Archives for category: Spring

This morning just a shout out to the farmers, pickers, processors, roasters, and workers of all sorts, unnamed and uncounted, who contributed in some way to my morning coffee. I am all kinds of grateful for it this morning. lol

I stayed up later than usual last night, enjoying a quiet evening of conversation with friends. Time well-spent, sure, but resulting in… consequences. My routine being thrown off a bit, further contributed to the lateness of the hour at which I went to bed, and then my sleep was not only short, but somewhat restless and unsatisfying… and here I am, frittering away the time before work looking at kittens on the internet, cartoons, and pictures of friends, because frankly I’m not up to much more quite yet. I am still on my first cup of coffee.

…I wasn’t even sure I’d write at all this morning. So tired, groggy, and… still waking up, more than an hour after waking up. πŸ™‚

Random photo I took last night as I arrived home for the day. No point to it, no relevance, just a whimsical moment in life.

Today is a good day for kitten pictures, good-natured humor that doesn’t hurt anyone, and a second cup of coffee… it won’t change the world, but it’ll probably keep me going through the morning. πŸ˜‰

Music starts the morning. Dancing to ease arthritis pain before beginning the work day makes sense today. The music I chose is, for me, emotional and value-connected. It’s all very subjective, of course; I may listen to rap tracks that are implicit attacks on some other rapper, but I focus on the meta-message of the words, finding profundity in my subjective listening. I may listen to EDM and hip-hop, house, and funk tracks that may have little in the way of lyric content, but some short phrase or another, or the images in the video, communicate something of value to me. It’s a small thing, but it puts music to work for me cognitively, reinforcing things I want to reinforce, and undermining old out-of-date programming.

What is “sacred music“? Whatever music moves you in a sacred way. πŸ™‚ I found my own. You probably have your own, too. Maybe it really is “church music”, maybe it isn’t at all. All of those things are completely okay; we’re each having our own experience.

As I dance through the morning, managing ferocious pain, still smiling, I find myself just a little astonished by this woman in the mirror. When I did become her? Me. I sometimes find it disorienting to read old writing, or look back on very old Facebook posts. Some things still resonate with me in a way that feels aligned and familiar, but very commonly I feel more than a little out of sync with that other woman in the mirror… and old mirror, a reflection on a woman I am not, now. I have grown. Maybe a lot. I sometimes wonder, when I write, or post or share something, if friends of old “get me” now… and whether they understand. I wonder if the differences are jarring, or cause irritation or resentment; I did not always think the way I do now, or have the values I now hold. I’ll likely spend a lifetime making amends for some of the choices, words, and actions of a much younger woman I no longer am… or for being someone different now.

My consciousness is pulled back into the here and now by the music. Track changes sometimes seem peculiarly well-timed. I recognize this as a “feature” in my consciousness, attributing significance to things and moments that may have none, in order to “make sense of things”. I dance on through the morning, through the dishes, through some tidying up before work.

Yesterday’s only a memory…and it is a happy one.

I enjoyed a quiet evening at home with my Traveling Partner yesterday. He was at my place shortly before I arrived. Β It was tremendous and warm and connected and lovely. We hung out with friends for a while. We chilled alone together another little while. I was in way too much pain for romance, but the intimacy and connection are welcome and profoundly significant in a lifetime that has held so little authentic intimacy between lovers. I used to complain a lot about “not getting enough” sex…but… being real about it for just a moment, I’ll admit that I’m pretty certain I was using sex to meet needs that were emotional (and specifically not actually sexual) for years and years. Being both “past menopause” and more emotionally intelligent than that much younger me, I am comfortable noting that the non-sexual emotional need for connection and intimacy is likely the deeper and more important emotional need than the primate need for sexual contact. I’m not dissing sex – hell, I enjoy it quite a lot, and sufficiently so to inconvenience partners with less appetite for it, even now, but… yeah. Those quiet connected minutes with a lover that are intimate, close, comfortable, and nurturing, turn out to be a way bigger deal. I wish I’d understood sooner; it’s probably a great deal easier to satisfy emotional needs with truly relevant emotional connection, versus insisting that sex do all the emotional heavy lifting in life. lol

I wonder what today holds?

The morning continues, track by track, and I dance on to another thought, another moment…

Wubba-lubba-dub-dub!!

Today is a good day to dance. There’s more than one way to deal with pain. πŸ™‚

A new week, a new day, a new moment… this “now” thing, with some practice, becomes firm and reliable. Here it is Monday. The weekend is quite clearly behind me. I woke ahead of the alarm, feeling sufficiently rested, and definitely awake. The morning is leisurely, and gentle on my consciousness. Facebook is a playground of birthdays, kittens, and throwback pictures. I don’t yet bother with the news; reading the news would be a poor way to treat myself on a pleasant morning.

I sip my coffee. Yep. I did make it up the hill yesterday, returning home with coffee. πŸ™‚ I spent the morning on laundry, tidying up, and looking forward to the planned visit with my Traveling Partner (that was later cancelled, when it was obvious he wasn’t up to the trip over). The rest of the day was restful, calm, and quiet. I meditated. I read. I watched Rick and Morty. I drank coffee. I gardened and planned the week ahead. By Sunday evening, the weekend was firmly fixed as a very pleasant memory – even the power outage of Friday lingers in my memory as a good time (having to replace most of the perishable groceries was a mild inconvenience on Saturday, spent pleasantly in the good company of a similarly inconvenienced friend). The weekend was sufficiently social and connected to meet those needs… and sufficiently solitary to meet those needs… Indeed, the weekend was in all regards quite sufficient, generally.

It was a lovely day for meditation, and chilly enough to light a fire. πŸ™‚

So… here it is Monday morning. Somewhere out in the community, a future new colleague will get an offer to join my team. Somewhere else, someone will make a choice that changes their life in some important way. Unrelated, elsewhere, someone will give up in frustration, and discover that letting go makes a difference, and that everything will be okay. There are so many human experiences to be had, and we are each having our own. That’s pretty awe-inspiring (for me)… the vastness of our available choices is so broad and varied that we generally reduce it to just two or three things, walled off by “can’t” (really, “won’t”) or “have to” (really, “choose too” or “insist on”). Like going to a diner with a huge accordion-folded menu, and having to order quickly, we narrow things down to simplify our problems, decision-making, and choices… for convenience? For cognitive ease? Because it’s faster? I don’t know. I’ve been trying not to short-change myself in that way, for a while now. I like to “read the whole menu”, and maybe try something new now and then. πŸ™‚

Today is a good day to live. Today is a good day to take my time with life’s menu, and consider it with great care, and eyes wide with wonder. Today is a good day to walk my own mile with a smile, even though there is no map on this journey… and if there were? The map is not the world. πŸ™‚ It’s time to begin again.

I heard some of the news stories about the wind and power outages, as the day went on. I didn’t think much about it besides feeling sympathetic for the people going through it, and hoping that it would be quickly resolved.

On my way home, signs that this was not an abstract circumstance happening elsewhere in the world.

I arrived home feeling merry on a Friday evening, thinking about dinner, a hot shower, maybe some Rick and Morty… Β I arrived home to darkness. Everything dark. Even the aquarium. The stillness and quiet were… quite still, and very quiet; even the hums and buzzes of the appliances were silenced. I did the obvious thing; I flipped a switch. No change. I did what makes sense as a next step (for a human primate)… I flipped another switch. Then checked the fuse box. Finally, used my device to determine that, yes, I was participating in a power outage, no estimated time for a resolution (later cheerily updated to sometime the following morning, around 11:30 am).

The apartment was quite chilly. The aquarium much less so; the small battery back up my Traveling Partner got for me after a brief interruption in power last year did what it could. I got my tender heart ready to deal with the heartache of losing my fish by morning, as best I could. I lit candles in cute votive holders (I have a literal drawer full of tea light candles that just wait for such occasions as this). I recharged my device using a power brick that I take on camping trips. I ordered firewood; a fire in fireplace would definitely take the chill off. I had a quick bite of dinner while I waited for firewood to arrive. I wore my coat – and an extra sweater.

This whole time, the biggest active stressor was the ancient Verizon FiOS box in a back closet beeping at me every couple of minutes to alert me there is no power. Well, damn it, I know that; it isn’t my doing! My Traveling Partner, seeing an irritated Facebook post on the subject of beeping and power outages sends me a message suggesting there is probably a reset button or something of that kind that will silence the alarm. That seems… too obvious. How did I not see that when I looked the first time? Why didn’t any of the online forums mention that? I grab my flashlight, a foot stool, and go looking for a button, which I do find – and tiny lettering clearly indicates this wee blue button is to “silence alarm”. I push it. Silence, as agreed. Nice.

Making the best of circumstances, beautifully.

As power outages go, and aside from the concern about my fish likely being mortal (which I was frankly very much aware of), and my fridge now being plentifully filled with things no longer safe to consume (which although aggravating doesn’t have to be “a thing” of noteworthy importance right now), it was simply an evening of candlelight, without television, without streaming media, and by itself that didn’t have to be unpleasant at all. I invited friends over, we chilled together, talked, laughed, and made the best of things while the apartment slowly warmed up again. It was, actually, quite a lovely evening, spent with good friends.

Meditation by fire light.

After things wound down, and I began to consider sleep, I sat by the fire awhile on my meditation cushion, enjoying the stillness, the utter calm and quiet. I set aside worries about the fish surviving or not surviving; the outcome was not yet decided. SchrΓΆdinger’s fish. Β I set aside aggravation over having to toss out groceries wastefully; the outcome had not yet occurred and did not require action. I set aside concern that the apartment would feel too cold for comfortable sleep; the notion was actually foolish, since I go camping in colder conditions now and then, and sleep just fine, or… as well as I generally do. I sat by the fire, enjoying the stillness instead. Sitting quietly became meditation. Meditation became a gentle moment while time passed in spite of my lack of involvement in the passage of time.

Just as I began to reconnectΒ with a more obvious awareness of the actual time, and considered going to bed, the power came on. I noted the lateness of the hour, let my Traveling Partner know the power had come on, and that I was well, and checked on things around the apartment to ensure that everything was working as expected, before going to bed. The apartment still felt chilly, in rooms away from the fireplace. I wrapped myself in blankets and drifted to sleep listening to the sounds of the apartment fully powered once again, knowing that in the morning I would need to begin again.

Today is a good day to recall a pleasant evening. It’s a good day to check on the fish and see which ones didn’t make it, and take care of general tank health. It’s a good day to dispose of freezer goods that thawed the day before, while the power was out. It’s a good day to carefully check everything in the fridge and similarly dispose of anything that could be a health risk if not continuously fully refrigerated. It’s a good day for a sunrise, for a pleasant walk, and for doing laundry. It’s a good day to support the woman in the mirror with more than promises; she’s worked hard this week, and some quality time for/with her will feel really good. It’s a good day to begin again. I have thatΒ power. πŸ™‚

I could say more about war, about warfare, about the toll it takes, about the very high cost of the very lavish profits for the very wealthy few, and maybe there will be time for all that, some other day.

This morning, I am focused on peace, on sipping this good cup of coffee, of being right here, right now – calm, contented, rested. If I allow war, the fear of war, the anxiety caused by war, to consume my consciousness then I live every moment at war, without any opportunity to feel the full scope of my emotions, or to experience the entirety of my experience, fully. Seems a waste, really (and it is), the waste that is a collateral cost of war; the waste that is the loss of this singular lovely moment right here, in exchange for contemplation of war. No, thank you, not this morning. πŸ™‚

I sip my coffee and simply exist, right in this present moment, quietly. I breathe deeply and calmly, feeling the chill of the room. It is before dawn. I hear the commuter train some distance away, sounding the horn as it pulls in to the platform, and again as it pulls away. I yawn and stretch, letting my gaze wander the room. I smile, surrounded by my own art. I could only love this space more if it were truly my own. No breeze this morning; I don’t hear the wind chime, and I do hear the traffic on the busy street beyond the community and the park. I notice that it is not raining, at least for now.

Again and again I find my mind wanting to wander to things and moments that are not now. I gently pull it back to this space, this moment. Why borrow troubles from moments that are not now? Seriously. My own well-being definitely requires that I get at least some time in, every day, that is firmly in this ‘here, now’ space, undistracted by the future or the past or what is not yet or what is not here. I’ve been astonished more than once by how much chillΒ I now have, and how much more perspective, when at other points in my day, I am faced with… circumstances. Trials. Challenges. Stressors. Aggravating moments. Frustrating situations. Complications. Emotions. I’ll have any one of those things, or some mixed up handful, reliably without any effort to select for them. I don’t have to jump ahead to get there sooner… and it’s rather nice to face them a bit more prepared, and a bit more resilient. So, every day, I take time to meditate, to exist very mindfully in this space, in this moment – wherever that happens to be, at whatever time I choose. My mind, of course, wanders. I pull it back. It wanders again, and again, I pull it back. It’s a gentle tug of war, without frustration or internal criticism; I am challenging the habits of my monkey mind. It takes practice. Surely I expect to begin again. πŸ™‚

This morning I pull my monkey mind back to meditation, I begin again, and I enjoy thoughts of far away friends, feeling grateful for each step on the journey illuminated by loving words, perspective, the wisdom of experience, and shared moments. I allow my senses to fill up on the feeling of being valued, of being loved, and of loving. I smile and sip my coffee. My smile deepens when my Traveling Partner crosses my mind. My sister, my niece, my friends next door… my recollections are filled with smiles, and this too is my own doing; there are verbs involved. These days I spend far more time recalling smiles, and moments of delight, than I do rehashing conflict or preserving moments of discord in my memory. It has proven to matter a great deal whether I spend my time thinking over past pain or past joy; our implicit biases are built on what we spend our time contemplating. The choices we make about “re-runs” in our thinking are actually quite important.

Thoughts of love make lovely re-runs.

I notice the time and become more aware of the moment with some specificity. It’s time to begin again. πŸ™‚