Archives for category: Words

I’m sitting here mostly dressed for work, reconsidering whether to wear a base layer; temperatures are forecast to get higher than 40 degrees today, and although it is cold now, it won’t be so cold by the end of the day. My base layer is probably too much. I don’t get up to change immediately; I’m comfortable right now.

My fingers keep finding their way across a snag, a small tear, on the cuticle of my left pinkie finger. I would do well to get up, use the tool created for the job of tidying that up, rather than picking at it mindlessly in the background until my finger is bleeding. I’m comfortable right here, right now, so I don’t bother to take care of it in the best way available.

There is a pan on the stove I overlooked when I did the dishes last night. I can’t see it from this vantage point, so it isn’t annoying me at present, and I do nothing about it for now; I’m comfortable.

There are so many times when my life fills up with small moments of discontent, little pains and inconveniences, details that could have gone much differently had I made some small change, or taken some needed action – things I’m aware of, things I notice, things I know to handle quite differently, and do nothing much about, because I’m “comfortable” – which is not at all the same thing as being “content” or being “satisfied”. Feeling comfortable can be a slow invitation to a degradation in quality of life; over time what feels comfortable continues to make room for things I don’t at all find satisfaction in, don’t at all prefer or find ideal, don’t even actually like, but have simply grown to accept as a given, as tolerable, as “what it is”. I start overlooking those details more and more, and the disorder can spread quickly.

It’s a Monday morning. I like Monday mornings for beginning again. All manner of new beginnings feel so orderly and proper on the first day of something… a new week, a new month, a new year. It’s a lot to expect of a moment, to be a deliberate starting point for something important, something… uncomfortable. Change, willful change, is not generally comfortable, in my own experience. There are verbs involved. Choices. Practice. Awareness. Repetition. Frustration. Beginning again. Comfortable does not define the experience of making changes… There sometimes seems a lot to be mindful of, a lot to keep an eye on, a lot to manage – there probably actually is. Some things get missed in any one moment. Being human is a thing and it is rarely an experience characterized by any quality of “perfection”. We are beautifully flawed, and incomplete, each on a journey that lasts the entirety of our experience.

I set aside my half-finished coffee and allow myself a moment of discomfort. An efficient manicure, a rethinking of the day’s choice of clothing, emptying the dishwasher and reloading it: there is effort in living well, in good self-care, and even in life’s simplest pleasures. “Comfort” is sometimes deceiving. I am by far more comfortable having completed these tasks than I was considering them, but it can seem so much easier in the moment to choose the path of least effort. There’s something to learn there, and I make a note to think about it more, later.

Mondays are good for beginnings. Cold winter Mondays, started well before the dawn, are good for plotting a new course on life’s journey, for rethinking previous first steps on journeys well-underway, and for reconsidering some scenario or another that has previously been less-than-ideally satisfying, and perhaps too comfortable. I am hoping not to be misunderstood as seeking discomfort or unease, it’s really not what I’m after, myself. It’s more than I find the sensation of being “comfortable” to more than occasionally put me at risk of complacency, or “settling” for something less than what I’m really going for, under circumstances when there are verbs involved, and I’ve perhaps stopped actually taking action.

I sip my coffee reviewing my physician’s recommendations for changes to my dietary habits intended to improve my health and, over time, fitness. I am deeply uncomfortable. lol It’s a lot of change… at the same time, none of it is really “new information”; I’m facing a long list of known best practices. There are verbs involved, though, and I’m going to need to overcome my comfort with what has not been working well for me. Well… at least it’s a Monday. Monday’s are great for beginning again. I’m going to need to do that a lot. 🙂

I’m standing at the starting point (another one) of a journey (again). I’m ready to walk on. Today is a good day for change.

No, seriously, do it. Take time to sort yourself out, to figure out who you are – based on your values, your understanding of your experience, your wants, your needs, your chaos and your damage – the highs, the lows, all of the whole of your experience are part of the answer to the question “Who are you?”. The answer itself is that first step on any journey, whether the answer is held in our awareness or not; whether we take the step is part of who we are. Who we are fills that moment, often imperceptibly brief, between when we form the thought or feel the impulse to step forward, and the moment we lift our foot to take the step. It is in the thought itself, and the impulse.

Today is “team building” with my professional peers. I’m okay with that. I find reflection powerful. I find communication useful. I enjoy growth, and relish connection. Should be a fun day.

Along the way, of course, there is structure to which I must succumb, and I find myself doing so with some amusement; I have been here before. Personality tests are often a part of these experiences, intended to foster improved understanding of one another. A younger me would go into it with less comfort and more resentment, understanding that these tests and quizzes have literally zero actual evidence backing them up as having any particular accuracy or validity whatsoever. (I’m not bashing on whatever your favorite eye-opener is, I’m just saying that generally speaking, things like the Myers Briggs test and DiSC assessments have no scientific basis, even after many years of use and data gathered. They are corporate America’s astrology, best done for ‘entertainment purposes only’ and taken with a grain of salt.) I find value in the sharing and communication. I enjoy working with people who feel connected and informed. If a quiz can open those doors, then let there be many such activities! 🙂

I don’t need to be “right”.

I know myself. Well, better than most other people know me, at least. I’m still working on the rest. Am I the “ENFJ-A” of this morning’s Myers Briggs? Hardly. I am a more loosely defined, more variable set of characteristics. I live. Any one quiz, however many questions, makes observations based on a snapshot, a moment, a few answers of ever-so-many more that may be available. An astute observation that results in improved self-awareness, easier authenticity, and a more enjoyable life-experience overall is surely welcome – but I won’t be changing my mind about what I know of myself on the basis of an internet quiz. 😉

I do put effort into this whole “knowing myself” thing, though; there’s more to learn. Like the vastness of space, or the unfathomed depths of the oceans, there is much I do not know about life, love, and the woman in the mirror. On every journey there is an unexplored horizon in the distance.

Today is a good day to walk on, more questions than answers, eyes-wide open, awake, aware, and engaged in this moment.

I’m sitting here just smiling. I’ve been smiling since before I went to bed last night. Life doesn’t feel like this every day, and I’m enjoying the moment. I feel “lit up from within”.

Moments that feel rich and warm and well-crafted of the stuff of daydreams aren’t an everyday thing. That used to be a problem for me; I was chasing the Happily Ever After of childhood fairy tales. No map. Happy not being the thing I think I thought it was. Slow going – and I wasn’t getting there. Sitting here this morning, smiling, sipping my coffee – I am happy. This is nice.

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What makes you glow?

I got home after work, my Traveling Partner and a friend had arrived ahead of me, and they were next door enjoying the company of our friends there. Some visiting, then it was just the two of us, at my place, relaxing and talking and connecting – intimacy, contentment, that contented longing of lovers who want each other even after years together, and… Giftmas. 😀 I do love the holidays. “Your place is festive”, he had observed. It is. The conversation got around to holiday baking, at some point, and he made a funny face at me, when he notices the store-bought cookie dough in the fridge waiting its turn. He knows I bake. What the hell, right? 😀 No mixer. I am so not up to creaming endless pounds of butter and sugar together by hand! The conversation moves on. At some point I notice he is distracted on his phone, and he notices me noticing; the secret is revealed. He is holiday shopping. It’s Giftmas time!! He teases me with revealing the surprise, then admits he plans to have it to me right away; he is replacing my Kitchenaid mixer. It’s an unexpected delight, and an emotional moment for me; hundreds of times I have not chosen to replace it – and I can’t rationally explain why. The money? They’re not cheap… but it wasn’t that.  I make a puzzled face and let the wondering go for some other day. He saw my happy tears, he understands that as silly as it is, sometimes things also have meaning beyond what they are.

Saturday I’ll have a mixer… I can make my grandmothers’ cookie recipes, or my Traveling Partner’s mother’s, or my Dad’s, or my own. I can make fruitcake. I can make macarons – or at least learn how. It’s a mixer, just a kitchen appliance in most practical regards – a very useful tool. This morning, and last night, it also amounts to a moment of genuine happiness, not about a mixer (or I’d have replaced it myself), but more about a moment of healing, of love, and of being understood and cared for. This morning I feel wrapped in love. I think it is moments like this one that leave us so often feeling like materials things matter… because I could easily confuse these feelings for being to do with the mixer itself, rather than the circumstances of life, and loss, that were tangled up with the old one it replaces. It’s the moment that is the source of great joy, and the moment is less tangible, and less easily discussed, than the mixer itself… which isn’t even here yet. 🙂

…He chose one that matches my other appliances. I smile.

…He thought to make sure it reached me in time for some holiday baking. I smile.

…He recognized the lingering sense of conflict and loss over giving up the old one. I smile.

…I am well-loved, and am fortunate to be able to love in return, and this moment, here, is quite precious. I smile.

Love matters most.

Love matters most.

This too shall pass. Still smiling I allow myself the awareness that such a powerful deep moment of joy not only won’t last, it isn’t meant to; without the ups and downs, and the complicated complexity of all of it, how would I experience this as a moment of joy? Also knowing suffering provides the comparison needed to recognize it. Without the hurting over the loss of the old mixer, and the complicated baggage around its meaning in my experience (a wedding gift from my violent troubled first marriage, that I carted around for decades of baking – a lifetime, really – the value of the tool out-weighing the painful memories that surfaced every time I used it), I would not experience this new one as a moment of joy at all… it would just be a mixer. 🙂

Today is a good day for a moment, awake, aware, and willing to embrace the whole of my experience to be also able to experience this particular moment, here. Now.

Be kind. Be considerate. Be careful. Be aware. We’re each having our own experience – all in this together, sometimes not completely aware that we are interconnected. We each feel our own pain, sometimes thinking it hurts the most, of anything, ever, forgetting – often – how much other pain exists, and how much suffering there is in the world, generally. We forget to be our best selves, sometimes when it matters most. We forget we can begin again.

Today is a good day for reminders, best practices, consideration, openness, and helping each other out. Today is a good day to share a moment with a friend, and to be kind to strangers. Today is a good day to be and to become, and a good day to embrace change.

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I could write hundreds of words today about how banal and commonplace it has become to spout actual lies and defend them as opinions. There are uncountable examples of it, and it’s easy enough to demonstrate that undermining people’s sense of reality in such a fashion is beyond odious; it’s harmful. This morning, I don’t much feel like deep-diving that grotesque practice of distorting reality.

I could write hundreds of words about Aleppo. About war. About conflict. About lost lives and lost children. Would I even be heard? Would my handful of words “matter”? Verbs, actions, matter more…

This morning I have other things on my mind, closer to home, more personal… A friend, a dear friend, someone I greatly love, has checked himself into a mental health care facility. I feel… concerned. Depression is an ass kicker. Mental illness is still so completely misunderstood by such a great many people. The feelings of isolation, despair, of distance, of agonizing doubt can be actually quite crippling, however illusory. Clawing ones way from that pit of gray fatiguing encompassing bleakness isn’t even a given, however much it seems, from the outside, that it would just be a matter of choosing… something… differently. 😊 I want to fix this. I can’t fix this. It isn’t a matter of words. My actions are not the actions needed here. I struggle. I don’t have to; this one isn’t mine, and I can let it go. Only… fuck. I want to fix this.

I shift gears and chat with my Traveling Partner about modifying equipment. I refrain from making lewd jokes about his “equipment” – however amusing now and then, the chronic, continuous, often completely inappropriate for the circumstances, lewd jokes and innuendos are symptomatic of my injury as much as they are a hallmark of my characteristic behavior… each time I am aware in the moment enough to willfully choose not to make one, I experience a sensation of positive change and growth. There really are times when such things are not welcome; I am learning to recognize that, and to also be able to act on it. Incremental change over time. I think about the handful of friends who might protest that this amusing quirk of mine is something they cherish, and enjoy being entertained by – to which my response could be “so, hey, while you’re being entertained, I’m struggling to keep jobs, relationships, and have comfortable conversations with strangers… so… yeah, I’m working on this”. We each walk our own mile.

Today is a good day to begin again. Every day is. Choose one. Grab a verb. Get walking. You are your most powerful instrument of change. ❀