Archives for the month of: November, 2013

It’s been awhile since I had a night like last night. I didn’t sleep much. I wasn’t anxious, and there were no nightmares, I just didn’t really sleep deeply, for very long, or very restfully. I went to bed later than I prefer to, because although I’d started to feel sleepy, it just wasn’t moving me to choose sleep, and there were still a couple of things I wanted to get done before the work week began.

Everything seemed on track for a good night’s sleep. I just didn’t happen to have one. lol. Last night was the change to ‘daylight savings time’, too. I was already going to lose an hour of precious sleep, I knew.  Feeling a bit like a leftover Halloween zombie this morning, I’d have been delighted to wake just one hour short on sleep this morning! I did drift off a couple of times, long enough to be surprised when a partner, out for the evening, returned home – and again sometime later when he kissed me hello-goodnight in the darkness.

It is a change that even feeling so groggy and tired this morning there is no anxiety about my lack of sleep – and there wasn’t any during the night, either. I was merely awake, instead of sleeping. Any experience that changes from being an anxiety-based experience to being a calm chill contented experience is progress – so I’m not bitching. I’m just tired. lol.  Tired – but still eager to see the dawn.

A recent dawn. This morning will be darker; sunrise comes later.

A recent dawn. This morning will be darker; sunrise comes later.

The sky is just barely shifting from black to deep dark blue-gray, just now.  I really don’t understand daylight savings time – who does it really serve? Foolishness to fight the changing light of the seasons.  Strangely apropos this week, though, with so many other elements of my every day routine also on the precipice of change. The winter holiday season begins soon. One of my partners starts a new job tomorrow – one that results in a substantial shift in routine, perhaps even lifestyle at some point, certainly we’ll all be making adjustments here and there, at least.

I’m tired this morning, making this a wonderful morning to commit to giving people my whole attention when they interact with me – listening with my attention on them as people, hearing their words, using mindfulness practices to stay in-the-moment and resisting the ease of being ‘on autopilot’. Today, I will listen attentively. I will speak with compassion. I will choose kindness, and provide gentle service to family and love. I will do my best.

Today I will change the world.

I’m still contemplating an epiphany of sorts, a developing understanding, a hint of something broader than I know just on the horizon of my awareness of self. I’d like to write. I feel eager. I feel motivated. I feel. That’s really it; I feel this from my core to my consciousness. I am also feeling just a bit unworthy, or unready or ill-equipped to handle the topic just yet.

The topic dominates my thoughts. Something about the nature of identity, the nature of language and words, the effect of definition, the precious and necessary confound of ambiguity and uncertainty, or the outcome of unanswered questions being a larger part of my experience than the answers to questions ever have been… or… something like that.  The substance and the weight of it, still a bit incomplete and unformed in my thinking, is so massive that I feel ‘crowded’ cognitively, and continuously compelled to write, only to find myself still not yet ready to ‘lay it out’ and take a look at it as words on a page. It’s a strange sensation.  It is that ‘can’t quite put my finger on it’ sensation of being unable to recall the name of a favorite movie in the midst of an exciting dialogue with a dear friend, or being unable to ‘name that tune’ even though it is a favorite song.  A creative gadfly.

The pen: a might artifact, a weapon, a tool, a magic wand, a toy, a treasure.

The pen: a might artifact, a weapon, a tool, a magic wand, a toy, a treasure.

So, although words elude me for now, I celebrate them, and language. So much of who I am, of what we are as beings, of our potential to experience the world and our ability to share it, is in our hands in the form of a pen.

Yesterday’s loveliness lingers in my memory as a secure stronghold against insecurity and fearfulness. I love, and I am loved in return. Today I will embrace serenity and calm, and that still place of observation without judgement that is within me.

Today I will change the world.