On our Dead Truck Trail hike, I stood in the saddle between the two adjacent ridges that overlook Carson City. The afternoon light on the city caught my eye and so I paused for a few minutes to take it in, and then to make a capture of what I saw.
Saturday afternoon the Girl and I hiked up Dead Truck Trail (there’s still a few photographs to process from that expedition). At the saddle between the adjacent crests of the range east from Carson City, I stood for a few minutes. The wind gusted, popping my hat and buffeting me about. I’m thankful for the chin strap of my Tilley Hat, that’s for sure.
I couldn’t move for a few minutes, transfixed by the sight of the afternoon sunlight moving across the city. The clouds shifted about, uncomfortable in the higher winds aloft. It was a magical few minutes, shared with the Girl, who continued doing her doggie things, snuffling about looking for critters, checking in with me now and again to make sure it was still OK to range out a bit.
For me, there will always be something about being out. I was away from the buzz of city energy and out in Nature, where my soul recharges. I gain spiritual energy from the expenditure of physical energy to get to these places and the opportunity to take in what God created… what God shows me. I can feel the city energy drain away from me in these moments of cleansing and it’s cathartic.
I stood there, taking in the magnitude of God’s creation in contrast to the city of man’s creation. I’ll take God’s creation anytime.
After a few minutes, I withdrew my iPhone from its carrier and made a few captures. Then I returned to looking for a geocache and hiking my way up to Stegosaurus Ridge (where I found one). The Girl stayed close, although she spotted something to chase while we ascended the ridge. The geocache was found and logged and we began our descent back down to the Silver Saddle Ranch, and then back to the hotel.
I’m grateful for the time outdoors, the health to move about, and the freedom to do so.
Near Shaniko, Oregon, was another “shoe tree.” This one has also met its demise.
After spending a few weeks in Mount Vernon, Washington, I could delay no longer and left for Nevada. I arrived a few days ago and began working on those tasks that absolutely must be done. I have a bit of breathing space now, so I can start on the other things I want to do and have time to play a little.
I left Mount Vernon on St. Valentine’s Day, after helping my friend get through some tasks that had been waiting for her attention. One of the things I’m good at is looking through things in storage, sorting quickly, and then organizing those things that need someone else’s attention/review and discarding the remainder. So, this is what I did that morning.
I handed off those things that needed her attention, then carried bins to her storage area for her. We shared a bite of lunch and watched a little television (Walking Dead Marathon) as I realized it was time for me to go. I said a very difficult “Good Bye” to her, her dogs, and Mount Vernon and drove into town to refuel and head out.
Sunday afternoon is a good time to drive through the Seattle suburbs. There was traffic, but nothing like what I experienced on my way north. It did not take long to be on the long upgrade to Snoqualmie Pass. Rain fell on us off and on, but no snow.
Soon, we crested the pass and descended onto the east slope of the Cascade Mountains. The farther east we drove, the less rain and clouds we experienced. After a bit, I checked my road atlas and decided to stop in Yakima for the night. I had food with me, so the Girl and I went for a walk, then settled in for the night. We both enjoyed our bite of supper while I checked the television for the next day’s weather.
We drove US 97 south to Bend, Oregon and then on to La Pima, where we took SH 31 southeast, finally connecting with US 395. As I drove into Lakeview, Oregon, I recalled the last time I passed through this interesting small town in southern Oregon. I stopped there last June on my first trip to Mount Vernon to get a bite to eat and find a few geocaches. It was a beautiful June day last year, with just a hint of the oncoming afternoon heat in the morning air.
This time through I stopped for the night. Alturas, California was a little beyond my reach. There’s a wonderful little hotel in Alturas where I’d stay anytime. But I didn’t have any miles left in me, I wanted out of the car for awhile, and the Girl needed a walk. So, Lakeview it was.
Given there were only about 250 miles to go, I wasn’t motivated to make a really early start. We didn’t languish too long in Lakeview, but didn’t rush out the door either. The route through northern California is quite beautiful and we stopped along the way to enjoy the outdoors, get some exercise, find a geocache, and be alive.
Yes, there is now an element of just being alive. Somewhere along all the miles over the last three-quarters of a year, I found something that was lost. There were a few glimpses in the years since 2005, when I left my clinical depression behind. I shared many of those moments with Wife before her decline. As I recover from Wife’s death, I find myself in moments of simple joy — simple happiness. I am able to spread my arms wide, look into God’s sky, and be thankful to simply be alive.
There are entire days that come and go and I feel gratitude. I am grateful for many things — all the years I shared with Wife, even those difficult times that measure character. I’m grateful for my family (and hers). I’m grateful for my children and grandchildren. I’m grateful for old friends. I’m grateful for new friends. I’m grateful for my dog training friend and her dogs. I’m grateful that I’ve been able to get to places where I can see people who are important to me, whom I love.
I feel happiness again. I’m able to feel light, to run with the dogs, to look at the mountains, the sky, my dog, and feel the lift the comes from joy. I’m able to thank God for his grace and mercy.
Happiness is not a constant state. Without periods of non-happiness, the value of the gift is lost. So, I don’t feel happy all the time (I’m not sure that is even possible). But, I have big chunks of time now when I feel good. It has been a very long time.
I have some additional thoughts on this. Maybe I can pull them together for another essay. We’ll see.
In particular, there is a small rest stop along US 395 in the California mountains north from Susanville. I can’t remember the name, but that’s not important. The Girl and I got out of the car, I made a sandwich, snagged a few carrots from the Yeti, and put an apple in my pocket. We bypassed the fence and walked out onto the very rocky ground. She sniffed about, doing her doggie thing, begging for a bite of my sandwich, and running from me when I chased her.
I smiled at her, at the sky, and marveled at the rough terrain. I used my phone to determine there was a geocache only a few hundred feet from my location. We hunted it down. I listened to the passing traffic, busy folk on their busy ways. I listened to vehicles stop at the rest stop for breaks. I gave the Girl the last bite of my sandwich, laughing at her as she ever-so-gingerly took it from my fingers, knowing that if she gets snappy I’ll palm the morsel. I enjoyed my apple, it’s sweet-tart crunchiness a nice ending to a cold meal taken outdoors with gratitude and joy.
We ran back to the 4Runner, laughing, and knowing that it was time to drive out the last of the journey. We drove on, she snoozing in the seat next to me, me with music playing just enjoying the road.
We drove through Reno and on to Carson City so I could retrieve a few things from my storage unit and see Younger Son. We spent a couple of hours with him, catching up on the news, enjoying some food, relaxing. The Girl and I returned to Reno to meet a friend for coffee at a favorite place, Java Jungle. Then the Girl and I found a hotel where we can stay a few nights.
Tired and happy, she waited on her little bed in the hotel room while I schlepped necessaries from the 4Runner before calling it a night. I knew I’d be busy the following day and would need a few days to regroup.
It will take me a couple more days to regroup. It’s good to be in western Nevada once again. A part of me would love to stay here. It’s familiar, it’s beautiful, it’s not too cold, there is sunshine many days. But, my sense is that my time as a resident of this place is ended. My intuition tells me that I’ll move on to another place, or to other places. Maybe it’s time to be simply a nomad, having no home other than what I carry with me. I just sense that this is no longer my home.
That thought would be material for yet another random rumination (YARR).
While visiting my friend here in Washington, we talk quite a lot. She has a fine mind and a very high emotional quotient, at least in my opinion. During one of our conversations, she challenged me when I was talking about how I offer emotional support and encouragement. “You say that with such pride and arrogance, ‘It’s what I do.’”.
This caused me to pause and reflect for a few moments. Then I revisited the comment early this morning.
As I examine myself in this regard, I don’t have a sense of arrogance about the statement “It’s what I do.” It’s more an observation, similar to any statement of fact. I might as well say “I am a man,” or “I am human.”
It isn’t about pride at all, but she was right when she said “You do that to make yourself feel better.” That poked a bit.
I wondered why I bristled at the statement. Perhaps it is not OK for me to offer support if the motive is selfish — I do it to make myself feel better.
Furthermore, I wonder if it is arrogant for me to interfere with another’s suffering. Is that state something they need for their personal growth? I’m reminded of an aphorism I read about suffering well, in recognition that we all suffer and that suffering is a primary path for growth. If, in offering support and encouragement, I interfere with another’s suffering am I short-circuiting their path to growth and stymying God’s will for them?
That would not be what I want at all. If “It’s what I do” is interfering with the other person’s growth and I am doing it for the selfish reason of feeling better about myself, then that can’t be good at all.
Therefore, I think I need to reflect on this idea a bit more. It’s OK, I think, to be sensitive to other’s suffering, to be kind and gentle in one’s dealings with others. But to interfere, well, that might not be a good thing. Perhaps it’s better to keep to myself, to offer prayers (without even saying so), to mind my own business and take care of my own affairs.
Sometimes I think I talk too much and say too little. That is another rumination, though, and one I think I’ll save for later. This bit is enough for today.
The three dogs I run with — Ki, Shep, and Bella in the background.The last week or so I have had the opportunity to meet with the Girl’s trainer and her dogs for a noon walk. There’s a trail near here where we can get a short walk during the time she has available. So, we do.
Once on the trail, the dogs can run a bit off-lead. Of course, the Girl has her e-collar on, but that’s more for insurance than anything else. Sometimes the three dogs, Ki, Bella, and Shepherd, pack up and start running together. In my joy, I get in the middle of them and we run together, down the path, laughing and playing.
I love to catch the Girl when she’s sniffy and grab-ass. She always ducks her butt and runs off. Bella chuffs at me and we laugh and run. Shepherd is still learning how to be with his humans. He’ll get there under the able skills of the trainer.
This trainer is the best I’ve seen. She understands dog body language (and probably human too) better than any I’ve seen. She’s on it if she sees a problem developing. I’ve watched her demonstrate to handlers just what the dogs are saying. It can be hilarious to watch her get into someone’s personal space to demonstrate her point. That makes me laugh, in part because I’ve experienced it and it’s a powerful demonstration.
The time is coming when I have to leave here and head for Carson City. It’s time to go take care of some business there and see folks I need to see. I’m really going to miss this place and the people I’ve met here. I’m really going to miss running with the pack.
View of Big Lake from the overlook behind my friend’s house.
I arrived in Mount Vernon, Washington two weeks ago. It’s difficult to accept it has been that long. It was last June that I last visited here, partly to see this part of the country and partly to visit my dog-trainer friend. This time I really wanted to see my friend and experience the northwest during winter. But my friend was the real key to this trip.
For the first few days I stayed out at her place. What a wonderful house where she rooms. It’s a design I might have created, an open floorplan with post and beam construction, mostly hidden. The subdivision is a bit remote and very quiet. There’s a really nice path to hike up to the top of one of the local hills. The overlook is of Big Lake, which is beautiful from the summit. The hike up and back is really great and one I loved.
But, there was no Internet connection and no mobile telephone service (just out of range). So, after a few days, it had to drive into town to get coffee and Internet service. Most of that time was spent dealing with necessary tasks, especially catching up on email. So, I decided to move to town, get a hotel room, and get some work done.
The day before my arrival was the third anniversary of Wife’s death. That weighed on me a bit, but not as much as in previous years and not in the same way. I still miss Wife. I expect I always will. She was a significant part of my life and had much to do with my development as a person and as a man. Her impact on my life and those lives she touched will always be there and always be remembered. That her touch is gone is sad, especially for those of us so close to her.
But it is what it is. She’s gone now. I don’t like it much, but then nobody asked me. Not only was it impossible to keep her, but had I been offered the chance to keep her but without her being healed, I would have declined. It would not have been fair to her to require her to continue suffering the way she did at the end.
Enough of all that! I miss Wife. That’s all there is to it. But I have no choice but to live and move forward as that is the only way I know to honor her life, her living of it, and she’d kick my ass if I stayed static.
Here I am in Mount Vernon, Washington. I’m getting to know this place and I like it. I like that it is not so cold as it was in Texas or Carson City. Yes, it’s plenty wet, but not the heavy rainfalls that I’m accustomed to when it rains in other places. It can rain like that here, but it doesn’t most of the time.
Maybe I’ll go back and backfill some days with images made. If I don’t, I’ll never catch up. I have so many new images since my travels began.
Maybe I’ll elect to stay in Mount Vernon for a while. I like it here. I like the mountains to the east. I like the ocean to the west. There is much history here as well. It could be fun to stay and explore. I might even find some work.
An interesting sculpture at the Denver Art Center.The complement to the Man sculpture at the Denver Art Center.
For some reason, the pair of sculptures I saw at the Denver Art Center seem appropriate for this rumination. They remind me of Wife and me.
Three years ago, Wife died. What more can be said about such a watershed event? What can I do to honor her memory than to remember her most days and then set aside a few minutes on her big days to reflect on her life and our shared lives?
I’ll tell you what I can do — I can live. I’m not going to be that other man in the grief group (I went a couple of times and then quit) who was stuck in his loss. He could not get traction to process his grief, to live it, to let it permeate his soul with the shearing pain of that loss, and then to release that energy as his wife would want.
I watched him. I felt his pain, not just my own. I shielded myself from his pain as it was too much to take on the pain of another man’s loss when so close to my own. I thought “He needs help he cannot get here,” as I walked away from that first group session. I thought “He has to get his feet under him, do the work, process his grief, and honor his wife’s memory if he’s going to move forward.”
Then I reflected on my own internal journey, my own internal work. I was much farther down the path of my grief than the other man. No, it is not a race and there is no winner; there is no better man when dealing with this life-changing event. There is just the grief and the work. There is a necessity to do this work or that pain will kill the spirit.
I returned once more to see if the grief group held anything for me. I learned that I was already far down the process of my grief and decided that spending time with my few friends (those that hung with me) would be far better for me than spending with with the other grievers. So, that’s what I did.
My gut told me to run away… to just get on the bike or in the 4Runner and go walkabout for a while. My aching spirit wanted the outdoors, the open road, and time away from shared places to process what happened. I wanted to be the Ghost Rider (see Neil Peart’s book) and let the clean air and open road purge some of the pain from me.
But, I didn’t. I did the responsible thing and kept after my obligations. I continued my inner work and did what I could for my employer.
That all changed last March. I was released from my engagement. So, I sold the house, rid myself of a bunch of things (still have too much), put the remaining things in storage, and left. One thing I learned is that my gut was right — I should spend time outdoors and on the road. These are healing places for me and I made up for my original decision these last few months by spending time with loved ones here and there across the country.
And, this is how I honor Wife. I spend time with loved ones and on the road.
I sense, though, that this time is ending. My walkabout is coming to a close, or at the very least is going to change. What that will be is not yet clear. It will be, though, when the time is right. My direction is to remain in the moment, for that is all we ever have. I will remember Wife on all our special days, and most others. I’ll review the images of us together, doing things that we enjoyed, our family pictures, and just remembering. I will continue to honor Wife this way. It feels right. It also feels right to leave the pain behind (mostly) and celebrate the happy times we loved.
I dream of her often. I remember her often. I miss her all the time.
A County Road bridge across the Colorado River near Silt, Colorado.
I landed in Layton, Utah this afternoon. After fighting rain, snow, and highway spray for an hour and change, I gave up. I suspected a band of snow northwest from Salt Lake City and didn’t think it wise to drive into that. It is likely I would have decided to bag it and then have to hunt for a place to bunker in for the night. It just didn’t feel right.
So, Layton, Utah won the toss. I found a La Quinta, which doesn’t hassle me about my dog (wouldn’t anyway because she’s my service dog, but it’s just easier). I checked in early, took care of staging our things, and then the Girl and I crashed for an hour. I guess I was quite tired after fighting the highway.
I didn’t post while staying in Denver because bandwidth sucked dirt. I had “high speed internet” through an xfinity WiFi subscription. But it was definitely not “high speed.” I could do email alright and some light web surfing. But any work that required some bandwidth (like posting pictures on my weblog) just was not going to happen.
It’s too bad, because I have some decent images made there in Denver while I visited the kids. I’ll probably post a few of them over the next few days as I rejoin the world of the wired.
I departed Denver yesterday morning after being there about a week. It felt like it was time to move on a bit. I need some highway under me and some solitude.
The trip out of Denver got nasty as we approached the Eisenhower Tunnel. There was more snow than I expected and more traffic as well. The combination made for some slow going as we crawled over the hill. The mess didn’t dissipate until someplace west of Vail/Aspen. But the roads dried and some sun shone and that made the afternoon much better.
We paused at Silt, Colorado, next to the Colorado River for a pee stop and time to get out of the 4Runner. It was nice to get out for a bit and the windows needed cleaning badly.
But, I was tired and called it early at Grand Junction. But first, we walked a couple of miles. It was good to be away from the city and the requirement of an on-lead walk. The Girl reveled in her freedom, running from bush to bush, sniffing, peeing, pooping… doing doggie things. Between her enthusiasm and the sun, joy came to my heart. It was quiet, I was outdoors, and we were back in our beloved environment, walking.
I got a room, got us settled in, found a bottle of red wine, and a bite of supper. It was good to be settled in for the night. I spent some time reading, writing, and listening to music. We fell asleep snuggling on the bed. I love her warm and she loves to snuggle. It was a good thing.
I woke fairly early this morning, but not buttcrack-of-dawn early. I made some coffee, sat down with my journal and Bible, then read and wrote a bit while I woke. We headed out at a decent hour, got a bite of breakfast, refueled the 4Runner, and really cleaned the windows.
We passed a lot of familiar territory west from Grand Junction to Green River, Utah. it’s a route I’ve driven dozens of times, but it still never fails to impress me with the vistas.
We headed northerly on U.S. 6/191 to catch I-15 and head into Salt Lake City. This was mostly a new route for me. I drove part of it last summer on my way back from Denver, but not the southern portion of this leg.
We hit rain and then snow when we got to Salt Lake City. The spray was so bad that visibility was severely impacted. After fighting with it for an hour or more, I gave up. It just wasn’t worth the risk and I was tiring rapidly from the strain. So, we stopped. We’ll pick up the trip in the morning.
It’s good to have bandwidth again. I missed writing and posting images.
Many years ago, I had KansasLeftoverture on vinyl. It was a favorite recording for a long time. The composition and arrangements were rich and almost classical, which was typical of Kansas at the time. They were also concept albums, meaning there was a theme or storyline that ran through the entire recording — by intent. That is, the writers composed the music with a theme or themes in mind and the writing reflected that.
One of the songs on Leftoverture seemed to stand out from the others. It was a kind of music break or interlude, much simpler in composition, quieter, and more reflective — Magnum Opus:
This foolish game, oh it’s still the same
The notes go dancin’ off in the air
And don’t you believe it’s true, the music is all for you
It’s really all we’ve got to share
Cause rockin’ and rollin’, it’s only howlin’ at the moon
It’s only howlin’ at the moon.
I was looking for a subject for my Project 365 capture a couple of days ago. I let the day get away from me. I sat at my temporary desk and thought for a few minutes, when I noticed my toy wolf.
How better to spend the beginning of the New Year than with a long walk with my Girl and then a visit with an old friend? After my morning regimen, I decided I really wanted a long walk. The last few days have been frustrating with the residual snow and the resulting ice. It’s cold enough at night to refreeze the previous day’s snowmelt, so the streets are treacherous and there is no place to walk. Most of the walks are still snow and ice covered. Higinbotham was great, but there is still a lot of snow and so my pace is too slow for me to get credit for my exercise. (I permit this one bit of obsessive-compulsive behavior.)
So, this morning I decided to drive to the Tech campus and see if I could get enough clear paths to get in a good walk. The Girl and I drove over there and campus was essentially deserted. We parked in the Engineering Key, which brought back many memories. I put the Girl’s training collar on her, got her out of my rig, and gave her a chance to sniff around while I collected my few things.
After policing her poo, we took off. We walked the Engineering Key, then turned west and walked along the back part of campus over to one of the new buildings. Tech has a lot of new buildings. Then we turned south along Indiana and walked to the housing area. We headed east along 18th Street and then closed the loop to the Engineering Key. All told, we got about 2-3/4 miles in and made a good pace. The Girl had plenty of chances to run out after a bird and then be called back into heel again.
I have to tighten up her training a bit. It seems she’s forgotten some of her service work. With all of my friends around, she’s confused about who she can greet and when. She’s so social that she wants to interact. She’s also a bit impulsive. So, we have some work to do and I’m up for it. I love working with her.
On the way back to the motel, a friend sent a text message that he’d be at the studio if I was up for a visit. So, we drove home, got a bite, I showered (needed it), and we drove over the Amusement Park Studio and visited with my friend while he worked on a mix. It’s fun watching him work. I love watching someone work when they know what they’re doing. There is beauty in skill. The more skill, the more beauty I see. While he worked, I snagged a few captures with my iPhone.
Now it’s my turn to do some work. I have things on my list yet that I want to get done. I have only a few days before I head west again. I’m ready to be on the road, but I need to complete some tasks too. So, I’d better get focused.
I believe this year will be better than last. I’m looking for my Best Year Ever and am willing to work for it. There’s lots of uncertainty in front of me. But, my concept for last year was Embrace Uncertainty. It appears that concept is still active this year. It’s good.
One of my ways of educating myself is to listen to a few podcasts. Since returning to the Apple ecosystem, I’m back to using iTunes as my principal platform for podcasts. I’ll have to write more about that later… and will.
A favorite author/podcaster is Jonathan Fields. He’s a life coach among so many other things. His work is worth the investment of time and energy, at least for me. I recommend him.
Closing the books… that’s a business metaphor for a review of accounts, income and expenses, and evaluating those accounts and making sure the accounts balance. I’m in the process of closing my books for the year. I’m executing a review of my life over 2015. There are some big events in my life and some smaller events. My questions involve what happened, how/why events occurred, and what can I learn from my life over 2015? Which things drained my energy and which increased my energy?
I’ll use this study to consider what I’ll do, what I’ll work on, in 2016. That’s a process that I do every year at the end of one year and the beginning of the next. This year is a little different — a little more intense. I’m more serious about taking charge of my life, of my expenditure of my personal resources. I’ll do my best to learn from 2015 and use that to plan for 2016.
Once I learn what I can from my 2015 experience, I will then release my 2015 experience, put it behind me, and look forward to what comes next. I will use some techniques learned over the last few years to expunge negative thoughts, negative energy, from my inner world, forgive those who I need to forgive, including myself, and then turn toward 2016 and take the next steps.
I hope that listening to Fields’ riff was useful to you. It was for me.
The new year, 2016, is coming in a couple of days. I’m ready to move forward. I’m ready to see what is next for me. Do you want to share that experience with me? Let’s go…
