Archives for category: Metaphors
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Finding Encouragement in the Mirror

April 16, 2024 //
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This morning I woke feeling kind of down. I had replaced the batteries in the bathroom scale last night, and did an honest weigh-in to get a clear understanding of the journey ahead. That number was bigger than I expected it to be. Bigger than I thought it was. Bigger than my most comfortable self-deception suggested it would be. I woke up feeling a bit depressed about it.

I drove into the office thinking about my weight. The journey ahead. My desire to live a long healthy life enjoying the companionship of my Traveling Partner for many years to come. The clock is ticking. The challenges with my health, my weight, my fitness, and my emotional wellness; they’re all tied up in knots with each other. I’m sipping my (black) coffee, thinking about the mental math I did on the commute, trying to figure out realistically how many pounds I want to lose to get to properly healthy place… and how long that may take, trying to stay very honest and real with myself, no games, no bullshit, uncompromisingly honest with the woman in the mirror. Harsh. With no missteps, no failures of will, no injuries that limit my ability to exercise… I’m still looking at (at best) a 2-year journey, and a lifelong commitment to change. Fuck that sounds like… a lot. 😦

…How do I get from here to there, and do it without being a complete jerk to myself? What tools are in my toolkit, and can I use them more skillfully than I have? I know I can rely on my Traveling Partner to be kind, supportive, encouraging, and to hold me accountable in an honest and compassionate way… I feel less sure of being able to provide that to myself. I know from experience that treating myself poorly leads to problematic outcomes, and generally limits my success. It’s just not the best approach. So… now what? How do I avoid the slide into despair over this mess? I feel like self-sabotage is around every corner…

I think about my mother’s challenges with her weight. I think about my Granny’s challenges with hers. I think about my recently deceased dear friend’s challenges with her weight. It’s not easy. It’s likely that each one of these women lived shorter lives than they otherwise might have, had they been more successful at managing their weight and maintaining their fitness. There are lessons here. Lived examples. Things to think about. I sigh out loud and sip my coffee; all the powerful examples in the world do nothing whatsoever to create change. There are verbs involved and no fucking shortcuts result in long-term change. It’s necessary to commit to action… then act. Do the fucking verbs.

I remind myself that it’s hard to go from Detroit to San Francisco if I’m standing in Baltimore. Having an honest awareness of the number on the scale now is useful perspective. I make a point to share it with my Traveling Partner, and with my physician. It hurts to own up to it, but… this is where progress begins. I can’t start in a place where I’m not standing. It’s not as if it isn’t obvious that I’m well-over a healthy weight for my age, height, and body type, just at a glance. It’s not as if I weren’t aware of how difficult it can be to keep moving and to eat healthy – and I can’t claim I didn’t know how important these details are. So. Here I am. Ready for a next step. Ready for a new journey. Ready to make real progress.

…Ready to begin again…

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Categories Allegories, anger, Anxiety, Brain Injury, breathe, Despair, forgiveness, Free Will, Frustration, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Spring, weight loss secrets, women

The Weight of a Dream

April 15, 2024 //
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I woke abruptly with a sharp intake of breath and an instant of panic. It was just a dream, but definitely of a sort with the oomph to be alarming. I’d simply dreamt that I was facing an accounting of all the things I’d left undone in a lifetime: broken promises, missed deadlines, failed commitments, moments of procrastination that never became fulfilled endeavors, that kind of thing. It was… a bit overwhelming, honestly. I suspect my dream was simply because today is Tax Day, an annual accounting and a major ritual of modern adulthood. Still, it was seriously distressing to be faced with what felt like an endless list of shit I hadn’t done, failed to do, did incorrectly or at the wrong time, all the missed deadlines, all the broken promises, all the baggage… fuuuuuuck.

I woke in a sweat, feeling disoriented and more than a little relieved to be awake in a here-and-now in which most of what I need to do gets done in an appropriately timely fashion, most of my deadlines are well-met, most of my promises are kept, and mostly things are… fine. Pretty good, actually, and feelings to the contrary are generally an illusion, created by remnants of chaos and damage.

I sit with my coffee, now, thinking over some of the things that my dream suggested are significant (most of it is so far in the past that it isn’t relevant now, if it even was then) – are there things I need to consider, or make amends for? Perhaps. My “to do list” is pretty fucking long, and it’s hard to stay on top of all of it these days. On the other hand, most of the shit that my dream stirred up has no legitimate weight now, and I’m overdue to forgive myself or let it go. Or both. I’ve grown, and some of what used to freak me out no longer causes me stress (because it isn’t worth all that) and other stuff I’ve learned to manage more skillfully. I’ve learned to be less casual with promises, more realistic with commitments, and (mostly) more comfortable with boundary setting. (I could still use work on that…) My perspective on a lot of things has changed, too.

…Funny how much power a dream can have; I thought about this one all the way to work, and only just finished turning it over in my thoughts…

I breathe, exhale, and relax. It’s a pleasant Monday, full of promise. The sky is cloudy and gray, but there are hints of blue here and there. I spent a lovely weekend in the garden, and in my Traveling Partner’s good company. Cooked a couple meals at home. Got in a couple very nice walks. Got the rest I needed to start a whole new week. It’s not fancy, but it’s enough. I think about the high points: a new rose planted, a delightful (and cute, and efficient) new way of storing my paints is in the studio, thanks to my partner’s 3D printing skill, and I managed to tackle all the chores and errands I’d made note needed to be done. A good weekend. I sigh contentedly, and sip my coffee.

…It is a Monday… my work calendar is full. I glance at the clock. It’s already time to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, Anxiety, Brain Injury, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, gardening, gratitude, Healthy Living, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Spring, The Art of Being

Like the Same Thing Only Different

April 13, 2024 //
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I’m waiting for the sunrise and for the park gate to open. It’s a quiet, pleasant Saturday morning. There’s nothing much unusual about these circumstances, although there are obvious differences,  and subtler ones too. One obvious difference; I drove the pickup instead of my Mazda this morning, at my Traveling Partner’s request (so it isn’t just parked for weeks at a time). Subtle differences include things like the changing timing of the dawn, and changes in my subjective experience resulting from recent changes in medication.

…I snap a couple pictures of the sunrise…

A picture barely captures the experience.

The gate clangs open. I move the truck into the parking lot. Time to set this aside for later and hit the trail…

…

…Some time later…

The mild Spring morning delights my senses. The air is fresh with only a hint of chill that I don’t feel at all after a couple minutes of walking. The trail crunches under my feet, and small twigs snap when I step on them. Canada geese overhead call to each other. I hear the sound of traffic on the highway, near but unseen. The sound of the river soon drowns out the sound of traffic. The flowering trees have me sneezing and stuffy pretty quickly, in spite of taking allergy medication this morning. I don’t really care about that, but I notice. I enjoy the scents of the various flowers mingling in the fresh morning air. The somewhat heavy cloying fragrance reaches me in spite of my stuffy-then-runny-then-stuffy nose. I manage to be delighted by the scent of Spring in spite of the allergic reaction.

I walk on. Small mammals scurry across the path. I see migrating birds, and a small herd of deer. I spot nutria playing along the edge of the marsh. I have the trail to myself this morning and I savor the experience as I walk. I breathe in the Spring air. I exhale, relax, and continue to walk. My tracker buzzes me when I hit one mile. Again when I reach the next quarter mile. I’m  pleased with my progress and head back toward the parking. 2.5 today. Nice. 90 minutes with occasional stops for views or pictures. I’ve been working on improving my pace and increasing my distance and I feel pretty good about the walk this morning.

…By the time I reach the truck my ankle is aching, and I am grateful for good boots with ankle support and a good quality trekking cane. I may pay for my progress with some discomfort but it’s a worthy tradeoff, I think.

I sit quietly with my thoughts for some little while. These solitary minutes are precious to me. I drink water and consider my shopping list and errands I need to run, later, and things I would like to do in the garden. Looks like a lovely day for it.

The blue sky overhead reminds me that it’s time to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, breathe, Free Will, gardening, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, inspiration, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, Spring, The Art of Being

Awe – Small Wonders

April 12, 2024 //
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I’m sipping my coffee and thinking about delight and awe, and captivating small wonders that press “pause” on some random moment, infusing it with something more than the ordinary.

Mushrooms in the lawn.

I strolled around the garden yesterday evening, taking a moment for myself to adjust to being home at the end of a very busy workday. The moment was carved out of the time between dinner and relaxing with my Traveling Partner. I could have been busy on housekeeping but chose, instead, to delight my senses with the garden in Spring. I turned a corner into the side yard, and laughed out loud with pure joy to see a rather large number of small mushrooms had popped up. This is the first Spring for the lawn that my Traveling Partner put in last summer. I’m still smiling about the mushrooms. They aren’t particularly significant or important (or useful to me in any obvious way), they just … please me. It’s enough.

I sit sipping my coffee thinking about how difficult I find it to carve out these small moments of delight for myself lately, and wonder what I could be doing differently to make that easier, and these moments more common. I read something recently about the experience of “awe” or wonder being very good for us cognitively. I know I enjoy those experiences, very much. The joy is reason enough to pursue the experience of awe, wonder, or delight, isn’t it?

I remind myself to start “taking a minute” to really sit with my thoughts, uninterrupted, after work. It’s a helpful practice that reduces how much small shit I’m likely to forget, and that matters.

The weekend is almost here. I think back to a delightful relaxed moment of solitude and thoughtfulness during my recent coastal getaway. I sat alone in the car, as the rain battered every surface. The noise of it was impressive, but not the sort of thing to interrupt my thoughts, quite the opposite; it was easy to focus on my inner experience with the rain drowning out all else.

A moment with my own thoughts.

It’s sometimes difficult to get those moments of solitary thoughtfulness. Doing so often requires explicit expectation-setting, and actually speaking up about the need. For some reason, I find myself reluctant to make a point of doing so, seeking instead to “find” those experiences of solitary reflection arising naturally from the flow of things – and that has proven time and again to be a poor choice. Unreliable at best. I sip my coffee and think that over for some quiet minutes. There’s a real need here. It’s clear I need to “use my words” to meet that need. Why would that make me so uncomfortable in the moment? I sit sipping coffee and thinking…

…The sun rises beyond the windows of the office. The sky is a pale blue streaked with white clouds high in the atmosphere, and dotted here and there with fluffier grayer clouds nearer to the rooftops. I wonder what the weekend weather will be like, and whether I’ll be able to get a hike in, and work in the garden? There is so much to do, too…

…It’s already time to begin again…

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Categories Allegories, breathe, Free Will, gardening, Healthy Living, inspiration, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Practices, Relationships, Spring, The Art of Being, The Big 5, Words

Walking the Talk

April 9, 2024 //
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It’s just now daybreak. I’ve got my boots on, and I’m at the trailhead for this morning’s walk. I try to put a couple miles on these boots every day. It’s not everything I need to do to get (or stay) fit, but it’s more than nothing.

I’m thinking about success and failure and the effort involved either way. I’m thinking about the difference between “saying” and “doing” – it’s an important difference. It’s pretty easy to find some measure of success and then, slowly, over time, begin to fail oneself ever so quietly while still rather loudly proclaiming the value of prior successes. It’s very human. The proof is in the results, though. Sometimes it’s necessary to begin again, because I have somehow stopped doing a verb. It’s not on my mind for any particular reason, aside from gratitude that I’ve kept at it with the walking and I’m still on my feet and able to.

Have you given up on some effective practice, maybe without really noticing, or in spite of continuing to talk about how well it works for you? Do you miss it? Will you begin again?

I breathe in the mild Spring morning air. It’s scented with flowers. The trees are in bloom all around. Storm clouds are bunched up overhead, looking a bit like a quilted comforter that has been improperly dried, and left lumpy. The idea of “lumpy clouds” makes me giggle out loud.

I’m in less pain than yesterday and in a much nicer mood so far this morning. I’ve got a bit of a headache and it’s the one I most closely associate with my neck pain, but my arthritis isn’t so bad this morning,  and the bone graft site on my left hip isn’t aching ferociously the way it was yesterday. I am so grateful just to hurt less this morning. The walk can become real drudgery when I am in a lot of pain. I generally still do the walk, but it’s certainly less pleasant when my pain is unmanaged.

…soon…

The sky is light enough to walk the trail now. It’s a lovely mild morning for it. I stretch and yawn, grateful for the moment, the opportunity, and the ability. I grab my cane from the passenger seat of the car and begin again.

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Categories Allegories, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, meditation, Metaphors, Moments, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Practices, solo hiking, Spring, The Art of Being
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