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Something, Something, Love

February 2, 2025 //
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Daybreak comes earlier as Spring approaches. Soon my early morning walks will bring me face to face with the sunrise, but that’s not yet. No need to wait for the sun, though, I have enough light to see the trail.

Cloudy winter morning just before dawn.

As the hints of blue sky are covered by incoming clouds, I lace up my boots. I’ve got the trail alone again this morning. I breathe the cold air, grateful for breath. It’s no small thing to be able to breathe easily, and worth a moment of gratitude.

This morning I am thinking about love. I consider, fondly, this partnership I have, now, and the journey getting here to this place in life. My heart is filled with love songs and enthusiasm. I’m grateful to know love at all – that doesn’t happen for everyone, and I was definitely late to that party! In 1995, I was still confusing lust and love, and it was obvious in my decision making. My heart was full of rage and pain, my head was a mess of chaos and damage. I wasn’t ready for love, at all. It would be many years before I would be.

“Face of Gods: Lust” acrylic mixed media, with ceramic & broken glass, on canvas  10″ x 10″, 2005

In fact, after some peculiar facsimiles of love, over various relationships and several years, it was 2010 before I actually found myself wrapped in love (and confusing it for lust), and another year or so before I began to truly recognize the difference and begin to understand what love demands (and needs to thrive), and I’m still learning.

“Communion” acrylic on canvas with ceramic details, 24″x36″ 2011

This too, is a journey.

The lines between love and lust can be blurry, but there’s no mistaking one for the other. When lust cools, and it sometimes will, love stands fast, unconcerned with such trivia. I walked with my thoughts and love songs in my heart. Nice morning for it. I feel fortunate and grateful to share the journey with my Traveling Partner. Fortunate to love like we do, and fortunate to burn (still) with lust’s fire for this human being I love so well. It’s a potent emotional cocktail.

I laugh to myself remembering a certain friend who had suggested at the time that perhaps this man (who would become my beloved Traveling Partner) was “just using” me… I remember my reply. “If he is? Worth it.” Possibly one of the most true things I’ve ever said. lol I’m grateful (and fortunate) to enjoy loving and being loved. Is there a price to be paid? Sure, isn’t there always? But at least in my own life, the price I’ve paid for lust has been paid in cash and pain, and paid in the damage done and the risk to my safety and sanity, where the price I’ve paid for love has been paid in the coin of a very different realm. I have had to learn to be “better than I am”, and learn to treat my Partner’s heart well. It’s been difficult and demanding. I am better for it, a thousand times over.

Love songs and gratitude are a nice way to start a morning. I smile while I walk, still smiling when I stop to write these few words. Love has made me work so much harder than lust ever would, but it has been so worth it. With a heart full of love, and an eye on the sunrise, I begin again.

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Categories Allegories, art and the artist, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, gratitude, inspiration, joy, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Relationships, The Art of Being, The Big 5, winter

Back to Reality

October 7, 2024 //
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Nice break from the day-to-day, and I definitely needed it. Now it’s back to life, back to reality…. and, oh, hey, there’s a song for that. I add it to my playlist, queue it up, and sing along as I drive to the trailhead feeling grateful that I took today off to “reacclimate” to real life after I returned from the coast.

I slept deeply last night, the first really good deep sleep I’ve had in days – since before my trip to the coast. I rarely sleep really well in a hotel. I often sleep poorly at home. I don’t take it personally or fret much about it anymore; I have sleep challenges and I’m pretty accepting and real about it. Sleep disturbances have been “a thing” for me since I was a child. I’ve experienced multiple parasomnias, some of which persist to this day, and some that I seem to have “grown out of”, or recovered from with medication or therapy. I don’t think of them as “part of who I am” so much as relatively commonplace challenges I happen to endure. I’ve long since given up seeking a root cause or wanting to assign blame. It just isn’t about that. I’m generally grateful to sleep well and deeply. It’s quite a wonderful experience when I do.

Watching the traffic pass by, waiting for the sun

The morning is dark and foggy. I watch the traffic pass by on the highway and sit quietly with my headache (which is a 7 out of 10 this morning) and my tinnitus (which seems to be turned up to 11). Unpleasant, uncomfortable sensations on an otherwise pleasant morning. My head is filled with the remnants of surrealistic dreams of running down forested paths between festival tents and brightly painted caravans, and strangers doing strange things. I was playfully evading a group of my friends for some reason, and woke before I could figure out why some angry old man was hucking tangerines at me. lol

… How’s that for having nothing at all to do with reality?…

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I am vexed by this headache. I feel certain I have “things” to do today… but for the moment I don’t recall what, and there’s nothing on my list to guide me. What am I forgetting? Anything? Is it just that nagging feeling, unattached to anything real? I sip my coffee, and wait for the sun.

…Fuck this headache, though…

My Traveling Partner definitely missed me while I was gone. The reality of having me back home, in his presence, with all of my issues, and very authentically me, this woman that I actually am, wasn’t embraced with the same enthusiasm, or so it seemed to me. I’m sometimes quite frustrated by the sensation that the woman he loves so deeply may not actually be the woman I am. I’d love to be able to see myself through his eyes…both the version he holds in his heart when I am away, and the creature who vexes him so when I am with him. I wonder what I might learn about myself – or about my partner?

Daybreak comes.

The gate to the parking lot finally opens with a familiar rusty screech and a quiet clang. The timing has changed. I take note.  Reality legitimately does not care about my expectations one bit, and it’s a useful practice to reset expectations with new information. I try to do it often.

It’s still early. Chilly morning. I’ve got a warm shirt on, and a comfy zip-up fleece. The sunrise is orange through the mist. I lace up my boots and grab my cane. Good morning for walking and for self-reflection, and a good morning to begin again.

This path won’t walk itself.
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Categories Allegories, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Sleepless Nights, solo hiking, The Art of Being

Thoughts and Daydreams

September 22, 2024 //
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I’m waiting for another sunrise. It’s quite early, and I am at the trailhead ahead of daybreak. Again. It’s the first day of autumn – the equinox. There’s a thin mist clinging to the ground, rising up from the river. I sit quietly with my thoughts awhile before turning to writing.

Street light dispursed through the mist.

I’ve got a handful of drafts, work in progress. None of them hold my attention this morning. My thoughts are not there. I often “work on” a new bit of writing as I drive to the trail, but this morning I was lost in pleasant daydreams instead. So, this morning my writing is impromptu, raw, unfiltered thoughts-in-the-moment lacking any sort of plan or editing. This is, perhaps, my preferred approach, generally. Certainly, it is the most authentic, spelling mistakes and all.

The first hint of daybreak in the darkness.

This morning I am mostly thinking about love, and hoping my Traveling Partner is getting the rest he needs. He continues to make slow progress towards recovery (from his injury and subsequent surgery). He continues to worry (and so do I) that something got overlooked or misdiagnosed. It’s a reasonable concern. We are concerned, together. As with many things (most things?), we’re in this together… while each having our own experience. Individual perspective. Shared experience. This very human journey is a strange one. I feel fortunate and grateful to share it with him.

My thoughts drift from love (and gratitude) to art. I am looking forward to my October coastal getaway. I’m eager to devote a handful of beautiful autumn days to my pastels. I have so much inspiration welling up from within. I need to take the time for myself. Funny – as soon as the thought forms, it is followed by a question; “can my Traveling Partner make coffee for himself, now?” This seems an important (if very specific and practical) detail, even though the Anxious Adventurer is on hand to help out. Would I even feel comfortable going, if my partner were unable to make a cup of coffee for himself? I think about that for awhile. We are so intertwined, so interdependent. We rely on each other. We’ve “been there” for each other for so long now… In May, it’ll be more than 15 years. My longest romantic relationship. What a beautiful complicated journey. I am fortunate to be so loved.

The gate to the park opens with a slow screech and a dull clang. It’s still too dark to safely walk the trail along the edge of the marsh. It’s the equinox and the sun is sleeping in this morning. lol

Faint hints of the sunrise to come, and the end of a starry night.

I sit quietly with my thoughts of love and a heart full of joy and contentment. This is a truly pleasant and satisfying moment, though in most regards the facts upon which it is built are very like many other quiet moments on other mornings before sun rise. Funny how that is. I sit with my smile and my thoughts, content to be happy, now, without any promises or expectations of future moments feeling similarly. Feelings are feelings. It’s enough to savor the moment and preserve it for future recollections.

A smudge of orange along the eastern horizon hints at the imminent sunrise. I’m glad to see another one. Grateful. How many more? No way to know. I’m okay with the uncertainty. I breathe, exhale, and relax. I swap my shoes for my sturdy boots. I can see the ground, now. Looks like a good time to begin again.

Here comes the sun.
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Categories autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, inspiration, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Relationships, solo hiking, The Art of Being

4749, 156, and 13

May 1, 2024 //
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Today it’s 13 years married to my Traveling Partner. Hell of a milestone, that. I smile and sip my coffee, and think about this enduring love, this lasting partnership, and this incredible friendship we share. 156 months. 4749 days. That’s a whole lot of moments (measured in minutes, it’s more than 6 million of ’em). Uncountable opportunities to be better partners, and better people, and to learn new ways to love each other and treat each other well. A lot of new beginnings when we’ve fallen short of our goals or expectations, or failed each other in some way. It’s been… grand. Spectacular. This is – for me – the love of a lifetime, deep and true and abiding.

…I’m still kind of a bitch sometimes, though I don’t mean to be, ever…

…We’re both very human…

Blue sky peeking through gray clouds.

I woke early this morning and slipped out of the house already thinking ahead to leaving work early to return home to share the remainder of the day with my Traveling Partner. What matters most seems so clear, this morning, and my heart is light. No idea how we got so fortunate as to meet each other when we did, to find each other again, later, or to find ourselves together on life’s journey as traveling companions… but I’m sure grateful we did, and that we continue to travel together.

I send a greeting and a kiss to my Traveling Partner, so he’ll know I was thinking of him this morning, when he wakes. 13 years is no small achievement (at least not for me). I smile and sit happily thinking about love.

…My love, my lover, my muse, my Prince Charming, my confidante and companion…

…I hear an Al Green song in my head…

It’s a good day for love….

…It’s a good day to begin again.

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Categories gratitude, inspiration, Love, Moments, Relationships, Spring, The Art of Being, The Big 5

New Day, New Moment

January 4, 2024 //
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It’s early. I’ve got this moment, and this fresh cup of coffee. In a sense, everything is new and the entire day stretches ahead of me, all potential, untouched by turmoil or hard feelings. I love this time of day; it reminds me how real each new opportunity to begin again really is. I sigh contentedly. I sit quietly, just enjoying the moment without needing to change it at all.

My heart is filled with love, and I’m thinking of my Traveling Partner. I ping a “love note” in the form of a digital “sticker” to him, forgetting for a moment how early it really is. I hope I didn’t wake him… He generally does not take his phone into the bedroom when he retires for the evening, so… it’s probably fine. (I reliably do, and have more than once been wakened because I’d forgotten to silence notifications, or left the stupid thing face up too near to my face.) Yesterday had some difficult moments, but they were illusions born of emotion, in most cases, and the practical details did not need all that drama. Human primates and their messy emotions!

Love is strange and wonderful stuff. Anyone who has ever seen my Traveling Partner and I together recognizes (and often comments on) how obviously in love with each other we are…but… as wonderful as Love is, it doesn’t do much to make someone a better human being than they actually are. We’ve each still got to work on that for ourselves, every day. I’m a deeply flawed human being, marked by trauma, sometimes mired in my chaos and damage, dragging my baggage around with me like I really need that shit close at hand. lol Messy. There’s so much work to becoming the person I most want to be. Putting down the baggage sounds so easy… it isn’t. There are verbs involved. Practices. Study. One might expect cleaning up the chaos and damage would be a relatively procedural matter involving some clear steps and reliable outcomes, but that has not proven to be the case in practice. My results vary. The outcomes often seem to change the path ahead and my understanding of myself changes over time.

I sip my coffee. I feel pretty okay today. I got some sleep last night. I slept until my “alarm” brought the lights up to full brightness. I “finished my dreams” – which nearly always finds me waking feeling that sleep is “completed”. I didn’t stumble or drop anything as I dressed and readied myself for the day. Traffic was light and the commute was an easy one, in spite of the drenching rain that accompanied me along the highway. The day has had a promising start and I feel optimistic. I’m not even in much pain. My tinnitus is relatively mild this morning, mostly fading into the background. My cervicogenic headache is a barely noticeable 2 out of 10 or so on a 1-10, and my occipital neuralgia seems to have – for the moment – diminished. My arthritis isn’t bothering me, today, yet. A good start to the day, feeling good, sipping coffee, and looking out the office windows on the rainy pre-dawn cityscape below me.

My results vary. However easy or difficult the journey, yours will as well. No point taking that personally. I breathe, exhale, relax, and sit here with my coffee and my thoughts. I make shit too difficult, sometimes. I mull that over while I drink my coffee. There’s something to learn there.

I yawn unexpectedly, finish my coffee, and prepare to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, Brain Injury, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, The Art of Being, winter
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