Archives for category: art and the artist

I woke at 2:46 am. I didn’t plan on making that a thing, but an hour later of quiet rest without returning to sleep makes the decision; I am awake. I woke wary and vigilant, and inclined toward anxiety. No point taking that personally, I remind myself, and shift gears. Yoga. Meditation. A cup of coffee. Morning.

Sitting at the table, sipping my coffee, I relax – and begin to feel sleepy. I could try to take advantage of it…but it’s already after 4 am and basically my usual waking time (although the alarm is set for 5), it isn’t likely I’d actually sleep, and if I did, the short nap would likely result in being groggy. The excuse-making is enough to assure me, I’m up.

The darkness before dawn.

The darkness before dawn.

The morning feels ordinary enough, although this place feels less safe than it did. I put a painting in the location the TV had occupied. I make a point to bring my work laptop home with me, andย I don’t have to write using only my phone each morning. I am more acutely aware of the sounds of movement or conversation outside my apartment, and less easily able to ignore them. My experiences shape who I am – but so do my choices. I’ve been through much worse than coming home from work to find my house had been broken into. Seriously. A lot worse. …And those much worse things are behind me, I survived even those, and here I sit too early on a Friday morning, feeling just fine, and sipping my coffee. I’m okay right now. I smile. That’s kind of a big deal for a much younger version of me from a long time ago – I wish I could let her know. ๐Ÿ™‚

I spend a few quiet minutes over my coffee. My mind wanders. I don’t stop it, and let my thoughts drift contentedly without directing them. There is so little reason to hurry the morning. There will be ample time to be purposeful later. I make a second cup of coffee.

Taking time, making room for this moment, now.

Taking time, making room for this moment, now.

Today is a good day to take the time to enjoy the moment, fully present, awake, aware; there’s no knowing how many or how few there will be.

My anxiety woke me during the night. No particular reason, as far as I could tell… perhaps my anxiety was concerned I’d forgotten it? No matter. I got up for a few minutes. “Checked for monsters.” Went back to bed. My sleep was restless. I woke feeling out of sorts.

"Anxiety"  10" x 14" - and she feels much bigger than that, generally.

“Anxiety” 10″ x 14″ – and she feels much bigger than that, generally.

I sip my coffee discontentedly mired in suspicion and unease. This isn’t about “reason”, and I don’t go looking for reasons. If I were to allow myself to yield to the temptation to “figure this out” in the early morning, before I’ve really quite woken up, before I finish my first coffee, I would be inviting the sort of deep down personal attack on myself that wells up from the dark corners, where the chaos and damage still lurks. It’s neither necessary nor helpful to “figure this out”; these are emotions, and I’ve just awakened from a night of troubled sleep…so… yeah. Nothing to figure out, really. I’m feeling.

This is a good morning to breathe, relax, make room to allow myself to feel my feelings without acting on them, and let them go without attachment to them.

My thoughts shift. I write some about emotion. I write about reason. I doubt the value in my words and delete all of it. I feel myself full of doubt. My nightmares, too, were full of doubt. Doubt and unease and insecurity. I breathe, relax, sip my coffee. It’s hard not to pick at those feelings, like tiny wounds. Experience suggests my wisest course is to make room for them, be open to what I can learn from them, and to maintain perspective – the broad deep perspective of 53 years that understands that this too will pass, and that emotions are more like street lights than news stories. Experience suggests letting the emotional content of my dreams color my day is a poor choice, and unnecessary – I commit to choosing differently. That used to sound like an impossible task, now I understand it as a practice. My results may vary.

I make some notes, on paper. I list the emotions and feelings quickly, without any deeper intention. I review the list, and next to each, write an emotion or feeling that amounts to a “conflict of interest” in the sense that the existing uncomfortable emotional experience can’t “compete” or continue to hold my attention were I to fill up on the other. Insecurity is the easy example, since its “opposite” experience is fairly easily identified – security. Feeling secure versus feeling insecure, feeling emotionally safe versus feeling uneasy… and having identified the preferred experience, I will cultivate that. No need to tear myself down for the emotional experience I’m having now, I will build something different, by choice. Small changes sometimes get big results.

Dismissing my feelings out of hand is ineffective; emotions tell me things about my experience, and how that’s working out for me, and although they are not a reliable source of information (because they lack precision and simple clarity, and because sometimes they are simply a byproduct of skewed biochemistry) they are my early warning system that emotional inclement weather may lay ahead. A night of nightmares and unease may meanย I’ve got something on my mind that needs my attention, that I may be overlooking or avoiding. (And it may not.) Tonight will be soon enough for all that. It is an unfortunate truth of adulthood that sometimes work comes first. I sigh aloud, and sip my coffee.

My emotional life belongs to me. How I treat myself is a choice I make. The relationship I build with myself is singularly intimate, and colors every relationship I have with others. Being present, awake, and aware, in my experience with the woman in the mirror has its own unique challenges – and value. There are verbs involved.

Begin again.

Begin again.

Today is a good day for emotional self-sufficiency and continuing to cultivate emotional intelligence. Today is a good day to be present and engaged in this moment, here. Today is a good day to change the world, even if only in the tiniest way, in one single moment; every change matters.

My evening out with my traveling partner last night was wonderful. My thoughts come back to it again and again. I take time to enjoy the thoughts, savoring the recollections: the emotional connection, the intimacy, shared experience, the music, and the moments.

The

The lovely evening became a lovely morning.

After affectionately good-bye-ing, I spent the day on taking care of me, and getting things done that are tougher to do during the week. I got what seems to have been a vast amount of laundry done. All the linens got done. All of the everything, I think. ๐Ÿ™‚ I spent time meditating. I spent time on crafts, something that I am not often inspired to do; it is a sign of approaching holidays, perhaps, or the thought of packing up the studio for the next move.

The evening feels strangely festive, a fire crackling in the fireplace, and the tiny lights on the wee “gratitude tree” I made this afternoon reminding me of fireflies. I found myself peculiarly inspired, thinking about childhood holiday crafts, and how delightful even the most meager holiday can be, seen through that tender wholesome lens. I spent time recalling very specific ornaments, made with loving hands, that lasted through my recollections of childhood, into my own adult celebrations…ceramic holiday trees with real lights… Christmas balls of styrofoam carefully covered with sequins pinned in place one by one, oranges stuck with cloves in elaborate patterns, construction paper garland made in school, and strings of popcorn and cranberries to festoon outside trees in the yard… other things, too. My memories of Yule holidays, and Thanksgivings look rather like elaborate renderings of Hogswart’s feasts from Harry Potter movies. I don’t mind that, they are among the most wonderfully beautiful of my memories.

The holidays are coming. I have much to be thankful for.

The holidays are coming. I have much to be thankful for.

So, yeah. Today I recreated something I think I recall, though I don’t at all recall where I am recalling it from, or in what context, other than Thanksgiving. It was a whim, and a few moments spent enjoying great delight, in between loads of laundry and other assorted housekeeping tasks. Now and then Iย gave thought to something I am thankful for, and happily added it to the little tree. Now and then I took time to meditate. I went for a walk. I sat quietly considering things. I happily added all those things to my experience. It’s been a lovely day.

Time well spent, considering many things from another perspective.

I considered many things, from a variety of perspectives. Time well spent.

Tomorrow, I’ll begin again. There is no standing still. Stillness itselfย is more like a float bobbing on a current, than it is like any lack of movement. Sometimes when I am most “still”, I am also very moved.

It’s an odd sort of morning following a somewhat peculiar evening. It was a pleasant evening, and it is a pleasant morning. It would be easy to lose sight of how pleasant it is to focus on the oddity. The pleasantness, for me, is more important.

Evenings are quite short these days, a common experience for people who work and commute some distance. I arrived home about an hour earlier than usual, yesterday, which is enough time to make a difference. I enjoyed a bite of dinner, and meditation, and was headed to the shower when my traveling partner arrived. A whirlwind of greetings, moments, departures, and arrivals later, and the apartment was full of people, laughing, talking – it’s fairly easy to find a party breaking out at my place when both my traveling partner and I are at home; we two enjoy both company and solitude, and if we’re already together (and thus not alone) it’s a handy time to get other friends together, too. Parties happen. ๐Ÿ™‚

I sip my coffee and for some moments think about far away friends, and long for their company, too. Magical thinking could intervene here, and leave me feeling lonely, or annoyed, or even inappropriately “abandoned”, or sad over what is not. It’s a choice, and I choose not to head down that spiral. I cherish my far away friends over my coffee, smiling with grateful delight at technology like Facebook, that so easily keeps us all in touch over the years. Any perceived distance melts away like morning fog as the sun rises, when we get together again. In the meantime, there are pictures of life, of new babies, of dance recitals, of fun and adventure, of love – all shared with affection, preserving a long-distance connection.

"Long Distance Connection"  18" x 24" acrylic on canvas w/glow, 2010

“Long Distance Connection” 18″ x 24″ acrylic on canvas w/glow, 2010

Last night I crashed pretty early, and the party moved next door out of respect for my working hours and early mornings. I actually slept well and deeply. I woke with the alarm, feeling comfortable in my body, content with the woman in the mirror, and ready to start a new day. No noteworthy pain – so I make a point of noticing the lack, and making that, itself, noteworthy by being aware of how good I feel right now, savoring it, lingering over it, enjoying it without any dismissive internal commentary. I take time to be okay with being okay. Being miserable can become a very bad habit; we become what we practice.

I sit quietly, sipping my coffee, living my life gently, feeling contented. It’s a lovely start to a work day. I think about the ย years and years I didn’t start my days this way, and then the years that I tried… and tried… and tried… and often found some delicate fragile moment of contentment or delight would skidย unexpectedly sideways off life’s highway, leaving me stranded in tears by the side of the road, unaware that I only needed to dust my self off and walk on. There are so many choices, and so much of my experience is in my own hands. It can be daunting. Then, too, there’s all that “positivity” stuff out there, and “faking it until you make it” encouragement; those things didn’t work for me at all. Authenticity is demanding, and some of the moments of a life well-lived are… challenging? Unpleasant. Some of life’s moments are frankly awful. Still… I couldn’t force positivity down my own throat, and no amount of repeating scripted affirmations or pasting fake smiles on my face got me anywhere. I gave up, and in giving up felt even worse about myself and my circumstances.

I tend to be a very positive person these days – but I didn’t start here, and getting here wasn’t the goal. I started with taking better care of myself (physically and emotionally), and took up practices that supported my wellness, and nudged me gently towards my long-term goals by improving my self-care, my awareness, and my willful actions, over time. I suppose someone could respond that they feel like a screaming spoiled toddler, and if they are (mis)behaving it is merely an expression of their authentic self… I guess that’s where having a conscious awareness of my values is helpful for me; I don’t think to justify bad behavior on the basis of “authenticity” – because that isn’t the woman I most want to be. I don’t find myself having to “fake it” – I do find that choices are necessary, and there are verbs involved. I begin again, regularly. When I fuck up and hurt someone, I apologize sincerely and without reservations or excuses.

It’s been a long while since I had some terrible meltdown. I take a moment to appreciate that – because, honestly, realistically, and being so very human? This too shall pass. ๐Ÿ™‚ It’s likely that sometime in my future I will be frustrated, or angry, or childishly disappointed, and I will have to deal with it appropriately. ย I may hurt someone’s feelings and have to apologize. I’ll be wrong about some things. I’ll fail at some others in spite of trying. I may kick myself while I’m down, or revert to a bad habit unexpectedly. Still… we become what we practice. I’ll begin again. Over time, in small sometimes hardly noticeable increments, change will occur.

We do become what we practice. I stopped practicing having relentless temper tantrums and yielding to primitive frustrated rage – but not by “quitting”; I began practicing something different. That’s my own version of “positivity”. More a doing than an undoing. For me, it started with the most basic mindfulness practices, a few minutes each day for myself that I could really count on, and the will to begin again day after day, as if my life depended on it. (From my perspective, it very much did.) My reading list is built on the resources that got me here, now. I can share titles of books forever, and perhaps you even read them – but without the verbs, the practicing of practices, and the will to begin again, they’re onlyย books filled with mere words. Just saying.

My coffee has gone cold. It’s almost time to head to the office. I’m still smiling. Life feels different than it did three years ago, in a number of very good ways. We become what we practice. My results vary – but I can begin again, often. Today is a good day to practice. Who will you choose to become? ๐Ÿ™‚

I crashed soon after arriving home last night, but still much later than I generally intend to on a work night. I was sound asleep soon after that. Mmm… sleep….

I woke abruptly some time later, in a ridiculous amount of pain, and panic; my calves (both) were cramping up and as any animal might, I woke with a sense of anxiety, the physical pain itself, and a moment of real panic trying to figure out what to do about it before I was quite awake enough to understand what was wrong. I still have no idea what the hell was going on, why I woke to leg cramps so unexpectedly, or really any sort of cause/effect information at all. I lurched onto my feet, pain and all, and instinctively used my body weight and upright posture to “make” my calves do something more like whatever I think I expect. A few minutes walking unsteadily, painfully, around the apartment, and eventually the urgency died away, and the cramps eased. I went back to bed, so fatigued I dropped immediately back into a deep sleep. My calves still ache like crazy this morning. What the hell was that about??

The wind blew like the sky was angry last night, a shouting match tree to tree, across the parking lots and park meadows, the wind chime nearly being launched from its hook, and the potted plants rocked with enough force to hear some of them knock against each other. The trip home from the salon I visited was longer than my commute, and the late hour resulted in two opportunities to stand in the darkness, in the rain, waiting for a bus, enjoying the wildness of the wind tossing my newly colored hair; I arrived home disheveled, to that sense of warmth, comfort, and relief that I associate with “feeling at home”. It was lovely.

I was too tired to be irked that it was too late to light a fire in the fireplace, and made a quick healthy meal, which I ate efficiently, but not especially attentively. I set a timer to be sure I didn’t rush to bed so quickly that might give myself heartburn because of the late meal. ย I grabbed my self-care checklist, and quietly perused it for details I might have missed during the day, and took time to meditate. Sure, tired. Sure, a late evening. Definitely could use 15 minutes more sleep this morning… but… my meditation practice matters. From the vantage point of a groggy morning after a short night, I might think for a moment that I could have benefited from those minutes of meditation being sleep, instead, but by days end my opinion on that could be quite different; the long-term skillful management of day-to-day stress, for me, requires that I carefully ensure that I maintain my daily meditation practice. This is what works for me. Perhaps you have found another way? I have not. ๐Ÿ˜‰ I’m very tired this morning, but I’m less likely to face a meltdown later on, for having maintained my dedication to this important self-care detail. It’s a practice, there are verbs, and it has been very much worth it over time.

Begin again. Again.

Begin again. Again.

Speaking of meditation… there’s still time this morning, too. I hear the blustery winds beating on the outside of the apartment. The heater has not yet taken the chill off the room. My coffee is hot, tasty, and the kitchen is clean… seems a good time, and a lovely wild morning for taking some chill time on the cushion by the patio door, watching the dawn develop and listening to the wind.

Today is a good day to take care of this rather tired being of light, wrapped in this peculiarly fragile vessel. Today is a good day for eye contact, and for smiles, and enjoying love songs. Let’s change the world – together. Let’s be our best selves today. ย ๐Ÿ™‚