Archives for category: Free Will

I woke from a long night of sound slumber. Rare, restful, delicious. I slept in. After yoga and meditation, and putting out peanuts and birdseed for my weekend brunch visitors, I sat down with my coffee and the latest real estate search list from my realtor. It’s exciting to be house-hunting for a wee place of my own.

I look over each listing in the search list very carefully. I imagine waking up there. I imagine walking through those rooms in the dark of night after a nightmare. I consider what the floors will feel like on bare feet, and whether the layout of the kitchen is going to fuck with my head for weeks or months, remembering how confusing it was to move from #27 to #59 – with all the light switches and appointments mirror imaged, and how long it took to stop clawing at blank wall for a light switch that wasn’t there. Those details matter for quality of life. Will the windows let in the dawn? The evening light? Will the house bake in the sun unrelentingly, or offer comfort and shade? Will the winter winds chill the floor with peculiar drafts? Which details are easily changed? Which less so? What matters most? It’s an interesting meditation, to consider with such care what living in a particular space might feel like. I easily rule out some of the listings I see by doing so; if I can’t feel living there with any comfort, I am not interested. (I trust that feeling – some of my PTSD triggers are fairly mundane things or circumstances. If my senses begin to squeal in my head that a space doesn’t feel safe, and I’m only looking at a photograph, I know to move on.)

I chat a while with my Traveling Partner, sharing pictures of places, getting his thoughts. Our individual aesthetic overlaps quite a lot, and his engineering background results in a first-rate reality check on things I am less likely to notice. Helpful, and another way to share love. I am eager to find a place to call home that he will feel equally welcome in, when he is spending time with me. As a woman of 53, comfortably and contentedly living alone, I have learned that “home” is something I bring with me, something I create for myself – houses are what I’m shopping for – the container in which to put my home. 😀 Honestly, that makes the shopping much easier. At 18, and even at 35, I shopped for homes, and felt endlessly disappointed not to find one.

I finish my coffee smiling. Enjoying a few moments of conversation with my Traveling Partner before moving on with the day. I’ve some adulting to do this morning: laundry, vacuuming, cleaning the kitchen and bathroom. Home-making. Good skills to have, worthy practices for taking care of me. First, a hike in the mild Pacific Northwest winter. Today that’s enough.

 

I’ve no good title today. No subject in mind. No moment that seems noteworthy with which to approach my writing, today. Still… There is this moment to write. I sit with it quietly for some extra moments, waiting for it to “speak to me”. I swallow the last bit of cold coffee from the cup I made for myself around 2 pm, forgetful that it was 2 pm, well after I generally stop drinking coffee for the day. I eat an orange, enjoying the scent of it, the sweetness, and that messy moment grinning like a little kid, when I realize I didn’t think to also grab a napkin or paper towel, or something. There is juice on my fingers and on my face, sticky and sweet. I am in pain. The cold weather, windy, icy rain, sleet, and just winter, wraps my apartment in whatever it takes to remind my body that I have arthritis. Still.  Nothing new there. I endure. I breathe, and relax. At least in this moment, my pain is not calling the shots for me.

The work day is behind me. It started early, because it needed to, and I am done for the day – and for the week. The weekend stretches ahead of me, mostly unconsidered. I have no plans beyond what I am planning not to do. I’m planning not to do Facebook. I’m not doing the news. I’m not doing outrage. I’m not doing angry. I’m planning to gently take care of me, nurture my heart, rest my mind, enjoy some quality time with the woman in the mirror – and maybe I will see my Traveling Partner at some point. It won’t be tonight. The icy weather is foreboding to travelers. That’s okay. It’s a good day to take care of the woman in the mirror, instead. I am already eyeing my yoga mat with some enthusiasm, and thinking wistfully of my meditation cushion. I am looking forward to the gentle evening ahead.

It was an icy morning. My visitors seemed pleased to hang out a while.

It was an icy morning. My visitors seemed pleased to hang out a while.

I sit quietly in this still place. I haven’t put any music on yet today. There is a lovely fire crackling away in the fireplace, and the wind, the wind chime, the birds, and the geese have filled the day with another sort of music. I think about dinner… but… I continue to just be, here, in this moment. Quietly. Still. Content. I think to myself how very much I must have been needing this saturating moment of stillness, to dive into it with such abandon. Perhaps I shall sit quietly all evening? Content to gaze through the patio door into the winter beyond, feeling the warm of the fire… It would be time well-spent. It would be enough.

An entire flock of Canada geese stopped by.

An entire flock of Canada geese stopped by.

I smile, and feel strangely perplexed and muddled for a moment – when did I become this person? When did I develop “a softer side”? When did I learn to really care, and to really love? When did things – material things – stop seeming so important, and when did I stop “keeping score” in the rat race? At some point, I know that I did all of those things. I made changes. Why is it that I don’t remember those changes as specific moments? Slow progress is funny that way – I don’t find it easy to see through the eyes of the woman I once was.

My patience pays off.

My patience pays off.

I breathe. Find myself enjoying this moment, here, just exactly as it is. It’s enough.

I’m thinking this weekend I’ll “take a cleanse” – an emotional cleanse. A heartfelt, welcome moment to detox from the poison filling my day-to-day consciousness (because it is also filling my internet bubble, rather unavoidably, because – like so many people – I care about stuff) seems a bit overdue. I won’t care less. I’ll just set aside the news cycles, set aside Facebook (note to self; this requires actually logging out of it, and also just go ahead and temporarily uninstall it from your handheld, it’s just easier that way), log out of social media accounts, update my home pages so that I get only my blog, and a search tab. That’s step one.

Step two in any good cleanse isn’t just about what I’m not putting into my face holes, it’s also about what I am putting in my face holes. It’ll be a grand opportunity to hike, weather permitting, or read actual books, paint, bird watch, chat with friends… It’s not as if there is some shortage of activities to indulge my senses in real life. I’ll make a point of getting good rest, good nutrition, and getting plenty of exercise. I’ll exercise my brain with content that really challenges my thinking in new ways. I’ll learn. I’ll grow. I’ll heal.

It isn’t that I don’t care. I’m sure not less involved, or taking less action. It’s necessary to really care for the woman in the mirror, or I won’t hold up for the long haul, and may become, over time, progressively more reactive, less rational, more emotional, less reasoned – and there is a balance to be struck. We become what we practice.

It's a good day for practicing effective practices.

It’s a good day for practicing effective practices.

What are you doing to take care of you? What are you practicing? Today is a good day to make each choice count, and to become the person you most want to be. 🙂

I woke this morning feeling calm and sure of myself. I often wake well ahead of the alarm, and wasn’t surprised I had this morning… then I actually looked at the clock, to turn off the alarm that wasn’t what woke me. Huh. It was half an hour later than the alarm would have gone off… I had “slept in”, on a work day, and lucked out by waking up in plenty of time not to rush to work. Fortuitous. I begin the day feeling less complacent, and well-prepared to check my assumptions before they teach me hard life lessons. 🙂

I woke in pain, but it is manageable and an anticipated byproduct of the change to colder temperatures. I do my yoga and more or less mostly manage to disregard my pain. I go to make my coffee, but my preferred coffee is… out. I forgot to get more last night. Damn it. No matter – I make a cup of the coffee my Traveling Partner favors, instead. It’s quite good, but my senses easily recognize that it is different. It colors the morning with that hint of difference… so many of this morning’s details do.

Wind chime

The wind blows without regard to my preference, or my assumptions.

The wind chime on the patio is clanging away rather rudely. I know from this that it is a windy morning. The wind in the tree tops beyond the meadow makes a distance roaring sound that blends with the morning traffic, and the sound of the train even farther beyond the trees. I enjoy the moment precisely as it is, without reservations, and without diminishing it with all the many human dramas playing out across social media, news media, and my Facebook feed. I have not yet looked at any of that. I find the morning starts more pleasantly choosing to save that for later.

I write a bit more. Delete it. I repeat that experience two or three more times, then realize – at least for this morning – I really don’t have more to say, just now. The day starts well in spite of over-sleeping. I am letting it start well. The morning is pleasant in spite of being rather noisy, quite cold, and my coffee tasting not at all like I expect, sip after sip. I am choosing to allow the morning to be pleasant, because the differences in routine and expectation are not the sort that matter (to me)(this morning). It’s still a choice. I could make different ones. I am sufficiently pleased with these choices, here, now, this morning.

So much of my experience is choice. So often the difference between terrible and lovely is only that – the decision I make about the experience I will have. A choice. That’s not even about “positive thinking”, but I find it difficult to communicate how simply and authentically we can transform so many moments through our choices, and through a letting go of assumptions, and being in this moment, right here, now, uncluttered by if/then/maybe, and the narrative in our own heads.

I sip my coffee. I enjoy this moment. Right now, that’s enough. 🙂

I had to remind myself last night, and again this morning. Last night, I hit that point in response to a “pics or it didn’t happen” reply to a comment I made, supporting inclusion and diversity, and being a welcoming human being. I laughed out loud when I read the troll’s demand – I mean, honestly, in all frankness, that isn’t actually how reality works. The lack of a photograph isn’t really a determining factor in whether something is or is not “real”, or whether it happened, or whether you experienced it, or whether that is your perspective. I took a step back. Happy to enjoy the moment of laughter, instead of taking the bait. I moved on with my evening.

images

This morning, again, I got sucked into Facebook, reacting to expressions of hate and frustrated by the weird skewed perspective some people have taken on. I endure only so many “what the fuck??” moments before I remind myself that one of the fundamentals of our very human consciousness is that we are easily able – and prone – to just making shit up that fits our world view and calling that “true”, without any particular attention to whether it really is true, or factually accurate, or even loosely based on something someone actually may have once experienced, ever, at all. It must be equally frustrating to be a person whose world view is constantly challenged, fought, disputed, denied, contradicted, or laughed at… Oh. Wait. That’s like, literally, all of us. Human primates. Damn we’re fancy. It’s not always useful and in our favor, but holy cow we can make some shit up, and then insist it is important.

The hate is hard, though. I’m saddened by the quantity of fear and hate in the world. It would be lovely to halt the tide of hate. I guess… one thing I can do, myself, is to choose not to hate. I’ll work on that. I’ll start by asking clarifying questions, instead of reacting based on my own assumptions. I’ll work on staying mindful that each of us likely thinks of ourselves as the good guy in our own internal narrative. I’ll treat myself, and others – even those with very different thinking – with consideration, empathy, compassion, and start interactions from the assumption that we are all trying to improve things, from our own perspective. Maybe I will learn something useful along the way. Hate is hard work to sustain, and not very productive. 🙂

Still, and again. The very best practices work that way.

Still, and again. The very best practices work that way.

To be clear… I’m no less angry by what I see going on in the news. I’m no less concerned about fascism taking over America – that’s some scary shit, and it’s not okay – but blinding myself with reactivity and stress renders me one more agitated voice in a crowd, and could result in the sort of emotional fatigue that could quickly become learned helplessness. So. I breathe. I back up out of the comments. I think about what matters most, and how to be the woman I most want to be; this is my life. I take care of me, and do my best to take action in the world, in the ways I can – and I do it without disadvantaging anyone else. It’s a good place to start. It’s enough.