Archives for category: Mindfulness

I’m sitting at the halfway point of my morning trek across the marsh. It’s beautiful here, the day is young, and the sunrise was splendid. I feel fortunate to enjoy this moment.

Each time for the first time. Each moment the only moment.

(No AI was used to create or edit this content.)

I walked the trail wrapped in contentment, joy, and love. Simply mentioning to my Traveling Partner that I might like to explore using a bit of makeup to improve my appearance on work calls got me more support than I could have imagined. I grin to myself, swinging my feet as I sit on this fence rail listening to the sounds of life along the riverbank in Springtime. I smell flowers.

I once wore makeup a lot. That was a very long time ago. I stopped all that when I went to war. When I came home none of that sort of thing to do with appearances mattered to me at all. Life was too short, too precious, and I was for sure too broken to be bothered with any of that. I could have continued to wear my BDUs and combat boots indefinitely. I exchanged them for jeans and sweaters. After my divorce, I just wasn’t having any part of partners, or lovers, or frankly anyone else telling me how to look or what defines feminity. I am a woman. I’ll define feminity for myself, as I please, and the entire world can fuck right off. 😂

…No one else tells me who I am, that belongs to me…

…But… Aging being what it is, and spending so much time “on camera” in work meetings, I can admit that it wouldn’t hurt to take another look at what I can do with a little makeup, minimal effort, and little expense, to highlight my natural look without plastering over my face with some mask of acceptability. lol Tools are tools; they serve a purpose.

I watch little birds playing in the trees. Being present matters most. Life is not about appearances.

…Where we turn our attention largely determines what’s on our minds…

There is beauty in the world. Are you seeing it?

I think about appearances, and distractions. I think about the way media companies and tech companies seek to hold our attention, in spite of our own interests and desires. It takes an act of will to put that slop aside and turn one’s attention to what matters most. This only works if we have an understanding of what does matter most to us as an individual (which implies sufficient self-reflection and self knowledge to have that understanding). It’s not surprising to me that so many people just give up and dive back into their phones. (Although that does strike me as a terrible wasteful approach to human potential.)

What are you looking at? The sky? The tree? The little birds? Choose. The choice is yours.

Are you mired in despair, trapped by doomscrolling? That’s a choice. Put it down. Go outside. Read a book. Laugh with a friend. You are choosing, every moment. No books? Go to a library; they still exist. No friends? Meet real people in the world, interact with strangers, and open yourself to conversation. It may feel awkward. Your results may vary, but the verbs and choices are yours. Incremental change happens over time. Keep at it. Choose your path and walk it.

Not a bit of this “choose your path” stuff is “easy”. Choices are complicated. The menu of the Strange Diner is so much to take in. “Can’t” is easier than doing the verbs, failing, learning, and growing… But here it is, Spring. It’s a lovely time for growth and beginnings. Like learning to apply makeup again, as if for the first time, it’s often the decision to do it that is the most difficult part. Taking the first step feels hard. Maybe that’s a choice, too?

… Gnothi seauton…

… What will you do about that? It’s important. Who are you? Who do you want most to be? To whom have you obligated yourself, or given your decision making? Are you just mouthing someone else’s opinions? Are you living your life?

I think about it as I sit watching a new day unfold. I’m glad I took the day off for self-reflection and meditation. Later, I’ll be in the garden, clearing away the weeds and preparing the soil. Yes, of course it’s a metaphor – but I’ll also really be there, with my fingers in the soil, doing the verbs. That’s how practicing works.

It’s a journey. Choose your path wisely.

[No AI was used to create or edit this human content.]

Yesterday was a good day, a better than average Monday. I arrived home from work with a headache, an unfortunate result of working from a seat at the library where the afternoon sunshine was directly on my face. “A sunshine headache,” the sort of thing I find difficult to explain. Surviving head trauma can have some peculiar lingering consequences, and in my case those include this particular type of headache (which were much worse when I was younger but still occur in a dim fashion now). It didn’t last; I spent awhile contentedly doing my own thing in a quiet darkened room and it passed.

We often have the tools we need for the circumstances we find ourselves in.

For me, it was a pleasant evening. I am not certain what kind of experience everyone else was having. I managed to refrain from allowing concerns about experiences that are not my own to overcome my experience, and instead simply lived my moment. I slept well and deeply. The night passed uneventfully. I woke early, earlier than usual.

When I woke, I noticed my Traveling Partner was already up. I could have made assumptions about why he was up so early, but doing so could potentially lay the foundation for stress or misunderstandings. Instead I observe that he is awake and leave further understanding for later on, when I have more information. I dress and go through my morning routine, and head out for the day. On my way, I pass my beloved, in the open doorway to the deck, breathing the cool morning air. I say good morning. He returns my greeting with a few words of explanation. I depart without disturbing his peace, nor does he disturb mine.

All of this to say we are making choices. It’s not fancy or particularly complicated. We choose our words and choose our actions. We choose peace or we choose something else. Our choices definitely matter. We become what we practice. We create the person we are with our choices.

Who do you want most to be? How do you want to be remembered?

I sit at the trailhead, waiting for daybreak to come. It is a mild morning, and the warmer Spring days after so much rain have created slippery conditions on this trail, even on paved portions. Moss is growing over the trail in places. Fallen leaves, partially decomposed, are slick mats waiting to create a slip and fall accident for some unwary walker. I choose caution – and a bit of daylight. I reflect on choices and change, and preserving my peace under challenging circumstances.

I don’t look at the news this morning. Why would I? I already know enough about what’s going on to function in society. More would be too much. I’m taking “preserving my peace” pretty seriously. If asked, I would encourage our leaders to do the same; preserve peace. I doubt they would listen to me; they are making too much money off of war and enjoying the thrill of having so much attention. I find the whole mess distasteful and frankly crass. Humanity could do better.

Choose your actions and your words with care. They have consequences.

Daybreak. The first hints of the new day dawning reveal a stormy overcast sky. The forecast says the day will be warm, like yesterday. I look down the familiar path, feeling capable and prepared, and ready to begin again.

What will you choose? It’s your path to walk.

Relationships matter [to human primates], and because they do matter, we become attached. Attached to individuals. Attached to our own expectations and assumptions. Attached to outcomes. Attached to ideas about people and about feelings about people.

Our attachments become entanglements, sticky snares of emotion, and sometimes heartbreak. Human is (emotionally) messy. We become what we practice, as individuals. We have no control over what others practice, nor over who they choose to become.

Relationships are complicated.

I’ve experienced a few things in life (and love), too many to list off the top of my head, and somehow there’s still more to learn. I ended my evening last night thinking about experience and life and love, and how fucking complicated all that is by itself…then layer on the additional complications of the other person’s experience, and what they mean to us, and whatever challenges circumstances may contribute (mental health, chronic pain, medications needed to treat this or that condition, still other relationships, it’s a long and varied list)… it’s almost miraculous anyone ever maintains a relationship with another individual longer than it takes to go “oh, hell no”. It’s a lot to take sometimes. We do it because we are social creatures, and we do it because it feels so good to “get it right”.

It’s tricky. People struggle and suffer, and sometimes the solutions that are available to ease some particular bit of suffering (for example, medication to manage ADHD, or depression, or pain) can really complicate a relationship. People often “don’t seem themselves” until they get their medication just right. Sometimes the person they become, and may be happy to be, isn’t who we want to be with. It’s not a “right or wrong” discussion, it is more complicated than that.

I’m fortunate that my Traveling Partner is very open with me when he has the hard work of new meds in front of him. I do my best to support him through such things as he has reliably done for me, more than once (and is doing presently). I know it’s not easy.

Inconveniently, this time around we’re going through it together, while we each have our own experience of “the new meds journey”. We’ve been through it before. It is perhaps my least favorite experience in a relationship, and I am deeply grateful and appreciative that we communicate openly with each other; every change, every adjustment, and the details of our subjective lived experience get shared. No surprises, aside from the very real effects of the medications themselves, initially. Could be worse. Not my favorite bit of any relationship, but I’m not also having to deal with mysterious bullshit stemming from poor communication.

I get to the trail with my head full of thoughts. I’m okay. I’m pretty well settled on the new medication that is managing so much of my pain, so much better. A larger portion of my chronic pain is neuropathic than I had previously understood. It was a good choice to change my medication.

I take a deep breath and blow it out as a heavy sigh. I write a few words before I start down the trail, hoping to let it all go and take my walk, present in this moment, awake and aware, comfortable in my own skin and unbothered. It’s time to walk on. It’s time to reflect on impermanence. It’s time to practice non-attachment. It’s time for meditation and self-reflection. It’s time to begin again.

Today is “Pi day”. 😁 Pi day has always put a smile on my face since it became a thing I was aware of. Eat some pie. Celebrate some fun with numbers. Maybe take time to learn more about pi as a number. Have a little fun, and remember that math doesn’t change based on whether you understand it. You can learn it, it’s just a different language.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I reached the trailhead sometime after daybreak, just as sunrise began, but the clouds were positioned such that it wasn’t particularly colorful. A thin crescent moon hangs over the farm fields that become a seasonal lake with the autumn rain. This year it was Spring before that happened, and it is not the dramatic change it usually is.

A new day and an opportunity to begin again.

The marsh is soggy. The seasonal trail is flooded in places and not safe to walk. The all season trail is less fraught with obstacles and unlikely to be impassable at any point. It takes me alongside the Tualatin river, and there’s a very nice place to sit, there. I head out content to walk with my thoughts awhile. It’s enough.

Spring feels like it’s already here.

When I reach this “view point”, I stop and sit with my thoughts awhile. It is as different a day from yesterday as it possibly could be. I feel comfortable, contented, and unbothered. I feel lighthearted and wrapped in love. Feelings are feelings. Feelings are not rooted in factual objective circumstances. I’m okay with letting yesterday’s feelings go; they are part of yesterday. That was s different moment, a moment that has passed. I don’t benefit from clinging to it.

Little birds flit among the still bare branches of the trees and shrubs around me. I watch them with delight. This moment is enough just as it is. Later, I’ll begin again, for now I’ll just be here, enjoying the moment I’ve got.

In this nation where billions are wasted on AI and warfare, people are suffering. It’s not that there isn’t enough to go around, enough to lift everyone out of poverty, enough to build a peaceful world of sufficiency and comfort for everyone, and even to provide healthcare to everyone… it’s that greed gets to the hearts of power first.

Hard times follow for many people, and it is frankly shameful…

I woke in pain, which means I woke thinking about work and bills and doctors and the grind that seems required to get ahead, stay ahead, and maybe finish with a little left over to pass along. In a nation with the means to spend the many hundreds of billions of dollars it takes to wage unwanted war on a nation that could not harm us, this is both annoying and honestly horrifying. You only have to listen to billionaires talk about people to know they don’t care about people beyond the potential cash value they represent.

I can’t honestly say that I “like people” in general. I’ve been hurt and disappointed too many times. But I value people, and I like many of them individually and cherish what they bring to my experience of life. I cherish and deeply love one person, now, and have loved others. Are billionaires actually capable of love or of valuing people, or humanity?

I walk the trail in the darkness with my blue mood and grim thoughts. I’m vexed that humanity has not yet given up on warfare. What a fucking travesty. What a waste of resources. The cost is too high. The money wasted could be better spent.

… I take my meds and hope that my pain will ease… Doing so reminds me of the ridiculous cost of medical care in this country. I keep walking.

I manage to dodge most of the puddles in spite of the darkness. I’m walking without my headlamp, which is a little silly, but I didn’t care to deal with the bobbing circle of light this morning. I just want peace. There is no peace. Somehow the thought of shining a light on this dark mood only annoys me, so I don’t. I just keep walking.

I get to my halfway point, still hearing the song in my head. “Hard Times” by Devil Makes Three is too relevant right now. I woke with this song in my head and a heavy heart. I’d like to feel differently. Maybe I’ll feel differently later. I ignore the tears sliding down my cheeks. I’m not looking for comfort; I feel things deeply, that’s a super power, not a character flaw. I let the tears fall.

Billionaire grifters dragging the world into war for a profit… This is not what I thought I was fighting for as a soldier watching the cold war end. Instead of a world at peace we’ve handed the future over to thieves at a bargain while we watch them burn it to the ground. The death toll is grotesque. The tears fall. Not just mine, falling helplessly and pointlessly over a war on another continent, but also the tears of loss and pain and terror of the many real human beings whose lives have been destroyed by wars no one needs, that serve no identifiable good in the world. It sickens me. …Or is that queasy sensation only my own physical pain? I sigh to myself.

I wish I were looking forward to the day and the weekend ahead. I get to my feet, tears wet on my face, trail wet from recent rain. I may as well walk on. I have practices to practice, and a life to live. I can begin again. Change is. Hard times come and go. Nations rise and fall. This too will pass.