Archives for category: autumn

The rain continues to fall. I’m okay with that. I play songs that seem relevant to the experience of the rainy morning I’m enjoying. Songs that remind me to “be like water“, and songs that are “on the nose” and songs that are metaphorical.

Being a student is a good beginning, generally.

Being a student is a good beginning, generally.

I’m enjoying the morning before returning to my studies for the day. I smile, thinking of my traveling partner. We both really needed some downtime, and we’re both really getting what we each need; being individuals, what we need differs somewhat. It matters a great deal that we’ve made room for each other to have the experiences we each need, even where those differ pretty radically. “Go have fun doing what you do!” with a genuine smile and real enthusiasm is another way to say “I love you”. I most particularly enjoy the later opportunity to share those experiences with each other in conversation, pictures, and tales of adventure. 🙂

There is more to learn than I can know in one lifetime.

There is more to learn than I can know in one lifetime.

The heavy gray clouds break open briefly revealing blue skies beyond, and I look out across the meadow and the marsh. Will there be sunshine today? The blue seam of sky closes like a zipper. Perhaps not. 🙂

What about this moment right here? I breathe deeply, relax, and feel the smile tugging at the corners of my mouth – one that tends, these days, to be waiting for any opportunity to reveal itself. I’m okay with that. An authentic smile feels as good as a forced one feels strained and unpleasant; either has the power to create an emotional experience, just as our emotional experience can be reflected on our face, in a smile.

We become what we practice.

We become what we practice.

I find myself “stuck”, gazing out the window into the sky, watching the clouds shift, roil, and skitter past on the wind. The autumn foliage, gold, russet, and amber hues, is shaken loose on the wind, tree tops swaying, leaves raining down. Already there are bare branches reaching skyward, tree tops naked, silhouetted against the dramatic cottony whites and grays of the stormy sky. Autumn. Definitely autumn now.

Begin again. Somewhere. One choice. One change. One book. One moment. The day and the opportunity are yours.

Begin again. Somewhere. One choice. One change. One book. One moment. The day and the opportunity are yours.

There is still time to start laundry before the seminar begins for the day. There is time for a lovely hot shower, and a bite of breakfast. There is time for a second coffee – even a third. There is no rush; this is my life. Today is a good day to slow down and enjoy it.

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.  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. 😉 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.  🙂

 

This morning I woke too early, with a headache, and feeling uncomfortable and irritated. It’s a practical thing; I was awakened by the not-distant-enough whine of an idling freight train. It happens now and then. It is both intensely unpleasant, and utterly out of my control. It is also not a sound I sleep through easily… so… up at 3 am.

It’s almost 5 now. Though the whine persists, my anger and annoyance dissipated with practice(s): yoga, meditation (with ear plugs in, honestly), some quite housekeeping, a hot shower… and now, I hear the engine beginning to accelerate, slowly, and pull away. Finally. Culturally, and this is my opinion, we put (and allow) far too much emphasis on industry at the expense of quality of life. Noise pollution is a symptom. I wonder how many other people were wakened by the whine of the train this morning, maybe even not aware of what woke them, or why they woke with a headache this morning. How many bad moods in how many workplaces will it generate? I’m still a little cross about the noise; it’s hard enough to sleep well without that added to the mix.

a change of perspective

A change of perspective is needed.

I take a deep breath, and another, and have a sip of my coffee. I think about putting down roots. I think about my traveling partner. I think about the seasons, and upcoming holidays. For a moment, I even think about work. I let my thoughts pass through my consciousness without commentary or criticism; they are only thoughts. I have another sip of my coffee. I think about how fortunate I am, generally, and delight myself as some recent emotional highlights, beautiful memories, surface, are savored, and make way for the next recollection.

Simple moments of calm joy have value, too.

Simple moments of calm joy have value, too.

It was once a challenging practice to pause to appreciate, and to linger over, pleasant memories. Now it is a commonplace thing that I take time to enjoy regularly, and often find myself enjoying many delightful moments quite fully, in the moment themselves, without reservation or worry. A worthy practice, built over time, has become part of who I am. Although that was one desired outcome, it wasn’t initially something I felt I could count on. Incremental change over time is a thing; we become what we practice.

Where does your path lead?

Where does your path lead?

We become what we practice. Think that over for a moment… We become what we practice. Similarly, we tend to embrace as true just about anything we hear repeated a lot. So… if we hear and read hate, a lot, and we practice being hateful and angry, a lot… who do we become? Hateful angry people? Seems likely. Just saying; we can choose differently, and practice other things. It is literally that easy (and also that challenging).

What are you practicing? In your relationships – how do you treat your loved ones? Those behaviors are practiced. Out in the world, how do you treat others? More practiced behavior. When you interact through media, what communication habits are you practicing? When you filter events through your personalized world-view, more practiced behavior (and thinking) comes into play. What are you practicing? What settings do you tolerate in your ‘auto pilot’? Do you snap at people in the morning? Are you quick to anger? Prone to making assumptions? Attached to outcomes? Defensive or resentful? Dismissive, mocking, hurtful or mean? There isn’t much about how we behave (and how we think) that doesn’t at some point stem from things we practice, and in many cases practice quite willfully… It seems to me, this opens the door to a profound opportunity; we can choose differently, practice other things, become the person we most want to be.  This isn’t new thinking for me; I think about it a lot.

We become what we practice. We can change by choosing our practices differently.

I look back on the woman in the mirror with a certain amount of internal discomfort; although she has changed a lot over the years, we are one, and I still have to own some very unpleasant shit that I have said, and done. That’s part of the journey, too, sorting out the bullshit, recognizing and being accountable for poor decision-making, bad behavior, mistreating people, and making amends where I am able to do so… and where I can’t “make it right” in any practical way, making a sincere apology, remorseful, contrite, and honest about the damage done, and going forward practicing better practices.

Gracious sincere apology for wronging another is one of the most difficult practices, requiring a heightened level of awareness of another’s suffering, and compassion set to maximum. The more I grow as a human being, and the more I become the woman I most want to be, the more I am also aware of how human I am, and how much I have hurt others. Uncomfortable indeed, and certainly it sometimes warrants a sincere apology.

Here’s another day, and another journey. Today is a good day to treat myself, and others, truly well. Today is a good day to be considerate, and a good day to listen deeply. Today is a good day to be kind, compassionate, and gracious. If something goes sideways, and I miss the mark on any of those things, it’s also a good day to apologize and put things right.

I woke during the wee hours of the night struggling with anxiety. It felt extreme, and compared to my state-of-being lately, I suppose it was. I struggled to return to sleep, dozing, and waking again later, still anxious. Meditation and managing my breathing would return me to sleep, briefly, only to wake again in this fog of tension, with this knot in the pit of my gut, and a diffuse feeling of dire… something. It was rather too literally dreadful.

I woke for the day still feeling it. I checked my heart-rate, my blood pressure; both high, which from a practical sense tells me nothing much; it is reasonable that my blood pressure and heart-rate would be high, feeling this anxious. What I don’t know is which is causal – the symptoms, or the anxiety? Knowing that it can go either way has been meaningful on past occasions, when it became clear at some point that my anxiety was a wholly physical experience, unrelated to any legitimate threat. This morning? No obvious “threat” anywhere…but there are some things I could predictably understand to be somewhat anxiety provoking; I’m not at work. What I if I made a mistake in an important log file, and some import failed? It’s a holiday. I am not available to resolve it. See? That could cause me to feel anxious. (New job – three-day weekend already? If I’m honest, that could do it, too.)

I was still turning over the anxiety puzzle in my thoughts when I headed to the kitchen to make coffee… and noticed my pain. Yep. This morning “an old friend” returns; I am in a lot of pain today.

It’s a lovely morning outside, autumn arriving, and no rain today – and although I’ve been hoping for some great hiking weather, this morning I’m fairly irked to find that the very hike-able morning arrives with a noteworthy amount of physical pain. I don’t allow myself to be surprised by it; my arthritis responds to changes in the weather, and the cooling temperatures over the autumn weeks are definitely associated with increased pain. So. What to do about it, though?

Pain makes my world smaller. I look out the window at the beauty of autumn, the changing colors of the trees on the other side of the park. I’d like to want to go hiking among the trees. What I want more is to hurt less. Anxiety? Maybe – it could be pain causing that, too. It’s been quite a while since I hurt this much, it’s no surprise to me that it would bring with it an emotional reaction, or that the reaction du jour would be anxiety. I sip my coffee, awake, aware, accepting that I am in pain (at least for now). The anxiety begins to diminish as I more fully acknowledge the pain I am in for myself.

Squirrel

One squirrel’s favorite breakfast spot.

The morning is too choice not to at least go for a short walk, new camera (phone) in hand… I swear softly under my breath when I turn to get a better look at a squirrel enjoying a bite of breakfast from a handy vantage point in a nearby tree. We often watch each other just this way – I like to think it is the same squirrel every time, but honestly, we’ve not met formally, and I can’t say for sure. Turning to move, the pain catches me by surprise again; I’ve forgotten how it limits my range of motion. I remind myself how much more important my morning yoga just became; starting the day any other way just prolongs the worst of the pain. I remind myself, too, to fully appreciate how much less pain I’ve been in, generally, over the past many weeks that this is so startlingly suck-tastic today. (Failing to do so results in less awareness of pain-free moments, and develops a strong implicit bias that suggests I am “always” in pain, which tends to become quite uncomfortably true, over time. )

A lovely morning for a journey.

A lovely autumn morning suitable for walking waits on the other side of all this pain.

I begin laying out the practices mentally… a hot shower, yoga, a healthy lean breakfast, physical therapy stuff, a walk in the park – at least 2 miles if I can manage it – but what to do about the pain? My brain refuses to give up on the pain, urgently wanting a magic bullet, an easy fix, something to be done right now. It has become the focus of the moment. I realize that it has tainted even my writing, and become my everything, for now. Unpleasant, and uncomfortable. I’m irritated with the pain, and no longer anxious. It’s just… verbs. The verbs are required or the pain will most surely persist as it is. Appropriate application of the most useful verbs will ease the pain a lot – there is no assurance that it will be completely “fixed”, although it will eventually ease enough to become inconsequential, with fair certainty. I’ve got to do the verbs, though… I hurt, even thinking about it.

Well, shit… Today is a good day to do the verbs. Today is a good day to take action and make change happen. Today is a good day to remember “this too shall pass” and “it could be much worse”. Today is a good day to take care of this fragile vessel. Some days the journey is by steps, not by miles. 🙂

I dislike argument. There. I’ve said it.

One perspective of many.

One perspective of many.

I enjoy lively discourse. I embrace passionate discussion of individual view points. I cherish intellectual exchange, and sharing knowledge or perspective. I learn; I grow. Argument isn’t those things. Argument is a failed meeting of minds, in which individuals continue to insist on their own view, their own perspective, and fail to hear each other, seeking instead to persuade that their point is the correct understanding, and only that outcome will satisfy. Argument is often emotionally bullying, and more about intimidation and insistence, sometimes degenerating to insult, deceit, or emotional manipulation, to “win” the argument. No one wins, of course, and generally someone – often everyone – walks away feeling hurt, or misunderstood. Argument sucks, from my point of view, and I avoid it. I also have a brain injury that leaves me very vulnerable to being baited into an argument – being made entirely of human, this has made learning to disengage very valuable, and I continue to practice, with varying results. The verbs involved are those that make use of emotional intelligence, intent, free will, a sense of perspective, and a commitment to good emotional self-care; it’s a lot to juggle during an argument.  Once I realize I’ve been baited into an argument, I do my best to disengage graciously, and without malice or ill-intent. We’re all so very human… and some people actually like to argue; I’m just looking for the exit.

I'd rather love and be loved.

I’d rather love and be loved.

Last night I got baited into a political argument that at first glance looked more “discussion-worthy”, having been initiated by friends that I feel comfortable with and trust. Once I recognized I’d been drawn into an argument (with a commenting family member), I worked to extricate myself politely. This did not go as planned, and I became frustrated and emotional, and hung-up on some of the peculiar tactical linguistics in use.

I prefer authenticity over game-playing, and made a frank (and fairly vulnerable) statement that I was struggling with the conversation, possibly because my communication-style, and TBI, were making it hard to communicate easily, and that I was tired and not at my best. I expected, based on years of civil discourse with other human beings, that this would bring the conversation to a friendly, compassionate close, between equals – we’re family, so of course, we all have each others well-being and best interests mutually in mind… right? Nope. Not an ideal assumption, sadly; instead of support, I got a personal attack. It was weird, and frankly unacceptable. Rather like telling someone on crutches struggling to handle a door and some stairs simultaneously to “grow up” and “get over it”… instead of holding the damned door.  I was told by way of reply that I was “playing the victim”, and assorted such things. It was, from my perspective, hurtful, awkward, and… not something I personally care to foster in my own experience, certainly not from someone who says they care.

We’re still all human. All people. Each having our own experience. Each making our own way in the world without a map. My “Big 5” relationship values aren’t something I just say; they are how I build my relationships: Respect, Consideration, Compassion, Reciprocity, and Openness. An authentic statement of vulnerability given openly, met with something other than respect, consideration, or compassion, tells me something about the relationship in which the interaction occurs. If it occurs with a stranger, I just walk on. I don’t find it necessary to tolerate callousness or hurtfulness generally. When it occurs with a friend very dear to me on whom I can rely to be a good friend, clarifying questions seem appropriate (miscommunication is a thing that happens), but if it turns out I am incorrect about the quality of the friendship in the first place, and clarifying questions reveal that, I am inclined to walk on.

There is no requirement whatsoever that we maintain relationships with people who don’t treat us well. We choose our relationships. I experience no sense of obligation to invest in or maintain a relationship that doesn’t bring out my best qualities. Here’s something about me, though; I extend that to family, too. I pretty much always have – I grew up in a world where family was no more to be trusted than any other human beings, and possibly less so. Much less. I don’t have “family loyalty” hard-wired into my thinking, because for most of my life people who said they love me have been the first in line to do me harm. A lot of people behave in a way that suggests they find it more acceptable to treat family members poorly than they do strangers (for example, treating coworkers or the boss with more affection and respect than their partner, children, or siblings). I’m not those people.

I wasn’t always the person I am now, that’s pretty basic and obvious. From the vantage point of this woman, here, now, I make a point to treat people consistently well – whether they are strangers, lovers, family, coworkers, or friends. It’s a practice. I’m quite human, and my results vary. I learned a long time ago, though, that relationships among equals require all participants to use their words – and their verbs – and to be equally committed to similar shared values, otherwise the quality of the relationship suffers. Where these conditions are not met, and upon discussion it is clear that they won’t be… I walk on. I no longer allow my desire for connection and intimacy to be turned on me. It feels better to walk on, and build healthy relationships elsewhere.

Generally, we each feel we are the good guy in our own narrative, building an understanding of ourselves and the world around us that smooths life’s harder to grasp gray areas into sharply contrasting either/or propositions. Human primates like certainty. Once we feel certain, we hold on like our lives depend on it. I think, quite likely, the only thing that actually depends on us holding on to that feeling of certainty, is our sense of righteousness and place in the world. While I don’t personally feel a need to be right (I’d rather be love and be loved), I recognize that many people do – to the point of needing an argument; I walk on.

Assumptions about other people are a major relationship killer. Doesn’t much matter who is making the assumption; most of our assumptions about other people are incorrect. Seriously. Even mine. Even yours. It’s a very human thing. When we insist on our assumptions, holding on to them and building our reactions, our responses, our words, on the backs of those untested assumptions, we are no longer having interactions with each other in any authentic way; we’re having conversations with fictional characters who only exist in our own narrative, and disregarding the living being before us. Well… that sucks. I ask questions, practice testing assumptions, and practice being my most authentic vulnerable open and real self – and practice doing so without hurting other people. Being human, I practice rather a lot, my results vary nonetheless, and I’m entirely capable of succumbing to the worst of my very human self and being insensitive, hurtful, or callous. I value relationships in which a friend can say to me “I’m very hurt by that” without games or baggage, and follow through with an honest conversation about our interaction, their values, their needs, our shared experience – such openness leads to understanding, and growth. As with argument, or my Big 5, we don’t all seek the same things from our interactions with others, and we are not all seeking change, improvement, or growth; sometimes the wiser choice is still to walk on.

One rainy autumn morning, suitable for reflection - and taking care of me.

One rainy autumn morning, suitable for reflection – and taking care of me.

It’s a quiet weekend. I have time for thinking, time for writing, time for a third cup of coffee. The calendar reminds me I’ve set the day aside for taking care of hearth and home, a day of housework and tidying up planned. It doesn’t feel like a burden or obligation; the rainy day beyond my window suggests it will be a pleasant day of music, dancing through chores, and a crackling fire in the fireplace, spent taking care of me. How delightful! We choose our adventure. We choose our narrative. We choose how we face our day, and our circumstances. Today I choose great self-care, and a day spent creating the order that feels so good to me. I wonder for a moment if my vulnerability to being baited so easily last night is in any part a byproduct of perceived disorder in my environment…? I walk on from that, too. It is a day for verbs, for actions, for choices.

Today is a good day to create order from chaos. Today is a good day for deciding what to keep, what to let go. Today is a good day to tidy up loose ends, and reconsider what matters most. Each new day I can begin again. Each new day is a new opportunity to walk on from suffering, and to practice being the woman I most want to be. There are verbs involved. My results still vary. That’s okay; it’s enough.