Archives for category: Relationships

I am enjoying having my preferred route to work [on foot] through the park back. I don’t think I understood how much it matters to my experience – my commute, generally, I mean. It is more than simply a means of arriving at work on time that is more pleasant than the harrowing commuter traffic on the roads at rush hour; in principle I have nothing against long commutes, and I have had quite a few. Time and again in life I have returned to the experience of being close enough to walk to work, and found it to be a more satisfying experience on a number of levels. It makes a difference where that walk takes me, though, and this is something I had not understood with sufficient clarity before this experience of having a walk I greatly enjoy taken from me for some time, and then returned to me. I have more information (about me) and deeper perspective (on how I enjoy my experience and what matters most to me).

Walking a favorite path.

Walking a favorite path.

I find that the walk itself is very productive cognitive time, whether I spend it meditating, problem solving, or day dreaming. It always feels ‘fast enough’, too, even on days when I am frequently distracted by things I see and want to take a picture along the way. In spite of feeling fast enough, it doesn’t feel rushed, or hurried; it’s actually pretty difficult to rush myself, or feel hurried, on foot. When I am walking from place to place, the world must wait for me. That’s a pace I can comfortably sustain – for a lifetime.

Beauty, perspective, and a   few moments to think.

Beauty, perspective, and a few moments to think.

I took my time today, and I have treated myself well. Gently. With great respect, appreciation, and tenderness – and why not? I do so much for me! Besides, I’m right here, every day, handy for helping out with the ongoing process of learning to treat others truly well, also. I practice on me – because I’m certainly worthy of my best care (without me, where would I be?). It’s been a lovely day, and after a chilly walk home on a crisp autumn evening, a hot shower was quite splendid – far beyond what a few minutes of soap and warm water are generally expected to be, honestly. The apartment is warming up; I smile reminded that my traveling partner was right about the thermostat and happy that I already ordered it. Dinner next, that seems sensible.

As I sit and write, music in the background, I pause to reflect for a moment on how much more natural so many small basic self-care things feel now. Almost easy. I chuckle silently; I know from experience that if I stop practicing some good practice or another, however worthy and helpful, the habit of it will quickly be extinguished (thanks, TBI!), and I might even forget it had been a useful practice – maybe, just maybe, being reminded somehow, some time later, that it had been something I used to do I could then begin again. lol I keep practicing practices – and incremental change over time continues. My emotional quality of life is considerably improved over two years ago, and even my physical health seems more reliably good, much of the time. It’s a chilly autumn evening, and life is more good than bad – and I am content more often than I am not. That’s a nice bit of improvement right there. 🙂

I smile, thinking of things and people, and experiencing a tender moment of… ‘global well-wishing’? Something like that. It’s a nice evening to treat myself well. If you were here with me, I would treat you well, too. Why not?

The work day slipped by after a good night’s sleep, wedged carelessly between two lovely walks through the park, and followed quickly by an intimate evening spent in the company of my traveling partner. My experience of the day, summarized in a single sentence. The day was so much more than words can easily describe. I generally reach for more words to try to achieve the thing… Tonight isn’t about that.

Now is a good time for love.

Now is a good time for love.

I am listening to jazz, boiling water for tea, and smiling. I don’t need more than this moment, here, feeling connected, and buoyed by the shared experience of loving and being loved in return. I can’t say this is ‘enough’ – it’s ever so much more than that. “Enough” I can generally manage on my own – love is this whole other thing entirely, and shared it has a depth and sweetness I don’t have words for at all. Relaxing in the warm glow of evening light, and love, I’ll just enjoy some jazz, and some memories…brand new, as yet unsavored… and yeah, that’s enough. (More than enough.)

It’s a good evening to be love. The words aren’t what matter most.

It’s been an interesting weekend of pain and contentment. It’s not a combination that comes to mind when I think of how I’d like to spend a weekend, but generally it’s been okay. Momentary tears today, just small frustrations that overwhelm me briefly, and they don’t linger the way the rain did, yesterday. The pain is what it is, and it could be quite a lot worse. I am learning to be with my physical pain just in this moment here, rather than pulling together all the threads of pain in the past, and anticipated (dreaded) pain in the future; I don’t hurt less, objectively, but the shift in perspective limited to pain-right-now seems to result in more ability to manage the pain I have, and endure the pain I can’t ease.

I spent most of yesterday relaxing and listening to the rain fall, no music, no video, no book…just the rain falling, patio door open to the sound of it. I love the rain. I enjoyed a nice hike in the morning, yesterday, too, before the drizzle became rain showers that lasted the rest of the day. I thoroughly enjoyed the day.

A photograph does not convey the feeling of the experience.

A photograph does not convey the feeling of the experience.

While enjoying the rain, I noticed some of my roses still blooming, and cut them to put in a small vase before the rain did them in. It’s a small thing, but I enjoy my roses greatly, and seeing the wee bud vase filled with miniature roses from my patio garden makes me smile every time I see them. I make a point of looking at them often.

The last autumn roses from my patio garden.

The last autumn roses from my patio garden.

Today the sunshine has broken through the clouds. Other than a trip for groceries, I haven’t been particularly productive today; it’s the pain. I’m okay with slowing down and taking care of me, and after giving the matter some thought, I adjust my thinking and plan ahead to have brunch with a friend, and get help moving the one heavy item that I need to put into storage before the holidays. I walk over to the storage unit with a tape measure and figure out what/where and picked up some hooks for hanging some things in the storage unit, while I was out for groceries. I’m excited to bring even more order and beauty to my wee home by moving things into storage that I don’t need day-to-day (the A/C in the winter months, for example). Order – and room; I measured. I lose about 10 sq ft of floor space just to paintings stacked against the wall here and there! This is not a big enough place to waste space that way.

Yesterday was so different. I hurt, but the focus of the day was most definitely on the rain, and the serene contentment and joy of listening to the rain fall. Today, it’s hard to tear my attention away from my pain. My traveling partner and I had planned to hang out this weekend; it didn’t work out. Pain sucks. There will be other opportunities, of course…but not one of them is ‘now’. lol I’m not moping over it. I take time to distract myself with one thing and another.

I find myself wrapped in gratitude; things could be so much worse. I spent some minutes considering the many ways in which I can clearly recognize specifically how things are better right now than they once would have been, under similar circumstances, in similar pain. I am not really surprised how often thoughts of my traveling partner or something we shared surfaced in my recollection; this extraordinary love we share is a thread that glitters brightly in my life’s tapestry, and our love has certainly been part of this healing journey. I’m a big fan of love, as a result, and ferociously loyal to this particular human being who is my traveling partner; I’m not always sure how good that is for me, and I occasionally lose perspective. lol

See, here’s the thing about love; I hurt, and it matters less than being able to also say “I love”.

Be love.

Be love.

I’d like this to be a lovely bit of prose, whimsical and poetic, about autumn and about evening. It isn’t at all. I’m not sure what it is yet, other than distracted and interrupted…but it is autumn, it is evening, and I am distracted and interrupted by the noise and conversation of the concrete finishing crew working immediately outside my front door at this very minute, shortly before 6:00 pm.

I dislike how near to the world, exposed, and vulnerable I feel with the workers so incredibly close that I can clearly hear their conversation and see their movement through the front blinds. I feel less safe, and less private. I know that I am adequately safe, and adequately private in my day-to-day experience. I know that when the work is finished this will once again be a quiet home. Right now? Right now this is nothing that can be described as quiet and I am annoyed to have to pay rent – when I feel, fairly often, that the most important thing to be paying for with the rent is the fucking privacy and quiet. Well, if nothing else, I have learned how very much I need my home to be a quiet place – surely the knowledge will stop me from buying a place that isn’t. (I can hope.)

A leisurely shower, dinner in the oven, unhurried yoga, a few minutes writing… it is a thoroughly pleasant evening when I am able to forget, however briefly, about the noisy workmen, or at least refrain from becoming emotionally invested in moments of annoyance or resentment. It’s worth maintaining perspective; the work being done benefits the entire community, and matters to me as well. The workmen are aware of me, and there has been sufficient communication that they are – when they think to be – making efforts to minimize how disrupting this is for me (and for my neighbors). They are quite a polite and considerate construction crew, generally – it’s still work, there are still verbs – and communication – involved. No way around it, some of this shit is disruptive; it’s not a personal attack. 🙂

A lovely autumn evening; little annoyances don't have to matter. I let them fall like leaves.

A lovely autumn evening; little annoyances don’t have to matter. I let them fall like leaves.

So here I am now. Relaxed. Content. Taking time for me, making room in my heart for awareness, perspective, and compassion, and generally enjoying my evening in spite of the noise, in spite of the disruptions, in spite of the shadows just behind the window blinds. It’s a pleasant evening, and there’s really nothing ‘extra’ that I need right now. This is enough. 🙂

 

This is primarily a ‘well, obviously’ sort of parable, I’ll warn you now; there is no new information here, you already know this. It is a cautionary tale, a reminder, and a warning – like any good parable, a teachable moment being snuck into the day by way of storytelling. 🙂 This one is also ‘work related’, and very specific in that context. This is The Parable of the Wheelwright.

A beautiful morning for a journey.

A beautiful morning for a journey.

A man of vision preparing for a long journey comes to a famously skilled wheelwright to order a covered wagon for his great journey. He has a vision, and shares his needs clearly and simply. The wheelwright takes his order, and asks questions about finishing details like color, and fabric, the size of this feature or that one, and the extras her new customer may want. It is a reasonable order. The wheelwright is a busy one, serving multiple customers in the community. She provides the man with a receipt for his order, and advises that his wagon will be done in one month – four weeks from that day.

The wheelwright is skilled and orderly, and lays out the work for the new wagon so that each detail will fit the others, and the work will be assembled smoothly, efficiently, and be ready when the man comes for his wagon in four weeks; this is done in such a way that all her customers will each receive their orders on time, completed with the great skill for which she is known. The work commences in the ordinary way. The wheelwright loves her work.

Before the end of the first week, the man of vision returns to the wheelwright agitated, and eager to get started on his journey. His wagon is not ready, and will not be ready for 3 more weeks – as agreed to. “Can I just get a wheel today?” he asks excitedly. The wheelwright observes that a wheel is not a wagon, and will not serve his purpose well, but the man insists he must have a wheel that very day, well-made and able to be affixed to a wagon. The wheelwright does have a wheel ready… made for a different wagon altogether, for another customer, but she is reluctant to give it to the man – it’s not made for his wagon at all, and giving him this wheel now, it may not fit his wagon when it is ready. The man insists, and takes the wheel that she has made, over her objections – he is sure it will be just fine, and departs contented.

Nearing the end of the second week, the man returns. He eagerly requests another wheel. He inquires if perhaps he could also have the canvas wagon cover as well. The wheelwright explains that a wheel is not a wagon, and that having just two wheels would not serve his purpose well. She points out that a canvas cover made for another wagon may not fit the wagon she makes for him. He is unconcerned and urgently wants what he wants, and insists on having a second wheel and the canvas cover that very day. The wheelwright explains that while she does have a wheel and a canvas cover on hand that she could give him, they were made for other wagons – and that taking these items from other jobs will put her behind on her work on those jobs (which have due dates much sooner than his wagon) which will delay completion of his wagon – which will not be ready now, until 6 weeks. The man is annoyed that his wagon is delayed, but insistent on having the second wheel and a canvas cover that very day.

At the end of four weeks, the man returns for his wagon – which is not ready. The wheelwright reminds him of the two wheels and the canvas cover which he received ahead of schedule, and how these choices delayed completion of his wagon. The man seems surprised that these actions would change the outcome of his original order, but agrees to return in two weeks for his wagon. Over the next two weeks, he sends several small changes to the wheelwright by messenger, requesting different fabric for the canvas cover, and a different style of spoke for the wheels.

When the man returns in two weeks for his wagon. He is surprised to see other customers waiting at the counter, angry that their orders are not ready on time. The man’s requests had delayed other jobs than his. The wheelwright did not seem to be enjoying her job anymore; she felt as if she could not work efficiently or skillfully with the frequent interruptions and changes, but the man only sees his own vision, and does not see the unhappiness of the wheelwright. When his turn at the counter came, he requests his wagon. It stands on blocks, with only two wheels and no cover, and he is angry and disappointed. The wheelwright reminds him he has taken two wheels ahead of schedule, and the canvas cover – and that if he will bring them in, she’ll attach them to the wagon.

When he returns with the wheels and the canvas cover, the wheelwright attaches them to the wagon. It doesn’t stand level; the wheels are three different sizes. Only two of the wheels have the sort of spokes the man requested, and the canvas cover is a very different fabric than he had decided on after the work was started. The wagon appears quite poorly made, and insufficient for the man’s great journey. The man is angry, and disappointed, and taking receipt of his wobbly wagon he departs grumbling about the poor workmanship and wondering how this wheelwright ever came by a reputation for being extraordinarily skilled, concerned that his journey would now be a failure ‘due the lack of skill of that damned wheelwright’. The wheelwright watches the man leave and considers taking up some other work altogether, finding the making of wagons frustrating and unsatisfying.

The very same week as the man of vision submitted his order for a wagon to the famously skilled wheelwright, another man had submitted his order to a wheelwright who had only recently set up shop in the community. This other man submitted his order with great care, having never ordered a wagon but certain of his needs on his upcoming journey. He listened with care to the recommendations of the wheelwright, and departed on her promise to have the work finished in four weeks. In four weeks he returned to take receipt of his wagon, and it was ready. Other customers had arrived ahead of him, and were receiving their wagons with great satisfaction, each wagon completed and beautiful. When his turn came, he received his wagon as well, completed, beautiful, standing level, and looking precisely as he had requested in every detail. Even the interior was well-finished, with handcrafted comfortable seats and cushions, and little details to make the experience of using his wagon extra nice. He was delighted with the perfect beautiful wagon and left with it exclaiming to all he passed that indeed she was a brilliantly skilled wheelwright… including to his friend, a man of vision, who would submit an order for a wagon the very next day.

I enjoy a good change of perspective.

I enjoy a good change of perspective.

Is this one a tad over obvious? Ah, but here’s the thing… the punchline… the plot twist; the wheelwright could have said ‘no’.

There’s a lot to learning about taking care of me. It’s a nice evening for it.