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Solo Road Saunter

I’ve written before about the merits of not disobeying the call of the road when it summons thee. So this past weekend when it called, I went.

I’ve found that to satiate my “urge for going,” as Joni Mitchell once crafted into a song, I needn’t venture far. I live in Montana for pete’s sake, a truly uncompromisingly beautiful, wild state. And we’ve got a lotta land here, too. A person could spend lifetimes exploring here and never be able to see it all.

And not only do I not need to go far, I don’t need to spend a large swath of time either. Don’t get me wrong, sometimes venturing far and spending extended periods of time off and away from home is a lovely thing to do, but I’ve been finding that even weekend-long trips simply 2-4 hours from my doorstep are not only sufficient but immensely satisfying.

I wrote this on my writer’s Facebook page the night before setting out this past weekend:

For reasons I don’t entirely understand, I want to sleep under the stars in unfamiliar terrain. I want to wake up in a fresh locale and navigate my early morning rituals in a locale where no one knows me. I want to sit in a coffee shop in a small town and write unobstructed by the comfortable air of home.

And perhaps some of this allure has a little something to do with the fact that I know full well – as clear as the sound of a bell – that I grow little, if at all, unless I edge outside of my comfort zone.

So, this past weekend, I went here:

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Posted by on April 1, 2019 in Fun, Travel, writer's life

 

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Sunday Morning Reflections

Self-created meme with a verse I wrote this morning

Sunday morning reflections, penned this morning:

So much unfolds on its own accord, without cause for input or advice. We could pitch a fit and throw it in the direction of so many a thing, but it would be akin to trying to flood the world with a garden hose. Absurd.

How much time is wasted on matters we have no sway over? How much hardship is generated by shirking responsibility over that which is entirely in our own hands and of our own making? On both counts, the answer is: a lot.

The combined daily total of world births and deaths a lot; the amount of times I’ve apologized in my 39 years a lot; the number of stars in the sky a lot.

Remember, a bird has cause to sing and a flower to unfurl each on their own time. If we were to attempt to take over the sun’s job as conductor, the world would be flung to the wolves for rapid devouring.
______

My morning writings bear the brush strokes of my current influences. And since right now I am reading Mary Oliver, the grace of birds and flowers are finding their way onto the page.

And this simple exchange gives me ripe pause.

We often think of children as sponges and adults as stubborn, who become more set in their ways as they age. Yet, are we not just as susceptible to input?

Yes.

The answer emphatically is yes.

______

 

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My two new practices from 2018 (part 2 of 2)

The second new mindfulness practice I added into my routine this past year was centered around words. I’ll explain.

Every year for the past 10 years or so, as I mentioned recently in my post entitled Into the Woods, my husband Mike and I – and sometimes friends – have been going hot springing on Christmas Day. While soaking on Christmas Day in 2017, accompanied by our friends Marko and Jeff, Mike came up with a group question for us all to answer: What’s your favorite word? After quickly deciding that choosing our favorite word was too big a task, we revamped the question a bit: What’s ONE of your favorite words?

Let’s see if I can remember them. Mine was falderal, which means nonsense, and is apparently so seldom used that WordPress has seen fit to underline it in red as I’m typing, indicating that I’ve made a tragic spelling error (though of course that won’t translate on your end, dear reader). Marko’s was detritus, which is the term for small particles of rock or other earthly debris. I’m afraid I don’t recall Mike and Jeff’s.

After that, Marko and I continued this word sharing thread, as both he and I are writers and enjoy words. We started emailing each other a word of the day, though it was more like once or twice a week to start and then less frequently as time went on. Only mid-way through the year did I start keeping track of the words we would send to each other back and forth. Here are a few of my favorite ones:

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Posted by on December 30, 2018 in Everyday Practice

 

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Pyramid of Priorities

My priority pyramid (date: today)

The following was much needed writing/creative inspiration that I received today, from Dan Blank’s Creative Clarity Workbook at WeGrowMedia.com:

Manage your attention:

Those who create say “yes” to their creative work with vigor, and “no” to distractions that truly don’t matter. Too many people spend their days in a mode of reaction instead of intention. They give away their creative energy freely to any headline, social media update, TV show, trend or email that begs for their attention. They always put the needs of others first, often at the expense of their own mental, physical and creative health.

Get clear about the biggest priorities in your life. Not just your creative priorities, but all priorities. Then, double-down on them and jettison everything else.

Take Action: (see my pic above)

Get out a deck of index cards. On each card, write down one thing that matters deeply to you. Then on the floor or a desk, try to create a pyramid with one item on the top, two in the next row, three in the next, and four in the final row. At the top should be the thing that matters most to you in your life. In the next row should be the next two most important things.

Your attention is finite. The first step to manage your attention is to get radically clear about what matters most to you.

 

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Warmth and Flicker

There’s a sigh of relief that only a campfire can foster;

a certain person we become – or rather return to – in the company of its flames;

and a unique opening of the heart that is only possible in its warmth and flicker.

_________

Having gone to bed a little earlier than usual last night, I woke naturally just after 4am this morning. It was 47 degrees outside, as I sat on the back porch, bundled up in a hoodie and blanket, sipping tea, and writing by lantern light. This is what I penned in my journal:

Quietude is more than the slowing down of surrounding sounds. It is an internal settling of our mental chatterings, too. Of course, each is affected by the other, but I reckon it is more realistic – and often more beneficial – to take charge of the latter.

To still the din around us is typically not a matter of choice. We can dampen it. We can ward it off for a bit. We can tuck into the woods and perhaps leave it behind for a while. But the clamor of living, sifting beings will be there to greet us upon our return.

There’s a quietude that can remain, however, amid even the noisiest of places. There are skillsets we can develop and hone, which will enable us to stay accompanied with a calm that is not easily tossed out to sea when a siren wales, or we find ourselves smack dab in the middle of a throng of people.

_________

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Posted by on September 16, 2018 in writer's life

 

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50 Things That Make Me Happy

This pic combines three of the things from my list: #2, #5, and #29 :)

 

Inspired by a blog post from: https://mywellbeingandlearningjourney.wordpress.com/, I thought I’d try my hand at following her lead:

50 Things That Make Me Happy

  1. Trees
  2. Writing
  3. Spending time with friends
  4. Taking photos
  5. The hours of early morning
  6. Community building
  7. Hosting potlucks at my house
  8. Animal friends
  9. Paddleboarding
  10. Motorcycling
  11. My husband
  12. My stepson
  13. Taking road trips
  14. Camping
  15. Pumping up my old Coleman camp stove
  16. Going on solo ventures
  17. Meditation
  18. Going on mindfulness retreats
  19. Deer Park Monastery
  20. Montana
  21. Missoula
  22. Hearing about a loved one’s good news
  23. Music
  24. Dancing
  25. Singing
  26. Flowers
  27. Children
  28. Being silly
  29. The soft glow of Christmas lights
  30. Buying little presents or cards for friends
  31. Engaging in random acts of kindness
  32. My dayplanner
  33. Organizing stuff
  34. Being efficient
  35. Volunteering with hospice and meeting with patients
  36. Planning events that help bring people together in an atmosphere of heartfulness
  37. Crows & ravens
  38. Recalling memories of spending time at the Jersey Shore when I was growing up
  39. Sitting with my sangha Be Here Now every Monday night
  40. Camp fires
  41. Napping
  42. Good tea
  43. Swimming
  44. Soaking in primitive hot springs
  45. Hiking to the ‘M’ and overlooking the city of Missoula
  46. Spending time in hammocks
  47. Listening to the sound of meditation bells & wind chimes
  48. Seeing someone smile
  49. The experience of flight travel
  50. Properly cooked tofu :)

I could keep going…but I think I’ll keep to the prompt and stick to 50.

May this list inspire you in similar accord to how I was inspired. Let us get our happiness on together!

 

 

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Journal Entries from Lake Como (Montana style)

I got back yesterday from an overnight excursion to Lake Como – the Montana version, not the one in Italy. Here are some of the (unedited) journal musings I penned while out on the water and camping in the woods.

Friday July 13th

Not yet 8pm. Shadows grow in the forest, as the sun wanes and the sky fades to pale blue, like an after-thought. Cowboy Junkies on the portable speaker prove the perfect accompaniment to my cup of tea and the creek beside me, small but surging mightily, just like me.

A bluebird day on the lake coats my skin and sits tangled in my long hair. And I’m the sort of tired that I remember from my youth, after a day spent sunbathing, running from ocean waves, and flirting with bronze-glazed boys thick with intrigue. A delicious tired, sugared with a communion with something bigger.

There’s a certain aliveness, in this flavor of winding down, following a day that leaves your face awash in the reds of summer. And I reckon I’ll sleep good tonight, rocked in lullaby arms by the song of the water making its way over rocks downstream.

_______

I breathe just a little bit deeper in the woods, befriended by my rooted brethren.

I breathe deeper when gazing at mountain peaks, as a witness to stellar beauty.

And I breathe deeper whenever I look up – at trees or buildings or sky – as it helps me to remind me that I am part of a whole big and wide open world.

_______

9:18pm

I feel asleep with my friend Ashly’s book manuscript on my stomach and just awoke. The forest is darkening to muted greens and flat tones of ash. I smell of insect repellent and sunscreen and solitude, a mixture I take solace in more than words can properly convey. Still finding my way venturing on solo overnights in the woods, an inner stirring of uneasiness arises, when I think of how the babbling creek would drown out the approach of ne’er-do-wells I try not to imagine are thrumming through the night on back roads, looking for a fresh target to mess with. (Added side note: For the record, ne’er-do-well is a word that I like the sound of far more than the dictionary definition of, as it means a worthless person, which I don’t at all subscribe to as being a possibility. I think of this word as referring to a person who is up to no good.)

In my evening cat nap, I think I may have dreamed in color, rich in the dalliances of friendships past and those I hope soon will come. Though, it’s hard to say for sure. Dreams are tricky that way. Sometimes they scoop me up and swallow me whole, rendering me awash in memory’s twilight. Other times, I become a false impression in their wake, stumbling around within myself for hope of grounding in a truth I can bite into and chew.

______

My mind kicks up storm clouds, like the haze left behind on a dirt road in the heat of summer. And sometimes, despite my best efforts to redirect my focus, it is undeterred from its obsessions of thought.

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