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Re-Setting the Alarm

January 12, 2014 //
2

This is no ordinary Sunday morning. Well, okay, it is. A dull gray rainy Sunday morning on which I woke without the alarm, did some leisurely yoga to regain my freedom of movement, soaked in a hot shower to ease my arthritis pain, took some timeless moments to meditate, and made a latte. It’s a rather nice Sunday morning, actually.  I enjoy the rain, and the soggy gray sky. The only thing that seems a bit out of the ordinary is that this Sunday precedes a workday. It’s been some weeks now since setting the alarm clock would be necessary, and I’m very aware that tomorrow is a return to a different sort of routine.

Changes in routine can be emotionally difficult for me, although I’m also quite adaptable.  This morning I find that my response to the internal question ‘Am I ready?’ turns out to be ‘Aren’t I always?’. The smile attached to the thought feels friendly and safe, comfortable, self-assured. I’m good at work, and the skills I bring to my professional life are generally something I can comfortably count on.

There have been moments when feelings of frustration that ‘this wasn’t enough time’ or that ‘I don’t know how to invest my time in me the way I think I need to’ and moments when I wasn’t sure taking this time has been ‘worth it’ or when I felt I had somehow ‘failed to do what I needed to’.  This morning it is more clear that those fears are unfounded. I’ve had limited time to work with, and it coincided with the biggest holidays in my year, too. What I’ve accomplished for myself, to meet my own needs, and work on my own agenda, has actually been pretty significant – and includes ‘finding my focus’  – the next big piece of my puzzle to slip into place for the upcoming who-knows-how-long. A month well-spent, from my perspective, considered on this last Sunday before I return to work.

  • I have had time and opportunities to practice mindfulness at my leisure, on tasks large and small, both solitary and shared, without the pressures of a rigid schedule distracting me.
  • I have had the freedom to meditate any time I needed to, or wanted to, without any need to ‘set a timer’.
  • I’ve been able to improve my everyday yoga practice, and really take time learning and practicing new asanas, new modifications, and new sequences.
  • I got to enjoy the holidays ‘at full throttle’ without having to interrupt my fun every 12 hours to go back to work and do unrelated, significantly less fun stuff for someone else.
  • I’ve had time to read, and enjoyed having the time and focus to read deeply, even taking time to cross-reference and follow-up on cited references in really engaging articles, and books. (I have started and finished 7 actual books in the past couple weeks.)
  • I’ve had some time to get to know this person I call ‘me’ – I’ve changed a lot over the past year, particularly, and although there is more to work on, to understand, to learn, to practice – it’s been wonderful having time to step back a bit and look me over, and see what is important in the now.
  • I got plenty of sleep – and learned that a significant portion of my disturbed sleep may be due to the background stress of work, and the commitment to someone else’s agenda, that isn’t being skillfully set aside at the end of work days.
  • I began to explore sculpture and 3 dimensional creativity, crafting miniatures for my partner’s fairy gardens, and crafting colorful figurines to express my feelings, or share my experience, when words fail me.
Expressions. A very fun bit of what I've been up to this year. :-D

Expressions. A very fun bit of what I’ve been up to this year. 😀

  • I worked out simpler statements to clarify my needs, my boundaries, and my understanding of some fundamentals, which has improved my ability to communicate – with myself, as well as with others.
  • I laughed a lot. I cried some. I got closer to my partners.
  • I learned more about the nature of intimacy, and how very earnestly I want to be good at it.
  • I explored things about who I am that have nothing at all to do with pain, or trauma.
  • I changed up my personal space and some of my every day practices to enhance parts of my experience I really love, but struggled to enjoy comfortably.
  • I rediscovered how much there is to talk about beyond employment.

Looked at that way, it’s clear the time wasn’t wasted, and that any perceived ‘failures’ are chosen perceptions, associated with personal baggage, nothing more. (Sorry you had to slog through all that, and thank you for taking the time to sit through it with me while I took a look at it.)

So, here it is, the last Sunday before I got back to work. I am okay with going back to work, for now, and it’s nice to feel confident that at any time I really need to, I can set all that aside and go home and take care of me.  Hell, from a perspective of contentment and sufficiency, I’m pretty sure I have ‘enough’ to get by on, anytime, and find real satisfaction and joy in my experience of living. That’s a new thing… I hope to nurture it, and grow it, perhaps even gain some understanding of what makes contentment thrive. Contentment feels very good.

Today I am content and secure. Today I am kind and compassionate. Today I love and play at leisure, nurturing my heart through mindful enjoyment of everyday pleasures. Today I will change the world. ❤

 

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Categories Anxiety, Art, Brain Injury, Free Will, Healthy Living, Logic & Reason, Love, Mindfulness, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Relationships, Words

Stories and Voices

January 5, 2014 //
0

It is a lovely morning for meditation, for yoga, for calm thoughts and contemplation, and for a good cup of coffee. It is, indeed, simply a lovely morning.

I love these moments, sometimes hours, between the last of time spent sleeping, and the beginning of time spent in the company of dear ones. Life is rich and complex and filled with shared moments of all sorts. It often feels busy and tumultuous, sometimes rushed and unstructured. These few quiet moments feel most ‘my own’. Oddly, I don’t at all consider myself a ‘morning person’.

I am beginning something. I’m not really sure quite what it is.

My strange companions on a new journey.

My strange companions on a new journey.

I found myself contemplating meditation (just thinking about that sentence puts a huge grin on my face) and feeling inspired to create something that speaks to my experience.  I explored my imagination on the subject, without limitations, just thinking about resources on hand and what exactly was it I was trying to say, share, or experience myself. I am not ‘a Buddhist’. I am, however, fascinated by the concept of the Buddha (“The Enlightened One”) as a broader idea. Certainly, as a student of life, and of love, I eagerly seek enlightenment, myself.  I wanted to craft a figure that somehow spoke to me on the subject… using glow-in-the-dark Fimo, would be satisfying, I thought.

This guy was the first.

This guy was the first.

There is quite a bit of distance to cover between inspiration and outcome. When I crafted the first figure, I was certain he is ‘not The One’…but…I really enjoy him, nonetheless.  I felt bemused and puzzled by how quickly my brain and hands intervened to create something quite different from what I thought I was going for. I contentedly considered him for a day. I sat in contemplation the next day, still considering the distance between what I considered to be my intent, following it like a thread from my inspiration, through my actions, my will…clay in my fingers…

Being puzzled takes on a face.

Being puzzled takes on a face.

Huh. I gave myself a moment to gaze on the quizzical little face with my own quizzical expression. Where did this come from? All my questions – all sorts of questions – suddenly felt ‘queued up’ and I experienced a sensation of being ‘overloaded’ and breathless with the unknown in life. There’s a lot of it. lol. I continued to work the clay – but I’d run out of glow-in-the-dark. I played with the knowledge as I worked, allowing words to become metaphors, and my thoughts calmed and became more still and easy. Deep breath in, deep relaxing breath out… fingers in the clay, mindful of the shapes, the color, trying this, then that…

What does the simplicity of mindful observation and breath look like?

What does the simplicity of mindful observation and breath looks like?

I smiled at the small calm face. I wondered at the simplicity of it. I had thought, when I was moved to craft a figure, initially, that once I had ‘done it’ I would be done. I continue to muse on the wee faces and heads, small figures expressing… things. I continue to be captivated by the figures, the process of crafting them, and their small significance – they express something for me. I found myself struggling to find simple words for what I am after – what I’m ‘going for’. The sensation of inspiration is, for me, rather dynamic and ferocious…but the feeling of the Fimo clay in my fingers is calming.

'Dynamic and ferocious'?

‘Dynamic and ferocious’?

I’ll likely keep making them. We are each having our own experience, moment by moment, and even the moments themselves are singular and unique and as individual as butterflies or snowflakes…or so it seems when I find the stillness to wonder at the fullness of a moment.

These small figures didn’t spring up unbidden from some mysterious recess of my heart, or some dark corner of my experience, long-buried. Nope. It’s more obvious than that.  When I was quite small, my Mother made some strange Easter egg ornaments – blown eggs (pretty uncommon these days, I think). They were painted and decorated. D’Artagnan and the 3 Musketeers are the ones of which I have the most clear memory. She also crocheted some ornaments for the Christmas tree – heads. Later, as an adult, I was delighted that some of them became mine, and each year I put one or two on the tree (they are delicate and I handle them with great care).

The one on the right is crocheted.

The one on the right is crocheted.

So, some obvious inspiration to draw from in my own experience. Then too, in so many of the anime series I watch, there are stone figures depicted in the forests and along the roadside. They often look like serene child-Buddhas of some sort.  Mizuko Jizo statues.  They fascinate and delight me. They touch my heart; they are used in a soul-soothing ritual for women who have lost a child.  This, too, is meaningful for me.

an example

an example

So here I find myself, contemplating small faces, Buddhas, journeys, emotions, experiences… and 5 children that were never born. Strangely emotional place to end up, but journeys are like that – even when I have selected my destination with great care, it often turns out that the trip wasn’t even about reaching that place. lol.

I have stories to tell. So do you. So do we all – we are each having our own experience. I hope to choose my companions with great care, today, and to treat them well – they are an important piece of my experience, and every journey is greatly enhanced by good company. 😀

 

 

 

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Categories Art, Brain Injury, Free Will, grief, Healthy Living, Logic & Reason, Love, Menopause, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Relationships, Turning 50, women, Words

Myths and Realities

November 17, 2013 //
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It’s a lovely morning and I am still aglow from the fun of making ‘fairy gardens’ with one of my partners yesterday. We visited the home of a lovely artist for this shared activity, along with a couple other women and a younger girl, who arrived separately. The girl had a beautiful name, and was very shy.  The woman teaching the activity has her education and vocation in ‘horticulture therapy’. I’d never considered it as a possible line of work to be in, and it delights me that not only is my own garden a haven for my serenity, and a source of peace and contentment, but that somewhere ‘out there’ people are ‘led down the garden path’ figuratively speaking, to their wellness, too. Pretty awesome.

A garden in miniature.

A garden in miniature.

We had a lot of fun talking and creating tiny gardens, sipping tea, and no kidding – coloring. Like children, we chose pages to color, selected colored pencils with great care – because in those moments, the very colors themselves were up to our choosing, and seemed to matter. It was quite calming and wonderful. I wonder when I stopped coloring? 🙂

This morning I find myself struggling between a rather practical-minded grown-up within trying to resist constantly wanting to clarify ‘of course fairies aren’t real‘ – and can’t quite do it. It has little to do with any legitimate reality or lack thereof of potentially unseen wee beings lurking in the shrubbery, honestly. Could there be? Why couldn’t there be? There was a time when as a child I was quite firm in my conviction that there was a ‘coffee brownie’ hiding in my Mother’s coffee cup. I could see her pert nose and bright eyes looking back at me when I looked down into the caramel brown of my Mother’s coffee, any time. Real? Not real? My own reflection. Well, okay, sure, but…

We live our myths with as much ease and certainty as we live our realities. We have as little comfort with having either toppled through ‘proof’. Look at the creationist movement in the United States – people  of such firm conviction that the earth is quite young and was created from a void, in a motion, by the will of an entity, that they fight fiercely to have that perspective taught, even to the sons and daughters of Science. How odd. On the other hand, Science fights back with all the forces of reason and data at its command, captured succinctly in a t-shirt slogan, “Science doesn’t care what you believe”.

We are each having our own experience. We define our world  – define it? Hell, we create it! We create what we can and can’t see with the words that we use to tell ourselves what is, and what is not. We change our opportunities in life by defining who we are, ourselves, with our state of being statements and self-talk. We limit our relationships with our un-tested assumptions about others, about their will, their intentions, their abilities, their knowledge.

I used to get quite furious with people about Reality. It was not, I would insist quite emotionally, whatever we choose to make of it. It has unquestionable substance and character independent of what we understand or recognize! That’s probably true. Maybe that’s true. I’m 50 now, and I understand the world differently these days. The closest I care to come to ‘unquestionable’ at this point would be to acknowledge that there is little chance I can recognize, understand, know, or be aware of enough of the stuff of pure absolute reality on an ‘unquestionable’ level to ever be certain that indeed that is what I’d gotten hold of. I would have been so angry with this being I am now – and ready to do intellectual combat at the suggestion that we could change reality with a change in thinking. I made progress philosophically and emotionally to gain an understanding that Reality was really more likely ‘reality’ – lower case ‘r’. That ’emic’ and ‘etic’ realities were a pretty easy distinction to make, and possibly needful.  People do have their own experience, and their experience does color their perceptions and understanding of their world. So… easy enough. Their personal individual emic reality would stand somewhat separately from the theoretically immutable etic reality. That meant a lot to me. A foothold on something real the understanding of which I could at least strive for.

What a mess. How could I ever be sure? Somewhere along the way, the pursuit of Reality cost me a lot of humor and whimsy – and fun. Somewhere along life’s path I stopped being wowed by Greek mythology, by allegories that teach and delight me, by wonder itself. On a rainy Saturday I found myself ‘finding my way home’ in some hard to describe way.  Stories are important, too. Fictional characters have their own ‘reality’. Brownies in coffee cups play their role in who we are. Perhaps it is irrelevant whether a faerie ever visits my fairy garden, and important only that it is a small and beautiful garden, and representative of possibilities and whimsy and great love for a delightful moment in the company of women on a rainy Saturday? And were a faerie to visit, and be taken by surprise by my keen eye open to the possibilities and wonders of the world, wouldn’t that be okay, too?

Today I face the world ‘open like a child’s mind‘.

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Categories Allegories, Art, Brain Injury, Fiction, Free Will, gardening, Logic & Reason, Love, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Relationships, Turning 50, women

A Very Special Day

November 8, 2013 //
0

As I sit here, feet up, hot cup of tea on the table next to me, basking in the commonplace comforts of home and hearth: indoor plumbing, clean drinking water, a home warm against autumn chill, a nutritious breakfast, electricity, efficiency improving appliances, clean dry clothes, internet access… I realize how very special every bit of that actually is. How luxurious. How extraordinary! I have the added luxury of good employment – I am neither exploited nor abused to earn my living, and I have leisure time I can count on.  I can comfortably spend this morning on yoga, meditation, study, and enjoy the quiet contentment of nourishing my heart and soul, of healing, of growing, of learning, in a safe and secure space, quiet and uninterrupted.  It seems very worthwhile to extend a few moments of real appreciation for all of it, to stop for a minute and make time for gratitude.

Gratitude is a pretty big deal. Thanksgiving is coming, and it is so easy to get caught up in the hustle of planning and shopping, so easy to get swept up in a moment of emotional turmoil over some small stressor, or challenge, or inconvenience, and forget about the thanks implied by the holiday we celebrate. So easy, actually, that experiencing everyday gratitude for everyday wonders often falls by the wayside in the flow of everyday life.  Delights and comforts are enjoyed but unnoticed, sampled but not shared, and entirely taken for granted, day after day.

This morning I am taking a different approach and enjoying my morning, even the everyday bits, with eyes wide, and immersed in the wonders of modern comforts and luxuries as though they are new. Taking notice, experiencing appreciation and gratitude, and slowing down the clock. I am contrasting my relatively luxurious experience now, with other times, other experiences; my life hasn’t always been one of everyday comfort, or everyday luxury.

I started the morning with a cup of tea, rather than a latte. I measured out the tea itself, loose, enjoying the fragrance of the dried leaves, and bits of lemongrass and dried citrus. Smiling at the recollection of the day I bought the tea, and the conversation with the gentleman minding the shop, I boiled water, first warming my cup, then preparing the tea. I watched the clock for four minutes, contemplating the clock itself, and the incredible step forward measuring time meant for humanity, and the simple convenience of having a timepiece in the kitchen.  The morning conversation as one partner headed for sleep after a night out, and another prepared for the work day, was cordial and practical.

Soon enough the house was quiet. A light breakfast presented a nice opportunity to consider the conveniences of store-bought bread, cured meat, and artisan cheese. The advances of humankind from its dawn to its present day are considerable, and many of my favorites are every day experiences: stores, bread, preserved foods like cured meats, jams, pickles, dried fruit. These aren’t even new things, but each individually represents some human being at some prior moment taking a step forward and making life better for every one of us in some fashion, if we have access to that product or service or experience.

I made another cup of tea, treasuring my experience of choice.  I have options – even with a simple cup of tea. Green or black? Sweetened? With cream? Iced or hot? Dainty porcelain cup with a history, or a robust mug chosen at a discount store because the words delighted me? My everyday life is even filled with choices of this sort. Options.

I spent time meditating, unmeasured time. The luxury of being able to capture, and measure time is pretty amazing, and we build a lot of our world on it, with the result sometimes being that it feels like time is in very short supply.  I am finding that when I also indulge the luxury of not measuring time, of not limiting it, time seems to slow down, to become more plentiful. The clock advised me after-the-fact that I had spent 37 minutes meditating. It felt like ‘just the right amount of time’, however it was measured.

I enjoyed my yoga practice on a different level. This too, I slowed down. Each pose its own moment, its own experience, and bringing as much mindful attention to the feel of it, to my breathing, to my balance, as I comfortably could. Stopping to review details on a new posture now and then, and enjoying the luxury of comfort and quiet. Calm. Content. Strong. Centered. These are not words I have had many opportunities to apply to my own experience, over the course of a turbulent life. I enjoy each moment awake and aware.

Now I chill and, feet up and my cup of tea near at hand, I write a few words. I observe. I feel. I consider. I find myself taking a moment of gratitude and appreciation for the friends and family that nurture me, and enrich my experience.

Gratitude feels lovely every precious day – and every day is precious.  Today I am practicing gratitude. Thanksgiving is coming; it’s always good to practice what we want to be good at. 😀

Practicing gratitude is like photographing mushrooms at dawn. I took scores of pictures of them, and although only one picture celebrates the experience, every picture I took was an experience worth having.

Practicing gratitude is like photographing mushrooms at dawn. I took scores of pictures of them, and although only one picture celebrates the experience, every picture I took was an experience worth having.

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Categories Art, autumn, Brain Injury, Free Will, Healthy Living, Logic & Reason, Love, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Words

Novelty and Growth

November 5, 2013 //
0

This one is fairly practical. Each day I begin with meditation goes a little better than one I begin any other way, a simple enough observation about my experience.  Another simple observation, my arthritis sometimes finds me almost too stiff to move first thing, and between the stiffness and the pain, comfortably meditating can be challenging.

This morning I happened to read an article that referenced Makka Ho stretches, which I’d never been exposed to before, and following the link to the video I tried a new [yoga] sequence this morning that really felt good, and simple enough to comfortably work into my routine before meditation.  Then my curiosity had me looking further, following links, reading more – you know how that goes, right?  I followed up on the reference to Wu Tao dance, and found this video.  I find myself feeling willing to dance again. That alone is worth so much.  I loved to dance before I busted up my back, before the arthritis set in, before I got so fat I could barely move… and although the excess weight is mostly gone, and the yoga results in a far more flexible me, the strange self-conscious reluctance to move freely has remained. How sad! I love to move!

I’m not ‘a dancer’ in the way a professional dancer is, not even close, not even a little bit. I am human, though, and the sensuous feel of rhythmic movement is wonderful for me. I love that experience. It’s been so long… Wu Tao looks very gentle, and not at all like the sort of dancing that comes most naturally to me.  This could be a valuable adventure in growth, and a good experience.  🙂  Novelty. Growth. Experience. (Let’s not bullshit around about it, though, I want to dance because dancing feels good and I miss it. 😀 )

However many books I may read about dancing, not one of them can replace the experience of movement.

However many books I may read about dancing, not one of them can replace the experience of movement.

I would share a picture of me, dancing, it would be apropos…but there are none. Not any. Not even one. I haven’t danced, really danced, freely danced without inhibition and anxiety, since before digital cameras. How fucking sad is that? lol.

Time to head into the world. Another day to be mindful, to bring the Big 5*, to smile – another day to dance.  Today I will change the world.

*My Big 5 are Respect, Reciprocity, Consideration, Compassion, and Openness. I practice applying them in every interaction, every relationship, every day. 😀

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Categories Anxiety, Art, Brain Injury, Free Will, Healthy Living, Mindfulness, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Turning 50
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