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I had some interesting thoughts this morning over my coffee; they lead to interesting discussions over coffee with my colleagues later on. Discussions of ethics, language, and the way we make distinctions between one thing and another. Definitions of terms really matter, circumstances and context make a difference, and every individual brings their own experience, and their own values as an individual, to every conversation.  I’m pleased to work with ethical people who are good-natured and compassionate.  I learn something from them every day about being compassionate and treating people well. Even when we don’t agree, the opportunity to reflect on a divergent perspective is valuable.

Work in progress...

Work in progress…

Yesterday evening I enjoyed an opportunity to hang out with friends we haven’t seen in a while.  Good people. Kind people. I didn’t want to be tired at the end of the evening.  This morning I woke with thoughts of ‘going home’ to other old friends, reconnecting with other people supremely dear to me.  I will, sooner than later, but perhaps not as soon as I would like to. I keep contemplating the urgent importance and value of connections…friends, lovers, family…even strangers crossing my path in some unexpectedly serendipitous way…my most cherished memories are almost all memories of some connected moment. I want to put more attention on those connections, build them and invest in them with effort and will, not just haphazard circumstances and fond memories. I think I’d like to make a point of visiting a far away friend or family member at least once a year.  It seems too important to waste more time with ‘oh, we’ll see each other again, eventually…’ – because maybe we won’t if I take that approach? Our mortal time is finite.

Afternoon thoughts are different than morning thoughts… there was something to say yesterday, and now it is long forgotten.  I did get some pictures…

Blackberries have begun to bloom...and I must have taken a dozen pictures, not one came out clear and sharp. lol

Blackberries have begun to bloom…and I must have taken a dozen pictures, not one came out clear and sharp. lol

A grand old oak stands in the sunshine along my journey.

A grand old oak stands in the sunshine along my journey.

...a small wilderness along the way, so fragrant on a warm spring afternoon.

…a small wilderness along the way, so fragrant on a warm spring afternoon.

Bold and lovely, the peonies are opening.

Bold and lovely, the peonies are opening.

Even humble chives show their best colors in the afternoon sunshine.

Even humble chives show their best colors in the afternoon sunshine.

The light is different in the  morning…and at twilight…and at midday.  I see different things. I think different thoughts. Today I am awake and aware, without drive or purpose beyond being in the moment. A lovely quiet morning, meditation and a latte, and then with time slowed down to the moment, I went into the garden to water and see the sunshine at dawn.  It isn’t a sunny morning, at all.  It is gray and overcast, and the light is so different, filtered, soft, and muted. Still a delight to my senses, and I happily watered the potted roses, giving each a good drenching. Again this year I struggle with powdery mildew – and in the Pacific Northwest that’s an annual event.  Spring will harden to summer, and new leaves will unfold and the roses will continue to bloom; for now, many of the more delicate varieties have that powdery menace as they fatten their buds for the first flowers of the year.  I love each rose nonetheless, and the stories they have to tell of my life and loves: Sheer Bliss, X-Rated, Magic Carousel, Kiss of Desire, Nozomi, Secret Recipe, Baby Love…they each have a page or a paragraph, meaning that goes beyond flowers.

'Baby Love' this morning.

‘Baby Love’ this morning.

The garden path and 'Splish-Splash', my oldest potted rose.

The garden path and ‘Splish-Splash’, my oldest potted rose.

So lush in spring, my garden, my paradise...

So lush in spring, my garden, my paradise…

After the peace of the garden, the walk to work was calm and serene, and a continued sensuous pleasure. I feel good today. It’s the rare morning that I don’t feel pain. It’s easy to enjoy the details and the surprises in the world around me when I don’t hurt.  I see more. I think less. It is easier to simply be.  I found myself rather puzzled at one point,  contemplating the number of times I have been chastised as a child or criticized as an adult, for the pleasure I get from being still… no wonder it was hard to find peace and balance! I was being continuously coached to give up the very thing that provides me the opportunity to find those things! 🙂   I don’t feel like I am searching for peace and balance, anymore. I feel like I am building them, within my own experience.

Someone else building peace and balance along their journey left this behind for me this morning...

Someone else building peace and balance along their journey left this behind for me this morning…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Cherry Blossoms" 2011

“Cherry Blossoms” 2011

Love.

I don’t know what exactly to say right now. I’m happy to know love. (I’m incredibly fortunate to enjoy the love of multiple partners.)  There have been times in the past, other lives, other ‘loves’, when I thought I understood…thought I was, in the moment, experiencing love…or Love…or … maybe not.  Usually not. I was cynical about love in my twenties; it had no reality for me, and I was damaged and numb. In my 30s, I was disappointed, disillusioned, and angry about love, or rather the lack of it.   I found love the first time in my 30s, actually, and the love I found was pure Greek tragedy, with no possible future to it in the world I lived in…in didn’t help matters that I was so consumed by personal shame, regret, and long-time self-loathing that I couldn’t possibly have understood or enjoyed love, or treated someone else’s heart well, at that point in my life.  I tried solitude, and found that libido would overrule my best efforts at good decision making for myself again and again – because I knew nothing about taking care of myself, or my own heart; I knew only that experiencing a physical need could be gratified by a physical action. Very mammalian. Very primate. Pretty far removed from love.

Those earlier attempts to love, and accept love in return, hurt everyone involved at some point, on some level, and I doubt I’ve yet learned not to hurt people with my novice efforts at love.  Still…there came a day when love found me, reached me through my walls and mirrors, touched me and demanded my attention in spite of my pain and my baggage and my cynical jokes about love – and I was blown away.  I still am.  There’s no forcing it, either, love is what it is, and there’s an ebb and flow to those powerful emotions of connection, romance, passionate affection, and heart…and I am very much aware of how little I know, yet, about love.

Why am I writing about love? Because love demands my attention today, and I am celebrating an anniversary of love – two years ago today, one of my partners and I chose to underscore our romantic attraction, our affection, our enjoyment of each other, our shared life together…by signing a contract. lol.  🙂  No regrets here, either.  I could say something syrupy about ‘couldn’t be happier’ or go overboard with the hyperbole…but life is very real, and loving someone with my issues – or his – has its complicated moments.  Damn though… I love him with my whole heart and no reservations. I don’t know what more I could say about that – I am motivated to grow and become and thrive, largely on the basis of knowing love. Any love. Real love. It’s…indescribable at heart.  I paint instead.  “Cherry Blossoms” was painted to celebrate love.   So was this…

"Communion" 2010

“Communion” 2010

I’ve painted about 2 dozen canvases inspired by love – this love, this man, this time in my life.  I don’t know where life will take me, or us, or the world.  Love isn’t always easy…but so far, it is always worth living the experience of loving and being loved in return.  I don’t expect perfect 24/7 bliss from love…I hope I enjoy it for a long while to come…I am enjoying it in my now. Happy Anniversary, Love. ❤

"X-Rated" kissed by rain drops.  Love, too, sometimes feels the weight of tears on tenderness.

“X-Rated” kissed by rain drops. Love, too, sometimes feels the weight of tears on tenderness.

…And yes, practicing mindfulness seems to have value for love, too.  🙂  I am learning that many of the everyday moments of distress or misunderstanding, the sorrow or anxiety in the sleepless wee hours of a lonely night, the hormonal fury that sometimes still takes me over, all benefit from mindful moments and taking good care of my own heart…because when I do not find love for myself, within my own heart, I lose my way and struggle feel the love offered by others.

Time to listen to love songs…it’s so hard not to post links to each and every one on my lover’s Facebook wall. lmao

Dawn came too early, and with it came the grosser side of womanhood, complete with spot cleaning floor, carpet, and mattress, and a shower before I really even had my eyes open yet.  Is that too gross for Sunday morning? I admit I lack sympathy…I had to deal with more than some words, and I am tired of the grosser moments of female experience being treated as unmentionable. lol. So, I mentioned it. 🙂

Coffee, meditation, some napping on the couch…later I will run the linens through the wash on the stain cycle; I feel a moment of appreciation for technological advances that result in me having a good washing machine with a stain cycle.  I find myself wondering idly how forensic scientists tell the difference between menstrual blood and ‘the regular sort’… And then wonder if sooner or later every woman wakes up unexpectedly covered in blood? My mind wanders as I doze on the couch, wishing I were in bed, asleep, and wishing being female were somehow less wrapped up in pain and blood. I bet by now someone, somewhere, is wishing I would stop talking about it. lol

I laugh grimly, silently, to myself and think ” this too shall pass”, but I don’t know why I feel so bitter, or angry, or amused.

I woke in an ok place this morning, after an ok night’s sleep. I’m feeling better, but…small things…I am struggling with small deviations from the routine, small chronic frustrations with every day life, minor mishaps and disappointments, more than seems appropriate.  I want to shrug it off as being ‘a little cross’ with myself, or ‘waking up on the wrong side of the bed’, or anything at all that minimizes it and ‘makes it go away’, but those things are not true.  I’d rather be disappointed to the point of heartbreak that my brand new blow dryer didn’t work this morning, or irritated that my cell phone battery didn’t recharge, or anything at all that isn’t what is really grinding away on my consciousness, in the background.

I don’t know that I have the words, or the appropriate forum, to discuss what’s on my mind – rape.  For me to discuss rape honestly requires the willingness to face a level of information sharing that is ‘too much information’ on multiple levels, and possibly damaging to hear, for some people.  The internet is buzzing with it anyway, and that’s why it’s grinding away on my own consciousness –  I’m a rape victim, myself. How can I not be affected by politicians negotiating whether or not I can have an abortion if I get pregnant from a rape? How can I overlook that there are people who actually think the consequences of a rapist being convicted are worthy of more serious dialogue than the consequences of the rape itself for the victim? How can I overlook the horrible numbers, the statistics, the historical data – the strong likelihood that just about any woman, anywhere, is probably going to face some kind of sexual assault at some point in her life? I feel agitated and ‘trying not to be’. I feel fearful and struggling with a veiled feeling of hostility. I feel anxious.

How did we ever come to this? ‘Civilized’? Hardly. I could almost feel the smugness mingling with the horror of so many voices in the wake of one heinous Delhi gang rape in December…but Steubenville was already seething in our cultural undercurrent, it happened in August.  Where are the good guys? Where are the heroes? Where is the country where there is no rape?

I feel sad. I feel wounded. I feel lost.  I will fill my ‘now’ with the day’s work, and hope that the distraction from ancient hurts will ‘be enough’… I need to feel wrapped in love, in the arms of lovers who would never hurt me…but for now, fluorescent lighting and the low steady din of ‘busy as usual’ will have to do. I am learning more about living mindfully every day, and practicing meditation, learning compassion…but just at the moment I feel rather as if I am attempting to apply a small band-aid to a sucking chest wound…or gasping for air in a vacuum…or drowning…

…Wait..wait…am I missing this moment? Is there a lesson here, too? I will take time for me, before I move on soaked in fear, and just breathe…I mean, hey…it’s just a Tuesday. I’m certainly worth a few minutes of my own time and compassion…it hasn’t all been easy, and hurting sometimes is probably a given. I hurt right now, but I don’t always…

I’m home sick today, plans cancelled, wrapped in comfy clothes and a bathrobe, unconcerned with much of anything besides being comfortable. It’s no dire illness. It isn’t terminal. It won’t be chronic or particularly prolonged, I’m sure. It’s really just a cold virus of some sort. Miserable, irritating, fatiguing, but it isn’t a crisis. It is, however, very human.  So here I sit, pretending I am still drinking my tasty mocha, but it went cold a while ago, and started to become ‘decor’, poised on the coffee table, reminding me how nice being loved feels when I am not feeling well, myself.

Yesterday was a good day, and I spent it working on things that matter to me, heart and soul, mind and body, and I didn’t write at all. By the time I got to thinking the sorts of thoughts that inspire me to write, it was late, I was clearly already ill, and sleep seemed the more rational, nurturing choice. I did get my hair cut, and it was an incredibly fun experience, as it turned out, and I love the new look. Funny what we hesitate to do over our fears and insecurities.  I’m a little glad I’m sick this morning, in one respect, it tended to temper  my first sight of my short hair ‘first thing in the morning’. lol. Oh my… I did not really think ahead to ‘morning hair’!  Yeah, I admit, that first look, first thing, was far more startling that having my hair cut short in the first place, and being ill kept me from taking it at all seriously.

I find myself bouncing between amusement and annoyance that it took me so long to be in a place to heal my heart. Pain sucks. Meditation practices and mindfulness practices have been around for thousands of years and are the basis of multiple cultures and philosophies, and yet, somehow I got to be 49 years old before ‘mindfulness’ became a word in my vocabulary, or a concept for living well that was within reach for me…one day I will be well and whole enough to contemplate the meaning of my life’s experiences, trauma and all, and have a sense of the value it all has, to who I am in my here and now. For now, I am content with making progress, with learning new practices that bring me more balance than I had before, more peace than I understood I could experience, and the gentle warmth of love and compassion for this amazing vessel I am wrapped in, this loving heart contained within it, and this rich life I am privileged to experience.

I hope your Saturday is a good one, and if it sucks, I hope that has something of value for you as days go by.