Archives for category: The Big 5

I’m sipping the last of my now-mostly-cold coffee, after my morning walk, and before I head to breakfast with a friend I don’t see often. I’m thinking about life and love and things of that sort. I’m thinking over conversations with my Traveling Partner, and our earnest mutual commitment to the life we share and the love we feel for each other.

… I’m thinking about how much actual work it is to create the life we want to enjoy with each other, and how much work it also takes to create a world worth living in…

What are you actually doing to “be the change”? What kind of experience of community and family do you want to enjoy? What are you doing to make that a reality? Yes, you. I sit with these questions myself. They seem worth answering.

When people decry “woke” culture, what are they actually objecting to? Because it’s become some kind of buzzword or verbal shortcut, I think examining the intention behind it sometimes gets overlooked. Isn’t racial equality a good thing? Isn’t gender equality a good thing? Don’t we want everyone to have access to good healthcare regardless of the neighborhood they live in, the color of their skin, their gender, or religion? Of what possible relevance is a person’s sexual preference or marital status when they are seeking healthcare, housing, or a seat in a restaurant? When people shout down “being woke”, are they making a frank admission that they are comfortable with a very non-equal society, of the sort that explicitly disadvantages and “others” some people? Who gets to decide who is “in” and who is “out”?  It’s on my mind. Maybe for obvious reasons (as we all watch the clown car of the new administration fill up, in the background of our lives).

I sigh and bring my thoughts back to matters closer to home. How do I do my own humble best to be a good partner? A good friend? A good community member? I definitely have room to grow. It’s never too late to get a little closer to being the person I most want to be. There’s a lot to consider and probably a few good opportunities to make changes in how I approach conflict resolution, boundary setting, and communication. I’m no saint. I’m often in tremendous pain, more than I’m inclined to complain about. Sometimes I’m just fucking exhausted, with much still left to do that simply has to get done. “Doing my best” is all I can do, and realistically sometimes it doesn’t get everything done – or done in a way that I could celebrate. I’m very human. Prone to temper and moments of irritability. My cPTSD is pretty well-managed, but it’s still lurking in the background. My brain injury is many years (decades) behind me, but I’ve got some brain damage that I still have to work around day-to-day. “My best” has limitations, and my results vary. How do I do more, better?

I sit with my thoughts. Self-reflection is a useful tool. Practicing self-care improves my chances to be the best version of myself. Practicing gratitude, non-attachment, and loving kindness help me create and maintain a resilient and positive mindset. I breathe, exhale, and relax. This human life is quite an interesting journey. So many verbs. So much work to do.

I watch daybreak become a new day. I’m fortunate to have this moment, and so many opportunities to grow toward being the person I most want to be. Feels like a good time to begin again.

What will you do with your moment? Where does your path lead?

Yesterday was… difficult. My Traveling Partner was in pain after PT the previous day and feeling really uncomfortable and cross with the world. Understandable, and honestly, I generally wouldn’t mention it in any specific way, but the results affected me quite directly. The peace of my morning was quickly wrecked, and before midday I was seriously wondering if I’m even cut out for being in a relationship or enduring cohabitation at all. It was that kind of day.

… Caregiving is hard…

I love (adore) my Traveling Partner with an abiding passion that can be described pretty accurately as “ridiculous”. It makes no damned sense that I love him so. Hard days are hard. Bad moods feel…bad. Hurt feelings hurt. Love isn’t some magical effortless fairytale condition that leaps from eye contact to happily ever after. There are verbs involved. Effort. Real work. Personal growth over time. Compromises and changes. Fucking hell, it’s an unreasonable bit of work involved in deepening and maintaining intimacy, especially under trying circumstances. G’damn it’s worth it though, and most of the time that’s obvious.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. The day ended pretty well, though my beloved was still cross and miserable. We talked over the things that mattered. We sorted some stuff out. We called it a night in a good place with each other, in spite of his continued pain and discomfort. It’s a new day, today. A new chance to begin again. Love is worth the effort we make.

I stare into the foggy autumn darkness. It’s awhile yet until daybreak, but the work day begins pretty soon. I lace up my boots and add gloves and a scarf. It’s chilly this morning. I’ve got my cane and my headlamp. I finish my coffee. It’s time to begin again. Again.

I slept last night. I woke this morning feeling pretty good, in spite of my headache, and my arthritis (which are becoming generally non-negotiable elements of my day-to-day experience). I moved through my morning routine pretty efficiently and quietly. I took my morning medications on time without a mishap, and the rain stopped just as I got to the trailhead. Seems like a pretty good morning so far.

Yesterday wasn’t all that bad, once I got past the morning, though I had considerable difficulty staying focused on work after my Traveling Partner pinged me good morning. I would have preferred to spend the day idly conversing with him, intimate and connected. The evening, after work, was relaxed and genial. We talked and shared the time contentedly. Dinner wasn’t fancy, pretty low effort but still a tasty home-cooked hot meal. I got some basic housekeeping chores handled. We communicated easily with each other, no stress, no drama, in spite of my fatigue. It was a great time all around.

I sit with my coffee and a smile in the pre-dawn darkness, a small circle of light cast by my headlamp, set to my side on this bench, to reduce the glare while I write and reflect. I turn it off to meditate, enjoying the diffuse light of town and street lights reflected back by the cloudy sky. It’s dark, for many values of darkness, but my eyes adjust quickly and I could probably walk the trail in the dimness without my headlamp if I chose to. It’s just easier with a bit of light. I smile at the implied metaphor and let my thoughts move on.

My Traveling Partner admitted yesterday that he hasn’t been reading my blog for awhile, caught up in his own experience. I didn’t feel hurt by that, and I even understand. It does tend to explain how misaligned we’ve sometimes felt, though; he has lacked a ton of explicit knowledge of my day-to-day experience, because rather than “repeat myself”, I’ve left things unsaid that I wrote about. That was a poor choice on my part, and we’ve paid for it in frequent misunderstandings and miscommunication. Well, shit. Now I know. I’m not even annoyed; the fault is mine. I made an assumption and didn’t check in on that. Ideally, I’d have been “using my words” and trusting my beloved to alert me if he was already aware of some detail.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. It’s a good morning so far. I hope the day ahead is as pleasant. I’ve got work, and a couple things to get done to care for my partner and our home. I’m looking forward to working from home today and enjoying lunch together. I feel… good. It’s nice. It’s enough.

I look at the sky. Daybreak hasn’t come yet. It will, though, and the clock is ticking. It’s time to begin again.

“Are you even a good person?”

I sip my coffee, listening to the rain fall, thinking about goodness, character, doing and being good, and what any of that really means in the world we actually live in, where nations hold themselves up as righteous while committing genocide, and human beings individually lay claims to being “good people” while espousing hate, and “othering” human beings who have never harmed them at all.

Are you even a good person? If you answer “yes”, the follow-up question has to be “what does that mean to you?” How will you answer that? How do you defend your less than ideally good thoughts or behaviors? You know the ones I mean – and we’ve all got some. We’re human. Our brief mortal lives don’t lend themselves well to aspirations of goodness.

… But are you at least trying, though? Are you making the attempt to be a good human being, a good person? Putting real thought and effort into it? Working day after day to be a better version of yourself than you were yesterday?

This is on my mind this morning because of a brief interaction with strangers waiting in line ahead of me at the pharmacy yesterday evening. I was tired, and irritable. Hungry. They were making conversation to kill time in the long, slow, line (and blocking the aisle, forcing other shoppers to detour around them). They were mostly shit-talking younger generations. One of them was a woman somewhat older than I, the other about my age. The details are pretty irrelevant, aside from admitting they sounded pretty ignorant to me, and more than a little offensive. One of them caught my eye and probably picked up on a microexpression of some critical sort. She laughed somewhat uncomfortably and said, as if in protest of my judgement, “But I’m a good person!”

… Sometimes my mouth has a life of its own…

I held the stranger’s gaze and and replied rather cynically “Are you?” I said nothing more, and she turned away uncomfortably. There was a brief pause in their conversation, before they resumed, quietly, seeming more aware of other listeners. The line continued to move slowly.

Since then, I keep coming back to this idea of viewing one’s self as a “good person”, while simultaneously doing, saying, or thinking things that completely undermine any potential truth to that statement. It wants thinking about.

Are you a good person? I’m not judging or accusing you. I likely don’t know you, and even if I do, how could I truly know the content of your character sufficiently well to judge you? But… Are you, though? Are you at least trying?

Am I a “good person”? Hell, I don’t know. I want to be a good person. I value the idea of goodness. I aspire to goodness. I recognize and appreciate goodness when I see it. I seek to practice goodness as I understand it in all of my relationships. But – and it’s a big but – I am human, I am mortal, I have been traumatized, I was raised and influenced by human beings of poor moral character, and have participated in systems that could not ever be described as “good” – for nothing loftier than a fucking paycheck. At best, I guess I can say I’m generally at least trying to be a good person. My results vary. My efforts are often more aspirational than practical. I’ve still got a lot to learn and I still need an entire lifetime of practice.

I guess my point is… be humble about what a good person you are. You probably aren’t all that g’damned “good”, if you’re truly honest about actions no one observed, lies no one ever caught you out on, or thoughts you’ve never admitted to another person. Definitely keep working at it – the journey is the destination. The world has a serious shortage of goodness, and maybe nothing keeps us from the darkness besides our own will to fight for what is truly good and right. The effort to be the best version of ourselves is worth making, every day, in every interaction. We’re going to fail a lot, all of us, so let’s also be kind to each other about how difficult it is, while encouraging each other and also keeping things real when we see it all going very wrong. “See something, say something” is a useful strategy. Make corrections, not excuses – but for goodness sake, turn that critical eye toward your mirror, first, last, and often!

… Funny that this is where my thoughts are this morning, but I definitely need to reflect on these things as much as anyone…

I could do better. I’ll keep practicing.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. The rain continues to fall. I sip my coffee waiting for daybreak and wondering whether the rain will let up enough for a walk before work. I think thoughts about art, about love, and fill my heart with gratitude. I’m fortunate to live where I do, when I do. This particular “here and now” is pretty good. I can comfortably afford to spend time reflecting on whether I am a good person, instead of worrying about drones, bombs, or whether there will be food or drinking water for my family.

I sit quietly with my thoughts for awhile. What defines a “good person”? I watch the traffic roll by like the seconds hand of a strange clock. Isn’t it time to begin again?

I’m sipping my coffee, thinking my thoughts, and waiting for the sun. It’s a quiet Sunday, and only three days until I take a break on the coast for a couple days to rest and paint. I’m grateful for the opportunity and the means to enjoy it.

This morning I started my day thinking about my Traveling Partner with gratitude and love, and appreciating how much the world has changed since I was a child. Oh, for sure not perfect; we human primates have a long way to go before we’re anything more than fancy fucking monkeys flinging poo at each other across the cages we’ve devised for ourselves. We’re honestly pretty fucking disappointing in many ways. We could do so much better. Still…

In some important ways we’ve begun to do better than we once did, and I can see it without “straining my eyes” – metaphorically – just thinking about how much more free to experience and express emotion men are in America than they were when I was a kid. I’m so glad that’s true, too. They need that freedom and emotional safety as much as anyone. It’s easier now, and more likely, for a man to choose domesticity over corporate life. Men are less often viewed as babysitters of their own children, and more likely to be respected and valued as parents – and recognized for their contributions.

I see signs of change in the acceptable norms for women, too. Fewer of us are dismissed out of hand for having feelings or opinions that differ from those of the men in our lives. We own property. We have our own finances. Our votes aren’t merely tolerated – they really count. We work. We create. We lead. The conversation about reproduction involves fewer people assuming we’re walking incubators of future generations with no human purpose beyond breeding. We’re free to choose to be childless.

Other changes, too – a lot of them. We’re not perfect beings of compassion, light, and intelligent wisdom. We’ve a long long way to go, and there are definitely some holdouts fighting human progress with stupidity and violence. We’re still making slow progress. Hopefully it’s fast enough to ensure our survival…

… There’s still too much violence in the world, way too much… We should do something about that…

Just thoughts on a quiet Sunday morning, I observe them as they drift through my awareness. My Traveling Partner pings me a greeting, and let’s me know he’s going back to bed. His decision to make his own coffee this morning may have been overly ambitious. I assure him I’m happy to make coffee when I return home and wish him good rest in the meantime. Then I sit wondering if I should cancel my trip…or figure something else out to solve the potential “coffee problem” while I am away…

…A pour over is unquestionably a great cup of coffee but it sure won’t “make itself”…

Waiting for the sun.

The sun rises late these early autumn mornings. There’s a dense mist clinging to the ground in the low places. I’ve still got the nature park to myself when the gate screeches open and clangs firmly in place. It’s still too dark to walk the trail without a headlamp or a flashlight. I’ve got both with me, but I prefer to wait for the sun – or at least for daybreak, and enough light to make out the trail without a light.

A hint of daybreak on the horizon.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. Yesterday was a pleasant day in my partner’s good company. I’m hopeful today will be as well. I enjoyed the intimacy of our conversations, and the depth and breadth of the topics we discussed together. We felt like old friends, again, and lovers. Partners. It feels good to be rebuilding that together. It’s too precious to take it for granted or to haplessly let it slip away. Fuck, I love that man. I sit with my thoughts and my awareness of his enduring deep love for me. Love does take work… and it is so worth that effort.

I sip my coffee, think my thoughts, and watch the horizon. It’s time to begin again.