Archives for category: inspiration

I guess, being so close to Halloween, I can’t really bitch too much about a good scare… but… I sure wasted some precious writing time having a wee freak out. lol

I sat down this morning with my coffee, a bit groggy, still waking up… A small white-ish spider scurried from under my laptop and raced along the edge to the desk and disappeared. Ick. Not a fan, really. I don’t suffer from arachnophobia any more, but I also definitely do not want spiders in my immediate personal space, or… on me. Ick. Nope. All the nope.

I was keeping half a wary eye out for that spider to come back. This was not sufficient to prepare me for Spider-geddon, at all. Oh yeah. It was… extra. Definitely more than enough spiders, when that one wee white-ish spider zipping along became what seemed like fucking dozens of wee spiders spilling out from the keyboard tray, just behind/under my actual damned keyboard. No. Nonononononononono. Not any of this. At all. Fucking hell. ICK. Fuck no.

…It wasn’t Spider-geddon because there were spiders and I object to that. No, not really. It was Spider-geddon because of all the murders that immediately ensued as I began my campaign of death against them. Yeah. Straight up. Killed mostly all of them, and wiped their ancestral home from existence. I left no survivors – or so I told myself with grim satisfaction. Yikes.

My morning is interrupted. One last panicked shiver runs up my spine as I wash my hands, after also re-applying a barrier spray where needed. Autumn in Oregon. Showers of spiders. Avalanches of spiders. Corners, crevasses, and dark spaces filled with spiders. So not okay. Stay off my desk, damn.

Weekend project? I’m definitely tidying up my fucking desk!

It’s time to begin again. πŸ˜€

I sat in traffic seething, most of the way home. I got home feeling aggravated, mostly without any reason for it. It had been a difficult (and weird) day in the office, but honestly none of it really needed an emotional response, so… what was up with me? 0_o

I wasn’t having an easy time sorting it out, and a flash of inspiration took me back to childhood.

…Oh, I remember… πŸ™‚

There were these coloring pages, nearly always captioned “what’s wrong with this picture”, with the goal to find the “mistakes” in the image. From that moment of inspired recollection, I moved on to visualizing myself, exactly as I was, and started “looking for the mistakes” in a self-care context.

  1. Was I in pain? Yeah, that was probably contributing to my experience, for sure.
  2. Was I thirsty? Well, I’d had nothing but coffee yet… and it was well past 3 pm, so… probably. Shit.
  3. Was I hungry? Shit. I’d entirely overlooked any sort of lunch, so… yeah. Low blood sugar, too, probably. Shit.
  4. What about medication, was I on track for all that, too? Well… no. Hardly.
  5. …And I hadn’t even gotten up from my desk once aside from going to two meetings on my calendar. Yikes.

No wonder I was cranky and feeling disproportionately angry with small things. Who wouldn’t be angry after being treated in such a crappy way all fucking day? I went ahead and chilled the fuck out, calmed myself with reminders that I could, in fact, manage my behavior 100%, regardless how I experience my emotions in the moment. (What a relief, eh?)(Seriously – can be done. You control your behavior completely.)

I got home safely. I rarely take OTC pain relievers (for good reasons), and last night I made an exception; it made a difference pretty quickly. I had a big big glass of cold water – from the tap – and took time to experience and savor the moment of gratitude that I have safe drinking water on tap. I made a fluffy scramble of eggs and chopped dark leafy greens of various sorts, and enjoyed having refrigeration and a decently well-stocked pantry. I generously partook of the tasty cannabis at hand. My nerves unwound. I found myself feeling more than soothed… merry? Content, certainly.

Take care of this fragile vessel, humans, and this fragile vessel will insulate you from a lot of drama and bullshit. Treat it like crap, and a crappy experience is what you can expect to endure. Just saying. Don’t make it harder than it has to be. lol

Today? Today I’ll do better. Today? Today, I’ll begin again. πŸ˜€

Where are you right now? Where are you going?

A city “made of gold”…only… it isn’t, at all, it’s “just a city”…only… it’s more than that…

Can you answer either of those questions without also answering the other? Is that why so many people seem to feel so lost?

It is a quiet morning in the company of friends. Sufficient. Unembellished. No spin. No argument. Just these moments. It’s quite lovely.

Are you present in this moment? Are you authentically you – and also making a point to be the person you most want to be?

I sit here smiling. Right now? Right now this is easy. πŸ™‚

I admit I love the increasing cultural encouragement to embrace our authentic selves that I see popping up everywhere, often in the form of a response to some thing or other, phrased as “do you”. I like that. Definitely. Do you. Be you. Invest in you. Grow your brand – and your self. Explore who you are. All that sounds pretty awesome, and very supportive and encouraging… but…

…It also sounds “too easy”. I know, I know. Authenticity is actually pretty fucking daring, even now, and it requires self-awareness, self-compassion, openness, honesty on this whole other level a lot of people are not prepared for, and a willingness to let go of attachment to our own assumptions about who we in fact our, when those conflict with who we in fact are.Β It’s not actually easy to be our authentic selves in a culture built on controlling people through their insecurities, fears, and doubts. It’s even… brave. There’s still another “but” to move beyond…

…It’s also not enough to just drift in a sea of our own filth and basic bullshit. It’s not really the ideal “do you” scenario, is it? To just… stall in life and make no attempt to become the person we most want to be? To just… rest, assume the most slack possible approach to the question “who am I?”, and just… not bother doing more or being better? I mean… aren’t we capable of more?

This morning I am thinking about what it means to “do me” and how I can become the woman I most want to be. I know there are choices to make. There are verbs involved. I know my results with vary. I know that being authentic – truly frank and real – with the human being in the mirror has to come first, and be reliably a thing I do for myself, without fail. I know I have more questions. More opportunities. More chances to begin again.

I guess I’ll get started on that now… πŸ˜‰

The world is going to do what the world is going to do. We are mortal creatures, and short-lived ones at that, relative to the vastness of time itself. Humanity may not survive its own poor choices. Seems fair, really; we’ve given a great many other species very little voice in their demise. We are killers. Rapists. Thieves. Liars. Spoiled-rotten bad-tempered children, with little real awareness of the experience of others – at our worst. Our best is something very different from all of that, but we’ve really got to work at it, each of us, quite individually, and generally without any significant encouragement.

This, right now, may be one of those times when we’ll need to work hard to be the human beings we most want to be, and we’re going to have to do it in the face of some brutally clueless, demeaning, fairly horrible bullshit. I’m talking about the Kavanaugh hearings and vote (which I guess will happen today) for his position on the Supreme Court. You just fucking know they are going to vote to confirm him, in spite of all we’ve heard, because they literally do not care about rape, at all (chances are, there are quite a few rapists in office), and do not care about women, and this is something they have stated quite frankly, and voted reliably to prove, time and again. So… yeah. Swallow that one, folks. It’s real, and it’s bitter.

I don’t know what it means for our nation, or for the world, but I know one thing it means for Brett Kavanaugh, if he is confirmed; he’ll spend that lifetime appointment secure in the knowledge that although his privilege as a white male one him his seat, also, like it or not, every woman on the Supreme Court knows precisely who he really is. Every colleague on that court, of any gender or political leaning, knows what his biases are, and that he is a liar, and not to be trusted. I hope it’s tense for him, every fucking day. I hope those women hold his gaze every single day with real contempt in their eyes. (He may not be sharp enough to notice, though, honestly – did you hear the testimony? Fucking hell. Dim bulb there.)Β Hell, his wife has had a hearty helping of seeing him through the eyes of an outraged nation, and maybe heard some things she did not previously know. I bet there were some uncomfortable car rides home at the end of the day over the past couple weeks.

So, yeah. I would love to be optimistic, and see his nomination turned down. There are other, better, choices for the Supreme Court. It’s not going to be that world we wake up in tomorrow, though; he’ll most likely be confirmed. It’s a strong “legacy boy’s club” there in Washington D.C., but – and this is worth a moment of contemplation – this shit went public in a very loud way, and in many of our own homes, already, right now, the tone is changing with regard to the way women are treated, the way survivors of sexual violence are treated, the way we view rape culture, and yeah – even the way we do or don’t tolerate (and how much, and how well) that crusty partisan legacy boy’s club living out its last days with the Elders of Whitemanistan, there in D.C. This isn’t going to go away. πŸ™‚ Well, until the last of these rich white men in office finally dies off. (Maybe the next batch will be better? You own this. Vote.)

The challenge on our end is real; how to be the best version of the person we most want to be, really, with all this maddening bullshit going on around us? That’s a puzzle all its own. This morning, it is what I am thinking about.

Who do I want most to be, myself? How do I present that in the world? How do I maintain a comfortably authentic experience of self, while also pushing myself for real growth? What matters most? What is just a distraction? Can I change just one thing, today, on this path… and get there sooner, or more skillfully?

There’s a glimmer of real hope always held in the question “what can I change?” It presupposes change is a thing I can do. (Which I can.) I sip my coffee, and meditate on change. It’s a new day. New opportunities. Familiar challenges. I have multiple choices and a choose my own adventure game right in front of me, every day. (You do, too.) What will I choose today? Where will my path take me?

I sip my coffee. Check the time. Begin again.