Archives for category: Love

3.43 miles of steep, sometimes muddy, narrow trails clinging to hillsides, and an early start on the first day of summer; this morning’s hike followed me home in pictures, and recollections of scents, birdsong, and that certain glint of unexpected sunlight reflected into my eyes off glossy summer foliage. It was a worthy choice that tested my fitness and my awareness moment-to-moment. The air was fresh, and although audible in the distance now and then, the world was so remote as not to be a bother, certainly no distraction from the gentle ‘now’ of a summer morning on a narrow and steep trail.

I am aware of the steps I take, and the path I am on; I am unsure of the destination.

I am aware of the steps I take, and the path I am on; I am unsure of the destination.

I’m home. Showered. Relaxing with some reading, a nice cup of tea, and some quiet time to meditate.  As I recall, I am also doing laundry, but it is such a small piece of my experience today, it is easy to overlook the small obligations to mundane future needs.

If someone were to ask me to provide a template for a lovely Sunday, today would be a good choice.  I’d say more…the feeling of it is so incredibly peaceful and lovely it rises to a level that wants to be explained, and explored…but not at the risk of damaging this delicate, tender now, so infused with contentment, satisfaction, and serenity. There are metaphors aplenty in the pictures, and my one moment of regret is that my camera does not also capture the scents of fresh, and green, and dawn, and fragile wildflowers, along with birdsong, and chuckling creek tumbling merrily over rocks and snags, rushing madly to find a calm, still place, too.

My journey continues, a step at a time, and plenty of opportunities to be grateful for a clear path ahead.

My journey continues, a step at a time, and plenty of opportunities to be grateful for a clear path ahead.

Taking a moment for a flower, and a moment for loveliness - when is there not time for beauty?

I take a moment for a flower, and a moment for loveliness – when is there not time for beauty?

...And time, too, for small mysteries, and a bit of fun?

…And time, too, for small mysteries, and a bit of fun?

I value the chance to see things in a new light.

I value the chance to see things in a new light.

Or to change my perspective on something small...

Or to change my perspective on something small…

Open to the possibility of the unexpected, the unusual, and the wonderful.

Open to the possibility of the unexpected, the unusual, and the wonderful.

I happily trade in the noise and fuss of 'the world' for the knowing chuckle of a creek, and the cheeky commentary of birds and squirrels, for a handful of happy  hours.

I happily trade in the noise and fuss of ‘the world’ for the knowing chuckle of a creek, and the cheeky commentary of birds and squirrels, for a handful of happy hours.

So, pictures, and just these few words. Today is a good day to chill, to smile, and to share joy.

It’s a quiet morning, following gently on the heels of a pleasant and lovely yesterday. My mood isn’t as steady or reliable as I anticipate the day to come being; I am considering things.  When I find myself stuck on some detail, forcing it into context, molding it into part of the narrative of the day, of the week, of my life, I remind myself of the recent readings on ‘narrative bias’ and cognitive errors, in general.  I give myself a moment of understanding and compassion; it’s damned hard to let go of explaining everything, and to pursue questions instead.  It’s so easy to be pulled  into drama and bullshit – mine, someone else’s, the world’s.

The loveliness of the day is only a distraction from suffering if we choose to be aware of it.

The loveliness of the day is only a distraction from suffering if we choose to be aware of it.

I saw a meme in my Facebook feed recently, and it was the sort of catchy slogan, delivered at just the right moment for the words to easily slide into the context of my experience, that it has stuck with me.  Of course, after the fact it turns out to be neither new nor recent. “Not my circus. Not my monkeys.”  Still… I find myself delighted by the simple way it conveys meaning.  I like it. I’ll keep it. lol  I’ve found it pretty easily delivers a powerful reminder of the suffering of attachment, of judgement, and of taking ownership of what isn’t my own. Handy.

I am feeling uneasy, this morning. Struggling to find real balance again after rocking my emotional boat in therapy this week, and after a powerful conversation – honest, real, open, and utterly frank – with a lover that changes…something.  For the better? I don’t know. Is it a big deal? I don’t know. Does it really change any possible outcomes? I don’t know. What does it mean? I don’t know. Hell, I don’t even have great questions to consider, yet.  The step forward in therapy is by far the bigger deal, I suspect, but the heart speaks its own language and sets its own priorities, and even there… my step forward in therapy still matters, and remains suggestive of change to come.

What was the big deal with therapy? Well, simply that I am finally able to express my experience as a trauma survivor fairly simply, in a sentence, using words, without collapsing in tears, or being reduced to an animal state of panic, or wordless terror. I used my words. It isn’t more than that, and it is every bit of that, and I’m proud of myself for taking another step forward.  It isn’t time yet to share such a thing with the world.  It’s not ‘for you’, not yet. Maybe we’ll get there, together, one day? Having never just said it, out loud, so simply, to another real human being, I didn’t know what that experience would be like. Hearing the words said, hearing them hang in the silence and safety of a pleasantly calm office, isn’t really describable, either. I cried – healthy tears, honest sadness, regret, hurt, suffering…and more confused and astonished than angry or terrified. Confused that human beings can be so cruel. Astonished that I said words aloud that I had once been assured would result in my immediate subjection to a long, painful, lingering consequence – and nothing happened to me, aside from feeling all those hot tears slide quietly down my cheeks.  Well. Not ‘nothing’. Something did ‘happen to me’. I know – because I made the choice to make it happen. I don’t have words for the happening, and it is a very subjective thing. Worthy of my attention and consideration, and so, this morning, I consider it.

I’m not too interested in feeling sad this morning, which is a bit irksome since I clearly do, now and again. I find myself rather idly wondering how long this feeling of unease will last, and what it will take to drive it away…then notice with amusement that the idle wondering is much more low-key than the one-time state of panic and dread that would have saturated such a morning, as little as a year ago. Progress. Small steps. Good choices. Good practices.  Focused on what nourishes me, and keeps me headed down my own path, toward my own goals, and meets my own needs over time… Today is a good day to be.

I remember a handful of childhood things, memories I feel fairly confident are actual memories, rather than recollections of anecdotes shared by a family member. One of the things I remember is my Granny’s ‘button drawer’ in her sewing room. It was nothing more (or less) than the bottom drawer of her sewing machine table. It was nothing more (or less) than entirely filled with all manner of buttons. When clothing wore out and was cut up for rags, baby or doll clothes, quilting squares or strips for braided rugs, all the buttons were removed and put in the button drawer. There was no order or organization to it. It was a deep, vast, plentiful and chaotic assortment of all manner of buttons, some very old (having come from her grandmothers clothes), and some buttons were so new they were still stitched to cards in groups of 4, 6, or 8, waiting for just the right project.

Playtime

Playtime at Granny’s house.

On visits, particularly rainy days, when Granny was at her sewing machine, I had the entire button drawer for my play set, my toys, my treasure. I strung buttons into long garlands of sparkly buttons, and bracelets of colorful bead buttons. I sorted and organized the buttons again and again, endlessly fascinated by their variety and materials. I could bury my hands deep in the drawer of buttons and feel the larger, heavy buttons that had slowly settled toward the bottom of the drawer. Pulling some strange, previously unseen button from those mysterious depths was exciting.

Building blocks were available for play, too, and I enjoyed them.  I have in mind a morning at play, old-fashioned square blocks, Linkin Logs, and some odds and ends – and a lot of frustration that the pieces, seemingly very ‘regular’ and organized, didn’t work together the way I wanted them to. Unlike the buttons, the clear purpose of each block was both obvious, and limiting, at least for me. I have a recollection of frustrated little girl tears, and a male figure exclaiming with similar frustration “How can  you not like this? They’re building blocks!!”   It wasn’t at all that I ‘didn’t like them’ – but they sure weren’t buttons of endless variety, with sparkles, carved shapes, colorful forms and limitless purpose in my imagination; they were just blocks. Motionless. Massive. Firmly and clearly geometric. Built with a specific purpose. Designed for a singular sort of play. Not buttons.

Although I was already a ‘chatterbox’, I couldn’t express my emotional needs, or articulate my emotions with clarity. I’m still easily frustrated by difficulty communicating emotions clearly.  Metaphorically, I’m still turning building blocks over in my head, and trying to figure out how to make something of them that really sparkles. lol  These ‘building blocks’ are different; values, ideas, principles, boundaries, standards… the decision-making of my life has become the ‘building blocks’ of my future experience.  I’ve got my blocks… now to build something with them.

My building blocks are simple enough, and so far they seem quite sound. My ‘Big 5’ relationship values are my ‘gold standard’ for a thriving healthy relationship composed of thriving healthy individuals. They work for me, and give me room to grow (and demand that I do, because it’s always about practicing). My Big 5 are: Respect, Reciprocity, Consideration, Compassion, and Openness.  Experience tells me that any relationship [of mine] grounded in these values will thrive, and I will thrive, myself.  As an individual human, with my own issues and baggage, and wading through considerable chaos and damage as a trauma survivor, I’ve got a couple ‘building blocks’ that are ‘all about me’, too – how do I guide my own experience? What principles can I rely on to keep me on the path to becoming the best of the woman I have the potential to be? I find that, for now, three very simple ideas are all I need there: mindfulness, perspective, and sufficiency do the job nicely.

8 words, and time and practice to build those basics into a content and satisfied life; it isn’t a destination, it is a journey.  My Big 5 and my basic principles are less a map, or a goal line, and more like… a backpack, base layers, and good preparation, before heading into the wilderness.  Good preparation matters for any project.  Planning supports any endeavor, even when events later stray from the plan.  Good fundamentals result in improved game play.  I could throw metaphors at this all day. I doubt that makes the point any clearer.

Here’s where it gets complicated, for me.  I’ve got my Big 5.  I’ve got my partners.  What have they got? I mean, other than me, practicing my Big 5? We’re all in this sandbox together, and everyone brings their own toys… compatible sets of blocks are helpful, if we’re all going to have a good time.  What happens in that sandbox if I’ve got buttons, and my playmate has blocks? What if someone comes along with an Erector set? Or Fischer-Technics? Playtime just got more complicated; our play sets are not easily going to work well together.  That’s a jigsaw puzzle for another day.

No blocks? How about a wheel barrow?

No blocks? How about a wheel barrow?

Today is a good day to build something wonderful. Today is a good day for kindness. Today is a good day to smile and acknowledge that we’re all in this together. Today is a good day to change the world.

My hike yesterday was lovely. It was beyond lovely; it was restorative, refreshing, recharging… It was lovely, too.

The sounds of this playful creek followed me everywhere, distancing me from everyday stress, noise, and distractions.

The sounds of this playful creek followed me everywhere, distancing me from everyday stress, noise, and distractions.

I realized almost immediately that I’d forgotten my hiking staff. The trails were often quite steep, and the snags and obstacles were plentiful. Mindfulness became a pleasant necessity to hike these trails safely.

Being present matters; there's always something just ahead worth my attention.

Being present matters; there’s always something just ahead worth my attention.

I walked and took in the sounds and scents of the forest, filling my lungs with the sweet soft air, and pausing now and then just to be.

The path brings me alongside the creek several times.

The path brings me alongside the creek several times.

My eyes were sharper than my ability to snap a picture, and the many lovely pictures of dense green forest that I brought home with me rarely capture the squirrels, birds, small mammals, insects, and other signs of life I had attempted to photograph. It doesn’t matter much; the pictures are lovely all the same.

The morning was a green wonderland.

The morning was a green wonderland.

I went out purposefully enough, and intending more than exercise and exploration.  I really needed a bit of a break, a departure from my routine, and some time and space to sort a few things out and meditate on life and love, and consider my trajectory into my future. It’s a birthday thing.

I needed to consider the path I am choosing, rather than simply walk it without thought.

I needed to consider the path I am choosing, rather than simply walk it without thought.

So much of life is directly determined by the choices I make. Simple choices, difficult choices, choice that seem unimportant, choices that seem urgent in the moment…every choice I make, like a single domino in a very long complex arrangement of dominoes standing closely together, is almost insignificant considered independently from all those other choices. Every single choice contains the power to change my experience, my understanding of myself, even to change the world.

Perspective matters, too; what appears to be an obstacle from a distance, may have no effect on the journey I am taking, myself, when I get there.

Perspective matters, too; what appears to be an obstacle from a distance, may have no effect on the journey I am taking, myself, when I get there.

I walked less distance in miles yesterday than I did the week before. The trails were steeper, and the hike took about the same amount of time. The journey was more rewarding – because I allowed it to be? Different choices.  Different experience.

Sometimes the peace I am seeking isn't far removed from the turmoil I am struggling with; it's more a matter of perspective.

Sometimes the peace I am seeking isn’t far removed from the turmoil I am struggling with; it’s more a matter of perspective.

I walked with great care, avoiding snags and missteps. I walked with great awareness, opening my eyes to the lush beauty, my heart to healing, and my consciousness to being present in such a lovely moment.

My journey, my choices, my experience... we are each having our own experience.

My journey, my choices, my experience… we are each having our own experience.

It was a good morning for a solitary walk through every possible color of green.  It often seemed I was truly alone, separate, isolated, and content in my solitude. As is so often the case with perception and appearances, it was fairly illusory. Plenty of other people came to the park to hike those narrow trails yesterday. I occasionally saw them.

There were more flowers than people, which seemed a pleasant balance.

There were more flowers than people, which seemed a pleasant balance.

I contemplated how small a single individual can be…

A small commonplace flower, taken singly, has little impact on my senses.

A small commonplace flower, taken singly, has little impact on my senses.

…and how mighty we can become together.

A hillside covered with tiny white flowers dominates my view.

A hillside covered with tiny white flowers dominates my view.

I love the metaphors that life itself provides as part of the curriculum – and part of the floor show.  I enjoyed a quiet conversation with a small girl, about small flowers, and how easily small things can be a big deal, taken as a part of a greater whole.

There were plenty of small white flowers with which to make the point.

There were plenty of small white flowers with which to make the point.

They sometimes appear to float above the greenery like some strange mist.

They sometimes appear to float above the greenery like some strange mist.

Life isn’t always about flowers.

Sometimes it is about the steps we take...

Sometimes it is about the steps we take…

Sometimes it is about sharing some piece of the journey or crossing paths with another traveler.

Sometimes it is about sharing some piece of the journey or crossing paths with another traveler.

As removed from the world as I felt, as far away from the busy-ness of human affairs, as distant from drama and obligation and stress as it seemed to be out among the trees, I was never really ‘alone’.

Every moment of solitary contemplation...

Every moment of solitary contemplation…

...each opportunity to alter my perspective...

…each opportunity to alter my perspective…

...and moving on to another moment, I found I was quickly followed by others, also seeking, also contemplating, and on their own journey.

…and moving on to another moment, I found I was quickly followed by others, also seeking, also contemplating, and on their own journey.

Yes, we are all having our own experience… yes, our unique experience as a human being can feel pretty lonely sometimes, isolated, neglected, unheard… we are, however, also all in this together on a relatively small ball of rock, each likely doing something like our best, most of the time, or at least thinking so. Choices matter. Awareness matters. Being, right now, just being matters so much.

As I left the park, I pass this kind reminder... we are all interconnected.

As I left the park, I pass this kind reminder… we are all interconnected.

I will be back to this lovely oasis of serenity, and I carry some pieces of it with me even now; a contented smile, a handful of pictures, and the memory of a journey, and a metaphor.  Today is a good day to make good choices. Today is a good day to recognize that we’re all in this together. Today is a good day to treat each being well – including myself. Today is a good day to change the world.

 

I have a friend* who evaluates experiences with great care, assigning them a number value, and comparing them based on a ‘score’ one to another for relative value.  She likes data. I like data, too, so we have some common ground there. I’ve noticed more than once, though, that she quickly goes from being quite delighted with an event or experience to being incredibly discontent solely on the basis of her scoring system; events that score poorly lose value, and her emotional recollection of events changes to support the score she has assigned to them.  I haven’t known her to assign a perfect score to any event she’s discussed with me.  (If I understand her system, everything starts out as a ‘perfect 10’ and received deductions based on… flaws.)

I mention it, because of all the birthday well-wishes, hers was the only one that requested I evaluate my birthday experience and give it a number. lol

I spend a lot of time with numbers. I enjoy data. (Seriously, that’s a thing!) I even enjoy analyzing data, evaluating trends, making observations about what data may indicate.  Experience teaches me that actually scoring experiences, assigning them some sort of merit or value-based grade upon which to evaluate them, is a fast track to discontent.  Score-keeping sets me up for perceiving issues of ‘fairness’ where ‘fair’ isn’t a characteristic to be expected in the first place, and creates a sense of competition that probably delights retailers, but doesn’t build a feeling of well-being, or foster good self-care – or good self-talk. I figured this one out when I was quite young, and learning to quantify the value, meaning, and intensity of early sexual experiences. It quickly became apparent that it was difficult to overcome one very relevant puzzle… I could not establish measurements and criteria that reliably resulted in ‘apples to apples’ comparisons. Well… understandably so; people are not apples, and life experiences can not be exchanged for cash. lol

I replied to my friends email with a ‘lol’ and ‘a perfect 10!’.

I am learning to live life in the moment, awake, aware, and alive; isn’t every moment already perfectly whatever it is, given a chance? Isn’t an intimate quiet birthday spent with loved ones, a nice dinner out, and a caring gift as perfectly wonderful as a wild night immersed in deep bass, vibrant house music, dancing, partying to the wee hours with a crowd of friends? They’re very different sorts of birthdays (one was mine, the other belonging to a friend* of mine, on the same date), for different sorts of people at different points along life’s journey.

It is a lovely morning, over a quiet coffee, and another birthday is behind me. Life is not ‘a perfect 10’ – it is a journey, incomplete, in progress, and ongoing indefinitely. Amusingly, when I don’t look too closely at the numbers, ‘it all adds up’.

All the promise and potential of a new day.

All the promise and potential of a new day.

Today is a good day for calm awareness. Today is a good day to smile and recognize our shared humanity. Today is a good day to take another step forward. Today is a good day to change the world.

*No friendships were harmed in the making of this blog post. 🙂