Archives for category: Roses

The first rose of spring has opened in my garden. It is just 48 days until my 50th birthday, and for some unclear reason 50 feels rather like ‘the middle of life’ – although I am hopeful about living well past the century mark. A beginning, a middle…and an end; I am wearing a long-favored, old black sweater, and I am considering today to be it’s ‘last day’…

'Baby Love' is the first rose to bloom in my garden this spring.

‘Baby Love’ is the first rose to bloom in my garden this spring.

My old black sweater is an ordinary enough black sweater, of mixed synthetic fibers, soft and worn and comfy, with rather mundane cable stitch down the front, and quite large.  I bought it some 15 years ago, during a career change, and a point in my life when I was heavier than I am now. A lot heavier. This is a size ‘3X’ sweater.  It’s huge on me now, mostly pretty shapeless, and not particularly flattering. I’ve never cared about that – it has also been reliably comfortable, effortless to care for, and predictably rather invisible, in the sense that wearing it allowed me to fade into the background at a point in my life where anxiety and unpredictable temperament so ruled my experience that I appreciated having a way to hide from the world in plain sight.  Now, though, life feels very different and I am less inclined to hide. I also feel…healthy, beautiful, and alive – and I’m ready to say good-bye to being so wounded and afraid of the world that only being wrapped in a comfy old black sweater feels safe and warm.  Hugs are better. lol.

 
A sweater is only a sweater, after all… it isn’t a time capsule of memories and events associated with the wearing of the sweater, it isn’t the embodiment of who I am, or who I was, and it isn’t a cherished object of sentimental value clasped relentlessly by possessive withered hands frightened to let go for fear of losing beloved memories to the passage of time. (I may have once thought it was…)  It’s just a sweater: too old, too worn, too big.  It doesn’t fit me anymore.

 
I still like sweaters. I still like black sweaters. I even still like this sweater… but it is time to move on. Time to let go of some things that are not helpful to hang on to. Time to let go of things that get in the way of better things.  Time to accept and encourage and nurture change.  It is time for a new black sweater; sexy, fun, soft…and perhaps in a ‘slightly darker black’?

 
…Or perhaps not black at all.  In 48 days I shall be 50, and I’m clearly not a little girl, anymore. Some of it has been rough, but I think it will be fine if I stop wearing black…beginnings, middles, ends…this is what 50 looks like through my eyes, reflected in my mirror, considered in the context of my experience.

...on the other hand... approaching 50: my right hand, my right mind.

…on the other hand… approaching 50: my right hand, my right mind.

 

Today, it is my walk home last night that resonates with me in a lingering way.  This morning’s walk was lovely, too; still basking in the glow of Love, and attentively observing the sights of spring as I passed by: a hedge of delicate magnolia blossoms turning now to a stale brown as they fade, tiny azaleas unfolding magenta and lemon yellow, big bold rhododendrons of florid scarlet, clusters of sweet smelling shrubs of an unknown (to me) variety, and a seemingly endless number and kind of tiny birds, each with their own song to sing.

First peek at the garden on a spring morning

First peek at the garden on a spring morning

I have my own song to sing, too, and on my walk last night it was a surprise to find myself humming and sometimes even singing aloud.  Each day brings me some moments of finding this new place in myself…a center of calm and strength and wholeness I didn’t know I had within me.  This strong core inside myself seems untouched by momentary ups and downs, by the whims of circumstance, by the petty dramas, tides, and storms of my human experience.  My emotions come and go, sometimes hurting, sometimes surging with passion or delight, and still this core of strength inside myself seems calm and chill, not unmoved, but not involved.  Finding this place inside myself is giving me back some very precious things that I had lost somewhere/when along the way…the freedom to dance, to sing aloud, a feeling of height and power…and safety.  As if… I am my will.  <sigh> That probably doesn’t say what I am trying to say.  Too many, and not enough, words. 🙂

…exit, theme song playing in the background… 😀

Sometimes the path is clear.

Sometimes the path is clear.

I had an interesting dream last night.  I found myself before a big ornate door, dark and imposing, and I felt a sense of uncertainty about where I was, and where I was heading.  I knocked on the door and as it opened felt I was standing before ‘the heart of the universe’.  A woman answered the door; a woman of uncommon beauty and serenity, with laugh lines rather than wrinkles, and of an indeterminate age that only seemed ‘not young’. She radiated calm, compassion, and wisdom.  She smiled and sunshine broke through clouds I hadn’t even seen.  She wore my face, but seemed somehow unknown to me in the course of my own experience of life.  I felt her inquire in a questioning way, but wordlessly, and what I thought I heard was more an assurance than a question “I can help you with this.”  I replied simply “Where am I going?” and felt we were truly somehow saying the same thing – as though questions and answers are entirely interchangeable.

I was suddenly in a sunny meadow walking alone, only remembering her, and her words and a big map, with a convenient ‘You Are Here’ arrow. “If your focus is on just one element of the journey, how will you find your way?  Consider the method, the map, and the destination, or be lost aging, not growing.”  She pointed to the map, “You Are Here is where you are, not where you are going.  We don’t choose where we start, we start where we are – and choose our destination.”  I had wanted to ask her again, ‘Where am I going?’, but her compassionate smile stopped me.  She held the door for me then, gesturing to the world on the horizon, “I can’t be you, now, you are not here, yet.  Soon enough, if you follow your path…”   I shaded my eyes from the sun as I stepped into the bright light of day… and woke suddenly, in my dark room to the eager beeping of my alarm clock, and a new day.

It lingers with me even now… “We don’t choose where we start…”

Spring flowers along the way

Spring flowers along the way

I wonder what the journey will be like…who I will become over time… how life will change me… how I will change life around me… now where is that damned map… 😉

So…um…right… I am humbled in the face of my humanity, and admittedly ‘doing my best’ isn’t always…adequate? Suitable? Ideal? Perhaps not even functional. I am very human.  Not unexpectedly, practicing mindfulness throws me the occasional curve ball, or offers me an intellectual or cognitive challenge I didn’t anticipate.

A great morning to share a smile!

A great morning to share a smile!

Yesterday,  I took a walk on the wild side… ‘brute force mindfulness‘.  O.m.g… the humor of it buoys my general good spirits today, and I am still sort of scratching my head that the eventual outcome included a completely unexpected ‘thank you’ for ‘being there’… but I am not sure I was ‘being there’ the way I’d ideally like to be for people.  No fooling, I had hit a wall of frustration at one point that actually resulted in my yelling – literally yelling, in a rather unpleasantly commanding tone – directives that were borrowed directly from my mindfulness practices…but… how effective is it to shout orders to ‘Breathe!’ at someone who is losing their patience ?  Or to resort to angrily demanding that someone  ‘Be here!‘ when they seemed trapped in some other moment?  (That last was only a fragment of what I was moved to say, but the ludicrousness of shouting commands to be in some way more mindful got to me before I got more words out, and I forced myself to shut the hell up before I went further down the path of the ridiculous.)

Compassion wins out, this morning, and I accept that I was in enough pain last night to be pretty easily tested to my limits, even with people who matter to me a great deal.  I sure don’t feel like I was at my best for emotional resilience, respectfulness, or consideration – and as humorous as it still is that I snapped in that very odd way, I hope to build a lifetime of good skills and habits that allow me to bend as a reed in the wind, instead, and to be able to comfort rather than berate.  I’d throw the hormone card, but facing menopause on the horizon, that’s really too unpredictable to be certain, and this morning it sounds like a crutch or an excuse, more than a mitigating circumstance.

It’s still pretty funny. 😀

My quiet morning resulted in some whimsy about the whole thing, and I want to say simply this; I’m in an all or nothing place with mindfulness, tending my roses and my heart with care, showing myself and my loved ones mercy, and living the best way I know how.  If I have to, I know to tell haters to back up, and just keep practicing and taking care of me.  In the mean time, I’m going to give myself a chance to appreciate the humor of life, and lighten up a bit.  😀  It’s a lovely Tuesday…

Tulips and the weight of yesterday's rain.

Tulips and the weight of yesterday’s rain.

I’m having a lovely morning. I hope you are as well. Life is difficult in spots, complicated, rich in experience, emotion, and change.  Friends are performing heroic acts of compassion, distant family members reach out to share personal tragedies and joys, everyone living their ‘now’ the best that they can in the moment they make their choices, generally, and the flow of events around us contributes to the fun, to the novelty, to the stress, to the joy, to the immutable truth of change, itself. I watch, feel, and experience my life.  PMS joins the party this week, and so far I’m ok and still feeling pretty balanced generally, a little irritated with small stuff now and again, but in a far more manageable way than even a few months ago.

New strong rose canes reaching for the sun.

New strong rose canes reaching for the sun.

…But I don’t want to mislead anyone. Genuineness and openness are very important to me.  I know other people struggle, and one or two people struggling with their own things may read my enthusiasm for the value of pursuing mindfulness and find themselves disappointed to get a different result.  I’m not an expert, nor am I ‘right’ about the hows or whys of managing PTSD, anxiety, my hormones, my life, love… no, seriously. Meditation is serving me well on a number of levels. I want to rave about it, and how extraordinary it is in my own experience… I woke this morning wondering if that’s ‘fair’ without ‘full disclosure’? Then I saw a meme on Facebook this morning, posted by a friend… a caution against being too open, a reminder that only a few of our nearest and dearest actually care, and pointing out that most people just want something to gossip about…the message is ‘protect yourself’, the sentiment is suspicion and fear.  My reaction was self-doubt…

The vinca waits for her moment, doubt is unnecessary.

The vinca waits for her moment, doubt is unnecessary.

I like candor. I like being genuine. I like sharing the reality of the journey I am on, and my own significant truth about where my potholes on life’s highway  have turned up.  I don’t actually want to contribute to creating a culture of suspicion and fear, of secrets, of secret police, of guilt, of doubt, of insecurity…of fraud.

My imperfect garden; Just Joey struggling.

My imperfect garden; Just Joey struggling.

I figure some disclosure about other details on my journey may be due, because it isn’t just a book or two, some meditation, and some mindfulness practices picked up at a cocktail party that find me in the place I am.  It isn’t fair to have you think so.  I’m actually also in therapy (again), and my therapist bases our work on ACT  (Acceptance and Commitment Therapy).  I’m finding huge value in a book  I’m reading at his recommendation, and I do a considerable amount of additional reading on my own on mindfulness, in general, and cultural practices in that area, relevant to a number of cultures and religions.  Yes, I’m in a lot of physical pain most days, and yes, the mindfulness practices and meditation really help in that area, inasmuch as my experience of enduring pain seems less challenging or difficult, and the pain medication I do take feels more effective.  Yes, I do take some pain medication, and yes, of the Rx sort, although I am able to keep the dosage low, and also stay away from the really hard core varieties.  Yes, my hormones give me major grief, and it’s gotten quite unpredictable.  I manage those pretty well lately with mindfulness practices, regular leisurely soaks in epsom salt baths, and herbal teas (my favorite being a blend of valerian,  chamomile, st John’s wort, and lemon balm, that my grandmother taught me many years ago, and soon they will all come from my garden, which ‘feels right’ to me).  I don’t know why things are getting better.  Some of the things I am doing are not new for me…resulting in my strong inclination to attribute my recent progress and quality of life improvements to the things that are new – the mindfulness practices, and the more consistent meditation practice.

Things I am doing now; reading, like listening, does require an open mind.;

Things I am doing now; reading, like listening, requires an open mind.

I had tried a number of treatment modalities since I was 18, and have seen several therapists of several sorts from several disciplines.  I’ve spent much of my adult life pleading for someone to ‘please help me!’, largely without finding success, or even lasting peace and balance. I’ve also given Big Pharm their turn with my poor broken brain, and they also applied their recipe for fail sauce, and again I found no balance, no peace.  Religion had it’s innings.  ‘Counseling’ had a turn.  The self-help industry also had its way with me a time or two…or several.  Friends, and loved ones, got to give amateur hour a go at it, with no greater or lesser success.  I long ago reached the ‘I’ll do anything to stop hurting’ place, frankly.

Mindfulness...something so simple...so profound.

Mindfulness…something so simple…so profound.

So, here I am making jokes about ‘the hippies being right all along’, because it’s hard not to laugh to see that I am finding peace and balance exactly where so many hippie-sort of friends suggested gently that it might be found – within myself – if only I would take a few deep breaths, and be ‘in the moment’ to experience it.  😀   It’s hard, too, to have read so much, to have traveled, to have experienced some of the world, and not be just a tad frustrated with myself for disregarding knowledge and practices that have provided balance and peace for thousands of years to uncountable people, until I was finally so deep in despair that I was able to let go of my baggage – and my pride – and be open to something new, that is actually something quite old.  It’s tempting to say ‘nothing else has worked, so this must be it’, but I am rational, and understand that perhaps it is more about many things I am doing, how I am doing them, or perhaps that I am simply ready now and wasn’t ready sooner.

I’m sure not discouraging anyone from being mindful, from practicing meditation, or from treating themselves and their loved ones truly well – I think those are all wonderful, necessary, things for a good quality of life.  I am saying, there is more to me than meets the eye, and I’m not uncomfortable sharing that. 😀

It’s a quiet morning, a beautiful day, and if you need me…I’ll be in the garden. 😀

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