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 spent my walk this morning mostly thinking about my upcoming camping trip, packing the car in my head. Take this? Take that? What about this piece of gear instead of that one? Can I carry all of this down the trail to my campsite? How many trips will it take to make that work?
… My reserved site is 1/2 mile from the parking. lol I’m 62, not as fit as I’d like to be, and I’ve got some mobility limitations that will require me to walk the trail with my cane in one hand, reducing the amount of gear I can realistically carry in any single trip down that trail reliably…
It’s like an elaborate puzzle every time I camp. New location, new site, new scenario. I noticed my face hurting as I walked with my thoughts. It hurt from smiling so hard. I look forward to the planning puzzle almost as much as I look forward to the actual camping. 😂
The cloudy cool morning reminds me to pack a cold weather layer in case of cooler than forecasted weather.
I go over my list in my head again, testing my memory for the details and trying to catch myself overlooking an important piece of gear. I laugh off items I have reliably packed in the past, and reliably never needed. As the years wear on, I am more mindful of my physical limitations and inclined to pack with greater care, and also to avoid over-packing; I don’t need to bring what I know I can’t carry.
… Knowledge is having a detailed awareness of the gear available to me. Wisdom is not taking a heavy solar powered refrigerator on a trip that requires a long walk to the campsite. 😆 …
I’m not sharing these thoughts because you need them for a camping trip. It’s more that the basic “lessons” apply to other situations that are similar in some way. There’s a metaphor buried in this casual sharing. Real life can get really real, and being prepared is helpful. Being over prepared potentially not so much, it could just be more to carry, and a waste of resources or intention. How we visualize upcoming events can be a helpful means of preparing, or an impediment that sets us up for failure by inflating our sense of capacity and ability, or by blowing our anxiety and our concerns out of proportion to the anticipated events. I try to be realistic, but also very positive and encouraging. I think of favorite anime characters overcoming great obstacles and growing stronger and seek to do so myself on a somewhat smaller (less fantastical) scale in my own life.
I grin to myself as I change my boots for soft shoes after my walk. Comfort matters, too. Reality is not what we remember, nor what we imagine; it is what it is. I laugh at myself; however skillful my planning and preparation for a camping trip is, I nearly always forget something. All this planning ideally results in whatever I end up forgetting having very little importance. 😂 That’s a great outcome! I went out once having forgotten my bee sting kit (and there were bees) and my coffee (and omg are you fucking kidding me??) and ended my trip early over it. No coffee?! No camping. Non-negotiable, I know my limits. LOL
I look out across the meadow. Nice morning. I look over my shopping list, inhale, exhale, and relax, sighing deeply. Contentment feels good. Still, the clock is ticking, and it’s time to begin again.
I slept in this morning, still waking quite early, but not early enough to catch the sunrise. I headed down the trail inhaling the sweet Spring-Summer air deeply; it smells of flowers, and vaguely of too-sweet breakfast cereal, which seems strange but not unpleasant.
The morning of a new day.
There are multitudes of goldfinches (or, perhaps, lesser goldfinches, I’m not certain) flitting about in the taller grass that separates the edge of the manicured park space from the vineyards adjacent to it. I try several times to photograph them, but they are much too quick for me.
What life reveals is often a matter of where we put our attention.
Since I can’t get a picture of the little birds this morning, I take pictures of the thistles blooming. I’m not disappointed or dissatisfied, each are interesting in their own ways. I listen to the little birds singing and chirping. The morning chill seeps through my sweater while I enjoy a moment at the side of the trail. It is my birthday, and this is how I am choosing to begin it, with the healthy practice of a bit of walking and self-reflection. It’s a lovely morning for it.
A moment well-spent.
I don’t know what today holds. I try to remember if I have “things to do” but my mind veers away from such practical matters in favor of birthday thoughts. Presents later. Cake too. Pizza for dinner maybe? Something different? I’m relatively easy to please, birthday-wise, more than anything else I just want the day to be mine, doing things I enjoy in the company I choose, and letting all of the hard work of life wait for another moment. 😁 The things it takes to delight me are not complicated and I still have an unspoiled childlike joy about birthdays.
I smile at the sunshine. I’m glad I took the day off from work. I hear a farm truck rattle past somewhere relatively close by. I already miss my Traveling Partner, and I’d really like a cup of coffee. lol I’m reluctant to disturb the little birds who have gathered around me in nearby grass and thistles, but there’s no coffee here and I’m beginning to feel chilly. I get to my feet and look down the trail. Seems like a good beginning for a new year. I wonder what 62 will be about? It’s definitely time to begin again.
I’m sipping my coffee as the day begins. My walk this morning was pleasant, uneventful, and frankly rather ordinary. The day is cloudy, and looks like rain. I’m in a thoroughly manageable amount of pain (for now), and I make a point of appreciating how (relatively) comfortable I am. In a life where chronic pain is a day-to-day experience, it is critical to really pause and be aware of it when pain is not a characteristic of the moment. Most of us don’t actually experience “chronic pain” as 100% of always every moment of every day all the time – it does come and go, and the severity varies. Our implicit memory and sense of “how things are” is notably affected by what we hold on to as “how we always feel” – so making room to be mindful and aware of a lack of pain becomes incredibly important for managing the whole experience of pain over time. Perspective matters. So, I sip my coffee, noticing how (relatively) little pain I am in right now, and make room for gratitude; it could be so much worse (and often is).
I breathe, exhale, and relax. I think about sunrises and sunsets, and views of distant horizons. I think about miles I have not yet walked, and contemplate trails I’ve yet to try. I think about camping, and I wonder when I might next spend a couple days on the coast, painting. I sip my coffee, and let my diffuse feeling of general contentment grow larger in my awareness. My eye falls on a small Hue Forge “painting” my Traveling Partner did from a photograph I’d taken. I feel loved and visible and appreciated as a person, as an artist, and as a partner.
Hue Forge rendering of a sunrise, Mt Hood silhoutted on the horizon.
That distant horizon is a good metaphor for goals and progress and walking my own path; there it is, just out of reach, that thing I think I want to get to. A goal, a vision, a destination – it could be any of those things, or just a place to camp that happens to be within view, but quite far away. What’s on the horizon? I never actually know, I only imagine, based on what I think I see. I have an idea, and a limited view. The closer that thing seems to get, the more detailed and real it may become – but it changes as it comes into closer view, more subject to scrutiny. Is it what I imagined? Is it actually what I want? Am I actually going to get “there” – or is that “there” quite different than I expected it might be? Am I being true to myself, and staying on my path, or has something fantastical on that distant horizon distracted me from my sense of purpose? Is it even real, or only something I thought I saw?
I sip my coffee feeling surprisingly content with “now”. Nice moment for it. Sure, the work day is ahead, but I don’t find that I mind. I’m fortunate to have a job I enjoy, working with a team of people I appreciate and respect (and even like), I feel appreciated in return. We get shit done. I’m working from home, which has the lovely quality of taking my breaks in my garden, or being able to run a quick errand during the day, and not finding myself quite so exhausted when the day finally ends. Nice “now” – I feel fortunate, and pause for gratitude; this too could be so much worse. Most of us do have to work to keep the bills paid and the pantry stocked, and it’s a difficult world. It’s not uncommon to have to endure a terrible work environment in servitude to a company whose values one can’t respect, simply to keep the lights on and the gas tank filled. It’s a lucky few who do jobs they love for companies they appreciate in an environment of mutual respect while being paid a good wage. If you’ve got it, be sure you appreciate it. Change is. Be kind to those who struggle with shit jobs for terrible bosses – it could be you at some point.
…Good cup of coffee…
My Traveling Partner gave me an early birthday gift last night. A new cookbook, and one that I’d spotted thinking “oooh, I’d like to have this one!” quite recently. I thought I’d added it to my wishlist, and was delighted that he had selected it. More delighted still – and a little amazed – when I discovered that I had not added it to my list at all. He knows me so well. I feel loved. This morning when my mind wanders, it is often to the kitchen, and thinking about what new adventures I may find there, between the pages of a new cookbook. 😀
Life can be experienced as a journey. I find it a useful metaphor. No map, lots of choices, and the path is mine to choose for myself. The horizon never really gets any closer – but it’s out there in the distance, tempting me onward. It’s a worthy journey – each step down the path has the potential to reveal some new delight, or to teach me a lesson I probably need to learn. We are mortal creatures – at some point, this journey will come to an end. Hopefully, I’ve learned all I could, experienced much worth sharing, and made a point to jot down some notes for anyone who may follow me down the trail (or simply wonders where I wandered off to).
I glance at the time. The clock is always ticking, and there are things to be done. It’s time, again, to begin.
Beginnings are pretty easy. I enjoy a beginning. Momentum can be difficult to sustain, though, and practices do need practicing. Failures are a thing human beings have to deal with. Beginnings come in handy as a way to follow-up on a failure. Just begin again. Ideally having learned from that failure, of course; it’s not super helpful to repeat the same failure and learn nothing from it. lol Steps on a path though; every beginning, every failure, every new attempt, each practice practiced takes us further on down the path we’ve chosen. Walk on.
Where does this path lead?
…I love a good metaphor…
The path isn’t always easy. It’s not always paved or level, it won’t always have convenient points at which to stop to catch your breath, it won’t always be illuminated, and sometimes – often – there’s no map to guide you. It’s a complicated journey in that sense, but in another very practical way it is as simple as taking another step. Incremental change over time is reliable, just slow. We do become what we practice – whatever we practice. 😀
I breathe, exhale, and relax. My walk was short today; there was a somewhat sketchy stranger on the trail, and I let my discomfort guide me back to the car a little early. Safety matters. The day stretches ahead of me, mostly unexamined and so far utterly routine. Just a day in a life. I’m okay with that. Working from home means taking my breaks in the garden, and I’m looking forward to it. First though? Coffee. Then? Then I’ll begin again. 😀
Evening Light 