Archives for category: The Big 5

In the quiet minutes after tempers flare and the uneasy peace that follows, I take some notes. New or unremembered metaphors, insightful analogies, deep questions, and revealed underlying hurts of times long past… Notes for meditation, for self-reflection, for discussion with my therapist. Tripping hazards on life’s path.

[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]

It’s a very human experience, and a lot to think about. I will think about the path ahead, and also the path that has lead me to this point. I’ll consider my behavior, my choices, and my options. The menu of life’s Strange Diner is vast and the options are many – nearly always more than I can imagine, or accept.

I sigh to myself, and set my notes aside for tomorrow.

A new day, another sunrise, a chance to begin again.

I woke early this morning, from the sound sleep I had sunken into after the neighborhood fireworks finally stopped. I got up, surprised to find my Traveling Partner also already up. I started the watering and caught up on messages, then headed up the highway for my walk.

I walk along the marsh trail, more meadow than marsh this time of year. Swallows swoop and dive, chasing their breakfast. Meadow flowers bob gently in the soft breeze. The bold magenta sunrise begins to fade, first to pink, then to a softer pale salmon hue, before fading away to blue sky streaked with white clouds. I sigh and wonder what distant wildfire is responsible for that crazy magenta sunrise? It was beautiful.

A convenient place to stop and reflect.

I get to a spot that I’ll call “halfway” (it isn’t, but it is a convenient spot to stop and there is a fallen oak adjacent to the trail which makes a relatively comfortable seat). I stop with my thoughts, and my baggage, and sit with the moment for a little while.

… This is me, here, now…

I sit contemplating emotions and behavior, and what separates and defines them. Emotions tend to be what they are, and we don’t have much opportunity to manage or control our feelings, themselves. They are an internal, often immediate, experience. Behavior, on the other hand, we have clear opportunities to manage and control that (and often explicit societal expectations that we will do so effectively). That isn’t any sort of statement that it will be easy, at all, especially if we haven’t been in the practice of doing so regularly. It really does take practice. For some of us, it requires a lifetime of continued, focused, dedicated practice – and we’ll still lob some wildly inappropriate behavior into the world (or an important relationship), in spite of all that fucking practice, far more often than we expect. Humans being human. Some of this shit is a bit complicated, whether by brain damage, poor upbringing, ignorance, trauma, medication, or circumstances.

… Most of the time, most people are probably doing some version of their best in the moment, however thoroughly inadequate it may seem from our own perspective. We’re each having our own experience…

“Emotion and Reason” lit differently – how we view emotions, and how we use reason, make a difference.

I do my best to lead with kindness and empathy. I’m surprised how often and how easily I manage to fuck that up. Deep listening is a more challenging practice than it seems it would be. Practicing healthy boundaries is more difficult than I ever expect it to be, but frankly I’m a relative beginner on that topic, so perhaps that is easy to understand? I sigh and remind myself to also treat myself with kindness, compassion, and understanding. My beloved’s expressions of hurt, frustration, and disappointment in some moment may define the moment, but they don’t define me as a human being. Nor do his missteps or difficult moments define him.

I reflect on my mistakes in the context of my values. I give myself time to think about them as snags and potholes on a clear path. I visualize various moments differently than they occurred, incorporating the changes in my behavior that I’d ideally want to see. I compare and contrast with similar moments that went very differently. I let myself recognize the differences in a useful way, to build additional implicit understanding.  I remind myself to be patient and slow down, to take the time I need to do things right, and to avoid taking it personally if (when) the world doesn’t slow down with me.

… The journey is the destination. I walk the path I create with my choices. I have opportunities (so many) to change that path by changing my choices. It sounds easier as words than it is in practice – but “practice” is an ongoing thing. I’ll keep walking (and practicing).

… I keep my focus on my own behavior, because that is what is within my control, and it is what I am responsible for, myself…

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I don’t know what is around the next bend. I’m walking this path, enjoying the journey, and doing my best to be the person I most want to be. There’s work yet to be done. Where does this path lead? I guess I’ll find out when I get there. In the meantime, I guess I’ll begin again. Again.

I almost didn’t bother with writing this morning. I’m not having a bad morning, neither is it particularly good. It’s just a morning. It is a gray, overcast, mild, somewhat cooler morning than one might expect for a summer Monday. “Nothing to see here,” and nothing much to say about it.

[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]

Hell, I’m not even complaining really, just noticing. I have no particular enthusiasm for this moment, and I take some bit of comfort in its underlying impermanence. Moments are fleeting. They pass.

I sit at the halfway point on this morning’s walk fighting a feeling of ennui and vague disappointment that lacks any objective point. My physical pain is vexing but commonplace. My tinnitus is loud and distractingly unpleasant, but hardly out of the ordinary for me. My headache is no worse, but also no better, and I can’t be bothered to deal with it at all. Nothing I do seems to change it. I sigh to myself. I’d complain about this crappy morning, but it’s honestly fine. It is a Monday, and not all that bad. I’m just struggling with a weird mood fed by strange dreams and interrupted sleep.

…All of this bullshit is purely subjective, and very human…

I frown at the gray sky overhead and think about the path I’m on, the life I am living, and the woman I most want to be. I think about change, and I think about “doing better”, and I reflect on brain damage and on character. I think about practice.

… I’d rather be painting…

I sigh to myself and watch the clouds capping distant hilltops, seeming almost to become hung up in the trees as the clouds continue to drift by. Yeah, I’d totally rather be painting. Or sleeping. I sit puzzled by my utter lack of enthusiasm for the day. Oh, well. It’s not as if moods are any more permanent than moments. I’m not “stuck” here so much as finding myself here through happenstance. It’ll pass at some point.

Another sigh. I get to my feet mildly annoyed with myself, and prepare to finish my walk and begin the rest of the day. I’m open to change, I’ve just got to get started and begin again.

I woke shortly before my lights would have come on to start the day. My Traveling Partner was already awake. He invited me to join him for a coffee and to listen to an album he had found for me.

[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]

I tend to be a creature of habit. This is an intentional choice, with a clear purpose in mind; it prevents my life from falling apart due to consequences of brain damage and poor memory. It is one of many practical strategies and self-nurturing practices. Here’s the thing though; life is not “on rails”. The path is not a fixed determined way leading to a clearly identified destination. Life is an experience, and the menu of The Strange Diner is vast. We have options. Choices.

I chose coffee with my beloved. I start the sprinkler, and make us some coffee. He starts the music once I sit down. Oh, nice! A Muslimgauze album I haven’t heard! An “archival release” from 2016, so… posthumously. We listen together, drinking coffee. I’m enjoying it so completely I lose track of time – and I’m okay with that; I chose to embrace the moment.

Daylight on the trail.

When I start my walk, it is later in the morning. I’m okay with that, too. I’ve got time. Moments are precious and fleeting, and I do my best to make wise choices and face life and change with a measure of openness. It’s one of my “big 5” values. Openness balances routine and habit pretty well, and tends to prevent my thinking from becoming stale or rigid. Helpful, because I definitely don’t know everything, and most things in life are just not even “about me”.

I get to my halfway point wearing a smile and feeling relaxed and unbothered. I hear sirens in the distance; some other human being is having a pretty bad day, it sounds like. Out of long practiced habit, I wish them well from afar. It could have been me, and if it had been I’d appreciate some kindness, I know. “Thoughts and prayers” are not the most effective ways of handling an emergency, but what we carry in our thoughts and in our hearts does matter…it defines who we are when we are alone with ourselves.

I breathe, exhale, and relax, still hearing the music in my memory of the morning. I reflect on life and love and openness as a lived value. I’m glad I said “yes” to coffee with my beloved Traveling Partner. It was a great beginning to a new day.

I sit awhile in the Spring sunshine. A moment, a smile, and a good spot from which to begin a new day.

I’m sitting on a bench over looking the Pacific ocean. It’s a bit after sunrise, but the sun hasn’t yet cleared the hilltops to the east. The sky is a pearly pink and a delicate pastel gradient blends it into the blue morning sky overhead.

[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]

Wind, waves, and a sunrise.

I listen to the gulls and sip my coffee. I’m in no hurry. It’s Sunday and I’ve got a couple relaxed days of painting ahead of me. I breathe, exhale, and relax. Each time work surfaces in my thoughts, I make a point of letting it go. Now is not the time.

I reflect on the crazy amount of pressure at work lately. I have to admit, a lot of that pressure is internal, and self-imposed. I reflect on the many times my Traveling Partner has cautioned me to slow down when I’m panicking over work stress, and how often he has helpfully pointed out that I’m the one putting myself through all that. Sometimes it’s hard to accept that I cause so much of my stress myself.

…He hasn’t been wrong about that; most of the pressure I’m under is reliably self-imposed (and unnecessary, and not helpful)…

Even this trip to the coast is intended, at least in part, to slow me down a bit and give me needed perspective. I reflect on that as I listen to the waves of the receding tide. I sigh to myself, grateful to have the opportunity to step back from work for a couple days. Grateful for a partner who supports and respects that need, even suggesting that I take the time.

I reach out to wish him good morning and to express concern about the heat and his wellness and to be encouraging in some way. My words are poorly chosen and don’t reflect awareness of what he wants and needs from me in the way of supporting and encouraging him. I get an unexpected blistering reprimand; he needs something different from me, and I feel like a jerk for the unhelpful outreach and poor timing. Shit. Failure sucks. I screenshot some of the messages to consider later (otherwise they may get lost in later conversation), and to share with my therapist for additional guidance.

I wonder what small birds practice?

I sit with my thoughts, watching the sea and gazing out at the western horizon. I missed my morning hike planned for Basket Slough this morning. I had hoped to watch the sunrise from there, rather than in my rearview mirror, but I had gotten the route confused for another. Basket Slough is in an altogether different direction (south) than the one I traveled this morning (west). I’ll hike the beach instead. There are miles of beach here, and about seven miles or so are walkable at low tide.

I sigh quietly, thinking about what matters most, what it takes to be (and become) the person I most want to be, and contemplating my obvious shortcomings in a way that is self-compassionate, kind, and useful. It’s a more difficult practice than the words imply. It’s easier to “drink the poison” and lose the useful details in the message, sometimes. The resulting festival of self-pity, guilt, shame, and emotional self flagellation may seem cathartic in the moment, but doing so would be mostly pretty poisonous, too. Better to lift myself out of the muck and sever the doom spiral neatly before it pulls me down. I can accept with sincere contrition and regret that I’m capable of errors in thinking, poor decision making, and poorly chosen words at precisely the wrong moment. Feels like a lot to work on. It’s a very human experience.

… Brain damage sucks, but there are useful workarounds for many of my specific challenges, they only require constant practice, and unlimited patience! 😆

I watch the parking lot here fill with folks in boots suited to mud, with buckets and shovels, heading down to the beach to dig for shellfish. This is a popular area for that. They are purposeful and well equipped for their task. G’damn I sure wish I felt similarly right about now. I definitely don’t. As with the crushing pressure of work, I suspect the feeling is illusory, and largely crafted within, built on my feelings of insecurity and doubt. Again, very human. This shit isn’t easy, or obvious, or in any way effortless – but it is possible to grow and change and improve over time.

I think about love, and notice that the blue hue of my glittery fingernails matches the sky. I listen to the wind whisper to me about practice and persistence, and learning from mistakes. I can’t know what the future holds – but I don’t have to. I can exist in this moment here, now. I’ll be busy enough with that, there is no need to become anchored to past regrets or future worries. “Now” has plenty with which to hold my attention.

I finish my coffee and grab my cane. It’s a beautiful morning, and it’s time to begin again.

Where does this path lead? The journey is the destination. Am I on the right path?

I head down the road to a welcoming quiet trail along the Willamette River, singing a favorite rather poignant love song out loud, acapella, and probably off key. Doesn’t matter, what matters is the meaning of the heartfelt words. Love is perhaps the most human and humbling of experiences.

[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]

… But what do I even know? I’m just one woman living a mortal life…

I watch the sun rise as I drive to the trailhead singing love songs badly on my birthday. I arrive at this beautiful place, with my thoughts and my baggage, and hoping to do a better job of being the woman I most want to be without compromise or regret in the year to come.

Every dawn is a chance to begin again and to make the choices to be (and become) the person we most want to be.

I start down the trail and immediately find myself facing a choice. That’s often how things go. We make a lot of choices in life. Many of those will turn out to have been poor choices, once we’re further down the path life takes us, sometimes it’s hard to know when we make the choice. Ideally we learn from the experience and do something different next time. Doesn’t always work out that way… it’s a very human experience.

Go left or go right? It’s a simple choice, and either way this trail will bring me back to this place. Yes, it’s a metaphor.

I walk on. Does it matter what my choice was? Sure, it matters. My perspective will change based on my choice. I’ll see the world and my own circumstances quite differently perhaps. I walk on down the trail with my thoughts, enjoying the blue sky overhead and the many hues and shades of green. The meadow smells of Spring flowers: clover, blackberries, wild cucumber and wild carrot, various meadow flowers for which I lack names.

A robin on a fence post.

Snails, rabbits, robins, squirrels, chipmunks, a small fast lizard, a garter snake, bluejays… I stay alert as I walk. This beautiful place is home for a lot of creatures. This is a pleasant beginning for my birthday. I’ve taken today off, and also three days next week. I’ve got two of those planned for a bit of solitary time on the coast, the rest I will spend with my beloved, as much of it as he has patience for. It will be time well spent, it generally is. He’s smart and funny (and having his own experience). I’m grateful for the time we share in this too brief mortal life.

I find a pleasant spot to stop awhile, to write and to reflect on the year that has passed and to contemplate the year ahead. I could do with less chaos and turmoil. Less sheer willpower pushing me to complete tasks and more thoughtful self-care would be good, too. Doing a more skillful job of listening and loving would be a good choice, with less waiting to talk or being pissed off about dumb shit.

You know what is harder than practicing mindfulness? Living mindfully. You know what is more complicated than living mindfully? Loving mindfully. The amount of vulnerability and openness required is…much. The patience, kindness, and compassion involved are hard to overstate. The listening. The acceptance. The self-awareness. All of it takes practice. I fail a lot. I begin again over and over. I keep practicing. Incremental change over time is something I know I can count on, but it can be slow.

… And the clock is always ticking…

It’s about the journey, though, these precious mortal moments aren’t obstacles, they are the main event. I sit watching the sunlight change the green hues of the forest and the shrubs along the trail with seemingly infinite variety. There’s something to learn from sunlight through leaves. The trees and shrubs are what they are, it is the light that tranforms them. I sit with the thought awhile.

Shades of green on a Spring morning.

Three dogs run up the path, chasing each other playfully and darting in an out of the meadow, chasing each other, and the small rabbits hiding in the grass. A man approaches on the trail. “They’re friendly!” he calls to me. He’s loud. I’m not interested in conversation. I wave but don’t speak. I’m annoyed by the dogs being unleashed. The park signage is quite clear that dogs need to be on a leash, here. This man chose to behave differently. He doesn’t even have leashes with him.

… I find myself thinking about behavior vs feelings, and behavior vs intentions. We make so many choices in how we behave. I consider my own choices and behavior. How can I do a better job of reliably choosing the best behavior, moment to moment? This is worth considering.

A little while later (must be that time of morning), a woman approaches with three dogs, leashed. They are quite large, and well-behaved. They walk calmly alongside her. She stops occasionally to let them check out the scents along the trail. She waves politely as she approaches, but doesn’t break the beautiful stillness and quiet with loud greetings. I wave back. There is discipline and intention evident in her behavior and that of her dogs.

People making choices.

I watch to see which path the dog walkers will take. I’ll go down a different path, when I resume walking. I’m making choices, too. I breathe, exhale, and relax. It’s a nice morning for meditation, and a nice morning to begin again.

I wish myself a happy birthday, and let my thoughts wander on as the sun rises through the shades of blue and green.