Archives for category: Love

Valentine’s Day, again? I was in a very different place with myself last year around this time. My thoughts, in general, about Valentine’s Day haven’t changed much. I still love seeing a holiday on the calendar that is all about sex, love, romance; this is no children’s holiday, it just isn’t. πŸ™‚ I love, and I enjoy love…but with regard to Valentine’s Day I don’t celebrate Love any differently today than on some other day. It has never seemed necessary. Cards? Flowers? Chocolates? Dinner and a show? Sure, I like those things, and when a love of mine shares those experiences with me, I enjoy it, and I appreciate the effort, the planning, the will and the intention – any day, not just today.

Love isn’t just a big deal, it is the Big Deal. (Perhaps I only think so because I found Love so late in life, and know only too well what some of the other options are?) I’m definitely a fan of expressing love, being grateful and appreciative for the love I share with those dear to me, and demonstrating that Love is not just a pleasant experience, but also hugely meaningful and valued. If today is the only day you’ve got time for that, definitely go for it. πŸ™‚

Some thoughts about Love and loving…

Wearing a mask is one sure way to kill Love.

Wearing a mask is one sure way to kill Love.

It's not generally helpful to be deceitful, evasive, or secretive either.

It’s not generally helpful to be deceitful, evasive, or secretive either.

Love isn't really blind. We may choose to overlook something, large or small, we may be mistaken in our assumptions, and we may be afraid of what we see and reluctant to address it, but Love itself is only ever blind when we choose to be blinded.

Love isn’t really blind. We may choose to overlook something, large or small, we may be mistaken in our assumptions, and we may be afraid of what we see and reluctant to address it, but Love itself is only ever blind when we choose to be blinded.

Don't sleep through it! Love is wonderful, eyes open, heart filled with laughter, fully aware and in the 'now'.

Don’t sleep through it! Love is wonderful, eyes open, heart filled with laughter, fully aware and in the ‘now’.

The title? Well, it’s just this; Love is enough. Sure, we can dive headlong into demanding more, being dissatisfied with the grim imperfections of our lovers, maddened and annoyed by how very human we all are…or…we can Love. It actually is enough, already.

 

 

 

I slept poorly. I woke several times, restless and fearful, then later, angry. I struggled with nightmares. I felt too hot, sometimes, others too cold. I woke at 3:20 am, utterly awake, with ancient rage riding shotgun, feeling raw and emotionally volatile. I fussed restlessly through seemingly endless minutes of ‘trying’ to meditate. It didn’t feel effective, or worthwhile, and I gave up when my frustration with myself began to exceed the intensity of the emotions I woke with. I’ve come far enough along this path to recognize, and accept, that I might have a better experience, sooner, were I to choose to commit to the moment, and allow myself to begin to calm, truly, through meditation. There’s a verb there. I know it.

I’m not exactly best friends with my anger. Hell, I don’t think Anger and I can even have a civil discussion over coffee, just yet. My head aches from resisting it. My Anger launches a salvo of nerd quotes relevant to futility at me, from within. Oh yeah. Thanks, Brain. I wasn’t amused by “Resistance is Futile”, and frankly the material just got stale from there. This is a challenging emotional precipice for me. Teetering between the potential for unexpected rage, and unexpected tears…just waiting for someone to come along and flip that coin.

Did I mention the headache?

Which comes first, the drama or the fucked up sleep? Does it matter? One pushes the other, turn them around and the effect is quite the same; one pushing the other. Bitter damaged angry bits of self fight for a voice. Humor and cynicism occasionally pull into the lead with some comic relief. Take every tortured Super Hero, ever, portrayed as screaming, twisted, going through some powerful change… this morning it feels like that on the inside; some ferocious moment of tremendous growth and progress, imminent, painful, resisted…only to see the Hero, in the end, yield to their true nature. God damn it, when do I yield? When do I declare myself victorious in the face of my vanquished demons? When is ‘enough’? Who am I, and am I worthy?

Where the hell do all these tears come from?

I was not going to write this morning. I finished a favorite book… it was still brutally early when I had. I tried writing a tender email to the partner I lean on most for emotional support…words upon words, so many… when I found myself observing, in text, that the words themselves seemed ineffective, superfluous, and not actually helpful, I tried again. I eventually just scrapped the attempt. What would be the point? Communication? Of what? With what goal? I ‘officially let it go’…but here I am. Struggling with myself before dawn.

Let’s look at this again… I woke early, from a restless uncomfortable night. I have the luxury of spending much of that time in meditation, and some of it reading for pleasure. It’s quiet time, invested in me. My latte is exceptional this morning, and aside from the headache, my body feels pretty okay today – not much pain. I have a high-speed internet connection, and a warm secure place to live. My family is safe at home, sleeping, and the world (near by) is quiet. I have time and space to write, and the respect of my partners who know that I need it.

“Gratitude is the opposite of Anger.” Timber Hawkeye (among others)

I’m grateful the winter snow has mostly melted away, although the beauty of it was also quite wonderful. I’m grateful to have good coffee in the morning, and hot running water. I’m grateful that I can count on the good company of friends, and that I have a job I love. I’m grateful for so many opportunities to grow, and become the woman I most want to be. I’m grateful that I can recognize choice, and opportunities. I’m grateful for language, both spoken and written. I’m grateful for Love, and that wonderful quality it has to overlook bullshit.

I’m tired. It was a challenging, distressful night. This headache hasn’t let up, yet, but it likely will. For now, I’ve gotten past the anger I woke with, and that feels very good – and I still have time to settle down and meditate. The day is just beginning, and I yield to the moment, and all the possibilities it holds.

One small crocus getting a head start on spring.

One small crocus getting a head start on spring.

I look in the mirror and see so much more than ‘me’ tonight. There are tears queued up just behind my eyes, felt more than seen. Eyes red. Signs of age. Why am I weeping? Tears cascading down unprovoked. My heart feels strangely light. I walked a while in the night air, feeling the softness of a spattering of rain drops. Smelling the flowers of coastal California, somehow recognizably different from ‘home’. Where exactly is ‘home’ these days? Somewhere in my heart, I guess, not quite on a map that has any reality outside my own experience. I find myself wondering what a ‘map of the world’ Β might look like if the scale and importance were determined by my recollections and experience, only, rather than what ‘is’ – or seems to be.

The night tells its own stories.

The night tells its own stories.

Tonight I had dinner with an old friend. That seems simple enough. Out of town, on business, catch up with old friends… it happens in every city every day, I’m sure. We talked about challenges and old heartache, of friends, and changes, and loved ones now gone. We talked of triumphs, and wonder. We talked of love and growth. We laughed.

Why am I weeping? I’m not sad, exactly. I’m not wounded. I’m not grieving. Hell… I just had a great time, connected and deep, and transcending time and space, with a friend I’ve missed a while and love to hang out with. We’re open with each other. Β The conversations we share are deep; they always have been. Why am I weeping? Is this what having a heart feels like?

Emotions are strange. I’m okay. I’m… moved. Deeply moved by the pleasure of a good friend’s company. Moved by how good it feels to be human and connected and able to feel so much so deeply. Tears fall. I’m still okay, and there’s nothing ‘wrong’ at all.

Stillness, perspective, and a cup of tea.

Stillness, perspective, and a cup of tea.

Moments come and go. Challenges rise, and we rise to face them. Truths in life are revealed, and accepted, rejected, denied, or held dear. There’s always time, and rarely enough. Aren’t the laughter and the tears just part of it all? Part of this human experience? My tears dry as I make a cup of tea and ponder life’s ponderables. Slowly the sounds of traffic outside my window overcome the sound of stillness in my hotel room.

I’m not a little girl anymore. 50. I still make mistakes. I make a lot more of them that I’d like. Tonight I learned that one of those is how little I invest in some of the relationships I hold most dear, allowing myself to coast on what has been. It’s a poor investment practice, when the return is so high to choose differently – and really, at any time, we could be … or not be. Snuffed out like a candle at bedtime. Finished like a writing assignment on a deadline. Done. Gone. Ended. Over. No longer on the premises. The chances to be with my friends are not unlimited. Life is not unlimited. Time is not unlimited. I will make different choices. This matters too much to me; I can tell by the quantity of tears and the pure relief of seeing an old friend again, even for a couple of hours.

Tonight I am grateful. Grateful for love. Grateful for good friends. Grateful for those few precious relationships in which I feel visible and understood. Those feelings are powerful – certainly worth tolerating a few tears. Tonight I am thinking of you, my dearest friends, and all my loves – then and now and evermore. I miss you – out there, somewhere, in the night. I hope you are each and all warm and safe and dry, that you have what you need and more, and that you feel loved, and welcomed wherever you are right now. Β Take care, and be well – and let’s get together soon.

❀

Or two, or three, or hell – let’s just pave it into something comfortable, predictable, and mapped, settle into easy contentment, and call it a day?

I had a great day at work, yesterday. Sometimes I have the strange sensation that ‘work life balance’ may actually mean that when things at work suck, things at home are lovely, and of course…the inverse of that would then be true as well. That, thankfully, is fanciful bitterness with struggle, and with the simple ups and downs of life. Β We’re each having our own experience. The experiences we have are not all uniformly pleasant, or comfortable. I guess I’ll keep practicing the practices that seem to build a life that is more up than down, more content than not, easier than hard, more pleasant than unpleasant, and see where all that goes.

This morning isn’t my best morning. I woke crying from dreams that contained content ripped from the most difficult moments of the prior evening. It was nearly an hour before my brain would even acknowledge that the evening had ended on a relatively positive note – or at least finished somewhat supportively. My heart feels heavy, and tears are queued up waiting for a reason to spill over. This is one of my least favorite emotional states.

The bottom-line is that I want more than I have in life, in love, emotionally, sexually, even financially (although that one is very low on my list, and exists more to bolster the likelihood of other things I value being attainable). Β I think wanting is probably pretty commonplace. Β It takes wanting to reach a sense of being without, after all. Β I even understand the connection between craving and discontent, and how difficult life can become when we desire only those things that are out of reach, or when we lose sight of the wonders we already have in our life. Β I started 2014 knowing that ‘sufficiency’ is a big deal for me, and that ‘contentment’ is an emotional experience I enjoy, and a quality I would like to develop and support. Β What I don’t know is where the subtle distinction between genuine contentment and ‘settling’ for something is, and how to recognize it. Is there a difference?

I struggle to communicate with the people nearest to me. Setting boundaries, sharing needs, speaking calmly and explicitly about what I want, what supports my needs over time, being honest about how I feel in the moment, or in general, these are all very difficult for me to begin with. Doing them well is something I find myself working so hard at, and still not succeeding with any reliability. At least, if I am succeeding, the outcome is incredibly unpleasant much of the time. This morning I woke wishing I could just stop talking at all. No more words. No speaking. No writing. No.More.Words. Β I seem to have a gift for saying too much, or phrasing something in the worst possible way. Β I rarely feel actually understood, or even heard. (It makes it so much ‘worse’ that there was a time and a relationship in which I did feel understood and heard, making it something possible in life that I just don’t have now.)

This morning I have a lingering feeling that the things that matter most to me are simply things I can’t have, or will experience only very rarely. I want very much for that to just be okay, if it is true. If it isn’t true, I’d like that emotional cocktail to just go away. I would like to have a better understanding of ‘sufficiency’. Enough. What is ‘enough’. How to I get that? I have the nagging suspicion that even intimacy is easier/better when approached mindfully… but I’m not sure I ‘get’ how to approach it at all. I suspect I may not have correctly labeled whatever the hell I think the experience of intimacy feels like, and am chasing an unknown experience, or ‘shooting at the wrong target’.

I am grouchy and things suck this morning. I am very human, and even though my intellect politely reminds me that ‘this is a construct of your own thinking and you can choose differently’ and my recently-more-mindful-and-learning-more-all-the-time heart tells me ‘this too shall pass’, I’m hurting now, and it is hard to stop picking at it. Soon I’ll head to work, and the process of getting there will distract me for a time, and maybe it will be forgotten when I head home tonight?

Right now is right now. Right now I feel like giving up. I’m frustrated, hormonal, and cross. I spent the night with my fears and nightmares and woke feeling sad, tired, and crying. Right now is harder than it has to be, and right now I’m struggling. This too – quite inevitably – shall pass. Time runs out, moves on, and brings change. So. Yeah. (I hear myself laugh out loud, it sounds a little worn down and bitter, and I think about how lovely yesterday was – that passed, didn’t it? Yep. So…this will as well.)

Some lovely pictures from yesterday…

We can build serenity.

We can build serenity.

No matter how much I am hurting in the moment, there is more to life and the world than my pain.

No matter how much I am hurting in the moment, there is more to life and the world than my pain.

Things can seem so complicated and overwhelming...

Things can seem so complicated and overwhelming…

Getting right up close doesn't always simplify our view of things.

Getting right up close doesn’t always simplify our view of things.

I am grateful that my experience this morning is largely subjective and a construct of my brain. I can find my way to something different. Compassion first, then, this morning? I pause with a certain surprise to realize that as I typed those words, my internal critic was hurling invective at me, launching emotional weaponry, and rallying my demons… I’m not always fully aware of the nasty bits and pieces of old hurts and old programming ‘going live’ to defend themselves in the background. Grim. Definitely compassion first…well… sort of first. Okay, not even a little bit first – that would have been a more positive start. Still human. I tested me. lol

Compassion, then, this morning – now that I see how much I need it.

Today, I am human. Today I face my hurts with self-compassion, and my certainty that emotional states rely on choices, too, however inevitable or permanent they feel in the moment. Today I change the world.

 

 

 

 

 

Strange, beautiful, wonderful day; sights and tastes and conversations with strangers, and after all of it, I find myself at home, secure and comfortable, safe from the world – and from myself, which is a new thing to explore.

It’s been building for a couple of days, this strange juxtaposition of new learning and new experiences, this willingness to let go and allow life to unfold, fearlessly. I am unconcerned with whether it ‘is real’ or if it will last longer than now. It’s now. I am here, in this precious lovely moment, after this delightful day, and it feels so effortless to contemplate the quiet of evening ahead. This is nice. I hope to repeat it (the feeling, in general, I mean – the moment has been enough on its own, and unrepeatable).

Today I awoke at an odd time, later than usual, but ahead of the alarm – itself set for an out of the ordinary time of morning. My routine was in tatters before I ever woke, and knowing that when I descended into sleep the night before, I woke unconcerned about it. Β I made two lattes, and enjoyed a morning of intimate, gentle conversation with a partner already awake for the day, and left with a smile near to the time I needed to,Β imprecise and free from chronological bondage, to catch the train to an appointment. A hair cut, and a manicure later, I headed for my last errand, thoroughly enjoying the day and feeling very pampered.

Today the world felt filled with possibilities.

Today the world felt filled with possibilities.

What made today so rare, so extraordinary? Well, for one thing, the sun shined like …well… something brilliant and without adequate words. I enjoyed all manner of odd experiences along the path of my day-that-routine-forgot. My morning was unscripted.Β My haircut is different – on a whim. I got my nails done somewhere I’d never been.Β I had a bite of breakfast at an odd little stand-up cafe wedged among the food carts; it was very early and I munched my breakfast sandwich standing alongside a small throng of ‘the unwashed masses’ panhandling for a shot at a sandwich. It was a very good sandwich, and the conversation wasn’t bad, either.Β  Β I had a maple cinnamon latte at a cafe obviously frequented by artists – I’d never been there, but the conversations swirling around me in the background were a giveaway. Later, as I headed home, I saw a SuperHero cross the street, quite properly, at the cross walk and head into a small pharmacy. I wasn’t surprised, which did surprise me. A block or two along the way, I spotted another, then another SuperHero – tights, spandex, cape, all of it. Β I don’t always think to question the extraordinary. This was definitely one of those times. It was many miles and minutes later before I thought to wonder – SuperHeroes? Why were there SuperHeroes?

I was offered an earnest moment of self-awareness and perspective, along with the fun of the day. Β To reach my last destination, I walked across the Burnside bridge.

The least interesting view of the Burnside bridge.

The least interesting view of the Burnside bridge.

To do so, I had to carefully make my way through huddled groups, tribes, clans, of homeless people finding what comfort they can, where they are permitted to do so. Years ago, I’d have felt invisible passing between and around them, camouflaged by my own indifference to their privation, and mine. More recently, I might have averted my eyes, instead, hoping to avoid interaction, and allow what little dignity I had to offer through my lack of observation. Today I felt humbled; aware that I’d just had my hair and nails done, a recent shower in a safe and secure home of my own, an exceptional cup of coffee and a nutritious breakfast, and very aware of what a privilege that actually is.

Not generally SuperHeroes, but mathematically likely they may be, sometimes.

Not generally SuperHeroes, but mathematically likely they may be, sometimes.

On the train home, I continued my reading (Buddha’s Brain). The books about mindfulness are piling up. Some take a practical perspective. Some take a poetic tone. Some are quite spiritual, but striving to distance themselves from religion. Others are about the science. I am still a student, of life, of love – of mindfulness. I still have PTSD. I am still a survivor of trauma, and of a brain injury. I’m still headed for menopause. Β While those things are parts of my experience I’m willing to identify as ‘facts’, I am also no longer utterly dominated by them. I’m learning. I’m studying. Bit by bit, I seem to be gaining on real wellness and balance. I hope I never find myself taking them for granted when I have them – and it does look like ‘when’ now, more than ‘if’. I wish I could share it. It’s all in print, in every one of these books. Each book telling the tale in a slightly different way, with different words, and different authors of different traditions and styles of communication. It’s all there, though. Mindfulness. Meditation. Practice.

Practice.

Practice.

Practice.

It’s not about ‘practice makes perfect’. There is no perfect. No need of perfect. There is only practice. A bit at a time I am catching on to the idea that the journey itself is the thing to attend to.

Along the way, more practice.

Along the way, more practice.

Today, I face the world with a beginner’s mind. Today I am compassionate. Today I am tender. Today I am changing the world. Β Here it comes.