Archives for the month of: May, 2013

Impermanence

Like a soap-bubble frozen in glass
deep blue in the sun
sometimes a shimmer or a shadow
a change in perspective
suddenly silver like a child’s drawing of the moon
on white paper
a simple blue glass gazing ball
old-fashioned novelty
garden accent
a fragile blue glass bead big enough
for a grown up.

Is it the way of things
to leave?
to be broken?
to be cast aside no longer valued?
no longer remembered?
The best things in life seem so fragile.

I will not see this blue ball again in my garden.
A replacement for another broken ball.
Tears falling.
Each one a precious something
or other
remembered for a fleeting moment of sorrow
to be replaced by another.
Or forgotten.

Another tear.
Another glass gazing ball.
Another sorrow.
Another “I’m sorry”.
Another moment.
Another celebration.
Another memorial.
Another love.
Another life.
Another garden.
…If only my memory were not also impermanent.

The gazing ball, a gift of love, that was broken today.

The gazing ball, a gift of love, that was broken today.

I had some interesting thoughts this morning over my coffee; they lead to interesting discussions over coffee with my colleagues later on. Discussions of ethics, language, and the way we make distinctions between one thing and another. Definitions of terms really matter, circumstances and context make a difference, and every individual brings their own experience, and their own values as an individual, to every conversation.  I’m pleased to work with ethical people who are good-natured and compassionate.  I learn something from them every day about being compassionate and treating people well. Even when we don’t agree, the opportunity to reflect on a divergent perspective is valuable.

Work in progress...

Work in progress…

Yesterday evening I enjoyed an opportunity to hang out with friends we haven’t seen in a while.  Good people. Kind people. I didn’t want to be tired at the end of the evening.  This morning I woke with thoughts of ‘going home’ to other old friends, reconnecting with other people supremely dear to me.  I will, sooner than later, but perhaps not as soon as I would like to. I keep contemplating the urgent importance and value of connections…friends, lovers, family…even strangers crossing my path in some unexpectedly serendipitous way…my most cherished memories are almost all memories of some connected moment. I want to put more attention on those connections, build them and invest in them with effort and will, not just haphazard circumstances and fond memories. I think I’d like to make a point of visiting a far away friend or family member at least once a year.  It seems too important to waste more time with ‘oh, we’ll see each other again, eventually…’ – because maybe we won’t if I take that approach? Our mortal time is finite.

Afternoon thoughts are different than morning thoughts… there was something to say yesterday, and now it is long forgotten.  I did get some pictures…

Blackberries have begun to bloom...and I must have taken a dozen pictures, not one came out clear and sharp. lol

Blackberries have begun to bloom…and I must have taken a dozen pictures, not one came out clear and sharp. lol

A grand old oak stands in the sunshine along my journey.

A grand old oak stands in the sunshine along my journey.

...a small wilderness along the way, so fragrant on a warm spring afternoon.

…a small wilderness along the way, so fragrant on a warm spring afternoon.

Bold and lovely, the peonies are opening.

Bold and lovely, the peonies are opening.

Even humble chives show their best colors in the afternoon sunshine.

Even humble chives show their best colors in the afternoon sunshine.

The light is different in the  morning…and at twilight…and at midday.  I see different things. I think different thoughts. Today I am awake and aware, without drive or purpose beyond being in the moment. A lovely quiet morning, meditation and a latte, and then with time slowed down to the moment, I went into the garden to water and see the sunshine at dawn.  It isn’t a sunny morning, at all.  It is gray and overcast, and the light is so different, filtered, soft, and muted. Still a delight to my senses, and I happily watered the potted roses, giving each a good drenching. Again this year I struggle with powdery mildew – and in the Pacific Northwest that’s an annual event.  Spring will harden to summer, and new leaves will unfold and the roses will continue to bloom; for now, many of the more delicate varieties have that powdery menace as they fatten their buds for the first flowers of the year.  I love each rose nonetheless, and the stories they have to tell of my life and loves: Sheer Bliss, X-Rated, Magic Carousel, Kiss of Desire, Nozomi, Secret Recipe, Baby Love…they each have a page or a paragraph, meaning that goes beyond flowers.

'Baby Love' this morning.

‘Baby Love’ this morning.

The garden path and 'Splish-Splash', my oldest potted rose.

The garden path and ‘Splish-Splash’, my oldest potted rose.

So lush in spring, my garden, my paradise...

So lush in spring, my garden, my paradise…

After the peace of the garden, the walk to work was calm and serene, and a continued sensuous pleasure. I feel good today. It’s the rare morning that I don’t feel pain. It’s easy to enjoy the details and the surprises in the world around me when I don’t hurt.  I see more. I think less. It is easier to simply be.  I found myself rather puzzled at one point,  contemplating the number of times I have been chastised as a child or criticized as an adult, for the pleasure I get from being still… no wonder it was hard to find peace and balance! I was being continuously coached to give up the very thing that provides me the opportunity to find those things! 🙂   I don’t feel like I am searching for peace and balance, anymore. I feel like I am building them, within my own experience.

Someone else building peace and balance along their journey left this behind for me this morning...

Someone else building peace and balance along their journey left this behind for me this morning…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I woke to a brand new day, this morning.  I slept well and deeply – if you have a sleep disorder, or anxiety, or suffer from ‘existential dread’, or struggle with your person demons in the wee hours before dawn, you already know what a good night’s sleep can mean for the dawn of a new day.  If you don’t, please take a moment to appreciate the delight and power of good sleep.  🙂  Yesterday now feels like…well…yesterday.  That’s nice.  It wasn’t so long ago that a day of fighting hormones and tears would have lingered, mingled with regret and frustration, and become a thing all its own.  It was a gentle life lesson, as life lessons go, and a good way to really highlight the power of mindfulness in my life.  I’m ok with that.

It has been a mindful morning, so far, and a lovely one.  I feel calm and balanced.  I enjoyed the leisurely start to the day, and delighted in the brief, sleepy ‘good morning’ of a lover wandering through the kitchen, only to remark further “I’m going back to bed, I’m not ready to be awake yet.”  Warmth, and love, and tender consideration shown in his effort to wake early enough to chill together a few minutes were as meaningful as if he had actually been ‘ready to be awake’.  I smiled for a long while after I heard his footsteps heading down the hall, and the quiet click of the door as he returned to the land of dreams.

Another rose blooms...and even the bugs are happy; this one must be tasty.

Another rose blooms…and even the bugs are happy; this one must be tasty.

The walk in to work was one more delight this morning, sunny, mild, and the air is filled with the scent of flowers and the sound of birdsong… easy enough to photograph flowers, but try as I might, I can’t capture birdsong in a picture.

New life - potted annual flowers reaching breaking through the soil.

New life – potted annual flowers reaching breaking through the soil.

My garden is always the first stop on my commute to work. New seedlings reach for the sun from pots along the walkway. “Baby Love” keeps right on blooming. All the roses are fat with buds now, and beginning to open.

"Baby Love" blooming first, and likely all through the summer and into fall.

“Baby Love” blooming first, and likely all through the summer and into fall.

So, here it is Tuesday, and the smile I am wearing matches the song in my heart. It’s a very nice feeling – and if I could I would share it with the whole world.  There’s entirely too much misery, more than enough to go around, and too many people getting more than their share…but I am learning, too, that we each have to walk our own path, find our own way, and create our own solutions, however much we think we have ‘figured it out’, it is always entirely individual and unique to who we are, and we can only share our lives and successes, our ways and understandings, with people who choose to share them.  🙂

Oh, and…

Wild roses are blooming.

Wild roses are blooming.

 

 

 

There are no guarantees, right? No promises carved in stone. No ‘happily ever after’. No Utopia. Only people, mostly doing their best, whatever that is at the time. Life doesn’t come with a warranty.

This morning manages to suck just about exactly as much as yesterday was awesome. 😦  Save the labels and bi-polar crap – it isn’t a good fit for me.  “We’ll get through this.” Yes, we will.  “We’ll figure this crap out.”  Probably.  Maybe not.  Maybe it is the attempt to understand, and caring enough to try, that matters more than succeeding at explaining the challenge of the moment, the hour, the relationship, the decade, or the lifetime?  “I love you.”  Well, that matters the most.  It matters a lot.  It will even be the important thing that lingers in my recollection long past this distress of right now.  Right now, however,  sucks.

Still a lovely morning, and flowers bloom without regard to my mood or experience.

Still a lovely morning, and flowers bloom without regard to my mood or experience.

Ok, ok. I know I could get my ass up from this office chair, and find a quiet space and take a few minutes for me… I probably will, too, once the routine of the morning is well underway.  During office hours work must come first…or so it seems. I resent the hell out of the perceived requirement to ‘put a good face on things and get on with work’, when more than anything I would like to take time for me.  I hurt.  I want to take all the time for me; every minute, every hour, every day, until my heart is healed, until I am unafraid, until I am whole and healthy, until love can always find me, and until I can always feel how loved I am.  I hear a bitter refrain from my own voice in another life … laughing angrily “how does it feel to want?”  It doesn’t matter what I want.  What matters is what can I do with what I have?

"Baby Love" blooms. Beauty exists and thrives.

“Baby Love” blooms. Beauty exists and thrives.

Mindfulness…how do I grasp  hold of that life raft right now?  What does it mean to feel discontent, dissatisfied, frustrated, hurt, anxious, sad, disconnected, or angry in a mindful way?  I know that the mindfulness practices and meditation improve my experience… and that’s completely been driven home this morning.  I woke, I showered, I made a latte…and I didn’t take time to meditate this morning. 😦  Stupid choice, apparently.  Stuck with it for now, I suppose.  Maybe a walk at lunch time… or something. I feel adrift and unhappy.  Shit. Welcome to Monday.

…I’m starting to feel like I’ve set myself up to make a series of shitty choices that I can already see are not going to be ideal for me if I go that direction… I feel a bit like I ‘got on the wrong bus this morning’.

All of the potential of spring...still doesn't count as 'roses in bloom'.

All of the potential of spring…still doesn’t count as ‘roses in bloom’.

Where’s the reset button?  How do I force myself to choose well, when I really just want to throw a tantrum? I could use some romance right now…or poetry…or something that lights me up from within and puts a smile on my face that can’t be denied or argued with.  Is that just a hurt soul looking for a distraction, or something more profound?  Oh well.  For now, I will set myself aside as ‘not my highest priority’ and go whore myself for a dollar get on with work.

Damn it…I can do better than this for myself…

I woke gently, alone, wrapped in quiet luxury.  Spending a night in solitude, meditating mostly, writing some, finds me feeling content and balanced this morning, and centered in my own self.  It is a nice treat and I used the opportunity to figure some things out about me, about me now.

Luxurious solitude and a convenient work space.

Luxurious solitude and a convenient work space.

Sometimes I feel a little challenged beyond my challenges, a little encumbered beyond my baggage, as if I am at risk of ‘out growing what I know about myself’.  Last night I took an unexpected opportunity to spend some chill time alone, really focused on me. I came prepared to paint. Prepared to write. I brought an important book I am reading. I had only the loosest plan – start with meditation, make some written observations, and go with my sense of ‘taking care of me’ for the rest.  It’s been a lovely night. I spent a lot more of it in quiet meditation than I expected I would, and it was what I spent most of the last 16 hours doing. Meditating. Being. Allowing awareness to exist. I did take moments to step outside that gentle experience a few times to make a note about something that suddenly seemed very clear to me, but again and again I returned to meditating. It was very late before sleep caught my attention; I was neither tired nor sleepy before midnight. The earliest light of the new day woke me, and so gently that it was pure bliss to feel myself slowly wake to the day, and feel the sum of the evening’s calm, peace, and progress as a firm piece of who I am.

Coffee now. I listened to some tunes in the shower, and gave a moment afterward to the technology that connects me to so many people who are dear to me.  I found myself wondering where the greater value is with digital connections in our social lives – is it with the freedom to step outside who we believe we are, or who we are seen to be, to take on a new self, a new facade, to walk in new shoes? There’s a lot of that sort of thing on the internet – hell, there are songs about it, and it has its own internet rule. lol.  Is the greater value the ability to connect real beings to each other over great distances, mind to mind, and share what is, more directly with more people? Is it as simple as how honest we choose to be as a global society?  As individuals?  It’s a hard one.  Genuine, honest, open – these are amazing values to have; harder to live up to for a world that values deceit as a tool for control and advancement.

The quiet still morning unfolds, I write, and sip my coffee.  The still beautiful place I find in myself when I meditate for long periods is vast, but not empty.  It has a similar feel, after the fact, to that sensation of getting to know someone new and exciting, finding out their favorite color, or a place they like, or discovering that you share something amazing…except it is ‘all about me’ on a level I’ve never known how to allow myself before.  How many times have I cried out in frustration and rage that I didn’t feel important or valued, that I didn’t feel heard? I am discovering that the person I likely could have cried out to, with more helpful results, was me.  I wasn’t important to me, I wasn’t valuing myself, and I sure wasn’t taking time to be heard, by my own heart.  It was a brutally painful awaking of mind to reach that place where I was at least able to recognize how desperately I needed my own attention, and how urgently important my own needs are to my own happiness and balance.  More than once since that awakening, I’ve wonder how fair or reasonable it really is to be in romantic relationships at all, if I was unable to even attend to my own needs, emotionally? Love, fortunately for anyone experiencing it, doesn’t seem to be that sort of thing. Our lovers may be demanding people, we may, ourselves, be demanding.  Love seems different than that to me, more compassionate, and accepting, and nurturing – more like a homecoming than an award show.

I am learning to hear myself, whispers or shouts, tears or laughter. I am learning to accept this amazing woman I have become over the years, and to help myself along, and reach out for the help and wisdom of others, and to walk my path willfully with my eyes and heart open.  I feel more comfortable with my body and my mind than I have before, and I am no longer afraid of the relentless gaze of cameras or mirrors. I am no longer afraid of the question “who am I?”

A lovely morning is unfolding, and soon I’ll return home. For now, there is time to meditate and grow.