some way – most of us won’t. Some few of us will pass on, unremarkable, unremembered, and unnoticed. So… What is the point? I breathe the Spring air deeply, listening to the breeze and the birdsong. Is this enough? Is it enough simply to be?
I think about it for awhile. Even recognizing that the journey itself is the destination, I sometimes do wonder what the actual point of it is… Perhaps there isn’t one. Maybe we simply live and die and there’s no point or purpose at all? If that’s the case, any purpose in life is one we choose for ourselves, each of us, having our own experience, and deciding for ourselves what the point may be. This isn’t a grim thought for me, and it doesn’t cause me any stress or agitation, I just sit here on a Spring morning wondering for myself what that point may be.
There’s time for wonder, and wondering, and asking questions. Maybe that’s even the point? I smile and wave at a passing stranger who calls out a “good morning” as they pass.
Sunshine through the trees.
It’s a new day. I wonder what I’ll do with it? I wonder where this path leads? I breathe, exhale, and relax. The clock is ticking, and it’s time to head on down the trail and begin again.
I’m sipping my morning coffee thinking about how ludicrous it is that we so often seek to make everything fit into an “either/or” sort of arrangement – two neat columns, pro and con, or two clear choices for or against. I don’t think our human experiences are so tidy and clearly on one side or another of some dividing line. Not at all. We are creatures capable of depth and nuance of both thought and emotion. Our choices are often not so easy, and the problems we face more subtle and complex than a clear “yes/no” decision can resolve. We cheat ourselves and each other when we default to false dichotomies and make believe dilemmas – we often have many more choices on the vast menu of life’s Strange Diner than we take the time to consider.
…I consider our weird two party political system in the United States to be symptomatic of this very human challenge (in addition to being the only likely mathematical outcome of our current election system, regardless how many parties we may attempt to put in the mix). Human beings don’t seem to like complicated decision making at all. What a shame – we have such beautifully well-suited brains for such things. Seems like a waste of our potential as beings.
How are you wasting your potential today? Maybe that’s worth giving a moment of thought to? It’s your life, of course, and I’m not telling you what to do, just saying – you’ve got so much potential as a creature! What are you doing with that? What are you practicing? Where does your path lead?
What love looks like.
I spent time this weekend lingering over love and games with my Traveling Partner, who has been patiently re-teaching me to play cribbage. I enjoy cribbage. I played it with my grandfather. I played it when I was in a warzone (preferring it over pinochle or dominoes). My TBI gives me an irritating cognitive quirk; I don’t easily remember certain sorts of things, and the rules of card games are one of these. If I am not playing a particular game every day, the recollection of the game play and the rules quickly extinguishes, and I’ve got to start all over again the next time I go to play. It had been years since I’ve played cribbage. My Traveling Partner made us a lovely cribbage board. We’ve been playing relatively regularly for the past few days, and I’m enjoying it greatly. Oh, sure, at least for now I still need help figuring the points in a hand – cribbage is a relatively complicated card game – but I’m enjoying the time with my partner, and he with me, and it’s time well-spent. I am grateful he is so patient with me as I relearn a game I once knew so well.
A rose blooming in my garden. A beautiful metaphor.
I spent time this weekend lingering in the garden, enjoying the roses that are blooming, and fussing over the plants the deer have nibbled on. I weeded, and I watered, and I sat in the sunshine. Also time well-spent.
62 soon. Life is significantly less complicated – and less “exciting” – than I once expected it would be (though it often still feels like a lot to manage), and I’m not at all disappointed by that. lol Like a lot of other things, “excitement” is somewhat over-rated (and things are generally complicated enough to feel bothersome), and I greatly prefer joyful contentment, sufficiency, and the kind of broad perspective that allows me room to understand and appreciate others. We’re each having our own experience, and I really don’t have the time to bother with being annoyed by everyone about everything or wallowing in made up drama. lol I do like things “easy”. These mortal moments are so finite and precious.
I breathe, exhale, and relax. I’ve got a couple appointments today, and it’s a busy workday, and there are errands to run on the way home, and… when the hell would I also find time to enjoy “excitement”? Good grief, a pleasant generally routine life is plenty busy already, isn’t it? I sip my coffee and smile to myself. This is a nice moment right here. Good for self-reflection and new beginnings. Good for gratitude and love. Good for putting some thought into decisions to be made and things to be done. There’s no need to rush, or force everything through a filter that reduces it all to either/or, this-or-that, yes/no, pro or con… I have time to think things through thoroughly, to understand more of my life more deeply, in spite of that ticking clock. I have time for myself before I begin again.
There’s time to pause for flowers, to water our gardens, to chase our dreams.
Evening Light 