Archives for category: gardening

It’s a good question, I think. What matters most? It’s right up there with “what will best meet my needs over time?” and “based on what?”, which is another exceptional question for figuring things out.  I like ‘figuring things out’, although I doubt I’m particularly skilled at it.

Figuring things out along the way.

Figuring things out along the way.

These are important questions for other reasons, too. What we don’t know about ourselves, we can’t share.  This becomes incredibly important for me, in my everyday life, pretty regularly these days. It’s a matter of change and growth and love; I have changed, and grown, and I love.  How will my loves treat me well with any ease if they don’t know me, too? How will they know me as I grow and change if I don’t share? So. Yeah.

When we are explicit about our needs and desires, it is easier to fulfill them.

When we are explicit about our needs and desires, it is easier to fulfill them.

Let’s talk specifics. I headed home with eagerness some nights ago, and had built expectations of being received with similar eagerness, based on earlier conversations via email. I was excited to be heading home, and looking forward to the evening at home. I punched in the door code, stepped over the threshold and called out a happy greeting to… silence.  I stalled a little, emotionally, and felt real disappointment; there was no one there to greet me…but…I was expected that similar eagerness for the evening, and had in my recollection explicit expressions of desire to enjoy  my company. I felt a little hurt, and foolish over that on top of it, because it seemed rather a childlike level of heartsick disappointment for so small a thing. A closed door at the back of the house quietly advised that my loves were busy with love elsewhere. No stress there, I was focused on getting settled after work, and content but for the poignant twinge of sadness over not being welcomed home. Over a few minutes, as it lingered, I felt irritated with myself because I was also unavoidably aware I’d never said to any partner, perhaps ever, that the moment of being welcomed home after being away – for a day, a week, for work, or play – really matters to me. It’s meaningful. For me.  Having not said so, and given my partners a fair opportunity to choose to meet that need, I left my heart out in the cold. Sad. It got me thinking about how I do or don’t communicate what matters, and why I make the choices I do, and other partners, in other times, whose choices were different from my own, and what the outcomes where of those choices, too.

From lattes...

From lattes and hardbound journals…

Who am I? Do my partners know me, really know me? So much growth and change in less than two years –  hell, over the course of a lifetime!

...to black coffee and blogging.

…to black coffee and blogging.

I took a work seminar, based on some Franklin Covey material, many years ago. It was called ‘What Matters Most‘, and was structured around the huge day planners so many of us carried at the time, and using that tool to really live life well. I remember being surprised that it was considered ‘work-related’ – afterward, I really wanted to head right out, quit my job, and live unfettered by professional concerns, sleeping late, painting, making love, sipping espresso and watching the world go by. lol It didn’t enhance my work productivity in the slightest, but it was an early warning that I was on a path heading for change.

I am still contemplating ‘what matters most’ to me, about me, in my own experience, myself.  What matters most to me has changed, as I have changed myself. I think it makes sense to communicate more of that than I do. I’d rather not mope around feeling wounded because something of great importance to me is overlooked, and I don’t see that there’s much potential in some of the little things that do matter having their day if I don’t actually say they matter.  (Am I stalling? It could appear that way, and I did grow up in circumstances under which the fastest route to losing something loved was to say it had value or importance; it would be immediately used a resource for punishment, point-making, or torment. Then is not now, and there is no reason to fear, now.) So, for practice, some simple things that matter to me a great deal, in my now.

I enjoy being welcomed home when I return from work, or from traveling. It feels warm, loving, and inclusive. It matters to me very much.

I enjoy sharing my rose garden, showing off the latest blooms, talking about plans, or sitting quietly and breathing the scents of the season, and watching small birds at play. This too, really matters to me.

I enjoy hugs, long, close, lingering hugs, body to body, timeless moments, no rush. They feel amazing, and fill most of my day-to-day needs for contact and closeness. Oh yeah, also – matters a lot. I wilt without it.

I enjoy walks. Long walks. Short walks. Walks through floral gardens. Walks through industrial areas and construction sites. I love what my thoughts do while I walk. I enjoy conversations about life and philosophy and love while I walk.  Very few bad moods survive a pleasant walk, in my experience. Walking matters to me beyond the mechanics of movement, like sleep, it restores and heals my soul.

I enjoy being touched, but loathe the unexpected touch of strangers. This one, explicit about touch, is implicit about boundaries – and perhaps it is my boundaries that ‘matter most’.  I am only lately learning to respect them myself.

My loves matter to me, and that they are easily able to love me in return also matters to me. I love to delight them unexpectedly. I love to devote some measure of time to humble service to hearth and home, to nurture our family as a family, to build a solid foundation for life together – a long life together.  Indeed, this one matters so much to me, that small everyday frustrations that threaten my sense of family cohesion and harmony easily leave me feeling damaged and alone.

Now… it matters, too, to share what matters with the ones who matter to me. 😀  There’s a lot of matter in the universe. lol (Thank you, I’ll be here all week…)

Today is a good day to take the time to see what a good day it is.

Today is a good day to take the time to see what a good day it is.

Today is a good day to love, to love well, to love wholeheartedly, to love fearlessly. Today is a good day to change the world.

 

Language is funny stuff. I’m sure I’ve commented on that before. Consider the verb ‘to be’. Is. Isn’t. Am. Are. Were. We toss ‘is’ around like we really know something. I find it pretty limiting, because life isn’t often quite so simple as ‘is/is not’. A shift in perspective, a change in the way we’ve defined some term, and the whole world may look entirely new, with a different variety of possibilities spread wide before me. ‘Is’, generally isn’t as much as I’d like it to be, or however convenient it might make the outcome of a choice, or my understanding of the world around me.

I’m learning to question ‘is’. Is it? Is it also something else? lol  It’s not a matter of doubting my sanity, or any uncertainty beyond the necessary basic requirement to be open to possibilities, I’m simply finding – often – that assumptions are not ‘truth’, that perspective is often the key to critical thinking, and that a firm ‘is’ can carry hidden limits, boundaries, and complications that prevent growth.

Being, however, is. Just that. Being. I am.

I rarely find that being, itself, is ‘the problem’. I often find that some use of a form of the verb ‘to be’ features heavily in conflicts both large and small. [I suddenly imagine a missionary, black pants, white button-front shirt, with a book and an earnest look asking “Have you read about E Prime?”]

Expectations, assumptions, and the word ‘is’ are all it takes to get me completely messed up emotionally over nothing at all.  I’m learning other ways. Last night, for example, was a lovely homecoming – it didn’t resemble my notions of that particular homecoming even a little bit. Not at all similar to my expectations – which were unavoidably based on my assumptions. It was lovely, though, and warm, and totally worthy all on its own.  🙂  It felt satisfying to enjoy it, without troubleshooting it, accepting the moments and the emotions and just enjoying my life.

Today is a good day to be open to possibilities. Today is a good day to smile and share a funny story. Today is a good day for a coffee with a friend. Today is a good day to love. Today is a good day to change the world.

Today is.

Today is.

Pleasure, delight, warmth, connection, intimacy, affection, regard… love…sometimes I feel so moved to say something about feelings. Do the joys and delights of human emotion ‘go without saying’? Well, sure, but… would they be more completely savored, relished with more thoroughness, or more powerful with a few words of review, commentary, or critique?

Pure and simple, without adornment, excuse, or context.

Pure and simple, without adornment, excuse, or context.

 

Yesterday I took a day to explore sufficiency in my emotional experience by not commenting about feelings, as much as I could find the will to resist doing so.  I worked on being present, feeling the feelings, enjoy my experience, being open to the moment, whatever it might be, and feeling the currents and shifts in my emotional experience without additional words – not just refraining from judging them, but also withholding stream-of-consciousness commentary moment-to-moment.

Like a cat in the sunshine; enjoy the moment that is.

Like a cat in the sunshine; enjoy the moment that is.

It was a hit and miss endeavor, and I’d be surprised if anyone noticed a changed outcome as much as I noticed the subtle change in will and effort, from within.

I did find that the effort to simply experience my experience without that added commentary (internal or verbalized) created a lot more awareness and presence for really listening with my whole attention, which seems very worthwhile, and had some lovely positive outcomes in improved intimacy, and engagement.  Getting to that wasn’t as easy as ‘well, I’ll just stop talking now…’. It’s a practice that goes a bit beyond that; I am learning to find sufficiency in living my experience in the moment, absent commentary. For now, that means my commentary, but at some point, I am hoping that my comfort with being present and open to my whole emotional experience without having to download critical commentary and analysis on some unwitting being will become, over time, a level of comfort within that reduces my vulnerability to suffering in the face of perceived criticism, generally.  I’m not just allowing myself to experience my emotional life without commentary, I’m doing so with acceptance and compassion.

This is an exercise that also highlights with extraordinary clarity how much of my day-to-day suffering is a product of my thinking, and nothing to do with my experience, at all.  That’s good stuff to know.

It began simply enough; I wanted to focus on hearing positive feedback in a positive way, and able to accept without disagreement, mitigation, or minimization the pleasant things my partner says about me, about us, about love.  My goal was to acknowledge compliments and positive feedback pleasantly, and appreciatively, without undercutting the moment with more words. It wasn’t any fancier than that. It wasn’t any more scientific or structured.  The results were worth the exploration, and I am very much inclined to continue to make an everyday effort to hear nice words, enjoy the moment, be appreciative, and then … move on, returning promptly to being.

Sometimes ‘being the change’ I wish to see in my world begins with a step in a direction I didn’t know to take…and sometimes taking a step is enough to illuminate the path ahead, at least a little bit. 🙂

Perhaps it goes without saying...

Perhaps it goes without saying…

Today is a good day to listen more, and talk less. Today is a good day to be grateful for small pleasures. Today is a good day for sincere thanks. Today is a good day to change the world.

It was an interesting weekend. Hormones, a homecoming, and the fun of a traveler’s tales wove a narrative with some ups and downs, some challenges, and some real delights. Spring in the garden and along the shorter walks I can manage on this knee gave up some wonderful pictures to enjoy, and some perspective on what matters most that helped me stay balanced and grounded as much as I could manage with the choices I made.

The loveliness of spring is, whatever else may also be.

The loveliness of spring is, whatever else may also be.

I am an imperfect being, human, alive, and more fragile than I expect to be. I suspect we all are.  I don’t make my best choices under stress; more stuff causes me stress than seems rational, necessary, or wise. From a distance it is comical, up close it is as likely to provoke tears of frustration. Hormone hell? Yeah, I still deal with it. I’ve got just 55 days now until I can ‘officially’ say I have ‘gone through menopause’. More hilarity; that doesn’t actually offer any real guarantee I won’t ever ever ever have a period, or that my hormones won’t turn some invisible corner and wreak havoc in my life for hours or days… just that it is less likely by far, and I am easily labelled ‘past my child-bearing years’. lol.  Not a great demonstration of medical precision. Still… 55 days left, and I am eager to be done with it.

A single raindrop doesn't say much about the weather.

A single raindrop doesn’t say much about the weather.

I’m excited that my partner returned from his getaway with restored enthusiasm for getting out into the world, into the wild, for hiking, camping, fishing… and I’m jealous, more than I want to share, more than seems fair.  I’d like to share those experience with him.  Arthritis. Knees. Ankle. I’m struggling with pain and mobility on a level that would likely make any sort of challenging hike not even a little bit fun for either of us to ‘enjoy’ together, at least for now.  The irony of it seems more than a little cruel to me. Damn, though, I love seeing him interested in something fun and energetic, and ‘all his own’. Newness and learning open the doors to fantastic conversation and connection; everyone needs to have their own thing, their own experiences, otherwise – what is there to ‘share’?

We serve love best when we are more than a reflection of each other.

We serve love best when we are more than a reflection of each other.

I approach life more fearlessly these days… which apparently has a down-side I had not anticipated.  For so many years I’ve kept my anger in check with fear… so… now what? It’s a scary question with some amount of urgency behind it because… I’m angry a lot.  I’d like to think not abusively so, but… anger is nasty shit. How is anger ever not at all abusive? I don’t know many people who don’t find someone else’s anger at least uncomfortable, and often ‘too much’ or ‘inappropriate’ to the circumstances or magnitude of the event. So… it’s now time to work on anger, and not just that, time to work on Anger, too. The big A. The anger that doesn’t die. The Anger that has festered over years. The Anger as a meta-emotion.  Rage. Fury. The thing that takes over and escapes my control; now is the time to unchain the beast and teach it some manners.

Stormy weather...

Stormy weather…

It’s a little scary to know that it’s time to face the Anger, best it, and move on to other things. Like a fearless hero in a legend, I am facing a foe and uncertain of the outcome – this is the big one. This is the demon I must conquer to take a next step to healing the worst damage, because that ‘worst damage’ to which I refer is the source and well-spring of that vast untamed sea of Anger. To set foot on that damaged shore, I must find a way to safely navigate that sea.

Vast, but sometimes not everything it appears to be.

Vast, but sometimes not everything it appears to be.

I wanted a more relaxed, gentle, calm weekend than the one I had, however as a student of life, and perpetually a beginner with practicing mindfulness, I value the lesson. I benefited from the opportunity to examine old problems from new angles.  I appreciate the real experience of being supported by my partner, and also seeing what that demands of my partner and that there may be more I can do for myself to alleviate the burden. A weekend with less easy delight and charm that I allowed myself to look forward to (and expectations are the motherfucker of all good times, without question), and a lot of intimacy, vulnerability and depth of connection, and opportunities to share, get close emotionally, and talk through hard stuff.  I’m inclined to call it a ‘great weekend’ in spite of the opportunities for tears.  Anyone taking the quantity of my tears personally, who wasn’t around in the 60s, 70s, and 80s is probably missing the point of my tears.

In general, life is quite lovely.

In general, life is quite lovely.

I miss my other partner, and it’ll be nice to have her home and hear her tales of adventure in the big city.  I allow myself to look forward to it with real delight, in spite of that wee demon whispering in my ear about things and other things.  We choose so much of our reality. Today is a good day to choose joy. Today is a good day to choose compassion. Today is a good day to remember – every time – that we are each having our own experience, and the irritability of that person over there (whoever, wherever) isn’t about us.

Perspective. Mindfulness. Sufficiency. Savoring the small delights more than I rail about the disappointments makes an important difference.

Perspective. Mindfulness. Sufficiency. Savoring the small delights more than I rail about the disappointments makes an important difference.

I feel pretty close to understanding something…

This weekend was well-spent on healing and wellness, gardening, love, meditation; it was a delightfully quiet weekend.  In spite of aching knees, juggling a cane, and the frequent heavy rain showers, I spent much of the weekend in the garden, hands in the earth, feet on the ground, eyes skyward or focused on some tiny wonder.  The fresh spring air, and dampness of raindrops on my skin as they loose from where they had collected, when I brush by unconcerned, soaks into my skin, into my heart. I feel refreshed and whole and free.

There have been few places or times in my life when I had no garden at all.  Even in apartment living, I’ve generally had at least some potted herbs, perhaps a rose, or a potted tree of some sort. In 32 years of adult life, I’ve been without a garden for only about 5 years. Some gardens were a continuous struggle with drought, heat, rain, drainage, bugs, critters, in-laws, distance…something. It isn’t always easy. Actually, it’s rarely ‘easy’. Gardening is work, and commitment, and planning, and more of all that and trouble-shooting on top of it.  Long before I heard the word ‘mindfulness’ used in a sentence, I found ‘now’ in my garden. Healing perspective is in my garden. A breath of fresh air, that too, I can find in my garden. A few minutes of stillness, some wonder, excitement, a bit of novelty, a sense of home, peace and contentment, adventure…all in my garden. Lush greens, dark corners, hidden corners of peace and loveliness, and the occasional stray flower of a sort I don’t recall planting; my garden has been the foundation and safe deposit box of whatever sanity I could hang on to, in many years of my life.

Remember the gazing ball that was broken last year? I replaced it Sunday.

The new gazing ball, honoring the hold one; this one already broken, a mosaic of shattered glass.

The new gazing ball, honoring the hold one; this one already broken, a mosaic of shattered glass.

It was that sort of weekend in the garden. I puttered around tying off loose ends, finishing projects, following up on things, taking a second look… it was a weekend for pleasure and perspective.

...And a new bird bath.

…And a new bird bath.

I sometimes overlook how healing I find the garden. A moment of OPD or weirdness, a flare up of my arthritis, or a trip to hormone hell, and even though I know how healing the garden can be, it isn’t always my first destination on that journey. Still human. I checked.

Beauty feels so good.

Beauty feels so good.

It’s worth taking the time to ‘be’ in the garden. Permanence is not relevant. I had allowed myself to be distracted by impermanence, somehow. Perhaps tomorrow, or next year, or 5 years from now, this will not be my garden. Is that important now? Now is the garden as I stand in it. It needn’t wait for another day, or more certainty, or something better, or more of… it needn’t wait at all.  The garden has planning and future, and daydreaming, of course, and all that is as lovely as soap bubbles on a spring breeze. The garden is a very ‘right now’ place nonetheless.  It has my history, my present, and my future along stone paths, and held in bright pots, unfolding each moment as a seed of some ‘next time’.

My history. "Splish-Splash" rose [Moore. 1994]  I've had this miniature, this very plant, with me since 1995.

My history. “Splish-Splash” rose [Moore. 1994] I’ve had this miniature, this very plant, with me since 1995.

I have moved a lot. I’ve had more than one garden. I’ll likely have others. Each is precious to me, and each is ‘my garden’ for all the days I tend it. I hold nothing back; I garden now, even though the future is not assured.

The garden is my future, as well as my now, holding my daydreams gently.  Seedlings of the California poppy border I planted this spring are just coming up now.

The garden is my future, as well as my now, holding my daydreams gently. Seedlings of the California poppy border I planted this spring are just coming up now.

This weekend I enjoyed the garden and let life’s small drama’s pass me by as much as possible.  It made for a beautiful weekend, and a lovely ‘now’.

Today is a good day to smile and make eye contact with strangers. Today is a good day to listen to the answers to questions, and hear more than words. Today is a good day to enjoy the spring. Today is a good day for kindness and wonder. Today is a good day to change the world.