Archives for category: Metaphors

Strange Times

July 27, 2020 //

I’m sipping my coffee, quietly reading some news. I give up on it quickly; most of the news is at best a bit of a downer, and at worst holds some amount of potential to be a significant mood-wrecker. I stifle a sneeze, and wonder why I haven’t put a box of tissues in my studio, yet? No, I’m not ill. It’s just a stray sneeze. Dust? Or allergens of some sort. I return to my coffee and my thoughts.

Where does this path lead?

I took my first walk in the countryside since the move, on Saturday. It was a lovely day for it. The entire weekend was sunny. Saturday was pleasantly warm and somewhat mild. Sunday was ferociously hot for the area. I enjoyed both days quite a lot. The walk was lovely, and I am glad I got out on the trail, although most of the walk was simply around and about the new neighborhood. 🙂 Plenty to see, all of it new, most of it entirely ordinary. 🙂 Small pleasures still count as pleasant.

There is the usual assortment of roadside flowers in bloom to be seen along the way.

I walked a bit more than a mile. Far enough to walk a new path, to see some new points of view, and to wave at new neighbors.

I crossed a small foot bridge passing over a small branch of the creek that flows past our house.

The walk was enough to make my ankle ache, by the time I had returned home. Still, I wasn’t in much pain this weekend, and as improvements in quality of life go, a reduction in pain is a good one to enjoy. So, I spent the weekend enjoying that. 🙂

I sip my coffee, now, enjoying my recollections of the weekend just past, and thinking about the day ahead. Later on, I’ll drive “into the city”, which I’m not looking forward to at all. It’s just a necessary errand. Portland is seriously “stirred up” right now, and I’ve no interest in becoming mixed up in that chaos. I looked over my route, yesterday evening, and verified it does not need to take me through the heart of things, down near the courthouse, before confirming my plans. Portland, Oregon, has a lively protest culture, and I have long respected and valued the willingness of Portland’s citizens to take a stand against injustice. That feeling does not diminish the experiences of profound inconvenience and considerable risk that go along with attempting to pass through an area filled with protesters, counter-protesters, and aggressive law enforcement. I make a point of keeping my distance, unless I am intending to be an active participant. Safer.

I notice that thoughts of protests, protesters, and conflict, have caused my heart to pound and my breathing to become shallow. I take a deep breath, exhale slowly, and relax. There is no threat here, just me and this cup of coffee, which I am enjoying very much. I think about my Saturday morning walk, instead, and feel my shoulders relax, and my heartbeat slow down. I sip my coffee and begin to plan my day.

…Pretty routine stuff, but I’ll point out that generally speaking, on the average, things tend to be pretty routine, day-to-day, most particularly if I allow them to be so. I could keep myself constantly in a state of tension, ready for a fight, poised on the edge of drama, constantly examining my experience for threat of danger, or revisiting past conversations looking for an enemy to confront… I know people who do. I once did, myself. It’s not actually a pleasant or comfortable way to live, and it didn’t seem to enhance my quality of life at all – and it didn’t reduce the danger or drama in my life, or do much to actually prepare me to deal with those sorts of things, in fact. It was just uncomfortable and emotionally messy. I’m glad I gave up those practices (and they are experiences that do require practice) in favor of practices that tend to tilt life more in the direction of contentment, joy, ease, and satisfaction in life. Turned out that life itself did not need to change much – it was more about my perspective on life needing a change (and how I treated myself in the context of the events of my life). 🙂

I finish this cup of coffee, on an ordinary enough Monday, beginning a routine sort of day. It’s enough. I begin again. 🙂

Tags be here now, be the change, being and becoming, choose wisely, choose your adventure, Cozine Creek, emotional self sufficiency, go for a walk, I am my own cartographer, life in the time of pandemic, MBSR, mindfulness, mindfulness for beginners, perspective, practicing the practices, ptsd, stay on the path, sufficiency, TBI, The Art of Being, the map is not the world, there are verbs involved, walking meditation, walking my own path, we become what we practice, what are you practicing?, what matters most?, where does this path lead?

Categories Allegories, Anxiety, Brain Injury, Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Summer, The Art of Being, War and News of War

What’s So Special About It?

July 22, 2020 //

This morning starts gently. The promise of every new day is a new beginning. Even in the time of pandemic, every dawn begins a new day (so far…). I start the morning with meditation, yoga, coffee… and this peculiar beautiful strange celebration of what is human. I love this video version of The Real Folk Blues. I’m not certain I can be clear about quite why. It isn’t the “original version”. It’s one created by artists (during the pandemic) inspired by that original for reasons of their own. It reminds me that even our struggles – maybe especially our struggles – create moments of profound beauty, wonder, and power in our experience. Anchors created in our memory that tie us to events, places, people, experiences… good or bad, lost or found; our hearts beat to these rhythms. Pieces of “who we are”.

Poetic musings and a bit of music, a cup of coffee, a sunrise… there are worse ways to start a day. 🙂

My mind wanders through recollections of recent special moments. Like light and shadows, reflections on water, or catching sight of a finished painting with completely new eyes, the memories are meaningful to me, in a fleeting moment, the significance easily lost if I “overthink” them. There have been some lovely moments during the move, and yes, during this time of pandemic. I sit with those, sipping my coffee, insisting that my restless mind pause and focus on what is sweet, and merry, and good, and uplifting. Love and loving, and what matters most. The things I want to characterize my day-to-day experience. I pause not to celebrate those experiences so much as to savor them, and “lock them into” my implicit memory and experience of life “generally”. The wellspring of my positivity and fairly reliably good outlook on life, these days, is, I suspect, rooted in this one simple practice. It’s not “mine” – I learned it elsewhere. Here’s a great explanation of how to “take in the good”. Your results may vary. (We become what we practice.)

It’s a good morning for coffee and sentiment. Such a human thing. What’s so special about being human? I’m not even certain that it is special… there’s not much I can know about “the life of the mind” for a turtle, an ant, a hummingbird, or a house cat. I only know what I know – and that’s such a pitifully small amount of knowledge, even among human primates, that it can be a bit of a downer now and then. I queue up another favorite song, sentimental, encouraging, and very human. I smile while silly sentimental tears spill over for no obvious reason. Also very human. Also totally okay.

Perspective matters.
“Emotion and Reason” acrylic on canvas w/ceramic and glow 2012

Another day. Time to get on with another beginning. 🙂 What sweetness and wonder might today hold? Time to find out… If things go wrong, I know I can begin again.

Tags be love, be the change, begin again, being and becoming, choose wisely, emotion and reason, emotional self sufficiency, I am my own cartographer, life in the time of pandemic, love and lovers, MBSR, meditation, mindfulness matters, Not Perfect, one practice at a time, p.s. I love you, perspective, practicing the practices, ptsd, take in the good, taking care of me, TBI, The Art of Being, the real folk blues, there are verbs involved, we become what we practice, what are you practicing?, what matters most?, what's your default setting?

Categories Allegories, Brain Injury, forgiveness, Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, Love, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Summer, The Art of Being

Another Day, Another Beginning

July 21, 2020 //

I’m sipping my coffee, watching the dawn become day. I can’t honestly say the morning is “routine”; the move into this house is still quite recent, and a great many of my routines are altered, or broken. The “new normal” is still developing, and I don’t really know what that will look like, in days or weeks, or months, or two years from now. I breathe, exhale, relax, and let that go. The new normal does not need my help, it’ll be what it is once it becomes so. 🙂

…This coffee is fairly terrible…

There is a work day ahead of me. I’m struggling to fully embrace that. I’m tired, as a result of sleeping… poorly? That’s not wholly accurate. The sleep I got was deep and restful. It was just interrupted, a lot, and it takes a lot of 90 minute to 2 hour naps to achieve a restful night’s sleep. lol I feel distracted by tiredness. (I also feel acutely aware there is another, more appropriate word for “tiredness” that I can’t quite recall…) I’d very much like the day to be over, so I can go back to sleep. LOL It’s not quite 6:00 am. So unlike me.

This morning I am lost in thought, contemplating “fairness” and “unfairness”, and what it means to have a “level playing field” in life (or love). I am giving thought to how easily I take things personally – even knowing that generally speaking, “it isn’t personal” applies to most situations. Even those few that are direct, targeted, willful acts (or words) of aggression between human beings aren’t really “personal” – they have ever so much more to do with the person doing the thing than they are ever about the person against whom the words or acts are directed. I mull that over awhile, and drink my coffee.

The Parable of the Reading Glasses

July 18, 2020 //

I am afflicted with nearsightedness. I’ve worn glasses since that was first identified. I’ve chosen not to explore wearing contact lens, in part because the process of putting them in and taking them out is deeply creepy (to me, personally), and I am overly sensitive about things in/on/near my eyes. So, glasses are part of my life. I put them on first thing when I wake, and they are the last thing I take off when I go to bed at night. My vision is sufficiently poor that I can’t see more than blurs, smudges, and vague shapes without them, although I have, sometimes, chosen to read without my glasses, in recent years, because it seems “just as good” or “better than” reading with my glasses on.

I got tri-focals to account for the variations in my vision at various distances (reading, “near-ish”, and far off). My tri-focals seem “good enough”, generally. I have “reading glasses” for reading and using the computer, too; the sliver of close-up reading lens in the wee round glasses I favor is so slim and narrow that it’s actually rather hard to get the angle of my head and the position of my glasses “just right” to take advantage of it. I don’t mostly notice. My neck notices. My back notices. My more frequent headaches tell me about it.

…My Traveling Partner tells me about it, too. Watching me hunched over my phone squinting to read the small print is uncomfortable. Seeing me perched on the edge of my office chair, leaned in close to my computer monitor, still squinting to read the screen is frustrating after years of pointing out that my posture is affected, which affects my pain, which affects my mood, which affects our interactions, which affects our relationship… He’s reminded me a number of times recently to see my eye doctor, get my eyes re-examined, and get new glasses. It’s clear to both of us that I need them. I reliably mumble something about getting that taken care of “soon”. It’s not intended as a brush-off; he’s right. I need new glasses.

…There’s so much shit to get done “in life, generally”… I don’t intend as an excuse, it’s more intended as discontented, frustrated grumbling. I’m “so tired”… That, however, is not an accurate statement of being, even in a subjective way. It’s my short-cut for communicating that there seems too much to do to get it all done “now”. Isn’t that always the case? “Now” is such a brief (and endless) moment… how I allow myself to see “now” as a duration of time definitely influences how much I feel I can do with it. My body and my mind want and need me to “really rest” – it’s been a busy few days. Conflating that with “life” can derail a lot of things I’d like to get done.

…I definitely need to see my eye doctor and get new glasses…

I found my reading glasses, and now, like an absent-minded little old lady (Am I she? So soon?), I hang them from the front of my shirt, switching when needful. Trying to, anyway. I forget. I also wander around still wearing reading glasses while I attempt to do other things than reading… with my regular glasses now hanging from the front of my shirt. lol

There really is something to learn here. It’s about more than the glasses. It’s about the self-care, and also the loving interactions affected when our self-care is poor. It’s about managing time, and about self-awareness. There are lessons to be learned from reading glasses… whether I use them, or lose them while they hang from the front of my shirt, because I’ve forgotten that they are there. Without them, I don’t see the world clearly. Choose the wrong pair, and there’s no real improvement. Time, timing, distance, purpose… there are things to consider, even beyond the obvious self-care elements; the glasses I wear become part of the face I turn to the world, and even facilitate the quality of my interactions with others (however indirectly).

…Sometimes “small” concerns are bigger than we can easily hold in our awareness moment to moment…

This morning I sip my coffee, reading glasses on, tri-focals hanging from the front of my shirt, writing, and giving thought to the day ahead. “What will I want to see?”, “Which glasses suit that need best?”, and lastly “Who in town does glasses that is covered by my insurance?” (New address means, in many cases, new care providers.) One more sip of this now-cold coffee, before I make a second cup, sit down to enjoy my partner’s good company, and begin the day (again).

Tags be here now, begin again, blurred vision, can you see the real me?, choose wisely, eye doctor doctor, get glasses, good self-care, I am my own cartographer, I see what you mean, love and lovers, mindfulness for beginners, narrow lenses, perspective, practicing the practices, reading glasses, seeing is believing, seeing with new eyes, sufficiency, taking care of me, The Art of Being, The Big 5, there are verbs involved, try-focal, we become what we practice, what matters most?

Categories Allegories, Free Will, Healthy Living, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Parables, Perspective, Practices, Relationships, Summer, The Art of Being, The Big 5

A Few Minutes, A Few Boxes

July 15, 2020 //

I am inclined to think of my recent move as “over” – a past event in my life. Recorded history. Completed. It isn’t. It’s more a process, than a task, and it is ongoing.

So many boxes yet to be unpacked! Is this a metaphor?

I spent my lunch break, yesterday, taking a carload of packing boxes to the local recycling center. That seems fairly “moving” related, to me. lol In the afternoon, my Traveling Partner and I met with a roofing contractor, to get an estimate on some roof repairs. Moving related. After my shift, I unpacked 21 boxes of books and “whatnot” (objects, tchotchkes, sentimental fragments from past lives, & assorted things that had been perched on or near a bookshelf that had no other obvious box into which they could be packed). I filled bookshelves with books. Definitely moving related. I broke down the boxes, and took those to the garage. More moving-related activity. lol

I still managed to leave a couple tasks on my list of things to do very much not yet done. Fatigue and the end of the day got to me, before I got to those. lol This feels like a move that is still in progress, for sure. I look out my studio window this morning, aware of the handful of boxes yet to be unpacked that are stacked behind me. I sip my coffee lacking any noteworthy fucks to give about that in this moment right here. It’s enough to wake rested, from pleasant dreams, in this quiet haven. It’s enough to make coffee, and slowly get myself together for a new day.

New day – new list of things to do. LOL

I continue to sip my coffee as the pre-dawn darkness shifts to morning light. My “to do list” slowly sheds moving tasks, in favor of everyday household chores and errands, day by day. I frown at my list – have I forgotten something? I have. I add it.

The delicious cool morning air fills the house. After yesterday’s heat (no A/C), my Traveling Partner left the windows open through the night. I woke to a comfortably cool home. Lovely. I wiggle my bare toes contentedly, thinking about the heat of the day ahead. It’s summer, here. The pandemic’s various stay-at-home/social distancing restrictions of the past 4 months create a surreal sort of “missing Spring” in my recollection. The move itself contributes; my attention was focused elsewhere, and I missed out on blooming flowers, morning walks, and lengthening days, somehow. The move again, if I include the house-hunt. That process began in mid-April, and wrapped up (by some measures) just a bit less than 3 months later (when the move out finished). I definitely spent more of that time thinking about paperwork, than spring flowers. lol

New day – new perspective. 🙂

I sit contentedly at my desk, drinking coffee. Dawn has become day. Pretty routine stuff. This new beginning is about shifting gears from getting moved, and embracing change, to living life, and enjoying the experience. Sure, I expect change will still be a thing. I feel myself shrug. I silently count waiting boxes. I look at the time. It’s definitely time to begin again. 🙂

Tags be here now, be the change, begin again, boxes, choose wisely, emotional self sufficiency, experience, good self-care, I am my own cartographer, MBSR, moving in, moving out, new perspective, p.s. I love you, practicing the practices, ptsd, sufficiency, summertime, taking care of me, TBI, tchotchkes, there are verbs involved, we become what we practice, what matters most?

Categories Allegories, Brain Injury, Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Summer, The Art of Being

Strange Times

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What’s So Special About It?

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Another Day, Another Beginning

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The Parable of the Reading Glasses

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A Few Minutes, A Few Boxes

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