Archives for category: Anxiety

I arrive at the trailhead before dawn. Already, the sun rises earlier and I’ll likely see it as I reach the end of my hike. One last breakfast with The Author before he returns home and life settles back into something like a routine (after a flurry of doctor’s appointments). This morning is not an unpleasant one, nonetheless I feel uneasy; it is inauguration day. The start of Trump II, and I’m not reluctant to admit that I am concerned about the outcome(s).

… I have my own thoughts answering the question “how the fuck did we get here?, but I’m sure everyone does, and mine are perhaps best left for another time…

I breathe, exhale, and relax, and pull myself back to this quiet, pleasant, moment right here, on the edge of a favorite trail, a few minutes before daybreak. Another breath. I’m in a lot of pain this morning. It’s just my arthritis; the weather is quite cold and my pain is reliably worse in cold weather. (This is the likely cause – or one of them – for so many people moving to sunny warm places to spend their retirement years.) I’ve got my cane. I put on gloves and scarf. I’ll warm up as I walk. My pain will be both improved and worsened when I get back to the car. My osteoarthritis stiffness and pain will have eased some with movement. The pain in my left ankle and right knee will increase with each step. I snarl something irritable at past versions of myself for not taking better care of this fragile vessel – then remind myself to practice better self-care, myself, now, too.

…Time keeps passing. Aging is

Still. Things could be worse. I passed several homeless people walking their carts of belongings down frosted sidewalks on this icy cold morning. I am fortunate to be housed, warm and secure. I’ve got good healthcare coverage (for many values of good, though limited by our 100% craptacular US healthcare system) – I can (and should) continue to work with my (new)(good) physician to improve my health and manage my pain more effectively. My Traveling Partner’s care is also in pretty good hands, and we have each other’s support and care, too. Things could definitely be worse. We never know when they might be.

I lace my boots, and think my thoughts, before I hit the trail. Martin Luther King Jr Day, today. I wonder what that means to people… Shouldn’t it be more than just a day off from work? I think about the ways in which the world has changed since I was a child, in the early 60’s… Pretty significant changes, mostly profoundly good, but often seeming “not enough” – how is there even any discussion over the Equal Rights Amendment? It’s 2025, how are we still at war? How are poverty, disease, and inequality still major, noteworthy, progress impeding, concerns around the world? How are there still people who want to work but can’t find jobs? How are there people who want to dedicate their lives to creative endeavors but can’t find (or afford to take) the time?

I sigh to myself. I’ll walk with my thoughts awhile, solve nothing (but maybe learn something about myself), and then begin again.

I woke from restless dreams about change and started my day the usual way, more or less. The evening, yesterday, ended on an unfortunate contentious note that seemed neither necessary, nor helpful. I finally gave up on conversation and went to bed, feeling irritated and frustrated.

I managed to sleep, but my sleep was both unsatisfying and filled with strange dreams of things not turning out properly regardless of effort or attempts to fix things. I woke feeling glad to be released from my dream life.

View from the trailhead before dawn.

I got to the trailhead still fighting the fairly stupid very human urge to “prove my point”, left over from last night. That kind of horse-flogging, tail-chasing foolishness is an incredible waste of precious limited mortal lifetime. I snarl quietly at myself to let that shit go. I breathe, exhale, and relax. I roll my eyes in an unseen expression of exasperation, and sigh. Letting a moment of discord take over my thoughts and “live in my head” that way does nothing to add to my life, and it’s pretty fucking pointless, generally. Seeking to convince someone else of something that directly contradicts their experience or beliefs is unproductive.

Either, or. Neither, nor. Grammatical details matter most if the result affects meaning or understanding. The rest, I think, is a matter of style… but… language functions by agreement, does it not?

… I still catch myself doing a search of my written work for a turn of phrase and a keyword I’d been accused of not using (or not using correctly), and easily find dozens of examples, old and new. It’s neither rare nor used incorrectly, where I find it. On the other hand, to the point my Traveling Partner was making, it’s also not at all consistent and I often don’t bother with it. I write very much the way I talk, so it’s a given that in spoken conversation and day-to-day use, I’m certainly also quite hit or miss, and probably misusing grammar on this detail a lot. I sigh. Is he right? Is he wrong? Am I? Are we both? Are we neither of us specifically exclusively correct? The particular point of grammar involved really matters to him. Less so to me (aside from how much it matters to him).

“Emotion and Reason” 18″ x 24″ acrylic w/ceramic and glow details, 2012

I sigh to myself and let my vexation melt away. What matters most to me is how much I love this particular human being. Enough to work to change. Even to flex my style. There is work involved, especially because I just don’t actually personally care much about this particular point of grammar, myself (using”neither/nor” to support the negative most correctly vs lazily defaulting to “either/or” all the time). Being very grammatically correct on this point has often gotten me teased for sounding pretentious or stuck up, and I suspect that drove me to discontinue it in favor of a more relatable approachable conversational style. I think it over as I lace up my boots before I put the whole vexing thing aside to walk the trail.

The things we do for love

There’s a hint of daybreak in the paler gray of the pre-dawn sky. The moon has set, but I won’t need my headlamp for long. The chilly dampness of the marsh wraps me in mist and silence. It’s a good time to begin again.

I’m sipping my coffee. Just that. I’m taking a moment of time out of the day to simply sit, quietly. Not only is there no “shame” in taking this time for myself, between doing the budget for this pay period and starting the workday, it’s quite necessary for me to thrive that I take this time to simply be. No pressure to perform. No agenda. Nothing that must be done right this minute. There are opportunities to make room for stillness throughout any given day – for all of us – it’s a matter of taking that time and making it one’s own. It does require an act of will, particularly on a busy or stressful day. A moment spent just being… not fixing things, not ruminating over the latest stressful detail, not troubleshooting nor planning, simply a moment of stillness spent… being. I breathe, exhale, and relax.

…I could be doing a thing, my busy brain reminds me somewhat anxiously…

Another breath, another sip of coffee. I look out the window onto the morning. It’s not yet daybreak, and there is no hurry. There’s only this moment, and me, some stillness, and this coffee. It’s enough. More than that, it’s quite necessary.

…Metaphorically speaking…

I sit contentedly for some time before I turn back to my computer to write these few words about that simple experience. It does require a choice. Recognition that I am deserving of my own time and attention for this little while. The willingness to make inaction the action I am choosing to indulge for some little while. Purposeful contented stillness in the midst of a busy day feels… luxurious. No shame, guilt, nor reqret, just a lovely moment spent on… quietly being.

I am reading Vita Contemplativa by Byung-Chul Han. A worthy read about the pursuit and value of inactivity. The luxury of leisure. The worthiness of stillness to fuel creativity and thought. Another quite slim, small volume filled with big thoughts. I’m having to take it in small moments to give myself the chance to reflect and consider what I’ve read – and I am inspired. These notions about the value of stillness, inactivity, and rest really resonate with me.

I consider my dueling nature; the artist and the analyst. The girl who can read for hours and the woman who is aware there is yet more housekeeping to do. The daydreamer whiling away the day and the purposeful individual completing tasks on a list one by one. The driver heading for the horizon without a destination, and the one with a carefully planned route to a place that must be reached. The woman with a deadline and the one who does not care about time. What matters most, I wonder? Who am I when I am alone with the woman in the mirror?

I smile to myself. Having succeeded in taking a few minutes to just be, and to enjoy that moment without anxiety – or purpose – really refreshed and energized me. I feel “ready for the day” in some way that I don’t reach any other way. Is this “real” or an illusion? Does that even matter, if this is the experience I am having?

I glance at the time and finish my writing. I’ll finish, here, then finish my coffee without hurrying the moment. Stillness and time to reflect and simply be, first – I can begin again sometime after that. My calendar and my list will still be waiting there for me.

Where does this path lead?

I’m sipping my coffee and thinking about words this morning. My coffee is seriously pretty damned dreadful, and the words I’m thinking over can be vexingly easy to misuse.

People are pecular, and inclined to misattribute what is going on within themselves (or externally) to some cause or another without even a casual fact-check. Humans being human; we are prone to assign “blame”. We think we know the how or why of a circumstance and we decide who or what is at fault based on our “knowledge”. Sometimes we think the fault is our own, and possibly accept responsibility for some event or circumstance, maybe even seeking to make amends for some thing we think we’ve done. Other times, it’s someone else deciding who or what they think is at fault for some situation or event, and they put the responsibility with that individual or group or entity, assign blame, perhaps demand accountability or redress of perceived wrongs. It’s strange stuff, most particularly because it’s often quite subjective, not well-researched, even thoroughly fallacious (or just fucking wrong). We human beings make a rather ridiculous number of assumptions, are exceedingly “gifted” at flawed reasoning, and confirmation bias, as well as offensively fond of maintaining a self-righteous grip on some dumbass notion without regard to any sort of fact-checking. We like being “right”, and we’re often willing to believe we are in spite of mountains of readily available evidence to the contrary. Fucking dumb. Humans being human.

I keep sipping my dreadful coffee. “Why do I do this to myself?”, I wonder, vaguely amused. I could totally go back to the break area and make a better cup of coffee. Instead I continute to sit with my coffee and my thoughts.

When I was much younger, I was often willing to expend a lot of energy arguing against stupidity (or lies). I rarely do now. It’s not that I’m not amused/offended/discouraged by apparent idiocy – totally am – I just… don’t feel I have the time to waste on that, these days. I have a life to live, and it is finite and mortal. I’d rather let wrong-headed bullshit go, and just move on (and potentially simply reduce contact with people perpetually inclined toward lies, stupidity, or negativity). I’d rather just not hang out with someone who is fond of conspiratorial bullshit than argue the point. I’d rather just smile and maintain a comfortable distance or an agreeable presence in the face of someone insisting on being wrong about something for which there is definitely evidence for a different opinion, than fuss over minutiae that may not truly matter for enjoying a moment together as people. It’s not that I don’t enjoy “being right” as much as the next person… I don’t enjoy expending energy fighting for it. If you think differently than I do, but don’t violate my personhood along the way (or anyone else’s), why do I care? You’re free to be wrong. Generally speaking, this seems a win, to me – being accepting, being tolerant, being okay with uncertainty or even being wrong. Only…

…I’m reading “On Tyranny“, and the author makes several very solid cases for specific circumstances in which being accepting or “agreeable” is not a good thing. Something to think about, and I sit with my coffee this morning thinking about words, thinking about ethics, and thinking about the potential risk in being too accepting or too tolerant, under a variety of circumstances. Definitely worth thinking about.

…Although, keeping it real? This doesn’t feel like a world where we’re all at tremendous risk from being “too tolerant” most of the time…

Sometimes there’s real personal risk involved in tolerantily accepting blame (or inaccuracy, errors, or lies) rather than arguing a point. Tolerance is virtuous – unless it is tolerance of actual evil. Real damage can be done. Words have meaning, how we use them matters. The world is complicated, and there’s surely room for many thinkers and many opinions, but there is only one actual reality, one world we all live in, one set of provable, demonstrable, documentable, actual facts – and a lot of people willing to undermine that reality to bolster a narrative that they prefer (whether for power or for profit). Real people can really get hurt. I could become one of those. So could you.

I sip my coffee grateful for this quiet moment of solitude. Right here, right now, there’s just me, this moment, and this dreadful cup of coffee. It’s on okay moment. I’m okay with the bad coffee; it’s real. It’s authentically crappy, and it is what it is. There’s nothing to argue about, and nothing to fear in being honest about it. No particular harm in it. Nothing controversial about a bad cup of coffee – unless perhaps I’m ready to go down the ethical rabbit hole of “should we be drinking coffee at all, considering the terrible exploitation of coffee growers?”. I sigh quietly. Shit is complicated when we “zoom out” and take in a bigger picture.

Reality is what it is. Reality doesn’t care what I believe (or what you believe), or whatever bullshit notions I may be inclined to cling to. Facts don’t lie – but it’s damnably easy to be wrong about whatever conclusions are drawn from them. Another sigh. Another sip of dreadful coffee. My thoughts don’t change anything this morning, and it’s time to begin again.

…Maybe a cup of tea, instead?

I’m not even joking, this morning. Have you seen the news? A man in New Orleans drives a truck through a crowd, killing and wounding many…a man in Virginia with a “no lives matter” patch and a stockpile of more than 150 homemade improvised explosive devises at the time of his arrest…a man in Montenegro fatally shoots 12 people… It’s pretty horrible the quantity of killing going on. Let’s not even get started on the multiple genocides being committed around the world. It’s bad. Horrifying. Contributing to the horror is that it also amounts to an enormous distraction from other pretty terrible things going on in the world around us, that slowly degrade global quality of life (at a time when we have so much technology and resources available that we should be easily able to end disease and poverty, entirely).

…Humanity needs a “software update” to our operating systems…

While I intend that metaphorically, I am totally serious about it. It’s hard to “do your best” in the world, if you’re inclined to think that “your best” includes mass murder, fraud, dehumanizing cruelty, and petty bullshit justified by how right you think you are. I sip my coffee thinking about that. How to do better, I mean. I’ve been to war. I’ve seen combat. I’ve seen killing “up close”. I’ve seen violence and rage. I’ve seen the damage done by “othering” groups on the basis of some bullshit criteria. I’ve seen pain and fear and hopelessness – and the behavior it can produce. We can do better. Doing better unavoidably begins with each of us, individually, doing better ourselves – and then setting clear expectations with each other, and holding ourselves and our societies accountable to an ethical standard. I’m not saying it’s easy – I’m saying it probably begins with a change in thinking (and choices). I’m saying starting with a “software upgrade” could be helpful.

…When was the last time you read a book, an actual bound book that you held in your hands?

Consuming media through the internet doesn’t reach us the same way reading books does. There’s science on that. (I recognize the conflict in provide a link to an online source. It’s difficult to link directly to the printed word.) You could “do the thing“, of course, and read about reading (how delicously meta). I’m just pointing out that reading and doing are the two most direct means by which we human primates “upgrade our software”. We become what we practice – and it’s helpful to learn what practices we might do well to adopt, rather than wandering about just trying things out and breaking shit or hurting people.

Why am I even on about this? The current political climate, mostly, but also the nasty shit in the news recently. I just don’t get it – it’s the 21st century, how are people still so ignorant that mass killings seem like an effective solution to anything… or that an indvidual even has that right? So… yeah. Here I am. Reading books and doing my best to be a better human being today than I was yesterday – because I have learned more than I knew yesterday. It’s slow going, no doubt, but it’s better than not learning and growing at all, isn’t it? Steps on a path.

So far this year – and possibly over the past decade – the most important book I’ve read is On Tyranny, by Timoth Snyder. No kidding. It’s even pretty small. I don’t ask much of you, but this one is that big a deal; I’m asking that you consider reading it (please), and if not this book, then some other* that may advance your understanding of the world, and the part you play in the society we live in. Surely that matters?

If you knew that reading a book could change the world, wouldn’t you do it? Hell, if you even suspected it might be helpful, wouldn’t you make the attempt? Such a small thing… and another way to begin again. I know, changing the world isn’t easy – there are a lot of verbs involved, and our results vary. It can be discouraging. Still, we become what we practice, and incremental change over time is powerful. We’re all in this together… what are you doing to make the world a better place for all of us to thrive in? Something to think about, and I do. I sit here with my coffee on the first workday of a new year, dismayed by the bad news on display, and grateful to have a chance to begin again. Again.

*Please note; if the books you are reading make you want to kill people, or seem to justify the killing other people are doing, or somehow excuse other vile human behavior, you are likely reading the wrong fucking books. Choose your books with care; you’re putting that shit into your brain.