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Listen to the Band

December 11, 2021 //
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Yesterday I read that Mike Nesmith died. I broke down in tears and just cried for what seemed an uncomfortably long time. I suppose he was most famous to the world as one of The Monkees. He was “most famous” to me as my first rock-star crush. I had every album. The edges of every one of them was worn and frayed from being held and gazed upon for many hours, song after song after song, daydreaming of the love and life that might one day be mine…

…I don’t live a life anything at all like those adolescent daydreams so long ago, and I don’t think I would enjoy it if I did! I’m not that little girl anymore, and much time has passed. 🙂 Still, to this day, the songs resonate with me. I’m listening to them now, on a long haphazard playlist yanked from YouTube, honoring the loss of a human being so dear to me… though we never met.

Listening to The Monkees, I hear where some important details of “who I am” may come from. Reluctant heartfelt departures? Check! Be sure to say gentle good-byes to the ones you love. Striving for perspective and balanced discourse? Saying I’m sorry? Being willing to change? Check! The Monkees shared an approach I didn’t see modeled at home. (I sure wouldn’t mind being able to do the song-and-dance thing, too… might lighten a tense mood? lol) Frustration with my origins in a wordless way that my adolescent mind did not understand how to express? Even that – The Monkees understood what I was trying to say. They “got me”. It was 1967. I was not even adolescent when The Monkees were on t.v. – the first time. Their music and sketches from their show settled into my consciousness pretty early on. I sometimes wonder if those of us on the tail end of the “baby boomer” generation – not quite a proper “boomer”, not quite Gen X, are more properly The Monkees generation, born to a world with television, and eager consumer minds right at that time when our formative malleable young consciousness ripe for “product placement” was feasting on … The Monkees. 🙂

Hell, for all I know, the earliest seeds of my utter lack of monogamy, and my long-time comfort with polyamory, may also source with those early years, clutching my record albums, seething with hormones, unwilling to really “choose” from among the “pre-fab four” – life with The Monkees looked like a proper romp! Surely there was room for me, with them…? LOL I wasn’t really thinking about sex in any explicit way, just thinking it would be rude to bust up a tight friendship when I really dug them all equally well. lol

Anyway. I’m okay, you know? It’s just a moment. A wee bit of a sorrowful celebration, saying good-bye to “old friends” who meant so much more to me than I had ever really reflected upon so deeply. I listen to Last Train to Clarksville again… the number of times I have happily sung this song at the top of my lungs on a long drive, to stay awake… this time it just sounds like “good bye”, and I cry a bit more. It’s okay though; nothing to be ashamed of in honest heartfelt tears. My Traveling Partner comes into the studio on a practical matter. He’s kind about my moment. I hear Mickey Dolenz remind me to begin again, to move on, to take that next step… they got that before I did, too, but the mere presence of this music in my mind for so long may have made it a bit easier to get my head around new practices, and new beginnings, when I needed to most.

What music moves you? Where do you come from, creatively? What are the songs that fill your heart, and provide a soundtrack to your dreams? The music you first danced to – as a toddler, perhaps. As a tween, certainly. It’s part of your “core programming”, probably. Have you looked it in the face and asked yourself if it became part of your path in a positive way – or if it may be something holding you back? Maybe it’s a good day to listen to the band?

Papa Gene’s Blues begins to play. I think of my life now. I think about my good fortune in life and love. I think about my Traveling Partner on life’s journey. I think about a second coffee, and I think about beginning again. Thanks, Mike.

Bonus track – one of the most fun tracks ever recorded masquerading as a song. 😀

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Categories Allegories, art and the artist, gratitude, inspiration, Love, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Relationships, The Art of Being, Words

Stormy Weather

December 7, 2021 //
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The frown finally lifted. My jaw finally unclenched. My sheer-force-of-will pleasantness in meetings eventually resolved to simply being pleasant. I let go of being angry, in favor of feeling angry, which eventually let me look beyond my angry feelings to my hurt feelings, and then eventually to just letting shit go. Now? I guess I’m “quietly over it”, and it’s enough. Ideally, small things stay small. It’s not always easy to see that through from intention to outcome. It takes practice.

Neither societies nor relationships are (ever) “perfect”, not really; both are made up of human beings who are themselves entirely “human” in all the error-prone meanings of that word, and compounded by the very (very) subjective nature of our individual experiences. Hell, it’s not even a given that we’re all “doing our best” – or that any one of us is capable of a personal best of sufficient real-world value in any objective way. It’s an inefficient system, at best.

Work keeps me occupied. I pause for a break and reconnect with my Traveling Partner. The gray skies beyond my window seem to reflect back our own individual moodiness, today. Suitable backdrop. I think we’re past it, though, with “clearer skies”, though not exactly “sunny”. Metaphorically, I’m hoping for sunny skies (and sunny days) ahead. Funny thing though; the metaphor of climate and weather with regard to emotions and relationships breaks down a bit if pushed too far – we don’t control the actual weather, but do have substantial control over our emotional “weather”. Oh, for sure, not 100% of the control we might like to have, sometimes, and sometimes what we most want to control of the emotional weather isn’t ours to decide at all. Communication takes effort. Listening is work. Kindness requires practice – even for people in love with each other. “Being angry” is easier than taking the time and care to really process feelings of anger with real consideration, self-compassion, and without adding drama to someone else’s experience. It’s hard. It’s worth practicing, and improving over time. It’s worth failing at it and learning from that, and continuing to practice. Incremental change over time is slow – and it’s hard as hell to make the same room for someone else to fail and grow, as it is to do that for myself.

It’s a pleasant afternoon. My partner brings me a small serving of gelato. I take a break to enjoy that, and review what I’ve gotten done today, and what I’ve got coming up tomorrow. There’s so much to get done before the year ends – and it’s already time to begin again. 🙂

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Categories Allegories, anger, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, Frustration, gratitude, Healthy Living, Love, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, The Art of Being, The Big 5

3 a.m.

December 1, 2021 //
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It’s 3 a.m.

I woke unexpectedly. Like… fully awake. Even “rested”. Mind restless. I wander around the hotel room aimlessly for some minutes. Drink some water. Use the restroom. I finally just put on jeans and a sweater, my coat, and went outside into the fresh air for a few minutes.

The night air was mild. The city sleeping around me is quiet. There was a sea breeze carrying a hint of nearby ocean along with it. The sound of the wind pushing between the buildings overcomes my tinnitus for awhile. I stand in the twilight of street lights in the wee hours, alone. I enjoy the quiet. I enjoy the breeze.

For a moment, I am not in any pain at all. I stand quietly enjoying the moment without asking it any questions.

Back in the room, some minutes later, I open a fresh bottle of water, cold from the refrigerator, and take an antacid. Now, here I find myself, at 3 a.m., sipping water in the glow of the laptop screen, writing about a sleepless moment in the wee hours, alone in a strange city. It’s not any sort of remarkable moment, either. I’m just… here. Awake at 3 a.m.

My alarm is set for 5 a.m. with a busy work day planned ahead of me. I could stay awake. I could return to sleep. It doesn’t matter too much which I choose to do, really. If I don’t – or can’t – sleep, it’s not a big deal; I feel relatively well-rested as things are now. If I can – and do – return to sleep, it’ll be nice to get a bit more rest; these long work days take a lot out of me.

I sit quietly a few minutes. No agenda. No stress. Stalled for a moment, without stress, just sitting quietly. I sit. I breathe. Slowly I begin to feel the soft edges of sleepiness begin to wrap my consciousness in a foggy blanket.

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Categories autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, Healthy Living, loneliness, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Practices, Sleepless Nights, The Art of Being

Thankful

November 26, 2021 //
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The dishes are cleaned up. The left-overs are put away. The Thanksgiving holiday is behind me. I woke from a sound sleep to the recollection of a tender kiss from my partner shortly after he woke, and a dream that Brian Cox had sought our help “moving the planets around” – so we could more easily study those currently so very far away, but pulling them closer. LOL

Dreamscapes are so interesting. I expect to find details from recent experiences, and it is interesting to see a physicist whose content I have not viewed recently turn up – most particularly since I don’t spend any notable portion of my life involved with physics!! I just watch a few videos, now and then, on a variety of physics topics, out of basic human curiosity. I listen to rain falling beyond the windows… but the windows, in this case, are not mine. Another video. A video of rain falling beyond the windows of a cozy library.

…What is my reality made of, exactly? Where does “real” begin – and end? Is that a question for physics… or philosophy… or neuroscience? I have questions. 🙂

Yesterday was an amazing intimate little holiday for two. It was lovely. I spent much of the day on the meal, and did what I could to make it as traditional – and as lavish – as Thanksgivings I remember from childhood. My Traveling Partner set the menu. I chose the recipes and did the cooking. By the end of a long day in the kitchen, I found myself equally grateful for the freedom to enjoy such an undertaking, and also the freedom from having to undertake such an effort day after day after day, as so many of my female forebears had to have done for their families every single day. Fucking hell, what a massive undertaking. Yep. Super grateful for the modern conveniences that allow me (and soooo many others) to leave the fucking kitchen!!

…G’damn that was a good dinner, though…

I’m human. I’m not a chef or professional cook – never have been. I “learned to cook” mostly through trial and error, with some “helpful” reinforcement in the form of being yelled at (first marriage). My cooking is thoroughly average. I do a few things really well – and most everything else requires a recipe, and considerable care. I do a few things pretty dreadfully – and those I just frankly avoid. LOL This year, Thanksgiving was quite wonderful, partly because there really just wasn’t any pressure or stress. Two people at home, dinner would be happening regardless, and all the shopping was already done. I ended the cooking feeling pretty proud of myself; everything came to the table at the proper temperature, at the same time. My Traveling Partner carved the turkey breast. We enjoyed a genial festive meal together, and the glow of being well-fed, and well-loved, afterward. I no longer recall what small detail or another may have been less than entirely “perfect” – from this vantage point, it was all quite splendid. I’m grateful for that, too.

…Leftovers for days…

Monday seems far away. I’m also thankful for that. It’s nice to have the long weekend to enjoy. Later today, after my coffee, after a shower, maybe after a walk (if the rain slows down)(it actually is raining here, too, not just in the video I’ve got on), I’ll get started on the holiday decor. It’s time to get the tree up, the wreath onto the door, and the mantlepiece decorated. 😀

…How the hell is it already almost Giftmas??

Sipping coffee, feeling thankful. I hope this feeling lasts the entire year. 🙂

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Categories autumn, gratitude, Healthy Living, Love, Moments, Perspective, Relationships, The Art of Being

Time is Fleeting and Precious

November 24, 2021 //
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I’m having a moment. It lives here, in this piece of music.

I listen. I put everything else on hold for a moment or two, just to sit with the feelings and recollections of times past, and lost loved ones.

I listen again. I ignore the tears, but hear the words. Each moment we have is so… finite. We are mortal creatures. I sit quietly listening to the music, to the words, thinking about the world. What else is there to say…

…Hug someone you love. Say something nice to someone. Reach out to an old friend… What could possibly matter more than our relationships?

…There’s only so much time.

Categories autumn, forgiveness, Free Will, gratitude, grief, inspiration, Love, Moments, Perspective, Relationships, The Art of Being
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