Archives for category: Spring

I woke this morning, too early. My fitness tracker buzzed me; my Traveling Partner reached out in the wee hours, checking in, not feeling well. I drift in and out of a light sleep for another few minutes, simultaneously relieved and regretful that we’re not in this same space… I would do what I could to provide comfort and care (that’s the regret; I am too far away for that)… but… I’m also glad that my own rest was not disturbed through the night by his discomfort. Yep. Very human.

I’m not hard on myself about the regrets I have in life. I mean…. not anymore. I used to be the one boldly and firmly asserting I had no regrets. Well… snarling it, really, as if I had something to prove. Funny that “regret” is something we seem to look poorly upon, as if there were no opportunity to learn from our regrets. How do I offer a sincere and heartfelt apology if I am not able to acknowledge and regret my error? It’s an odd emotion to discourage, is it not?

No regrets? Really??

I frankly regret tons of stuff – mostly small things. I regret every time I’ve hurt someone’s feelings with careless words. That’s one of my most common regrets. I regret the pleasant moments I overlooked because I was more invested in pissing and moaning about something else, that mattered less. I regret every affectionate embrace I was too awkward to welcome, and all the ones I was too self-conscious to offer. I regret severed connections, and lost friendships – whether or not it was the wiser choice. Those are generally the sorts of things I do regret. I’m not the slightest bit uncomfortable with admitting to regret – if I didn’t regret those things, what would it say about who I am?

You know what I don’t “regret”? I don’t regret being human. I don’t regret that I have some quirks and limitations that may not be immediately obvious to the world, day-to-day. I don’t regret that it has taken many years (decades) and many relationships to find my way to this place in life where I am mostly pretty able to adult for myself with fair skill. I don’t regret not having it all. I don’t regret not being the prettiest, the smartest, the fittest, the sexiest, the richest… I don’t see those as things to regret. (How much misery in the world is caused by our creating a “best” characteristic, placing it on a pedestal, and saying “there can be only one!” Never even giving ourselves a chance to just be?)

Regret gives me a moment to appreciate a better path, and to calibrate my personal intent with my real-life actions, choices, and behavior. Regret reminds me to keep up on the housework (I definitely regret it when I find I’ve allowed things to become untidy). Regret reminds me to choose kinder words, and gentler behavior. Regret asks me to consider my choices with greater care. Regret nudges me to book a camping reservation, buy concert tickets, and make time for my friends – because the alternative is regretting that I have not lived my life.

This morning I pause for a moment of regret. I’m okay with that. πŸ™‚ I also pause for a moment of appreciation, a moment of gratitude, a moment of joy. Life is rich with moments. It’s a lovely morning, and it’s enough. My moments of regret keep me focused on where I am headed as I begin again. πŸ™‚

This morning I woke up smiling, as if still chuckling over a joke I’d heard and found hilarious, even moments later. I enjoy joy. Amusement amuses me. I scrolled through my Facebook feed over coffee, and made a point of just scrolling past the politics, making a point instead of focusing on what I find funny.

Time well spent.

Lunch on a park bench along the river.

Yesterday was lovely. That it was also a work day never really seemed relevant to enjoying the day. This job is definitely a better fit, for me. I find myself hoping I am also a better fit for them, than I was for the last one. πŸ™‚

Summer sky through spring foliage.

I enjoyed the day fairly effortlessly, and made my way home at the usual time with more than the usual excitement; my Traveling Partner alerted me that he would be there when I arrived. πŸ˜€ We hung out. He’d brought along a friend. Β It was fun and joyful.

More time well spent.

I sip my coffee enjoying the morning, simply. The patio door is open to the pre-dawn breezes. It’s that time of year again; I begin the day cooling the apartment down so that it is quite comfortable and not stuffy when I get home. I enjoy the sound of the wind chime. I think about having a place of my own out in the country. It would be nice if the steady soft roar and whoosh of traffic in the background were not a feature of the soundscape in my daily life… how far “out in the country” would I have to go to escape that? Not that far, as it happens, just in a very different direction.

Isn’t that how a lot of journeys turn out to work, generally? It isn’t that far, but goes aΒ very different direction?

I see the sun beginning to tinge the sky another shade of lighter, peachier-pinkier-hint-of-orange blue. I think I’ll watch the sun rise.

It’s a good time to begin again.

The sun rises beyond the meadow. The dew on the tall grass between the community lawn beyond the patio and the park beyond, sparkles like glitter, catching my eye as it shifts with the morning breeze. It twinkles like a promise of friendly fun in the eyes of a new lover. A curious blue jay approaches the patio door, peering in from his own perspective on the morning, curious but too busy to linger. I sip my second cup of coffee with a contented smile. There’s nothing more this particular moment needs. It’s just one moment, between waking and doing, a moment to be. It is enough as it is, and I am content to enjoy it.

I bloom like a garden flower when conditions are right. This morning I understand I am also the gardener.

Later I will take action, or complete a task, or do a thing, or play a happy song… there’s time for that, then. For now, I embrace stillness. It’s enough.

I woke ahead of the alarm, feeling fairly rested. Within minutes of sitting down to the computer with my coffee, I was sucked into Facebook, and quickly found myself outraged. They got me. lol I put it aside and let it go. Even the most heinous political news is subject to this one caveat, and it can’t easily be argued with; what has been changed, can be changed. As little as that, such a small idea, and I am breathing more easily, I am more relaxed, and I am less agitated. I remind myself that however greedy, vile, callous, or stupid, powerful old rich white men die. (I know, I know, it often seems to take far too long.) Not my usual? Sorry, I’m less pleasant first thing in the morning when I have to face being a woman in Whitemanistan, just saying. The very soundtrack of my experience is altered.

What does “power” look like?Β 

Damn. Still mad. Sorry… I’ll just have to begin again. lol

Flowers. Raindrops. Moments.Β 

I take a sip of my exactly-the-right-temperature-to-enjoy coffee. I breathe. I relax. I turn my attention to the lovely evening I shared with my traveling partner and our friends last night. The smile on my face is immediate, and lingering. My posture changes. My breathing deepens and becomes more even. What we fill our attention and our consciousness with really matters. It’s a weird balancing act, too, because some of the vile bullshit in the world urgently needs our attention – all of us, collectively and individually, and turning away from it isn’t really an option… We all still need chill time, and a calm core of inner peace to thrive, as emotionally intelligent self-aware beings capable of sustaining healthy relationships. News media is selling a product, and our outrage is a powerful attention getting tool for generating clicks and views and likes and subscriptions. It’s about the revenue, not the “truth”. I sigh quietly, and sip my coffee.

What matters most?

I decide on a weekend without a lot of “digital clutter” in my consciousness. A hike sounds much better, frankly, or some time in the studio. I smile thinking back on the evenings with my beloved Traveling Partner this week; it’s been a rare joy to see so much of him. I feel secure in his affection, and wrapped in love. It’s a wonderful feeling. I smile, and ponder for a brief moment how such precious fleeting emotional experiences so easily become something we chase or yearn for, upending our lives in pursuit of what is not permanent – and can’t be. I’m glad I’m not doing that, now. I enjoy this powerful emotional moment, consumed for a time by its fragile saturating loveliness. It’s no surprise how easily such things become a perpetual “carrot on a string” dangling in front of my inner Bugs Bunny. lol Aren’t we each fools for love?

“Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?” (from Shakespeare, sonnet 18)

I sip my coffee, thinking about love. Well… and also the farmer’s market, and carnivals… and country fairs… and rope swings at the edge of local watering holes. Summer. LOL It’s a cooler morning this morning, leading to a day forecast to be more spring than summer. I’m okay with that too. Neither spring nor summer truly have my heart, though I enjoy them while they last. πŸ™‚ Love also has its spring, its summer…

Summer afternoons soon become autumn evenings…

I make a second coffee. The world is quiet, for now, but mostly because I don’t have my music blasting, nor am I cramming digital content into my face holes. There is a whole world of grief, of celebration, of noise, of drama, out there – more than enough to go around. I give up my share this morning in favor of stillness and quiet joy. It’s enough.

Love matters most.

 

This morning I’m sitting out politics. I’m sitting out routine. I’m casually dissing habits. I’m enjoying an odd summer morning that dropped into the mild spring week unexpectedly. Sure, in a few minutes I’ll put on my shoes, grab my keys, and make a point of locking the door behind me before I head to work. I’m still effectively adulting, which puts a smile on my face; I’m not trying to.

This morning practice pays off. I woke on time, and enjoyed a leisurely shower. I sat down to write, and spent the time, instead, looking at new baby pictures shared by friends who are new parents, and watching the sun rise. The windows are open to the morning breeze, and the heat of the coming day has not yet set in. I sip my coffee quietly, listening to the red-wing blackbirds calling each other across the marsh; later they will visit the feeder, but they too seem to be enjoying a lazy morning.

Did I say it is a “lazy” morning? That sounds a tad harsh. I’m just relaxing over my coffee, and things are mostly already quite tidy and orderly here. There is no urgency to force myself through routines that tend to be habitual most days. I smile and wonder if this is how my firm habits break; random summer mornings in the midst of spring?

The changes in diet and medication seem to be working out. There are verbs involved, always and of course. It’s one of the “hard things” in my experience. It requires practice. Mindfulness. Repetition. More practice. Some beginning again. Okay – a lot of beginning again. Plenty of study. Some incremental changes over time. Self-awareness. The will to choose change. More practice. Some crying. Plenty of self-acceptance. Persistence. Fearless self-advocacy. Over-coming learned helplessness. More mindfulness. Fewer calories. More walking. Still fewer calories. More yoga. Fewer calories. Fuck. I’m hungry! Am I actually hungry? More mindfulness. LOL Verbs. My results vary. But… I’m making progress, a little at a time, and wishing there were some other word (concept?) than “dieting” to hold this thought, because I don’t see myself as “dieting” so much as changing how I eat, how I live, how I understand the role food plays in my experience, and how I take advantage of the existing body of cognitive science to turn my brain injury into an ally on this part of the journey, instead of my nemesis. πŸ™‚

Every bit of all of this – steps on a journey.

It’s a lovely morning to begin again.