Archives for posts with tag: what matters most?

Another new day – I’m grateful. For the moment I am existing in the space between acknowledging the pain I’m in, and moving on from that awareness to living the day. This, too, is a practice.

The sun was rising as I reached the trailhead. I’ve been walking in the promising glow of early morning, a clear blue sky overhead, and a strip of orange on the eastern horizon. Lovely. It’s chilly but not really cold, about 5.5C (40F).

The tangle of oaks along this trail reach for the blue sky above.

Spring is coming. I see it in small growth buds on branches that will soon become leaves. Green stems of flowering plants and grasses are pushing through the matted decaying leaves. In the distant hills, I see snow in pockets of shady high places. In the lowlands I see mist and fog. Nice morning for walking.

A nice morning, generally.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I meditate here among the trees, near the creek bank. It’s lovely. When my mind wanders, I pull it back to this moment, here, now. There is time to begin again, a little later. This moment is worth enjoying.

… Isn’t that the way of most moments? They’re worth enjoying or worth changing, and regardless of their worth they are fleeting. Quite temporary. I sigh to myself, grateful for pleasant moments in all their variety. Appreciative to have so few truly unpleasant ones (most of the time). Grateful to have choices when change is the wiser path.

Milky white clouds, formless and diffuse, high above, begin to move in, covering the beautiful blue of the sky. There’s a dense bank of storm clouds to the south, too. My arthritis agrees that more rain is coming. I sigh, reminded of the pain I’m in. Peculiarly, for the time of year, I hear thunder in the distance. How strange. I decide against lingering any longer. I get to my feet to finish my walk.

Time to begin again.

It’s raining. The sound of the raindrops on the roof of the pickup truck sounds like someone’s fingers flying across a keyboard, typing out the words of some dramatic narrative very quickly. It’s just rain.

…It wasn’t raining when I left the house…

Change is. I sip my coffee, enjoying the moment as it is. Later, work, still later than that, contractors at the house for a maintenance task. Routine enough, not at all exciting.

This morning I woke to blazing bright lights; I had slept until my silent alarm went off (rare). The morning has felt a little surreal so far, as though it is only a template for an ordinary day, a placeholder for choices not yet made, experiences not yet determined, or… something.

My arthritis is bad today. My tinnitus is loud. My left shoulder hurts with fresh pain, recent but I don’t know what I may have done to injure myself there. My left foot vexes me, now that I think I know what’s up with that (a worn out boot), it just annoys me. It’s a difficult morning for pain. I look grimly out over the vineyard and sip my coffee. It is what it is, and it’s not new that the rain and chill make it worse. I shrug in response to the thought, and feel pain shoot through my left shoulder. A strained or torn muscle? Certainly possible. Meh. I let my mind move on.

Yesterday evening, my Traveling Partner commented that he thought he might have a fun solution to my challenge finding time and energy for painting, and a creative outlet that might satisfy my yearning to paint. He hands me a tablet with a stylus and an app on it specifically for digital art. I haven’t explored digital art much… Curious, I take it up a bit timidly, but I definitely did find some joy and creative satisfaction there. I’ll be exploring this more. It’s well-suited to “artistic tinkering” and has a lot of potential for more. My beloved was right; it really suits the way I approach early drafts of new ideas.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. The morning still feels like a placeholder for some other day or time, or some moment anticipated but not yet here. Funny. Strange. I stretch and sigh and prepare to begin a new day.

My tinnitus and an HVAC system somewhere nearby are the only sounds I distinguish in the predawn quiet. Even the nearby highway seems quite silent, although it is Monday, just past 06:00. The morning is foggy and mild and the winter weather that is pounding the east and midwest with blizzards and drifting snow is something I read in the news. We haven’t had much winter weather here.

The trail is wet with recent rain. A dense fog wraps me and obscures the details as I walk. It is chilly, but not really cold, and I’m feeling (mostly) over the cold that slowed me down last week. Colleagues who traveled last week are reporting in with reports of illness, and taking the day to recover. I guess I’m glad I didn’t go. I certainly enjoyed the time at home. My Traveling Partner has been doing pretty well lately, and we’ve been able to enjoy ourselves and each other more.

Today? Just a Monday. Half day of work, then the afternoon at the VA for my annual visit. I shrug as if I were saying it aloud. Sitting here at my halfway point with no view, before sunrise, just the fog and my tinnitus, I find myself quite unexpectedly deeply contented. This moment is mine. It’s not fancy, but neither is it noisy, troubled, nor complicated. I sit with my contentment, appreciating it as it is.

I sigh to myself, looking down the trail, as it disappears into the fog. Useful metaphor, I think. The wind changes direction, and the fog begins to dissipate. I smile, and stretch as I stand. Seems like a good time to begin again.

Seen and unseen, in the predawn darkness. (Different camera settings would have revealed more. Feels like there’s a metaphor there.)

By the end of the day, yesterday, my tinnitus, my headache, and my lingering irritability had joined forces and invited a flare up of hyperacusis (sound sensitivity). I felt as if I couldn’t find a quiet moment. Every little noise annoyed me. Every moment someone was speaking was making it almost impossible to hear anything else. Every sound seemed unnecessarily loud. I figured out it was me before I was a complete asshole about it, but it was unpleasant. It lasted the rest of the evening. Seems like I woke without it this morning, and I’m starting the day feeling hopeful.

The highpoints of my day, yesterday? A book arriving that my beloved Traveling Partner bought for me as a gift, which I’m eager to read; everything he’s recommended over the years has been worthwhile. (This one is The Stand, by Stephen King, which I haven’t read.) The other highpoint? A dark quiet room, alone with the silence, before I slept. It wasn’t even actually silent. Not at all. My CPAP machine was running, and the little ambient noise generator the VA gave me that helps me sleep by masking background noises (and to some extent, my tinnitus), was also on. Everything seemed “too loud”. Everything was turned down to the quietest settings. Hyperacusis.

I gave up, hoping it would be better in the morning. I’m grateful for the morning; it is gentle on my consciousness, so far. One more workday, this one, and then a weekend. I chuckle softly to myself; I’m back to counting weekends and looking forward to Friday on Mondays. Very human.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. My hands pause motionless above the keyboard for an unmeasured weirdly long time, as my thoughts drift through my head without transmitting anything to my fingers. I finally notice that I am sitting in this odd anticipatory state, and I make a point to observe that in writing, just to break the spell.

It’s that I’m struck speechless, perhaps, by the weird shit going on in the USA right now. It’s simply so much incomprehensible corrupt cruelty and self-serving grandstanding and grifting that I can’t wrap my head around how this is even real, sometimes. In America. Freedom of speech under direct attack. The administration pulling the nation out of important alliances, trade groups, and treaties, and withdrawing previously approved funds that throw valued lifelines to real human beings. Citizens being shot in the streets or kidnapped from their homes or jobs by masked thugs paid by federal dollars. And in possibly one of the most hilariously ludicrous re-enactments of a South Park episode, the US Dept of Health and Human Services announced a “new food pyramid” that puts red meat, dairy, and saturated fats front and center. (South Park did it first, Season 18, episode 2, “Gluten Free Ebola”, 2014) I’m still laughing. I sometimes feel like I should be resigned to waking up every day wondering what the fuck is even going on, because so much of this shit just doesn’t make any sense. I sigh to myself.

The new food pyramid isn’t the worst of all the things going on, inasmuch as eating whole real food of good quality that isn’t preprocessed and full of preservatives and additives is a better choice for our health, but suggesting (if only visually) that red meat and dairy should make up some majority portion of our intake is probably not ideal. I’ll admit I haven’t yet read the dietary guidance more closely; I’m still laughing too hard. So much of this shit doesn’t make any real sense, and that’s probably the point – because keeping us all distracted with this craziness may be intended to keep us from looking more closely at things that matter a great deal more. (How about those Epstein files? Where are we at with those?) One of the challenges, I guess, is that I find so many (all?) of this administration’s cabinet members and department heads thoroughly unlikeable and untrustworthy. They make it really clear where their interests lie, and it is not with the citizens they serve. They lie openly, as if the internet just doesn’t exist for immediate real-time fact-checking. This is without a doubt the dumbest administration in the history of American governance…or we are the most gullible population.

“Enough,” I tell myself, and I let it go. I sip my coffee, enjoying the warmth in my hand, and the mellow flavor. I enjoy the smooth jazz in the background this morning, uninvasive and subtle. Coffee and jazz on a quiet morning, a good combination, a good beginning to the day.

This weekend, at long last, the Giftmas decorations all come down and get put away for another year. I’m behind on that. I had meant to do it last weekend, but chose to rest and give myself more time to recover from having had the flu – which I feel pretty completely over at this point. Damn that was pretty bad. I’m glad I’d been vaccinated. It could have been much worse. The flu has already killed thousands of people this year, in the US alone. I’m grateful for the vaccines that make it less likely to be fatal, for so many of us. I wish more people took getting their vaccinations more seriously, and put more consideration into the value of herd immunity and community wellness, but honestly? I get it. Look at this mess; would you take health advice from the circle jerk of unqualified nitwits making vaccine recommendations right now? It’s a top down problem, too. This isn’t about the science or the scientists doing the real work of creating vaccines. It’s the administration. The stupidity and lack of qualifications of so many of this administration’s talking heads make it almost impossible to trust a word they say.

For me this shit is not a partisan issue; I dislike unethical grifters of any political alignment, and I don’t think choosing a political party is a clear indicator of intelligence or qualifications for a policy-making role. Ethical governance ought not be a partisan issue, at all. Once elected or appointed, every one of those assholes is expected to get to work – together – to govern skillfully, wisely, and in the service of every citizen, not just the ones who think like they do. Isn’t that obvious? I’m so thoroughly disappointed with both Democrats and Republicans – but the math doesn’t work for 3rd parties, because the system is set up to fail them. We’re probably long overdue for direct democracy…but I don’t exactly have a lot of confidence in how that will turn out, either, just considering what people seem willing to vote for, and why.

I sip my coffee and let my thoughts wander on.

I sigh to myself and think about suffering and changes and choices, and this journey that is one human life. One woman, one path. I am finding it hard to settle down and meditate, today. Human. Some days it is easy, some days it isn’t. It’s a “practice” because it really takes an active commitment and daily decision-making, followed by real action, and that never really changes. There are verbs involved. We become what we practice, though. I benefit so much from keeping a consistent meditation practice, I know not to let it slip. When I falter, I begin again.

I’ve still got this persistent desire to fill my tank, get in the car, and just…drive toward the horizon, until I find myself, somewhere.

…The clock ticks on. The future is unwritten. The journey is the destination – and there is no map. Where does this path lead? I take a breathe, exhale, and begin again.

It is New Year’s Day, January 1st, 2026. I woke up early, no hangover, feeling pretty relaxed and comfortable in my body after a good night’s sleep. This is only surprising because quite a few of the neighbors were up well into the night setting off fireworks and celebrating the end of 2025. Sounded like quite a lot of enthusiasm to see it end.

I’d gone to bed early, still struggling with lingering symptoms of recent illness and just not feeling up to a lot of fuss and bother. The sound of fireworks did not prevent me from sleeping. No parties, no drinking, no fancy dinner, no company over to ring in the new year; it was a quiet evening at home. It’s not surprising that I slept well and woke without a hangover.

The year ended somewhat painfully, with one final “fuck you” from circumstances delivered on the last day of the year. My parked car was sideswiped by something while I was working yesterday, which I discovered when I left the office to return home. Fuck. For real?! I cried. I pinged my Traveling Partner for comfort and guidance (too upset to easily process next steps), then called my insurance company to file a claim, and then local police department to file a report. By the time I got home, I was merely annoyed, and managing to feel grateful it hadn’t been worse. The damage to the car is cosmetic, and I wasn’t injured. It definitely could have been worse!

I sip my hot cup of cheap gas station coffee, listening to the rain falling at this trailhead, and thinking about how much my choices create my experience in some circumstances, and how circumstances sometimes create an experience I didn’t see coming, in others. I still have to deal it, with regardless of my previous choices or circumstances. It’s a journey. I do have choices and something to say about the experience I have. Powerful. Knowing this does nothing to prevent me from being upset when things go poorly, just reminds me there’s a lot about it that remains within my capabilities to handle, manage, control, or deal with properly.

… I’m still mad, though, I mean, for real? I have lingering “why me?” feelings, but I’ve done what I can for now…

I left the house this morning feeling a muted sense of purpose, and undecided on what trail to walk. It was early. I’ve got options. It is a cold morning, but not freezing. As I get into the car, it begins to rain. My nose is running and I’ve started coughing – taking my noisy sleepless self back into the house would only serve to wake everyone else, too. I don’t feel like dealing with that, so I head out in spite of the rain. It’s not cold enough to snow – I guess I’m grateful.

Now I’m sitting here at the trailhead, waiting for a break in the rain, and maybe for daylight. There’s no traffic beyond the parking lot. The morning is quiet and suited to meditation and self-reflection. It’s a gentle beginning to a new year. I make a point not to look at the news; I don’t want to do anything that might break this fragile moment of peace and contentment. Not yet. Later will be soon enough to begin again.

… I can’t believe I’m still dealing with being sick… Maybe I’ll just go back to bed after I return home? Anyway… Happy New Year!

First light on the trail, first morning hike of the new year.