Archives for category: Roses

It is an unusual Monday. I woke feeling cross and dissatisfied, irritable, almost angry – and my entire being went looking for fight. Well, that’s the feeling of it, when the day started. I allowed myself the respect and consideration of really feeling it, acknowledging the presence of it in my experience, and an honest admission of awareness that emotions can be quite illusory, and transitory, and that the thinking I use to prop up those emotions can be deceptively well crafted to support continuation, rather than resolution. Yay me… I’m still feeling cross.

Roses blooming. My emotions are not relevant to their experience.

Roses blooming. My emotions are not relevant to their experience.

As I walked to work contemplating my feeling of discontent and dissatisfaction, it quietly became more honest, more vulnerable, and a more accurate expression of unmet needs and longing. Longing. (I am finding satisfaction in the word, as an expression of my experience this morning. ‘I woke with a sense of longing’.) I spent the walk to the office musing about longing.  I re-phrased a variety of recent expressions of discontent, dissatisfaction, loss, frustration, and moments that fell short of expectations, turning them into frank expressions of desire and longing. It is an interesting exercise in self-expression that takes garden-variety everyday bitching and renders commonplace moments of unhappiness into something more profound – and constructive.

From my perspective, longing doesn’t feel as ‘negative’ as dissatisfaction – or as hopeless. Longing feels poignant, deep, even necessary. Longing feels respectful of prior joys and experiences, and honors what is valued and loved. Longing reminds me of what I want and why I want it, without attacking someone dear to me as though they are an obstacle in obtaining my desires.  Having said that… I find myself puzzled by longing. Is it a ‘now’ thing? Is it a trap that combines past and present, but delivering nothing of value, merely holding me in thrall to desire?  I am still a student of life, of love…and there seems always to be more to learn.

One very nice thing about longing… my own longing for a thing, person, event, or experience is not an attack on someone else.  It is sometimes challenging [for me] to express ‘dissatisfaction’ or ‘discontent’ without seeming to attack someone else, as though they are the source of my emotional experience. ‘Longing’ seems bigger than that…with a presence in my experience that is clearly ‘of me’ and ‘for me’, part of who I am, and an expression of what I value and what I need.

There’s more to think about here, more questions to ask, more connections to make, more experiences to parse and correlate, more to understand and explore…more life to live…and time to write another day.

A footnote, of sorts: for so very long I experienced longing for a greenhouse of my own. I have such fond memories of the greenhouse attached to my grandmother’s house, so many years ago. I don’t believe I ever really said so, beyond the occasional remark about it being ‘a cool idea’ (not a very precise expression of longing). In a sense, this entire post is the period at the end of a ‘thank you’ to a man who adores me so much that he often knows my heart’s desire long before I learn the words to share it with him.  😀

Thank you, Love.

Thank you, Love.

…Oh, and I no longer feel cross; I am experiencing a sense of longing, and enjoying the satisfaction of understanding myself just a bit more than I did yesterday. 🙂

Actually, roses need no defense. They are thorny, lovely, fragrant, bear fruit that has nutritive value, and when selected with care, amazingly low maintenance – so what’s to defend? I’ve often found myself defending roses, though, from the standard variety of attacks: too much fuss, too few/many flowers, too much/little fragrance, prone to rambling/stunted, wrong color, wrong scent, wrong location. There is a theme there.  Do you see the thread of objections weaving through the tapestry of human experience? Too much effort, too little outcome, not quite this, not quite that – dissatisfying on some level, perhaps to costly; the same objections each of us offers to pretty nearly anything we choose to object to. ‘Too much’, and ‘not enough’, are the battle cries of discontent.

I’m learning a few things about discontent. (Call it ‘dissatisfaction’ if you’d like, I’m not sure I’ve identified a real difference, myself.) I am learning that expectations drive discontent when my experience doesn’t ‘measure up’ to the expectations I have allowed myself to indulge. I am also learning that I am sometimes quite mired in the experience of feeling discontented or dissatisfied before I realize that I’ve gotten there, and that being mindful of the developing feeling can be critical to preventing it from escalating and becoming an even less pleasant experience, such as despair, or sorrow, or disappointment. I am learning to embrace my will as a path to an outcome I’ll enjoy more, because willful action is often quite satisfying.

I am learning, and practicing, making clear specific requests to address clear specific needs. (Well, damn, that seems obvious!) I have a lot of opportunities to practice, and it’s definitely worthwhile – because I have a lot to learn.  It sounds easy, but I find that asking for action, or change, is met with a variety of reactions – based on the person receiving the request.

  • Some people tend toward the ‘helpful by nature’, and receive requests comfortably, good-naturedly, and without much argument. It is sometimes too easy to burden those sorts of people too much, because they are so accommodating about the demands life places on them to start with.
  • Some people already face their world and their experience with a lifetime of resentment, summed up, saved up,  and returned as a volley of objections to any request for action or change.
  • Some people don’t quite seem to be having the same conversation I am, and I find myself wondering what they are hearing once they have finished filtering and interpreting the words that struck their ear drums, and then wondering whether to try to straighten it all out, or just wander off in search of sense and understanding elsewhere.
  • Some people choose to be reserved, indirect, withdrawn, sullen, evasive, or ambiguous – rather than communicating at all.

I’d like to understand all that more clearly.  But, in lieu of understanding, I’m working on ‘cleaning up my own mess’.  Learning to communicate more clearly than feels safe, more accurately with fewer words, with more willingness to slow things down to gain clarity and understanding, and more good-natured frankness about my own limitations. So far so good. I’m also much more inclined to be firm about my own boundaries and needs. That one is much much harder. I dislike confrontation, and I enjoy harmony. Communicating harmoniously with people who relish conflict is incredibly difficult – because our goals in communication are not compatible.  A challenging puzzle.

…Huh…this went on longer than I intended, and as I rambled I found myself drowning in words, half-formed thoughts colliding with the miscellany trickling through my very active mind, snagging here and there on a moment of urgent meaning, and suddenly…pointlessness. So…I’ll just stop now. Unfinished. Incomplete. Human.

Here’s a picture of ‘Circus Clown’ (Moore, California, 1991). I’m sure there’s a metaphor here, somewhere…

Fragrant, thorny, robust, and lovely.

Fragrant, thorny, robust, and lovely.

Still counting down, and I woke this morning acutely aware that in just two more days, I turn 50… ‘the end of the first half’. lol. This morning was a strange one. I spent it in solitary meditation watching wee fish swim, and in the greenhouse, watering seedlings, and in the rose garden quietly tending roses that got so little from me over the weekend. I sipped my coffee. Shared a wave and a smile with a neighbor in passing. Watched the dawn unfold to day, and went on in to work.

Work is… work. Today I am earning my living – and then some. Busy getting ahead, for a few days off to celebrate me.

There will likely never be a time in my life when it is appropriate to ‘share everything’ I’ve been through with any one other human being – and I’m not sure how many could withstand the tale without considerable heartbreak. Blech. Let’s not, shall we? Perhaps it is enough – and maybe all I ever truly needed – if I honor and respect my own experience, and value myself for having endured what I have, and managing to turn out decently well, over time, after a fashion, in spite of it all? I used to think I needed others to be understood, others to ‘feel heard’, others to feel supported and nurtured, to ‘make me happy’… but I’m not at all sure of any of that now. It seems quite possible that I needed to understand, myself, to hear my own words to respect my own heart, to treat my self with compassion. Certainly, now that I am learning to do so, and succeeding more often, and more consistently, much of what I felt I was missing turns out not to be missing at all – it’s simply best sought from within. 😀

I’m excited to be turning 50. To be ‘finishing the first half’. I’ve sort of muddled through it; had some wins, had some losses, some successes, some failures, some pain, some joy… I have some better notions of what to do with me now. I have a path. I have an experience. So…

Another lovely garden.

Another lovely garden.

10…yesterday…and it was a good day. A day I experienced as ‘joyous’ and ‘busy’ and ‘delightful’. Yesterday I set up my aquarium – my birthday present from my loves. I’m so excited about it that sometimes I can’t contain my delight and it spills over onto everyone around me as words – a lot of words – chatter, really, like an excited child. I’m ok with that. It isn’t harmful. lol. I would take a million pictures of it, but honestly – it’s rocks and plants and a couple snails for now, and as excited as I am, I can admit there isn’t enough ‘going on’ to take more than a picture or two at this point. lol. I’m ok with that – so eager and excited I’d happily go home straight away, work half finished, and just sit watching the bubbles rise, and the snails creeping. 😀  Simple pleasures.

Excitement, adventure, and life...better than television.

Excitement, adventure, and life…better than television.

9…today…fatigue and hormones. A good morning, somehow rather ‘grown up’ and not particularly playful. I woke in a wonderful mood from a deep sleep, and not much inclined toward the serious side of life, but life doesn’t always inquire before she gets started on my day. <shrugs> I’m having a good day – but I feel fatigued to the point of wanting to ‘just lay down for a minute’…except I’m at work, and they frown on that sort of thing. LOL What am I missing? I slept, I managed my calories, I had my usual amount of caffeine at the usual intervals [=junkie, yes I know, as vices go, it is of no significance]…I’m just…so…tired…  Hormones more than likely. Shall we skip discussing that mess in a graphic way? Either you ‘get it’ and it is part of your direct or indirect experience, or you don’t. Maybe we can talk more when I’m alert – and hostile toward the world. I always find plenty to say about it then. lol. Should be another couple days… O_0

...and now for a change of topic...

…and now for a change of topic…

The garden is lovely – and we’ve added a greenhouse! I’ve wanted one for so long. My dear Granny had one, attached to a big big house out in the countryside – when she lived out in the countryside, with a house full of kids. I remember the smell of it, and the warmth that would soak into my bones right away, and the feeling that sunshine was somehow eternal under those glass panes. I remember her potting bench, the different sizes of terra cotta pots, and the soil and her trowel.  I remember her teaching me to re-use broken pottery – a broken pot makes a good toad house, and there were so many toads in the yard! I feel a momentary twinge of sadness as I realize how rarely I see a toad in the garden these days. Still, it is a lovely June, and my birthday is nine days away…there is life everywhere! The rose garden, full of blooms, the greenhouse with the tray of seedlings growing and becoming ready for pots, the aquarium and the gentle greenery shifting in the current, soon to be home to new creatures, more life…wow. Life. I’m glad I am here. I’m glad it is now.

"Circus Clown" in bloom.

“Circus Clown” in bloom.

"Graham Thomas" showing off next to an undefeatable root stock rose - there's a metaphor there, I'm sure...

“Graham Thomas” showing off next to an undefeatable root stock rose – there’s a metaphor there, I’m sure…

Not a rose at all! A lovely peony at the edge of the rose garden.

Not a rose at all! A lovely peony at the edge of the rose garden.

I want so much to believe she is "Splish-Splash" but I seriously doubt it...possibly "irresistible"? Well, sure...she's a rose.

I want so much to believe she is “Splish-Splash” but I seriously doubt it…possibly “irresistible”? Well, sure…she’s a rose.

Green, purple, sunshine, clouds...the garden; life.

Green, purple, sunshine, clouds…the garden; life.

50 in 9 days.

Wow. I dislike what ‘news’ has become.  Political corruption? Hardly news-worthy, it’s an everyday thing, and it will continue to be for as long as we elect corrupt or corruptible human beings to positions of power.  It would be nice if a politician had to accept that role with the clear contractual understanding that he or she could not ever personally profit from that role in a direct way, or if anyone in power were ever actually held accountable for what they themselves force the nation to endure by their decisions or actions.  This is not an article about politics, or news.   I found it profoundly adult to hear Angelina Jolie go public with her account of choosing a double mastectomy over her very high risk of aggressive breast cancer…and found myself dismayed and in some cases disgusted that anyone would choose to criticize her choice; it was hers to make. Period. It’s a shame that women without that level of income, or those resources, don’t have the opportunity, realistically, to make that choice themselves. This is not an article about breast cancer, or the limited health choices that women without means face, or feminist issues of gender-limited personal freedom and choice.  Not a day goes by that the news doesn’t have another story about rape, and equally heinously, another story about what women ‘can do to prevent being raped’; rape is prevented by people not committing non-consensual sexual acts against others, it isn’t more complicated than that. Don’t rape.  The news these days just isn’t worth reading most of the time.  Not because the information isn’t valuable, not because some of what is observed isn’t newsworthy, but because the presentation of so much information is tainted with bias of one sort or another to the point that it isn’t ‘information’ at all; it is marketing, propaganda, spin, color, or outright lies. ‘Fact-checking’ relies rather heavily on someone, somewhere, being able to tell the difference between fact and opinion. lol.

I’m frustrated by how easily my balance can be disturbed by the media. ‘News’ that is intended to distress, to frighten, to alarm, to ‘call to action’ rather than inform, advise, or enlighten isn’t ‘news’ at all – it is an attack on my consciousness. I avoid it. I ask friends to stop sending me links to things. Ah, but we all use Facebook, don’t we? Well, I still do – some very dear friends and loved ones use it as their primary form of communication, long distance.  It’s hard seeing some of the things people post. More and more of my friends use ‘trigger alerts’, which I value. I’m using them more, too.

28 days… one menstrual cycle away from being 50. lol.

Spring is still unfolding all around me. I love the walk to work in the mornings; strolling past each neighbor’s garden, seeing the flowers opening day by day, feeling the soft chill morning air against my skin, or perhaps a tender misty rain falling – like this morning.  I keep returning to my own garden, morning and evening, watering, watching, loving…

Kiss of Desire, kissed by a misty morning rain.

“Kiss of Desire”, kissed by a misty morning rain.

I love the colors of morning, and the surprises…

"Graham Thomas" blooms for the first time this year.

“Graham Thomas” blooms for the first time this year.

Last year we picked out some roses likely to do well in this garden. “Graham Thomas” was one, and already quite large and eager to take his place as master of the central flower bed.  I’m quite delighted, also, with “Ebb Tide”; covered with buds and blossoms of a rich deep purple.

"Ebb Tide" wowing me.

“Ebb Tide” wowing me.

Old favorites draw my eye, too, and I smile even thinking seeing “Baby Love” on the other end of my walk home tonight.  Selected with sentiment and love, she was the featured rose of my last garden, a much smaller space – too small for my grand plans. lol.

"Baby Love" will bloom like this through the year and well into November.

“Baby Love” will bloom like this through the year and well into November.

My garden is a sanctuary where ‘the news’ can’t reach me.  When I’m in my garden, I am in the moment, aware, engaged, and being on this extraordinary other level.  Still working on mindfulness practices I am hoping will one day be very natural in my experience, as natural as stepping into my garden.

A mystery rose.

A mystery rose.

…Life has a lot of lessons to share, a lot of mysteries to reveal. Perhaps one day I will find mindfulness an easy part of being, and figure out what that mystery rose is, or find the words to tell the world “You have no power over me.”

In the meantime, I meditate, practice mindfulness, consider my Big 5, learn better skills for taking care of me, and hope to ask the questions that reveal my own heart to me most clearly.  In between, I garden.  😀