Archives for category: Words

It’s evening, and rather late. A strange time for me to be writing. I’m okay with that. There’s a warm fire crackling in the fireplace. I’m home, safe, warm, and contented. It’s definitely enough… It’s strange that I’m here, now, tonight.

I went to bed last night with a plan for the work day. I’d be up very early, with the intention of getting into the office by 6:00 am, fully expecting to commit to 12 hours to catch up what had gotten pushed to the side while I worked from home on these recent snowy days. It was a good plan, realistic and carefully considered. I set my alarm. I checked it again, as I got into bed. I had a back up alarm set on my phone. I made sure my alarms were not muted, even though my phone was on Do Not Disturb. Sleep came easily.

…There may have been a moment during the wee hours when I opened my eyes briefly, and only enough to see the time on my fitness tracker, assuring myself it was not yet morning, and returning to sleep, I don’t really know for sure whether the vague recollection is actually from last night…

I woke at 6:19 am. It was much later than I planned to be up. Later than the alarm was set for. Later than I commonly sleep even when I don’t turn on an alarm. Waking was difficult. I was groggy, struggling to understand the beeping. I turned off the alarm. It didn’t go off. I shook it, as though that would do anything. I got up, aware that I was late, and began to dress hurriedly, still not awake, clumsy, awkward, stiff, stupid. I picked up my phone – the alarm was still chiming. I shut it off. I opened my work laptop and typed words intending to communicate I was on my way. Irked at myself. Shit! How could I be late, today?? I had that crazed “everything relies on right now!” angry surging roaring panic running through my bloodstream, filling my thoughts. I slowed myself down, again and again, facing the panic, facing the inwardly-turned fury. I admitted to myself that I felt disappointed in myself. Angry that maybe – just maybe – it could be self-sabotaging behavior. I stopped for breath. I inhaled deeply. Gave myself time to accept my own humanity. Gave myself a moment of compassion, sympathy, understanding – how human am I? Very. Always have been – and it’s totally okay. I got my things together, and left for work. Feeling humble. Feeling human.

Some journeys are easier than others.

Some journeys are easier than others.

I was waiting for the bus (not my original plan, either), when my Traveling Partner messaged me a good morning, and his supportive reminder that I am enough. It’s just a moment. A small thing. All totally true, and I slowly continued the commute, eventually making it in to the office at about the same time I always do.

Wait, or walk? Today I wait.

Wait, or walk? Today I wait.

The day passed quickly and wasn’t at all what I expected. I’m glad I hadn’t built those expectations up in my head, instead choosing to let go and let the day unfold, doing my best in each moment. The day came and went quickly, and ended more or less the time it generally does. Generally speaking, a good work day. I returned home feeling mostly pretty good.

Now, I’m just relaxing here, in this quiet place, wrapped in comfort, a fire crackling away merrily, and a tasty glass of sherry that I’ve mostly overlooked, just sipping on it now and then, as the hours pass. If I’d stopped to write in that moment this morning, I would not have been able to look ahead to this delicious heady calm.

Right now, right here, it doesn’t matter at all which of the many practices I practice got me from where I was years ago, to where I am now. Yep. It’s taken years. Literal years, many practices, and a lot of verbs, and the journey stretches farther on, and beyond anything I can imagine. Years of practicing. Years of beginning again. So many verbs. Incremental change over time – it happens in increments. It takes time. I’ll keep practicing.

It snowed enough night before last to set the record straight on winter in my area; it’s a thing, and it means business! I worked from home yesterday, and will do so again today. I’m grateful I have that opportunity. The unsteady, swerve-y tracks in the snow report that at least one of my neighbors is not so fortunate. Some people make the choice to brave the poor driving conditions. Some people have to. Some people think they have to. Some people just do.

Eerie pre-dawn sky, on a snowy day.

Eerie pre-dawn sky, on a snowy day.

I had worked out a strategy with coworkers. We planned how to handle the inclement weather together, in advance. It was efficiently done. We’ll do it again that way today, figuring since it worked yesterday, it will therefore work today. As reasoning goes, it’s not the best, but we’re starting there nonetheless. The days in question are different in small ways already… Yesterday, I woke at 4, before my alarm went off. This morning, my alarm drags me from a deep sleep with considerable reluctance, groggy, and struggling to wake. Yesterday, there was no question this was necessary, from the moment the day begin. Today, although our plan seems likely to be well-chosen, I didn’t cross the city personally, yesterday, and don’t realistically know what it might be like to cross it today. The portion of guesswork is larger, although I suspect I will have chosen wisely… It’s hard to be  sure so early. Yesterday, my morning flowed smoothly although I wasn’t set up in advance. This morning, I am completely set up, but I stumble, often. I am having my own experience, and it varies. There’s probably a metaphor buried in all that snow.

I sip my coffee. Some things don’t change. lol

Today is a good day to approach each task with as much care as I did yesterday. Today is a good day to work efficiently, and to take care of this fragile vessel along the way. Today is a good day to give myself my undivided attention, at least now and then. Today is a good day to practice.

I woke up this morning with a thought echoing my head. It’s gone now. I let it go understanding that chasing it isn’t really likely to help get it back, and the sensation that I’ve forgotten something important is no true indicator of the value of the thought that slipped away. I make coffee, and wander off and forget it. I take up my unfinished to do list from yesterday, and set it down somewhere… and wander off without reviewing it. It’s not that it is important, it’s just that it was my intention to sit down with the list, and my coffee, and consider the day ahead. It’s of no real consequence; I shrug it off as not yet being awake and move on with the morning.

There is snow on the ground left from yesterday. This morning there is more snow in the forecast. I feel cozy and warm here at home, content to stay in and enjoy the day from the warm side of the windows. Later I’ll build a fire in the fireplace, perhaps put my feet up and read a book. I savor the moment of contentment, while also making room for the recollection of past hard times that would have colored such a day very differently. Hardship changes our view of the world. Hardship is a different experience to be having – and a lot of people are having it.

I wonder briefly why are we not kinder to those facing hardships, or people struggling, or people whose circumstances or injuries wreck their quality of life? I say “we” when I think about this, not because I am myself cruel or inconsiderate of unfortunate others as a practice or by intention, but because I’m just as likely, I think, to be cluelessly insensitive, wrapped in my own current contentment in life, or whatever privilege I am fortunate enough to have. I say “we” because when I look at “all of us” – and include things we excuse as “Schadenfreude“, we all tend to look pretty terrible as a human population. You may be inclined to excuse this; the catharsis and relief of laughter… or… something… right? Well, I’m betting that generally speaking, the person being laughed at would probably prefer to have some help, instead, and hey, maybe not to be humiliated in the face of injury, pain, or embarrassment.  Just saying. We laugh at the misery of others, and make excuses for that instead of helping, and it’s a common enough thing that we’ve given it a name to make it okay with ourselves. We can do better, as beings. We could choose to be compassionate. We could choose to be kind.

I don’t know why this is on my mind this morning. Perhaps because I heard that my young niece had been laughed at when she fell, tangled up with her service dog. How was that funny? People are incredibly cruel. Fancy monkeys, and no better than that, so very often. Me, too. I have my own moments of failure to live up to what I could become as a human being. I’m not a fan of laughing at people who have fallen, or making fun of people; mockery is something I find extraordinarily unpleasant, and see it as an act of hostility, as a personal attack. My more likely failure that leads me to cruelty is insensitivity that is a byproduct of having my own experience, and forgetting in some moment that the other person’s experience, being similarly their own, is not what I imagine it to be. Assumptions don’t function well as facts.

Our assumptions about others are highly likely to result in misunderstandings that can lead us to be cruel, or to mistreat people. We tend to make more assumptions, and check them with less care, about people who are dear to us. That’s something to think about. How often have I tripped up and treated my traveling partner poorly because I made an assumption about his experience, his character, his thinking, or his understanding of the world, that was entirely incorrect? It’s easy to “fix” this one; don’t make assumptions. Ask questions.

Even in those “passing stranger” moments, rather than bust out laughing when someone falls, (which assumes a lot of things, one of which is that any comedic potential in that moment has more value than the human being having the moment themselves) maybe ask if they are okay. Yes, and even if they are laughing – because people often laugh in the face of personal embarrassment, to save face, to ease the sting, to make light of a hard moment. That’s not an invitation to join them in laughter; it’s an invitation to help, to determine if they are okay, and to ease their insecurity in that moment. We’d do well to stop being such dicks to each other. The future of our world may depend on it.

This morning, I’m safe at home. Somewhere out there, someone is walking to a destination, very carefully, on icy sidewalks. If you see them fall, maybe help them up, and ask them the one question that really matters just then, “Are you okay?”

Today is a good day to care. Today is a good day to take just a step toward being a better human being than I was yesterday. Today is a good day to do some small thing to improve someone’s quality of life, by being kind. Can kindness change the world? I don’t know; the world hasn’t tried it.

Some mornings, particularly on weekends, I sip my coffee and catch up on the news of the world and my Facebook feed before I settle down to write. On those mornings, I also fight “taking the bait” and I do battle with invisible forces hoping to leverage the power of outrage to get my attention, and others hoping to get their hands on whatever loose change may be laying about. I’m getting better at maintaining some balance in the face of emotional triggers of all sorts as I scroll through images and words.

The need to build more resistance to emotional manipulation, for me, is pretty serious. My injury and my PTSD tend to result in a level of emotionality generally (the TBI) and volatility (the PTSD) that can make me very susceptible to emotional manipulation, emotionally evocative language and images, and it has been difficult to manage over the years. If I’m being honest, I can’t say that I “managed” it all all, with any skill or noticeable success until I started practicing mindfulness – and omg, do I ever need practice, like, all the time, every day. So human. I learned a lot about how far I’ve come, during this past election year, and I also learned a lot about how far I’ve yet to go. So… I keep practicing. I keep finding my way along life’s journey, one step at a time. The news thing is tricky; I love to read, I consume content at a high rate, I love language… and I’m a highly emotional reasoning being. I needed something helpful to rely on…

I ask myself questions that seem to help sort it all out (for me).

  1. Does this matter more to me than it did when I read the last article about this? If so, am I merely having an expected reaction to repetition?
  2. Can I verify it is 100% utterly legit, fact-checked, references cited, real no bullshit data or information?
  3. Who profits from this? (…and what does that say about the content?)
  4. Is the content original? (If it’s creator content reshared/reposted, is the creator credited?)
  5. What is my purpose in sharing this? Is it necessary?
  6. What am I going to do about it? (If this is action-worthy at all, why not just take action and share that in my own words?)

I think, generally, most of my friends also read the news – no need for me to share it to ensure they hear the latest from the same mainstream sources most of us are reading. It’s redundant – which means it is repetitive, which results in higher believability whether it has a shred of truth or not. Not helpful. If I’m angry about it – do I actually want to share that experience?  If I feel moved to share content solely on the basis of seeking “solidarity”, sharing the experience of being outraged or angry, or looking for community… wouldn’t it make so much more sense to reach out to friends directly, human being to human being, get together over a coffee, or hang out together, and really talk, really share? Sure, we’re all in this together… but using Facebook to reprogram our culture seems to be taking us all to some very strange and fairly ugly places.

I’ve gotten sucked into Facebook time and again, and wasted hours of precious limited lifetime – not connecting with friends and deepening those relationships, either, just reading the news, reading memes, scrolling through duplications and repeats, and generally filling my consciousness with the cognitive equivalent of junk food. I’ve added to the noise, reposting articles that evoke an emotional reaction without closely examining why, or even whether the content is highly accurate, and unbiased. You know what it got me? What it got all of us? The 2016 election outcome. That event has really changed my thinking about what purpose Facebook serves in my experience – and what it can do, and how it affects my quality of life, generally, as an application – because that’s all it is. It’s an app. It’s up to me to use it well, and use it wisely, and be mindful of the results I see, and the consequences of my actions.

Facebook – another opportunity to be mindful. Who knew? 🙂

I’ll hop down off my soapbox. It’s a gray, cold, wintry Saturday morning. WordPress notes that it’s been 4 years here, sharing, practicing, walking my own mile. My coffee is done. The morning has begun. Thanks for being here.

Today is a good day to live life in real-time, with real people, in physical space. I think I’ll go do that. 🙂

Heading home in the cold last night, walking from the office to the light rail station, I crossed the square. As I walked toward the train platform, I passed a tall man carrying a flower-print duffel bag, wearing an expression of fatigue and sadness. I kept walking. I noticed the woman hurrying to catch up with him, a moment later. Then she started screaming. A plaintive wail, “no!”. “No! No no no!” She wailed. She screamed it at him, pulling what looked like a sleeping bag around her shoulders. She began to run after him, shrieking, wailing, crying into the night, and to all the passers-by “no!!!”. It was not anger that made her voice so distinctive and alarming, it was the pure raw grief and hurt and fear – real panic, the sort of thing one expects to hear in the midst of warfare, or violence. She sounded desperate, terrified, and bereft. The wails continued as she ran after the man. He walked on calmly without looking back. I turned and watched the scene move away from me, feeling helpless. There was no obvious action to take. The woman was blind to everyone and everything around her, except that man walking away. The only sign he was aware of her at all was that they had been sitting together, when I saw them from a distance, and also… a flower-print duffel bag is an odd thing for a man his age to be carrying, generally. Her screaming haunted my sleep. I don’t know what happened. I don’t know how her story ends. I feel ashamed that I didn’t do more, but don’t know what I could have done under the circumstances. I feel puzzled by the seeming lack of awareness of everyone around, that evening… I saw no heads turn but my own.  Bystanders, each and all of us. What a shitty situation for a woman screaming “no”, alone in the night. I’d like to have been more helpful. It is still on my mind this morning.

I sip my coffee and think about how this experience is so telling of who I am now, where I am in life as a human being. I spend a few minutes noticing that I actually do care, even about the isolated distress of a stranger I passed in the night. I wasn’t always this person. I sip my coffee, and think about other times, when I was the one screaming and afraid, without help, alone in the darkness… I think about people who might have heard me, who may have wanted to do… something, but… what? I feel grateful that my life is calm and quiet these days. I take a moment to appreciate having survived some terrible dark nights. I make room to forgive the passing strangers who did not help, because they did not know how. That’s a step forward, for me. I feel the weight of a little more baggage drop to the floor. It hits with an imagined thud, and the realization that I can also forgive myself for being unable to figure out what to do last night, to help a stranger in distress.

It's okay to put some of that down, for now.

It’s okay to put some of that down, for now.

I take one more moment to wish a stranger well, after-the-fact, and to hope she found some peace, somehow, and some comfort. I hope she found a moment she could be okay in. “Not my circus, not my monkeys…” Well, sure… but… also… we’re all human beings. Each having our own experience. Separating myself, generally, from drama doesn’t have to also make me a dick to people, or insensitive, or callous, or cruel. Compassion, kindness, consideration are all still within reach, still important to cultivate, still matter. I’m no super hero – I barely adult adequately well to support my own life, some of the time – but I can still care, and still be kind, and still open my heart to listen deeply to another. Those still matter, even if I can’t save the world. Even if I can’t stop all of the screaming, everywhere.

Today is a good day to be awake, aware, and considerate. It’s a good place to begin. It could be enough to change the world… with some practice.