Archives for category: Metaphors

I’m mostly over my recent bout of whatever miserable illness struck me (and my Traveling Partner, and step-son). I’ve got a lingering cough, which frankly is no surprise to me – it’s nearly always the outcome of any sort of respiratory illness for me. It’s a byproduct of damage incurred from a combination of childhood illness and military injuring (those oil fires did me no good). It’ll pass, just takes me a bit longer than it otherwise might.

The new job starts tomorrow. Exciting. There’s ongoing forward momentum with my Traveling Partner’s business, too. It feels wonderful to support that, and even to help. Today I took next steps getting an Etsy page set up (almost done with that…). One thing at a time. Like any journey, it’s about next steps and incremental progress over time. I think about other details that I can add to the new page… a friendly shop-video walking future customer’s through our shop, and sharing our thoughts about how we make products, and what inspires us, maybe? Additional listings. Things like that – basic stuff.

…A lot of life’s richness and complexity is built on very basic stuff. That seems worth thinking about…

I sit in the studio, with the fragrances of scented shower fizzies filling the room. I am reminded that there are a couple more scents I meant to make batches of this weekend… cucumber-melon, lavender (a favorite), and something that smells like a rainy autumn walk. So many luscious scents to delight me in the shower – I want to make them all! The new batches of chocolate-orange and meadow flowers are lovely. (I find myself wondering if it’s too soon to take another shower, already…?)

In spite of the lingering hints that I’ve been ill recently, I’m enjoying the weekend with my Traveling Partner. Some video gaming. Some video watching. Some cooking. Some laundry. Some crafting and making. Nothing fancy – all of it’s been very “basic” quiet living sort of stuff… but… isn’t that what life is built upon? The small delights? The everyday pleasures? The time and care taken on things that are utterly routine? Life’s lasting adventure is built on small steps forward, not so much the grand gestures or big moments – those are rare, which is fitting for the way they hit our consciousness so much harder in spite of how fleeting they truly are. I find so much value in being present in the small moments and the basic stuff. I savor this one, with my now-cold coffee long-forgotten on the edge of my desk, just one sweet pleasant moment of so many… it’s too easy to overlook how many lovely moments there really are, if I am constantly rushing from one “big deal” to another, without pausing for breath.

…I pause for breath…

Life isn’t “perfect” (see the opening paragraph; I’m still not 100% over being sick, for starters, and on top of that I was born a human primate, so… there’s that). It’s not bad though. Hell, it’s better than bad… it’s good. I sit here smiling quietly. This is enough. More than enough. This is pretty fucking sweet, generally speaking, and I’m contented and sometimes even actually “happy”. That’s a very subjective condition, and it stymies me how similar circumstances are across the entirety of my life – there were a lot of moments in which I could have been far happier than I actually was, but… I wasn’t. At this point, I think that was (in many cases) as much because I just didn’t know how to be that thing we call “happy”, every bit as much as it had anything to do with the specifics of my life in that moment. Kind of a lot, actually. How peculiar. I can’t go back in time and “fix that”… but… you know what I can do? Revisit some of those moments through my recollections, and enjoy that moment then from my perspective of now. I don’t mean to suggest that I’m griefing myself over how I felt at that time – no good would come of that. I’m just taking time to recall something pleasant, doing so in great detail, and also letting go of any lingering baggage that may have become attached to that time, place, or relationship, and just… enjoying what I can about that time, then. It tends to reduce the lasting misery of miserable times, by undercutting the memory of the misery, and giving a wee boost to the memories of joy, however brief, fleeting, or impotent they seemed then. Worthwhile.

I pause again, this time to cough. It’s time to begin again. Some hot tea, perhaps…?

Yesterday it rained. All day a lovely misty rain fell, after a drenching downpour during the wee hours. The day was a bit more humid than is typical here. The temperature stayed mild, neither hot nor chilly. Each time I ventured out, I was hit with the kisses of tiny raindrops that enveloped me in dampness almost instantly. The sky was gray, all day. It felt more like an autumn day than anything to do with the end of summer. Autumn is almost here.

I’ve got a short solo camping trip planned for the Autumnal Equinox. I’m looking forward to it. I had planned this one before I was laid off. I kept it on the calendar in spite of the lay-off, figuring it was basically already paid for (other than the cost of gas to get there and back), and I’d benefit from the break in routine whether working or not. Once I was laid off, there was no conflict with work to think about at all. Now… I’m back to work beginning next Tuesday, after the Labor Day holiday weekend. Now, the timing is… less than ideal, being so soon after I start the new job. I’m fortunate to have a boss who is 100% supportive of living life, and enjoying it, and I’ll still be going camping. 😀 Funny how quickly circumstances (and context) can change.

…I find myself distracted by the recollection that the office of the company I’m joining is located sort of nearby a different place I once worked, and I look up the address on the internet, and mentally plan the drive in on Tuesday (for onboarding, and picking up my work laptop). I’m excited about this job, way beyond the commonplace relief of not being unemployed… I’m really looking forward to joining the team, and working with this group of people that has so many familiar faces. I feel… enthusiastic. 😀 It’s lovely to feel that way about work. I sip my coffee and smile to myself, looking out the window to the gray sky and fluffy autumnal clouds beyond.

I take a moment to savor the feelings I feel right now. I let the words for the feelings land softly in my thoughts: joyful, contented, at ease, eager, enthusiastic, hopeful, purposeful, valued, appreciated, grateful, delighted, satisfied, happy, pleased, energized, committed, encouraged, prepared, ready… I sip my coffee enjoying the complexity and nuance of overlapping and intersecting positive emotions. I find myself wondering why, as human beings and as a society, we don’t spend more time explicitly savoring and reflecting upon the many sorts of positive emotions we possess the ability to feel? How often do we ever truly feel just one singular emotion standing alone in our consciousness, entirely defining our experience? Is joy mixed with hope a different experience than joy mixed with delight? What about a feeling of preparedness mixed with enthusiasm – is that different than a feeling of preparedness mixed with contentment? As the feelings mingle, do they evolve into some wholly new emulsion of emotion for which I lack language, or do they remain individual elements stacked upon one another, like oil and water?

It’s a lovely quiet morning, heading into the long Labor Day weekend. I feel like celebrating. I know it’s time to begin again. 😀

I’m sipping my coffee and taking a break from reviewing an unexpectedly long list of new opportunities to consider. It’s a Monday, and for now the “new normal” in my work day is about looking for new work.

An earlier than necessary start feels consistent with an adult lifetime of working, and both gives me a leg up on the day, and an opportunity to slip out of the house well-before my Traveling Partner awakens. Ideally, this let’s him sleep in a bit, and that thought fills me with joy. (Human primates need to be able to rest even at the best of times, and we’ve both been ill for days and earnestly need as much rest as we can get.) Rest is not exclusively about sleep, though, and I make a point to take a short break from compiling job leads and catching up on various other job search tasks. I take a short walk around the block in the morning air under a soft gray rather featureless sky, then sit down to write – with a fresh cup of coffee.

I sip my coffee and sigh quietly out loud in this co-work space that will soon no longer be available. It’s hard to make a small business thrive in tough economic times. The shifting culture with regard to work, and whether that is in-office or remote work for many roles that lack a clear actual need to be “on site” for some legitimate business purpose, makes operating a co-work space a less than ideally secure business prospect in a small town, and the one I frequent is closing. For me, the convenience of a co-work space near to home has been a handy luxury that I appreciate – I’ll be sad to lose it.

I take a moment for gratitude – for this convenient space, and also for the ease with which I’ll be able to pivot to a different approach, a new routine, a new normal, after this final week in this quiet place. I’m fortunate. I’ve got a career that works well with remote work, and an approach to work that allows me considerable flexibility personally as to whether I work in-office or remotely in the first place. I’ve got a partnership at home that supports my freedom to choose from my options in the fashion that best suits me at the time, and a partner that “gets it” about why I might choose one thing or another. I enjoy another sip of my still-hot second cup of coffee as I reflect upon my good fortune, knowing it may not last, enjoying it while it does.

One of the challenges, for me, on life’s journey, has been finding myself distracted from “here and now” by yearnings for… something else. It’s not particularly helpful to become mired in what isn’t on this journey from where I am to where I will be later on. It’s a bit like trudging through ankle deep sticky mud; it may not stop me from making progress, but it will surely slow that progress considerably more than if I were simply moving forward on my path, step by step, with presence, care, and commitment. “Be here, now” is a powerful recommendation and reliably good starting point for a new beginning. “We become what we practice”, and there is a notable difference between desperate yearnings to become or to transform, and actual practices that result in authentic changes – and real progress toward a goal. Then, too, there’s the goal-less forward momentum of honest self-evaluation, freed from the constraints of the expectations and demands of others – which also grinds to a halt when I find myself mired that sticky mud of yearning to be something or someone else. “Yearning” hasn’t seemed to get me very far in life. It’s a peculiar sort of getting in my own way, by setting up the dream of something better, investing deeply in fantasies of that dream, and then… being frustrated that the dream never comes to life, all without noticing that the time spent dreaming the dream is at the expense of taking any actions to proceed down a path that could actually lead in that direction. Most peculiar. “Yearning” is interesting as verbs go; it seems to prevent actual action. I sip my coffee and consider it further.

…And here I am, at 60, still wondering what I want to be “when I grow up” lol…

…There is time to slow down, and enjoy the day. Time to write. To enjoy another coffee.

I don’t spend much time yearning these days. I don’t want for much. It’s less about “having it all” (hell, right now with no job and limited cash-flow and savings, I’m particularly alert to how finite my resources are), more to do with approaching life from a position of perspective, mindfulness, and sufficiency. It could be so much worse. I’m not yearning for fame or power or wealth. I’m content with living simply, with having enough, and I find adequate joy in the small things that work for me. I’ve got enough bullshit and baggage to work on without creating more headaches for myself by chasing other people’s daydreams for what I could have or who I could be. Yearning doesn’t fit into my day plan. LOL Still… Gnothi seauton. Self-reflection is a worthy endeavor. Getting lost in a labyrinth of yearnings seems less so.

I sip my coffee thinking about “being”. It isn’t always easy facing the woman in the mirror and some of her difficult questions (or painful accusations and burdensome disappointments). Reliably, however, I’ve found it far easier to make progress if I am making where I presently stand (and who I authentically am) as my starting point on any new beginning. Going from “here” to “there” is definitely simpler when I understand where “here” is.

…Funny thing… and a serendipitous coincidence… these themes are deeply explored in the sci-fi “space opera” that my Traveling Partner and I have been enjoying together while we’ve been ill. Babylon 5. Being vs yearning. Power and the consequences of seeking it. The corrupting influence of greed. The importance of love and compassion. Our very human journey of self, over the course of a lifetime. The heroic and the mundane, and this very human journey we call life. I’m sure immersing myself in the skillfully created fictional universe of Babylon 5 has done much to infuse my self-reflection with additional depth… posing new or old questions that very much want to be, if not answered, at least well-considered. So… I consider them. I consider me. I consider this moment in my journey, and where I presently stand with myself. I consider life and love and partnership. I consider what matters most, and how best to serve my mortal purpose.

I consider. I ponder. I muse. I wonder. I sip my coffee and prepare to begin again.

I am here, now, this moment, this place. I very much want to be… somewhere. Else? I leave myself a note for later, “Write about being vs yearning.” I move on with my day.

January 30th, 2022

I wrote those words at the end of last year, saved it as a draft thinking I’d mull it over and reflect on the feeling further, over time. I had no idea that the time it would require would be 573 days, or that so much would happen in the time since then. The feeling itself was so vague it was hard to ascertain “what it meant” – or how “seriously” to take it. I felt it so deeply I was filled with an urgency to act… somehow. I guess, as I continue to reflect now, it doesn’t seem so surprising that since then I’ve walked on from two different jobs (under peculiarly similar circumstances that weren’t to do with me directly in any useful way). I’ve also put more attention and love into my garden. I’ve put more study, practice…and frustration… into my relationship with my Traveling Partner… More presence into other relationships (if not more time)… More commitment into my self-care… More work and fond effort into my life, generally, I suppose… More attention on my health and fitness. I don’t see, from this vantage point now (with a head cold on a summer Saturday evening, filled with ennui… and snot), that all this change, and effort, and… interesting chaos… has done much to take me further than where I sit right now. I chuckle to myself; human vanities and limited human perspective are what they are. I’m very human. I sip my mug of hot water, grateful that it feels so soothing (and strangely satisfying).

I suppose the tl;dr of the day-to-day recently is that I’ve been sick with this ick for about a week, and mostly resting and hanging out with my Traveling Partner (who had been sick himself, but is now mostly well, hanging out and caring for me while I get over it, too). Haven’t felt much like writing. Haven’t felt up to it. Haven’t felt inspired to share my vapid rather pointless stream-of-consciousness dithering and mental chatter. Just sick. Just hanging around using up tissues, forcing fluids, and napping. It’s been a surprisingly pleasant (and sometimes deep) few days, watching a favorite old sci-fi series together and talking. I’ve been fussy and sometimes unpleasant or unfit to be around – this one has hit me hard in the cognitive places, and my emotions are volatile and unsteady at times. My Traveling Partner loves me fiercely in spite of it, and it’s been good to see his deeply worried face begin to give way to mild impatience that I’m still sick, as I begin to improve. It’s hard to bear witness to a loved-one’s suffering. We’re both less worried as I improve.

…But, now that I’m “mostly over it”, I’m beginning to feel fussy and impatient with myself. It’s easy to become frustrated with how sick I still am feeling. I shrugged it off a few moments ago, and took a seat in my studio, to write for the first time since the last time. (August 17th, 9 days ago) Not knowing quite where to begin, I looked over my drafts. Found this one, which seemed both relevant, prescient, just a little comical – and a whole lot human – and figured this is as good a place to begin again as any other.

So I begin. Again. I sip my water, and consider my thoughts.

Life is calling. Take your chances. What matters most?

It’s been an interesting time, these past 3 weeks or so. Losing my job has been the least interesting thing about it. More interesting was the visit by my Traveling Partner’s son, and the couple of days at home alone that resulted from the camping trip my partner took with him. More interesting were the projects they did together in the shop, and the evenings of playing a new (to me) dice game that resulted from it. More interesting was the dinner party with my partner’s older brother and his family, in our home – our first actual family dinner as a group together (it was lovely and a lot of fun). More interesting was taking my step-son to breakfast and then going to the beach his last day in town before returning home. Hell, even waking up to discover I’d caught this damned cold, the morning I took my step-son to the airport was more interesting by far than losing my job. lol All of it also more “important” – more real. Lived experience. Life. I’ve been enjoying that so much of my time is my own.

I sip my water and remind myself to make a point to stay aware of this detail as I consider other employment; it feels good to live my life, not just frustratedly snatch this minute or that one to wedge it in between work shifts or tasks.

…It’s a metaphor…

I look over my recent pictures. I’m reminded of this or that project. Some commitments I’ve forgotten while being sick return to my awareness (I’m obviously getting well… LOL). I keep sipping this mug of hot water, thinking my thoughts.

…I’m almost out of tissues in here. It’s clearly time to begin again.

I am sipping my coffee between calls with recruiters interested in me for one role or another. I am feeling relaxed, hopeful, and positive, but with a nagging hint of lingering anger at my former manager (over the lay-off itself and the bullshit she attempted to use to give that any sort of acceptable context that could make her “not the bad guy here”).

I’d like to let go of that anger; it’s not productive or helpful.

Over the past 11 days, I must have composed dozens of emails in my head, seeking to “have my say” or in some way exact a feeling of “closure” about being laid off. Usually this occurs in some quiet moment when I could definitely be spending my time more joyfully, but somehow find myself picking at this minor hurt nonetheless. Honestly, over a lifetime I’ve for sure survived far worse. Being laid off, in general, and this manager specifically don’t deserve another moment of my attention at this point, and certainly don’t rate being irked to the point of unhappiness at all. Yes, it was a good job, with a good company that has a good culture… but… I continue to feel more relieved than dismayed; my manager was a fucking nightmare to work with (in spite of being a generally pleasant person to interact with socially) and in less than six months it was already coloring the experience. “Unfit to lead” puts it mildly. Tales for another time, perhaps.

I sip my coffee and breathe, exhale, and relax. I don’t work for her anymore. 😀

When I find myself struggling to let go of some circumstance, event, or conversation (it’s a very human thing), it’s often the result of feeling as if something “important” has been left unsaid, or some task left uncompleted. I’m looking for “closure”.

It’s pretty human to seek closure when something falls apart. Often that’s our very human ego seeking to make ourselves properly the good guy in our own narrative, other times we’re seeking a missing apology or for someone who hurt us to “make it right” – and if that’s not going to be available, to at least exact some explicit acknowledgement of the harm done. Let’s get super real about that; we don’t always get to have closure, at all, especially if we’re insistent on the person who actually wronged us being an active participant in getting that closure. (People don’t like being accountable for the wrongs they do and the harm they cause.) Sometimes it’s helpful to have the conversation, make the attempt, and see what comes of it… other times not so much. Sometimes seeking closure just tangles us up with whatever caused our trauma in the first place, and does more damage without real benefit. Why do that?

What do to about wanting closure…?

I sip my coffee (iced this morning, mostly gone at this point and quite watered down by melted ice). I notice the small puddle of condensation that has formed on the desk around the bottom of the cup, and mop it up with a couple tissues. “Cleaning up my mess” feels like a relevant metaphor…

What would “closure” get me, in these circumstances? What am I really looking for that it feels like I’m going without? Am I wanting a “last word”? Am I hoping to change that manager’s thinking in some way? Am I feeling that human urge to “be right” – and be recognized as such? Am I just wanting to say “I saw what you did there, you didn’t get away with anything.” or “That was a dick move.”? What would the point be? What am I hoping to gain? Am I just having a private tantrum or working through the emotions of hurt and grief? I’m not sure, but I definitely won’t be attempting to act on my feelings until I answer these questions for myself in a way that feels clear and settled. (I’m not a fan of hasty decision-making, lashing out, or burning bridges, and avoid doing those things where I can.) So… in my head, I write the email sharing my thoughts – each time recognizing where my words fail me, or identifying some internal need I can entirely meet for myself without ever hitting send on an email I might later regret. The mental exercise has more value than sending the email. What I think I want to say has already changed a number of times, in some cases because my thinking has already “matured”, or new information has come to light. Sometimes I just find “better words” or a clearer way to communicate my point(s), which is a very useful means of understanding myself more deeply.

…Sometimes, I just want to hurt her because she hurt me. That’s also very human, but it’s a lot more “tit-for-tat” and petty than I prefer to be, personally. I choose a different path.

…Perspective is helpful, and I often gain perspective through self-reflection…

Other circumstances, other needs for closure; for many years my yearning for “closure” (and some kind of apology) kept me distant from my father. Many years. Decades. I can’t say I regret the distance, I got quite a lot of healing from that… but I was definitely taken by surprise when closure developed on its own, through circumstances I didn’t anticipate. I wasn’t just surprised to get closure – I was surprised that I still felt a need for it after so many years. Stranger still, now and then I find myself still yearning for closure as if I’d never had any… trauma leaves lasting damage and closure doesn’t work the way we’d like it to; it’s not magic, it doesn’t “fix everything”, and it doesn’t erase past events. It’s worth understanding (and accepting) that.

…But what to do about wanting closure…?

It’s actually possible (not easy, just possible) to give ourselves closure, absent any involvement by the person(s) who hurt us. No kidding. It’s even quite effective. (Closure – and its partner “forgiveness” – isn’t about that other person at all; it’s about us, ourselves, and how we feel.) There are verbs involved, and yeah, your results may vary, but… it’s do-able. It’s also a practice; it’s not a one-off task that one can check off a to-do list once completed. (Note: this is my practice for achieving some closure when none is offered or readily available, and should not be considered the opinion of an expert, or any sort of guarantee of success – no science behind it, no peer-review, just one woman’s approach to getting closure. It’s worked pretty well for me.)

There are some steps. (These tend to “make it look easy” due to over-simplification, but should give you an idea of how I approach it.)

  1. Understand the actual hurt I’m feeling (try to get the heart of it, in the simplest possible terms)
  2. Sort out what I want that I think will ease that hurt in some way (if anything; keep it real)
  3. Practice non-attachment, compassion, and self-compassion
  4. Look for perspective and alternate understandings of the circumstances that may provide more context (without gaslighting myself, but mindful that I can be mistaken, or lacking “all the information”)
  5. Role play the conversation as realistically as feasible (or write the letter or email – do not send!) – do it more than once, as often as needed, until it feels “said”. (Don’t get mired in this step!)
  6. Reflect on how the event that hurt me has affected me (and why), and what I can learn from it
  7. Have I grown from this hurt? How? Can I grow further? How?
  8. Give myself credit for enduring/surviving/getting over it – and for any subsequent growth or success that may have come from it.
  9. Let it go. Let them go. Walk on.
  10. See number 3, and keep practicing.

It’s not a perfect process, but it’s a useful starting point. See, the thing about closure is that it isn’t really something someone else gives us – it’s something we create, or accept, for ourselves. We have the control. We have the power. We have the words.

…We can begin again.