Archives for category: Summer

My morning was delightful. My day was productive. Sometime late in the afternoon a mini-storm of resentment and irritation washed over me and colored the end of my work day a very different shade. I have no idea what set me off, really, but I’m only now – some hours later – taking myself in hand effectively and turning my evening in more pleasant direction.

I slowed myself down as I exited the office, and paused to taste the air, and inhale deeply, before starting down the walk to head for home. It was a lovely afternoon; I had goneย for a walk on my lunch break, along the creek, through the trees, nibbling blackberries and trying to catch pictures of dragonflies.

I succeeded in taking a picture of my own foot, without any effort at all, but not one picture of a dragonfly.

I succeeded in taking a picture of my own foot, without any effort at all, but not one picture of a dragonfly.

The blackberries are fat, ripe and very sweet, and the clusters of the best berries often seem to hang just out of reach – some days that very much seems the way of things. I see the words, and I understand it is a matter of my perspective – a sort of emotional ‘trick of the light’.

Are the best ones really out of reach, or do I overlook the wonders at hand gazing into the distance for what is not available to me?

Are the best ones really out of reach, or do I overlook the wonders at hand gazing into the distance for what is not easily available to me?

It was a lovely walk. I noticed a number of things along the way that serve me well this evening, as I let go of my irritation one picture at a time…

...I am reminded that what I see is often very much a matter of...

…I am reminded that what I see is often very much a matter of…

...where I direct my gaze; this picture was taken from precisely the same spot as the prior picture. I looked up, instead of down.

…where I direct my gaze; this picture was taken from precisely the same spot as the prior picture. I looked up, instead of down.

Sometimes it’s such small things that sooth me – or tear me down. I wonder how many times in a day I look into the eyes of another human being without recognizing that although we are each having our own experience…we are also very much in this thing together.

Where will my path take me?

Where will my path take me?

I do my best, every day – mostly – every moment – by some valuations of ‘every’. I could do better sometimes than I do. That’s okay, too. If I notice that I’ve stopped practicing some practice that really works for me when I do it (it doesn’t matter why), I can simply begin again. Letting go of any requirement to berate myself for my fundamental humanity, and recognizing that I need my best care and affection as much as anyone else might… it’s entirely okay to recognize mistakes, misunderstandings, misplaced steps, misspoken words, poor choices, hesitation, doubt, fear, and old-fashioned hand-crafted baggage – it’s all so very human. ๐Ÿ™‚ I just begin again. No kidding.

Getting some perspective works for me. I know not every moment of every day can be in the highlight reel.

Getting some perspective works for me. I know not every moment of every day can be in the highlight reel; on the average, things are average.

It’s been quite a week. Highs and lows. New experiences. Work. Love. It’s been a good week, actually. It’s entirely possible that I am simply tired – my injury is such that when fatigue sets in, I am moodier, less balanced, easily irritated, prone to tears, and often also in a lot of pain. This fragile vessel only holds so much. Like a little kid, I can be fussy if I am tired and over-stimulated.

Finding a suitable place to pause and reflect is worthwhile. In the stillness I more easily hear myself, and understand what I need.

Finding a suitable place to pause and reflect is worthwhile. In the stillness I more easily hear myself, and understand what I need.

I am enjoying this sense of being able to reset, and content that I didn’t lose my temper, or fall to pieces – I just experienced a bit of irritation, at the end of a long and busy work day. It feels like an achievement – so I take time this evening and celebrate with a silent high-five with myself, and a relaxed evening. I am okay right now. It’s a nice feeling.

Incremental change is. Practicing the practices works. I'll just stay on this path right here...one step at a time is enough.

Incremental change is. Practicing the practices works. I’ll just stay on this path right here…one step at a time is enough.

I woke this morning with some effort, and even after a (long) hot shower, yoga, meditation, and the first sip or two of an excellent cup of coffee… I still feel rather sluggish and slowed down. I have no idea why my morning is starting in slow motion – I slept well and deeply through the night, and went to bed at quite a reasonable hour. ย My mood is… ‘quietly merry’ describes it best, I suppose, and I am not inclined to criticize my mood or the choice of words to describe it. Slow or not, the day is off to a lovely start. ย That’s enough.

My heart is a temple to the Goddess of Love.

My heart is a temple to the Goddess of Love.

My last thoughts as I faded into sleep last night were of my traveling partner. My first thoughts on waking were similarly of him, inasmuch as they were of love, generally, and I find it difficult to think about love without also thinking about my traveling partner. It is one truth of my heart that the love he and I share has tended to redefine love quite a lot for me. It’s nice to observe that while the time we spend together (as in ‘in shared space’) is quite limited these days – every precious moment is also completely wonderful. It’s lovely. When we met it was also this way, and it remained so through the first many months we lived together. Our beginning was so natural, and such a wonderful fit, that we two beings disinclined toward matrimony at all would find our way to each other – and marry. Life’s hard knocks taught us both to doubt the value of a romantic contract…and loving each other changed our minds about that, and givenย us practical and emotional perspective that still colors our experience in a powerfully positive way. We rely on each other utterly – even when we don’t live together. What’s even better? We can.

"Cherry Blossoms" 12" x 16" acrylic on canvas 2011

“Cherry Blossoms” 12″ x 16″ acrylic on canvas 2011

I’m not bragging – we work at love, my traveling partner and I, and for a couple of years it wasn’t easy. Historically, our ‘others’ haven’t found the same profound value in the intense way my traveling partner and I love each other, that we experience ourselves. Real, significant, adoring, heartfelt love that works can be a tad threatening for those that don’t have it, that doubt it, or that didn’t understand that the work requiredย is not diminished by the profundity of the affection; there are verbs involved – a tremendous lot of them, and far more of them than I had understood, myself (thus those couple of challenging years – I am still building needed skills, myself, and I know for my traveling partner, my TBI presents unanticipated challenges for him, too). Conveniently, although the work is not diminished by the depth of the affection – neither is the affection itself diminished by the necessity of doing the work – Love is ever a worthy cause in which to ‘mutually pledge our lives, our fortunes, and our sacred honor’. Yeah…I’m pretty sure that if I am not inclined to feel that way about someone, it’s not ‘love’.

"Communion" 24" x 36" acrylic on canvas w/ceramic and glow. 2011

“Communion” 24″ x 36″ acrylic on canvas w/ceramic and glow. 2011

I woke in solitude this morning – I’m okay with that. I enjoy it. The morning is still and calm, and pleasant. There is no stress. I smile thinking about the time spent loving, lately, and how wonderful it is to feel a cherished relationship deepen and grow without struggling to also figure out my own shit, work on me, paint, write, and exist along this peculiar trajectory – having my own experience is rather effortless without the minute-to-minute sense that everything is tangled up with havingย to be ever vigilant about what I am saying, doing, feeling… living with the TBI and my PTSD are difficult enough without having to constantly be on the look out for opportunities to ease the impact on someone else. The choice to move into my own place is continuously reinforced as being a good one through the day-to-day ease that has resulted. It matters a great deal that love feels renewed, restored, and once again the wellspring of my creative drive and the smile on my face.

"Contemplation" 11" x 14" acrylic on canvas 2012

“Contemplation” 11″ x 14″ acrylic on canvas 2012

The unconventional choice to live alone – and apart from my spouse – ย is working out pretty well; love is enhanced rather than diminished. ย I knew when I was quite young (as early as 14) that living with others was problematic for me. I don’t crave continuous community, and my triggers are numerous and commonplace – but I enjoy being able to while away social hours with friends and lovers when it is comfortable, if I can easily disengage when the time comes (and be permitted full autonomy over determining when that time has come). I didn’t heed my own self-knowledge, and allowed myself to be persuaded (again and again, over many years and multiple relationships) that what I understood would be good for me wasn’t an acceptable choice. Decades later, I finally allow myself room to breathe, to grow, to be. I am realizing – and accepting – that it is okay to trust myself; who knows me better than I do? And in trusting myself, and taking care of me in the way that suits me most and meets my needs over time most effectively… I find my way ‘home’ to this place in my ย heart where love resides, and I feel free.

"Lovers" 10" x 14" watercolor on paper 1992

“Lovers” 10″ x 14″ watercolor on paper 1992

Today is a good day to look my demons in the face with a smile and say “you have no power over me!” It doesn’t matter that it may not be true tomorrow – it’s true today, and that’s enough.

 

Yesterday (truthfully, most days) I was early everywhere I needed to be. This was both practical and possible because I had arranged with my traveling partner to borrow hisย car for the day. Handy. I arrived on the east side of town about an hour before my appointment time, got a coffee from a nearby boutique cafe with a working class theme – one I’d never been to before, and don’t expect will still be there the next time I am in that neighborhood. ย Making a small business thrive is hard enough when it is any sort besides a cafe, in a city where cafes are on literally every corner – and a third of them are Starbucks. It’s a tough business. The coffee was good – lavender infused iced coffee with whipped cream – and a nice treat.

Even buying a cup of coffee, I had nearly an hour before my appointment. I had once lived in this neighborhood, and a favorite small park was right down the street from my appointment. Walking those lovely paths in the quite of early morning, uncrowded, undisturbed, sounded like a lovely accompaniment to my coffee. I hadn’t been to this particular park in quite a lot of years, although I’d only left the neighborhood some 5 years ago; I had at some point gained so much weight on the drugs the VA was giving me that walking the distance to the park (less than a mile) was too hard for me. I figure the last time I walked the paths of this lovely park was sometime in… 2004? Or…possibly I’ve simply forgotten other visits.

A small park, but no shortage of grandeur.

A small park, but no shortage of grandeur. The entry way has a big view.

The Crystal Springsย Rhododendron Garden has history. It is a common visitor destination, particularly on Mother’s Day – so of course, I didn’t make a practice of going then. In fact, my most common time to visit this park was by moonlight – sneaking over or under the fence to get into the park after dark. In the summer it was especially nice – it felt very safe, and the air less stifling than in my tiny second floor apartment with no a/c, and the windows placed such that breezes just didn’t make it into the hot still rooms. I would often get into the park, and pull off my confining summer dress and sandals and stroll the well-maintained paths quite naked by moonlight. Those were someย of the loveliest moments ever. It struck me strangely yesterday that it had been so long since I even held the recollection of these treasured moments in my consciousness…why had I let them go?

Lacking the time to explore at greater length, I paused frequently to breath the fresh air, and listen to the sounds of the trees and birds and breezes all around me.

Lacking the time to explore at greater length, I paused frequently to breathe the fresh air, and listen to the sounds of the trees and birds and breezes all around me.

The dogwoods are still flowering - they remind me of my childhood home.

The dogwoods are still flowering – they remind me of my childhood home.

I step to an edge to experience the dizzying view to the water below, from a path high above the creek.

I step to an edge to experience the dizzying view to the water below, from a path high above the creek.

I sit and meditate for a time, in a favorite spot. On a moonlit night, the silvery moonlight fills this place, and the only sound is the waterfall.

I sit and meditate for a time, in a favorite spot. On a moonlit night, the silvery moonlight fills this place, and the only sound is the waterfall.

There are little waterfalls here and there all through the park.

There are little waterfalls here and there all through the park.

This is my favorite among the waterfalls.

This is my favorite among the waterfalls. I linger awhile.

There are no rhododendrons or azaleas blooming this time of year, but there is no shortage of flowers.

There are no rhododendrons or azaleas blooming this time of year, but there is no shortage of flowers.

And there is no shortage of picturesque views.

And there is no shortage of picturesque views.

It has rained, and everything is covered with tiny drops of water, and the air smells fresh.

It has rained, and everything is covered with tiny drops of water, and the air smells fresh.

It is a lovely place to spend an hour on a Wednesday morning.

It is a lovely place to spend an hour on a Wednesday morning.

The paths follow the banks of creek, stream, and lake; eventually I am n noticed by the ducks.

The paths follow the banks of creek, stream, and lake; eventually I am n noticed by the ducks.

The ducks here are rather tame, and unharassed; they come seeking treats.

The ducks here are rather tame, and unharassed; they come seeking treats.

They invite their friends.

They invite their friends.

There are lovely moments for perspective...

There are lovely moments for perspective…

...from one point of view or another.

…from one point of view or another.

And still more flowers.

And still more flowers.

At some point they boarded up one favored way into the park at night... it would not longer be so easy to stroll here in the moonlight.

At some point they boarded up one favored way into the park at night… it would not longer be so easy to stroll here in the moonlight.

It is a lovely place...but eventually my path takes me to the exit, and onward with the day.

It is a lovely place…but eventually my path takes me to the exit, and onward with the day.

It can be so easy to look back on years of hardship and struggling, and overlook the wonders, the delights, the precious moments that I did enjoy – they are locked in this rather poorly maintained file system I call my memory. There are some lovely moments tangled up in here, sometimes lost, sometimes found. I enjoyed visiting this one – it is precious to me. There are few recollections of life well-lived that beat walking naked in the moonlight on hot summer nights along well-maintained paths among the trees and flowers, feeling the breezes, catching the delightful scents of flowers on the breeze… fearless, relaxed, and if not ‘happy’ – at least happy enough to enjoy living that moment. It is too easy to overlook the good moments mixed in with the difficult times; I cherish the unexpected opportunity to reset my thinking on thatย era of my life so simply, and so delightfully. It wasn’t all bad – there was a lot of fun, plenty of good times, and some lovely memories were made. Isn’t that what so often traps people in a poorly chosenย situation; it isn’t all bad….? We hang on to what works, what feels good, what is ‘good enough’ and forget to take care of ourselves with greater care than settling for what we’ve got, even though we’re merely surviving it. Still…once I take the steps to make better decisions, to take care of me, to live well and to thrive – isn’t it also important to cherish what worked, in spite of what didn’t? ๐Ÿ™‚

Today is a good day to appreciate life’s joys and delights; they are rare enough as it is, and I don’t serve myself well to overlook them because they were part of a challenging time in my life. Today is a good day to smile at the pleasures offered by happenstance – and to take the opportunity to enjoy myself that is offered. Today is a good day for perspective, and to be mindful that “now” is the moment I am in, always, but there have been others that have been worth savoring in life, and it is never too late to enjoy a memory. ๐Ÿ™‚

My coffee this morning is, perhaps, a bit of both – strong, and bitter. I can’t actually be sure…I don’t taste ‘bitter’ with any particular acuity, myself. ย My own vantage point is that the coffee ‘tastes different’ in some hard to place way. It could be that it is simply a stronger cup of coffee than usual…

Bitter is not one of the flavors of Love.

Bitter is not one of the flavors of Love.

Strong versus bitter is something to consider on another level, isn’t it? The old adage that what doesn’t kill us makes us stronger says nothing about what may become of our welcoming innocence along the way. Isn’t ‘bitter’ one opposite of innocent? The difficulty is that bitterness doesn’t typically serve me well as an individual seeking growth and wellness – it gets in the way. It is by far preferable, I find, to allow experience to develop over time in a gentler way, with a kinder (to myself and the world) outcome: strength. I still have a lot to learn about what develops strength versus what fosters bitterness…even with making coffee. ๐Ÿ™‚

I was once far more cynical than I am now. More damaged. More wounded. More bitter. Experience had beaten me down, and torn my heart and my spirit to shreds leaving an emotional wasteland behind, and lacking any greater understanding that the journey could take me another direction if I chose my steps with care, I sort of trudged along…consumed by bitterness, ancient pain, and rage. That was a really long time ago. The first handful of steps in a different direction took so very many years…and the last handful of years have seen me take so very many steps in a better direction. The bitterness – the small bits that linger – are often simply a reaction from the damaged past to some “See? This shit, again??” moment within, before my brain can catch up with my emotions and remind me how far I have come, and that we are each having our own experience. ย As emotions go, bitterness is every bit as fabricated as the rest, and just as illusory. The hurts in life hurt – they do – but the bitterness? I can choose differently. I can choose to raise my voice, use my words, and love the woman in the mirror by showing her the same respect, consideration, compassion, and openness I would show anyone else – and the reciprocity I need? That comes from using my words – answering circumstances with gentle reason, with awareness, with observation and clarity, instead of reacting with bitterness. Words may not change the circumstances – but I will feel heard. It takes practice to speak with tenderness, and vulnerability, about the things that set off a feeling of bitterness. It takes more practice to do so without letting hurt and anger become louder than the words – very few people, however much they love someone, can really ‘hear through the anger’ – we hear the anger itself, and earnestly wanting to be heard, I find value in learning to take a softer approach.

It’s a lovely ย morning. A gentle, quiet morning that begins with a strong coffee, and an appointment, and will end with – no kidding – a baseball game! How peculiar? How delightful! How very different from the ordinary routine of the busy work week? I have never been to a baseball game. ๐Ÿ™‚

Dinner last night with my traveling partner was quite relaxed and wonderful. I dropped him off at his place, still smiling, and headed for home – by way of rush hour traffic. It’s no wonder we spend so little time together on workday evenings – the traffic is nasty, and it takes 40 minutes to get from his place to mine! (It’s only 11 miles… 40 minutes seems somewhat excessive.) I can’t comfortably invite him to dinner much of the time, knowing that; ย just the thought of the traffic in the evenings robs the idea of any fun. Why would I put him through that on purpose? It doesn’t sound very loving. lol ย By the time I got home I was feeling on the edge of tears, and aย hint of bitterness was creeping in. Rather than allow that to progress further, I reached for my handy self-care toolkit.

  • I checked my calendar – yep, due for my HRT; bitterness and other emotions onย the darker end of the spectrum are often associate with fluctuating hormones. I take my hormones. This detail is not a safe one to ‘miss’ on – the consequences for my emotional experience can be pretty ugly.
  • I acknowledged how much I really just miss my traveling partner; this is an emotion that coexists with my day-to-day joy and comfort with living alone. Recognizing I have these feelings, I invite him to do something together this weekend (which both comforts me and gives me something to look forward to).
  • I take a shower and wash off the stress of the commute home through traffic; I rarely drive in rush hour traffic [or at all], and the scent of stress clinging to me could potentially continue to affect my mood. Besides…a shower after a hot day just feels lovely. ๐Ÿ™‚
  • I meditate. Honestly, it takes the edge off, for me, in almost any trying moment.
  • I address other stressors that are in the background; there is paperwork for the appointment in theย morning, and I had not yet found all of it. Taking care of that did a lot to ease my general level of stress.
  • I reminded the woman in the mirror that it’s okay to miss my traveling partner – he misses me, too – there is a greater purpose in living alone right now, a worthy one, a needful opportunity to heal and to grow. Taking the time to recall that this is a choice I am making for me, for my own sanity and longer term health and wellness, does a lot to ease the developing sense of bitterness.

Seriously? The bitterness was an illusion brought on by a little stress, a lot of love, and a lack of physical contact – it can be a challenge struggling with my libido in solitude, honestly, and that has been aย thing that has held me back from finding my way through the chaos and damage more than once. The most important thing lacking in a solitary life [for me] is touch. An intimate connection with a physical component. Sexual romantic love. Going without that is super difficult for me, some days. Recognizing the simple primate mammalian truth of it allows the bitterness to subside – it wasn’t ‘real’ in the first place – and I move on with an evening filled with loving recollection of the excellentย dinner I shared with my traveling partner, while I got myself organized for my appointment.

There is a lot of strength to be had in taking the very best care of this fragile vessel – and the being residing within it. Strength is…well… strong. And sexy. And nurturing. Bitterness? Itย doesn’t have those qualities at all. Given a choice, I’ll choose strength. I’m okay with not being so easily able to taste bitter. ๐Ÿ™‚

 

This is a simple good morning, right here. With some effort, I come up with a couple really first-rate topics on which I could be writing. ย I sip my coffee, and make a note elsewhere. I add them to the running list of potential topics for other days. (While each new idea this morning is certainly worthy of my attention at some point, they do not hold my attention this morning.)

I contentedly sip my coffee without concern over waking up later than usual, or falling asleep earlier than usual last night. It’s not cause for panic, and unlike nights that are short on sleep, the deviation from my routine is likely healthy rather than potentially harmful – I probably needed the rest. Yesterday was a hot day, and I walked to and from work, and did so also over my lunch break. I enjoyed somewhat longer routes, too, beating my loose goal of exceeding 5 miles a day of walking. I did enough yoga, before and after work, to ease stiff joints – and enough to ‘get some exercise’, too. Tired at the end of the day seems reasonable. I didn’t even ‘over sleep’ my alarm; I woke and reset it for another half an hour of sleep. (There are some nice advantages to getting up so early each day.) There’s no stress over any of this… only coffee.

Enough.

Enough.

I sip the fragrant dark roast and wonder just a bit at how obviously it is ‘not my favorite’. Having moved into my own place, and finally feeling really ‘settled in’, I am finding moments of surprise that my taste has changed, or that I didn’t understand some detail about myself better. I did not expect that there truly would be a ‘getting to know me’ stage in all this – as with building any new relationship. Who is this woman in the mirror? When did she stop preferring the very darkest roasted coffee? When did she start being okay with sleeping in now and then – even on a work day?! I rub my eyes sleepily, and continue to sip my coffee – daydreaming about the Brazilian coffee I had just the other day. (It was a small sample, only, and it is gone – utterly enjoyed to the finish.) Is that the coffee I most enjoy? What else about me is not who I expected to find on the other side of the mirror?

Who am I “really“? ย What does that question mean? In a world so driven to perform, to compete, to ‘measure up’, to achieve, to present an ideal image – I guess I am not surprised to find that in a safe, calm space, characterized by day-to-day contentment, I am able to explore details of who I am – and find surprises. Too much precious time is spent ‘selling ourselves’ to the world, or trying to be something someone else wants. Giving up on that is a start, but apparently like any journey… simply beginning down the path of authenticity is just a start to a much more involved process. I spend enough time with myself, in gentle solitude, that I can hear the softest voice within expressing those preferences that have been beat down, held down, and twisted for far too long.

I actually do like my coffee black, most of the time. It is my preference. Adding half and half and something sweet is nice for a treat now and then, but it isn’t my day-to-day preference at all. I didn’t know that until I moved into this space, alone with my coffee and my choices. Where espresso beverages are concerned, a simple vanilla latte is my favorite – and I like it best made by my traveling partner (his are without question the very best lattes for texture, temperature, mouth feel, and given the right beans, for flavor as well) – but lattes are a treat. Calorie laden and creamy, they are very much a dessert sort of thing, for me.

There is a lot to learn about myself. I’m living in an environment where the “I” in “who I am” really stands out – good qualities and those less good as well. I am learning how much of my day-to-day experience of the past has been compromised to better suit other people over the years. I lost my way here and there, and wandered off a path I didn’t know I was following. I allowed myself to cave to pressure to conform, to change, to be something other than the creature I am…and didn’t follow-up with me, to find out who this person is, resting within this fragile vessel, and to make sure her needs are met, too. There’s joy in getting to know me, in becoming comfortable with myself, even in finding out that I prefer my tuna casserole with broccoli instead of peas, and that I like the mushroom sauce to be made from scratch using crimini mushrooms…and that I like to top it with fried onions. Those things are not ‘important’ taken one by one… but if I spend my lifetime doing things in the fashion that most suits others, when do I take time for me? At what point must I acknowledge that I don’t know me, anymore, and question who the hell those others think they are involved with, in the first place? (Cuz… it may not be me.)

I will, thanks. :-)

I will, thanks. ๐Ÿ™‚

It’s a quiet morning over my coffee, content to listen to morning become day through the open patio door, and content to feel the soft breezes cooling the apartment. Contentment is quite a lovely feeling. Today is a good day for contentment, and a good day to know myself.