Archives for category: gardening

I spent a restless night, dreaming strange dreams, waking, returning to sleep and repeating the cycle without any stress or agita. It was a restless night nonetheless. I had to take a break from some medication I’d been taking, due to other health concerns, and over days wound up standing on the threshold of Hormone Hell once again. Annoying. Now…now I get to adjust to the hormones all over again, and that’s a few restless nights and strange dreams. It’s not so bad – I think I am getting some better at this. 🙂

In other areas of my experience, the endless practicing of practices, compassionately applying fail sauce when needed, and dusting myself off to practice some more is paying off; every day more small details play out in a way that feels, from my perspective, as though it is my experience, indeed, and that I am generally enjoying much of it – and what is not enjoyable, still tends to be reasonable, understandable, and an opportunity to grow. Perspective matters. Good communication basics matter. The will to let things go, and refrain from making someone else’s experience personal to my own – yeah, those things matter a lot. Is life ‘perfect’? Is it ever, for anyone? Listen to some of the peculiarly specific Bitching of the Rich and Shopping sometime, at a place like Whole Foods – even the privileged and the mighty find things to be discontent about. (Can you imagine a mom barely making ends meet on minimum wage complaining in the grocery store about the packaging at the meat counter being a potential choking hazard for her dog – and how her dog will only eat prime rib, but the cook won’t feed the dog, and is she really expected to open the package, herself? I doubt you’ll ever hear such a thing from a woman on minimum wage or assistance. Whole Foods is great place to listen in on privileged foolishness.) There is a lot of perspective to be had in the world, quietly observing fellow human primates in their natural environment – be careful even around the domesticated ones; human primates are quite dangerous, and easily provoked to verbal or physical violence. (They just aren’t as tame as they look.)

Perspective is a very big deal for me. I sometimes move too quickly through my experience, before I give myself the opportunity to reason, and to choose well. This is an effect of disinhibition – I feel, I react –  I have the thought, I say the words; sometimes it is embarrassing and quite public, sometimes it is frustrating and quite lonely. It is a part of my experience, and I am learning practices to help me manage it. The most critical one is probably meditation. The time I have spent so far really embracing stillness, practicing meditation as though it meets the most basic of biological needs – like sleep, like eating, like breathing, like sex – has taken me a very different direction that I had been headed. One that is vastly more positive, compassionate, agreeable, engaging – supportive of the needs of others, without under-cutting my own. One that refuses to abdicate my decision-making, sense of self, or joy, and refuses to over-compromise when it comes to meeting my basic needs as a human being. “Life-changing” is a fair observation. Perspective matters so much that it not only helped me get this far – it helps beat back the not-as-uncommon-as-I’d-like despair that sometimes hits me when I come face to face with having to put myself first among my priorities, and face rejection, resentment, anger, or the defense forces of the status quo; change is not always a comfortable fit for everyone facing it. My changes impact the experience of others who interact with me. The limitations of my injury sometimes leave me unprepared that what I want and need and will be good for me may face opposition, or be in conflict with the needs of others. There’s perspective, standing by for me in the those moments, reminding me to be kind, compassionate, and remain focused on what matters most – to me.

Like awaiting the inevitable first rose of spring, it is important to trust the process, and know that mindful living, good self-care, and putting my oxygen mask on first will take the journey in a positive direction.  "Baby Love" in the garden, the most loved rose in my garden opens first this year.

Like awaiting the inevitable first rose of spring, it is important to trust the process.
“Baby Love”, the most loved rose in my garden opens first this year.

Sometimes I have a peculiar feeling that I ‘don’t know who I am’; it always passes when I realize what I am feeling is really the chasm between who I am, in my own experience, and how different that is than who I sense I have been defined as external to my own experience, by others. Lucky me, this one’s easy; I am the sole and exclusive subject matter expert on my experience, on how I feel – on who I am. There is no ‘second opinion’, only other perspectives not my own. Better still? I choose. I decide. I create my experience. No, those things are not ‘selfish’ in any inappropriate or cruel sense; they are a natural statement of personal power and autonomy, utterly necessary for self-love, self-compassion, self-assurance, and a comfortable sense of self. The Art of Being would seem to require that I go right ahead and be; it’s a verb, and the verb is to choose. 🙂

Today is a good day for choices, for changes, and for love. Today is a good day to be at the top of my own agenda. Today is a good day to embrace what I love about who I am. Today is a good day to enjoy my experience.

 

When I worry, it’s nearly always about something that is a potential consequence of something or other already seemingly set in motion by an action or choice made sometime previously. I rarely feel anxiety, or find myself worrying, about the moment right now. At least for me, that isn’t how worrying works. I wonder, though, if whatever it is that is causing my stress hasn’t happened yet, why am I worried? If the action or choice made that has the potential to result in the worrisome outcome hasn’t yet – why, again, am I bothering to worry? Worry seems mostly pretty pointless, and of less real value than good planning, being engaged in the moment, and making the best choices I know to make, moment to moment.

I woke this morning feeling very groggy, and haven’t quite shaken it off. Interestingly, after some minutes of consideration of the blank page in front of me, the paragraph above is what came of it. No particular reason why, although I have been contemplating some experiences relevant to decision-making, free will, and choices in the past few days.

Wednesday morning flowers, a lovely metaphor for a moment of illumination.

Wednesday morning flowers, a lovely metaphor for a moment of illumination.

Yesterday was a good Wednesday. Better still, it was a good appointment day. Circumstances seem, generally, to be unfolding in a comfortable way. It’s a pleasantly comfortable feeling, and although I woke feeling groggy, I am enjoying the morning’s calm greatly. It feels like a morning to be practical, and to deal with practical things. It feels like a morning to continue good self-care practices, and to handle day-to-day tasks with efficiency. There’s no loss of pleasantness over any of that; the practical things are as much of life as the whimsical ones, and have their purpose and their place in my experience.

Each choice I make does have consequences, some good, some less so, some having no specific quality along that spectrum. I make my choices based on what I anticipate the consequences will likely be; I live my life from the perspective of what the outcomes of my choices actually are [from my perspective]. Expectations are what arise when I am so focused on an anticipated outcome that I don’t notice the unintended consequence that may have also occurred, or the very different outcome that resulted altogether, instead. Attachment is that bit of nastiness when having noticed that the outcome wasn’t what I expected, I don’t let go of the expectation and I create struggle within myself, and the burden of the resulting discontent. All that makes it every so clear how important this ‘now’ moment truly is; I can be awake, aware, engaged in this now moment, observing the developing consequence of previous actions, continue to adjust my perspective, adapt my understanding to the moments in motion, and walk a brighter path altogether – perhaps not entirely free of attachment, nor immune to the power of expectations, but more easily able to recognize my own humanity, treat myself with compassion, and make needed course-corrections in my decision-making, based on best meeting my needs over time. Incremental change – incremental decision-making – and practice.

I’ve spent too many years bullying myself. I finally took notice of how much that hurts me, and how much it tends to reinforce old damage, bad bits of out-dated programming, and how much it interferes with growth and progress. I think I can easily take the time to treat myself well – not just good physical self-care, but really truly appreciate myself, the work I’ve put in so far, the wonderful qualities of mind that I value in myself, and show myself a little self-compassion and simple kindness day-to-day. I’ve been pretty hard on me.

Wednesday afternoon flowers, ending a day filled with light.

Wednesday afternoon flowers, ending a day filled with light.

Today is a good day to be kind – to myself, too. Today is a good day to let worries go; they either haven’t happened yet, or they are already behind me. Today is a good day to appreciate the powerful beauty of a sunrise – or a daydream. Today is a good day to enjoy myself, enjoying my self, enjoying the world.

The evening ends quietly, after a pleasantly productive day that felt more recreational than not. I spent much of it gardening…well…on such tasks as gardening offers at the tail end of winter, preparing for planting to come. Things will turn to spring seemingly overnight; I take advantage of pleasantly sunny or dry days getting ready for it. I share my love of gardening and growing things with my traveling partner, and we pass a lot of time talking about plants, gardening, techniques, yield… It’s strangely intimate, which I attribute to the undercurrent of love that is so palpable when we are together.

I’m not ready for sleep, but I am no longer feeling like companionship. These last few minutes of evening are my own; I sift through the events, interactions, and thoughts of the day, and consider them more thoroughly. I take time to savor the most pleasant moments. I make a disciplined practice of pausing ever so briefly on moments that troubled me, taking only such time as needed to observe, non-judgmentally, and moving on to other moments. It doesn’t feel natural to linger so willfully on all the things that felt the best, and delighted me most, nonetheless, it is a practice that tends to create a more positive experience overall, day-to-day, and finding and maintaining balance seems easier, generally. It most certainly counts as treating myself well.

Today wasn’t fancy, and that doesn’t matter at all; today was enough.

Some of the very best moments are the simplest of pleasures. Few things are more wonderful than love and coffee shared on a relaxed morning.

Some of the very best moments are the simplest of pleasures. Few things are more wonderful than love and coffee shared on a relaxed morning.

I am thinking of a hot summer day, humid, sweltering in the still air, waiting for a summer storm, or a breeze, or an excuse to retreat to any room with an air conditioner in the window. I am thinking of the past. It is a metaphor playing out a bit like a video in my imagination. Car on blocks in the driveway, hood up, and a sweat soaked mechanic head down over the engine, peering into the darkness below the machinery, gesturing vaguely with a wrench and calling out probably relevant information over her shoulder. “Yep…Here’s yer problem! Wiring’s crossed. You got no spark.”

It’s not a moment of ‘real’, it is a fiction, and I smile as I walk on toward the light rail station to head to work, thinking about the things that work, the things that don’t, and the colorful gentle humor of the way I ‘communicate with myself’ while I walk – not quite fiction, not quite memory, sort of ‘live action’, something like a screenplay, a bit like watching a ‘choose your own adventure’ video… and as useful as any other thought I might craft, truly, without the potential hurts of assuming it is ‘real’ and therefore more valid, or valued, than other thinking. I let my imagination jump the chasm across my injury to bring insights from me to myself. lol I learn some things through my mind’s eye and the Theater of Absurd Conclusions… and sometimes I just enjoy it.

Spring is approaching. My daydreams are filled with trails, trees, wee creatures watching warily as I pass, plans for hikes, and camping to come, and thoughts of home, and home making. (Go ahead, define the difference between ‘house’ and ‘home’ and get back to me; I’ll wait.) I am in a place in life when ‘putting down roots’ and feeling at home – really ‘at home’ – matters a great deal… but it isn’t something I’ve experienced very often in life, and learning good practices for building a sense of home isn’t as simple as it once seemed in the abstract.

…I am quite fortunate to be well-supported, emotionally, by my traveling partner on life’s journey (and… the secret is out – that’s why he is my ‘traveling partner’; we are traveling, together, on life’s journey). It’s quite a long trip from where I once was, to where I someday hope to be – it’s nice having some company along the way. 🙂

So for now, I walk on, still learning, still practicing, still putting intent and will (and some verbs) into finding my way ‘home’.

I can feel at home in a tent, among the trees... so home is not a building.

I can feel at home in a tent, among the trees… so home is not a building.

There's something about garden flowers that feels like home.

There’s something about garden flowers that feels like home.

Home is where the art is.

Home is where the art is. “Summer Meadow” 12″x16″ acrylic on canvas w/glow. 2014

 

Feeling at home transcends permanence.

Feeling at home can transcend permanence of place, but I don’t count on it; some places never feel like home.

Home is a feeling...

Home is a feeling… or a matter taste.

Something that connects who we once were...

Something that connects who we once were…

...and who we are, now...

…and who we are, now…

...with what matters most. "You Always Have My Heart" 8" x 10" acrylic on canvas with glow.

…with what matters most.
“You Always Have My Heart” 8″ x 10″ acrylic on canvas with glow.

How will I "find my way home"? "Daytime in The Nightmare City" 10" x 14" acrylic on canvas with glow, glitter and micaceous oxide. Indoor light, charged. 2014

How will I “find my way home”?
“Daytime in The Nightmare City” 10″ x 14″ acrylic on canvas with glow, glitter and micaceous oxide. Indoor light, charged. 2014

 

 

It’s an expression that’s come up a couple of times in a variety of conversations – one of them was even about flight safety on an air craft, but that’s by far the exception. Generally I hear something about ‘putting your own oxygen mask on first’ as a metaphor, delivered in the context of a conversation relevant to taking care of one’s self, and whether doing so is ‘selfish’ or necessary. Logically, of course, it isn’t ever ‘necessary’ to take care of myself, not even at all; the necessity of it is related to the desired outcome.

Large numbers of human beings manage to get through what amounts to a lifetime without ever really taking care of themselves, their own needs, the needs of their heart, mind, body, or soul.  Some number of those people are in exploitative relationships that may have some symbiotic qualities; they get some return on investment in met needs, that sustains them over time and makes life endurable, or profitable. Others are simply used up, eventually, and cast aside. Some invest heavily of themselves without regret, in the lives and needs of others, and find their sustenance therein; lives of service, contemplation, or consecration to a cause are not without value. Aside from the logic, and obviousness, that taking care of me isn’t an absolute necessity… I’ve got to admit that the quality of my everyday experience of life, of love, of me, myself, is much improved by taking care of me. Learning to be emotionally self-sufficient seems a valuable next step.

The puzzles get more complicated as life’s lessons become more advanced. When faced with complicated moments, challenging decisions, and uncertainty – what’s the key point? What can I balance all the rest on and be assured that my choices and decision-making have a firm foundation in both reality and my values? That’s generally when it comes up…’put your own oxygen mask on first’. In a crisis on an aircraft, they always say it specifically regarding taking care of young, ill, or injured passengers; the most vulnerable among us. “Put your own oxygen mask on first.” Well sure – because if I fail to do so ‘in time’, I could lose consciousness and be unable to help others. That matters. Among those others I would then be unable to help? Yep. Me.

Knowing that I need to ‘put my own oxygen mask on first’ doesn’t always make putting verbs in action a whole lot easier…but it gives me something to count on, a starting point that is a reliable best practice. It complicates matters that this particular aircraft (to continue the metaphor) is just packed to the rooftop with people and things I love. Some choices can wait, and forcing decision-making isn’t necessary; events unfold whether I make choices or not, and that is also something I can rely on. Taking care of me is still my highest priority, generally; my unique issues and challenges require I not lose focus on it, no one else has the same understanding of my needs. Today life’s curriculum seems to be about learning to balance taking care of me, and holding the needs of dear ones close to me, preserving good intentions, acting on the best of my will, following practices of non-harm – of myself as well as others – and being mindful that although we are all connected and interdependent, all ‘in this together’, we are also very much having our own experience.

Honest is never enough, there’s also Kind to consider.  Love so often feels like it ‘gives me everything’; Love is the most demanding of emotions, and requires the best of me to thrive. Life sometimes feels like an endurance race – when I feel as if there is a ‘finish line’, a time commitment, or urgency, I’ve generally been blown off course, somewhere; mindfulness practices are still the most powerful Rx I’ve had, and practiced from a place of compassion and love, easily ‘bring me home’ to the only moment in which change is possible. Some days doing my best, directed outwardly toward the world, just isn’t going to meet the needs I have myself.

Each time for the first time, each moment, the only moment...

Each time for the first time, each moment, the only moment…

Today is a good day to put my own oxygen mask on first. Today is a good day to change the world.