Archives for category: forgiveness

What a day this has been. Spent mostly in solitary contemplation, reading, walking the beach here at Siletz Bay, I’ve enjoyed the quiet geniality of my own good company. It’s been lovely.

I sat for a long while on the beach listening to the waves breaking against the shore. It seemed as if I had no tinnitus at all, for a time. Oh, it’s still there, and if I pay it any attention, I hear it, but here on the shore I can let it recede into the background for awhile, more so than I ever can elsewhere. It’s a different kind of quiet, and these moments are precious. Restful.

Some of the people who have been most dear to me in this mortal lifetime have had strong connections to the sea, and this keeps me coming back to the seashore again and again. My Granny loved the sea and the shore so much that she and my Grandfather bought a sail boat and retired to the waterfront. When they moved to the West Coast, later, she regularly yearned aloud for the days of sailing the Chesapeake, and the feeling of freedom she felt being on the water. As a child, she took me to places like Cape May in New Jersey, Rehoboth Beach in Delaware, and Myrtle Beach in South Carolina. Later on, she also took me to Ocean City and to Assateague Island in Maryland, and Gold Beach in Oregon. When she lived on the Eastern Shore, her home was a refuge for me at a time when I needed it most, after I’d returned home from wartime deployment.

My recently departed dear friend loved the sea. She saw the ocean as our cosmic Mother, the wellspring of all life. Our one and only beach trip together was to the ocean beach nearest to Arcata, California, shortly after she had moved there, when she was still easily able to get around. We took a picnic lunch, and ended up eating it in the car, to avoid the strong wind blowing that day, and the aggressive gulls seeking snacks. lol

Even my Traveling Partner has a connection to the sea. He’s a Navy veteran, a submariner. His experiences of the sea are his own, and I know very little about them – but I know they exist in his experience and his memories. He took us on an anniversary trip a couple years ago, and we enjoyed the Oregon coast. Our hotel was a lovely spot along Nye Beach. It was a delightful time together, restful and playful.

I’ve spent many happy hours at beaches. As a child I found fossilized sharks teeth at Calvert Cliffs, in Maryland, and as a young soldier I partied at Padre Island in Texas. I walked the beach in Carmel California and the dunes near Fort Ord, as a deeply unhappy woman with a lot on her mind. I’ve restlessly walked along the beach and explored the tide pools at Cannon Beach Oregon, and sat with a quiet coffee on the beach near Brush Creek, Oregon, thinking my solitary thoughts. The beaches of Lincoln City have been fond favorites of mine for 4 years now; they’re very near by, and an easy getaway for a day or a weekend and I return to them often.

…Funny thing about me, and the seashore… I don’t even swim. lol Maybe that’s not the point at all, I just think it’s a bit comical. I rarely swim even when I have the opportunity, and when I do find myself tempted into the water, it’s generally a swimming pool, and I mostly just enjoy being in the water without actually doing any swimming. I’m honestly not much of a swimmer, although the Army makes a point of ensuring soldiers are “drown proofed” (handy skills, not the same as being able to swim). I dog paddle a bit, if I must, but mostly… if I’m honest… I don’t actually swim. lol I’m certainly not ever going to venture into deep enough ocean water to need to swim. Ever.

At some point, this morning, on my way to the beach, I decided to grab a coffee. I had something rather specific in mind and ordered it with some anticipation. I was eager for the taste – a rare treat – and I ordered it anticipating the experience. By the time the line moved around and I was able to receive my coffee, it had mixed and settled in the cup, and wasn’t at all what I was going for (which was a rather fancy layered drink that looks beautiful in the cup). I was… disappointed. Then I felt like a shithead – because it was thoroughly delicious, it just wasn’t what I wanted. lol It reminded me that there is no guarantee on the experiences we seek; reality will be what it is, and there’s no arguing with that. I sipped that coffee and reflected on the foolishness of being disappointed by what was actually quite a pleasant experience – if only I’d enjoyed it in that moment, precisely as it was, instead of weighing it down with baggage and bullshit to do with my expectations. A moment with a lesson.

Eventually, I became chilled as I sat on the beach with my coffee and my thoughts. The raindrops that spattered me hinted at the potential for a real rain shower, and the storms on the horizon suggested it might be time to return to the hotel for a time. I sat awhile longer, watching the waves break on the shore, flinging sea spray into the air as they did. I breathed the ocean air and enjoyed the breezes and the sounds of the shore birds, gulls, and crows. I finished my coffee, and returned to the car, and eventually to the hotel.

Later on in the day, as I stood on the balcony watching the tide change, I watched the gulls sailing on the breezes. I noticed them as individuals – one for each departed dear one no longer traveling life’s journey: family members, friends, lovers… the fallen ones that are now beyond any words of affection reaching them. No more time for “thank you”, “I love you” or “I’m sorry”. They exist now as memories. I stood with my thoughts, my memories, and my love for a long while, just watching the gulls soaring past, again and again.

I don’t know that the seashore is “my happy place”… it’s certainly a happy place, and a place that I turn to for solitude, when I need to step aside and allow some measure of time to pass me by, in a sense, while I gather my thoughts. I feel connected to the seashore because the sea meant so much to so many that I have held dear to me. Fond memories. Shared moments. So here I am, enjoying my own good company, in the company of my thoughts and memories, finding my path.

Maybe this isn’t “inner peace”, but it’s a handy facsimile and it serves my humble purpose. This is what I need for now – soon enough, I’ll begin again.

…Sometimes it isn’t me.

I’m sipping my coffee and savoring the sun rise. I’m not complicating the moment with stress or worries, or leftover emotions to do with past experiences (recent or otherwise). I’m just… here. Now. Being and breathing. Sipping coffee, black, iced. The local murder of crows has begun the day, too, and I hear their calls to each other before I see them singly or in groups taking flight and heading for wherever crows go when they’re not in the trees along the park. There were signs that it had rained during the night, as I drove into the city, and the clouds scattered across the sky suggest there may be more rain to come. I’m okay with that.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I let go of hints of lingering stress and anxiety lurking in the background. I breathe in deeply, and exhale slowly; I definitely need this break I am taking, and today is my last work shift before I go. I’ll have the evening, and much of the day tomorrow, with my Traveling Partner, then… two days for me, for self-care and reflection. “Downtime.” Much needed downtime, actually, and I’m glad I didn’t wait on it. I don’t have the resilience I really need for some of what life throws at me lately, and it’s an important matter to “refill my tank” and prepare for whatever may lie ahead on life’s path, as much as I can.

Another day. Another beginning. Another set of choices upon which to act. There are verbs involved, and my results vary. I just keep practicing, though, because incremental change over time is a thing I have learned I can count on – if I just stay on the path. 🙂

I’ve still got to walk my own path.

Perspective. We’re each having our own experience. Be kind. Do your best.

Begin again.

I’m sipping a relatively dreadful cup of coffee this morning, and watching the sky slowly change from the dark of night to the deep blue-gray of the earliest moments of daybreak, and anticipating the new day ahead. It’s a Friday. I’m looking forward to the weekend. I am thinking about “forgiveness”.

I frankly find forgiveness difficult. Hurts hurt, and the damage done can be quite lasting. So often, at least for me, the lack of any indication of regret, contrition, and likely lack of any sort of apology, can make it super difficult just to let go of some transgression (major or minor), forget about “forgiveness“!

For a long time, I thought of forgiveness as something one gives to the person who caused hurt or damage, or delivered some insult. That felt… unbearable. Unjustifiable. It felt like a bullshit band-aid for an injury that would not heal any better for having provided it. Somewhere along the way I read something, or perhaps my Traveling Partner said it, to the effect that forgiveness isn’t for the person who has done us wrong, so much as it is for us, ourselves – a means of truly letting something go, and moving on in our own experience. It was expressed as a way to limit the amount of time someone who has hurt us gets to live in our heart or our mind rent free, continuing to hurt us again. Understanding forgiveness differently, as something I would do for myself, to ease the burden my own pain is for me, certainly makes me more willing to consider it – but I still find it a difficult practice.

The sun rise, this morning, begins with a streak of vibrant pink low on the horizon. The sky above has turned a steely silver-gray, bluer in places where clouds gather. I make a second coffee, and return to my desk to see the sunrise beginning to be reflected in building windows opposite the rising sun, deep blood red and orange. It’s a beautiful sunrise this morning. Another new day.

…Another opportunity to forgive…

Forgiveness is a practice. It does require practicing. We become what we practice.

My Traveling Partner suggested often that I would do well to forgive a particular ex. I found it hard to do so, in part because I did not feel at all understood by my Traveling Partner; he had his own experiences and baggage with that particular human primate, and these made it quite difficult to discuss mine with him. That feeling of “not being heard” by my partner, on a circumstance that we shared (in a somewhat superficial way, since we were each still having our own experience), made it incredibly hard for me to forgive my ex, even after my partner seemed willing to forgive her, himself.

My Traveling Partner is far more grown up and emotionally mature in this particular area than I am myself. He’s a definite fan of forgiveness. I can still hear myself, at 20-something, snarling to a friend “there are some sins even your God does not forgive,” discussing my bitterness and seething rage at horrors I had endured that I could not yet find myself ready to forgive, at all, and could barely discuss. I’ve grown since then, and it’s unlikely that I share much of who I am now with that wounded creature who was once me. I recognize the value in forgiveness, and the purpose it serves, I just still sometimes find it quite a difficult practice, in practice.

My Traveling Partner made mention of this particularly toxic ex recently. I don’t recall why, or what the context actually was, but I found myself curious and took at look at her web page. She doesn’t write much anymore, and I guess that’s no surprise; she once cautioned me discouragingly that maintaining a daily writing practice was “very hard to keep up” (which still amuses me, as a woman who has written more or less every day of my entire adult life, either pen & ink, or online, mostly without any particular effort required, and had done so since long before ever making her acquaintance). Her most recent entry was largely positive, expressing gratitude for being in a better place than she was some years ago. I found it interesting that I had no particular emotional reaction beyond “well that’s good see”, before moving on to things that were of far greater interest in the here and now.

She did a lot of harm. She did the harm she did by intent, and said as much at the time. I walked away from all that, but I carried some baggage for a long while and I stayed angry until… I don’t know when, actually. Some time ago, she – and the damage she had done – stopped being something that mattered to me at all. I no longer had the time or inclination to let her “live rent free in my head”, and I let all that go. In the process, I forgave her. I forgave the damage, the toxic bullshit and game-playing, the ugliness, the meanness, the lies, the violence, the narcissistic entitlement… all of it. Like a troll in a fairytale, she had no power over me, in life. I had turned the page on that story. Not gonna lie – I definitely don’t ever want to deal with her again (and hopefully I’ve learned enough to avoid similar people in the future), but forgiveness isn’t about forgetting, or excusing, or condoning, or permitting new hurts. Forgiveness is understanding with some measure of compassion that we’re each human, and each capable of some really shitty behavior – and letting it go, accepting the truth of what was, and moving on to something new and better. I wouldn’t want any part of having her in my experience now, but I also don’t grudge her finding her own peace or joy. Forgiveness lets me let her go, completely.

The sun is up. The sky is a soft blue. My coffee is warm and comforting. My heart is light. Forgiveness is still a difficult practice for me, but over time I’ve come to embrace it. I’ve forgiven those who have wronged me along the way. It’s been worthwhile to do so, although it doesn’t heal the damage done all by itself. There are still verbs involved in healing a wounded heart. It still takes time. It still takes work. It still takes a commitment to myself – and that’s where the forgiveness lies; I don’t benefit from continuing to use energy on hate and resentment and seething rage that could be more effectively used for healing myself, so at some point, it’s utterly necessary to “let shit go” and forgive those who have hurt me. They’re human, too, each having their own experience, wading through their own chaos and damage, and struggling with their own challenges. The damage they’ve done to me is a whole lot more about them than it ever was about me. Accepting that is an important step towards forgiveness.

…Forgiveness is an important step toward healing…

I finish my coffee and my thoughts. The sun is up, and it’s a new day unfolding ahead me. I smile, thinking about my Traveling Partner and the love we share. I feel relaxed and contented, and generally well; it’s a good beginning to the day. It’s already time to begin again.

I’m at a favorite trailhead waiting for the sun, or at least enough daylight to safely walk the trail on this foggy morning. I’m also waiting for the park gate to open, which should be any minute now. Another early walker shows up, and just sits idling at the gate, instead of parking and waiting. I don’t take that personally; not my vehicle, not my choice, not my business. I’m ready to walk but not feeling impatient about it.

Yesterday evening my Traveling Partner and I enjoyed a lovely somewhat romantic very connected evening listening to music together, but it ended on a sour note. I wrapped up my day with some quiet time reading, hoping to avoid aggravating him further. When I woke this morning my head was still full of hurt feelings and irritation. Pointless and not constructive, over a moment that was just a moment. So… I used the drive to the trailhead to sort of sift through my feelings, supporting my emotional needs by acknowledging my feelings and developing an understanding of why I still felt hurt, and whether that had to do with some legitimate concern needing some follow-up, or perhaps just me holding on to shit because that’s what human beings often do. Having decided it was more “just holding on to shit” than anything else, I proceeded to just let it go. Yes, there are verbs involved, but it’s quite doable to let small shit go.

It’s a new day. For me, a new day is a sort of “cheat code” for moving on from shit I’d like to let go of. It’s a nice moment that draws a sharp line between some moment and this new day unfolding ahead of me. Useful. I breathe, exhale, and relax. The foggy morning envelopes the car. I wait for day light.

My Traveling Partner greets me when he wakes. We briefly discuss errands, and my plan for the day begins to develop: a trip to the store, a stop by a local merchant on the way home, waffles for breakfast, and some time in the garden later, planting spinach starts and kitchen herbs. It sounds like a lovely day!

Foggy, but fine for walking.

… But first? A quiet walk along river and marsh on a foggy morning. Then, I’ll begin again, again. 😁

I’m sipping my coffee and thinking about the weekend that has only just ended. The sunrise is just getting started, and I see it beyond the city skyline, as a pale peach glow that reaches a deep orange as it nears the distant horizon, only visible reflected back in building windows. The crows are taking flight, and I see and hear them as they pass by the big window behind my monitor. It’s a Monday.

…Funny, I remember Mondays being quite different than this, not so long ago…

…Years, actually, it’s been years since Mondays were reliably unpleasant for me…

I’m feeling contented and merry, well-loved, appreciated, and cared-for. The weekend was rich with self-care and the charming companionship of my Traveling Partner, whose sometimes wildly inappropriate often subtle sense-of-humor reliably amuses me. (Fuck, I love that guy!) We go together like waffles and maple syrup on lazy Sunday. 😀

…I actually did make waffles this weekend. They were… of varying quality. At least one of them was almost the best waffle I’ve ever made… my waffles are pretty hit-or-miss, honestly. There’s a subtlety to really great waffles. I have a fantastic recipe, but I have a cheap-ass very average quality electric waffle iron that is pretty fiddly and imprecise for both temperature and timing (and also hard to clean). Makes it rather more difficult to get a great result than necessary for something as simple as waffles. This particular batch of waffles resulted in a decent breakfast together, but ended with both of us finding reasons that the results were less than satisfying. “Not done enough”, “over-done”, “not quite enough batter” – all the basic ways a waffle can fail, I got that outcome. LOL I make a batch small enough for two people, so the end result was that we each got 1 adequately-edible-but-not-perfect waffle, in spite of a great recipe. Well, shit. Before I even finished my waffle, my Traveling Partner had shopped around for a better waffle iron, and we’ll have it before the next weekend. 😀 Sometimes self-care is about careful consideration of the outcome we get, what we’d like for ourselves instead, and taking actual steps to make that happen… even when we’re just talking about waffles! I’m excited about the new waffle iron, and I’m eager to make waffles again, instead of facing the idea with some resistance certain that the results will be… unpredictable.

The weekend was pleasant, with mild spring weather, and I spent time in the garden planting pea seedlings and salad greens; the young plants give me a head start and give the recently planted seeds some time to get going. They also seem to discourage El Gato from using my veggie bed as a litterbox, which is a bonus. It felt good to have my hands in the soil. I went around to each of the roses and did a little more pruning, cutting back any dead canes, and pruning off canes that were tending to grow in a crowded fashion, or obstructing a walkway – pruning for aesthetics, mostly, and just enjoying the sunshine. It’s a garden. There’s always more to do, and I finally had the weather for it.

Getting the garden started; it’s Spring!

The sky is now a lovely baby blue, with a hint of bold yellow along the horizon, and streaked with bright pink “chem trails” and whisps of clouds. Looks like another pleasant Spring day, and I’m so happy to see it! I sip my coffee and think my thoughts, preparing for the day, and watching the sun rise. I enjoy seeing the sun rise.

I think I recall that the rain will return this week, and through next weekend… that won’t stop me from making waffles, or taking care of myself and my Traveling Partner, but it will probably keep me out of the garden, mostly. I’m glad I got so much done this past weekend! My mind wanders to more/other things I’d like to do, or plan to do, or expect to have to do… I keep a list, so as not to lose track of the important details. My results still vary, but it’s been a long time since I learned to stop beating myself up over the very human limitations in energy and time that can limit what I get done in a day. It doesn’t help to treat myself like shit over running out of energy, or forgetting something I had sworn I’d make time for. It’s far more productive (and kinder to myself) to take note, acknowledge how very human I am, and just move the fuck on to the next opportunity. I try my damnedest not to be one of the people standing in line to grief me over something stupid. lol There are plenty of other people willing to fill that role, any time.

I smile to myself, feeling pretty contented and merry, and very much “recharged” after a great weekend. It’s a good start to a new week, and now it’s time to begin again.