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Quiet Delight

January 19, 2016 //
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I am sipping a cup of tea and enjoying a quiet morning. My traveling partner sleeps just beyond the closed bedroom door for another few minutes. The weekend was nothing like plans made in advance at all, and somehow still quite delightfully restful, and unexpectedly romantically magical. Definitely a weekend to savor and hold in my memory. 🙂

Although my traveling partner’s own unexpected changes of plan were driven by the chaos and upheaval quite commonly associated with [an other partner’s] mental illness, the outcome in my own experience this weekend has been pleasant and in no way regrettable. The day running errands, the evening hanging out, a lovely home-cooked meal together, and that rarest of delights; sharing the night, sleeping harmoniously, and waking again to this calm gentle space knowing that in some moments, I will share the morning with my love before I head to the office to begin the work week, and he heads off to… places. Seeing people, doing things… A season of travel and adventure, perhaps?

The path isn't always obvious, nor the intended lesson always clear - the journey is very much worth traveling eyes wide with wonder.

The path isn’t always obvious, nor the intended lesson always clear – the journey is very much worth traveling eyes wide with wonder.

There were some points here and there, yesterday, when I found myself a tad taken by surprise by the luxury of such unlimited time together, and feeling vaguely unsettled and uncertain, as though this man and I don’t reliably combine like ham and eggs whenever we’re together. lol I smile at the woman in the mirror with some understanding; he captivates me, and his presence takes hold of my heart, and I would sit contentedly for hours in his good company while the household decayed into chaos around me, probably. It was good practice for practicing good practices while also in his good company. 🙂 Over the day, I hit all the health care and self-care basics: hygiene, meditation, medication, calories, exercise – there were so many opportunities to miss some important detail, considering he arrived within minutes of my waking yesterday, and is here even now. 🙂 Yeah – lots of smiles this morning.

Today the apartment manager will inspect my unit – a wise step before moving into a newly remodeled one, I think. I face that without concern; I live gently and in a state of day-to-day order resulting in no need for panic, or frantic cleaning. Nothing of the sort. I made a point of vacuuming and taking out the trash; it was a holiday Monday before a work week, and I’d have done so regardless. I’m excited, though, because the inspection is a next step toward a unit that is different in one very important respect; my traveling partner will be at less risk of his allergies flaring up when he visits, because the carpet will never have had pets on it. 🙂 For me, that alone is worth the increase in rent – the knowledge that my partner will be sufficiently comfortable to spend more time at my place is a big deal.

Today is a beautiful day for an adventure. Today is a good day to savor every precious moment. Today is a good day to put love first, and to take care of me; turns out I can do both at the same time. 🙂

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Categories Brain Injury, Free Will, Healthy Living, Love, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Relationships, The Art of Being, The Big 5, women, Words

Managing Pain

January 17, 2016 //
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I woke up in pain this morning, more pain than most mornings, and particularly more so than recent mornings.  A morning with an unusual amount of pain kicks over some self-care dominoes pretty quickly, and I found myself clumsy, slow, and emotional before I’d even finished my first coffee.

Clumsy with pain, and not my best cup of coffee. One morning, one moment, of many.

Clumsy with pain, and not my best cup of coffee. One morning, one moment, of many.

I’m okay, really. At this point, I am struggling more with the un-eased stiffness of my arthritic spine than with the pain itself. Coffee #2 is quite excellent, and I’m finding a bit of yogurt with some oats and dried fruit mixed in quite satisfying for a late bite of breakfast. The morning is a good one, pleasantly relaxed and without stress…aside from the pain, the stiffness, and the coming and going of emotions associated with those experiences. I am in enough pain to evoke tears, each time the pain resurfaces. The stiffness of my joints makes me ‘feel old’ more than the pain itself does, but the pain is what moves me to tears. Now and then I contemplate just going back to bed, although it was likely some characteristic of how I was sleeping that finds me here this morning. I feel frustrated and annoyed.

I checked in with my traveling partner online between coffees. I miss him greatly, and we had discussed hanging out today. I am a lot less fun when I hurt this much. I feel the frustration in the background, and a yearning to ‘force myself’ through ‘whatever it takes’ to ease my pain – not because I hurt, but because I want so much to hang out with my traveling partner and enjoy that time together wholly undistracted by pain. Punishing myself because I am trapped in this fragile vessel, limited by mortal limitations, isn’t really a good way to treat myself – or to get the results I’d like, either, and tends to put me in a bad mood over time. I stop myself long enough to recognize that I am doing my best, and remind myself that it is enough.

I put myself on pause to meditate. I take time to do some yoga. Both these things offer some measure of relief of both the pain, and the emotionality. I sit quietly, and enjoy my coffee while watching the rain fall just beyond the patio door. I’m okay right now. Pain is what it is, and I am dealing with that today, but what I’m not having to deal with is treating myself poorly for a condition in life that is not worthy of blame, or punishment. I’ll enjoy the day, in spite of the pain I am in – because it isn’t the pain that determines the quality of my experience, it’s just something I have to deal with.

I take some good deep breaths, sip my coffee, and pay attention to my posture as I write; it is an easy enough bit of mindfulness to bring to my experience and relieves considerable discomfort. I lose sight of it repeatedly and, as with any bit of mindfulness, that’s to be expected. I begin again. And yet again. I keep practicing. Over time, I relax more comfortably with better posture, slowly encouraging muscles that may not have been doing their part to become stronger and more involved. Incremental change over time is a powerful thing. With the yoga too, postures that were too difficult upon waking are now within reach, and later today I will achieve others that offer still more relief. The toughest of the practices on a morning like this one is simply being patient with myself, and giving myself the time and consideration to get results more slowly than I might on another day.

I smile thinking of my traveling partner, and hope that his morning is going well, and that his coffee is excellent, also. Today is a good day to smile, and enjoy what each moment offers; the moments themselves are so few in a mortal lifetime. Today is a good day to appreciate what is working out well, and any improvements that develop over time. Today is a good day to appreciate the woman in the mirror and to treat myself well, rather than criticizing my best efforts on a difficult day. Today is a good day to enjoy my coffee and listen to the rain fall. It’s enough.

 

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Categories Anxiety, Brain Injury, Free Will, Healthy Living, Hormone Hell, Love, medical marijuana, Metaphors, Mindfulness, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Relationships, The Big 5, Words

Someone Won!

January 14, 2016 //
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So hey, someone one that colossal PowerBall jackpot… Well, of course. Probably wasn’t you. Definitely wasn’t me – I didn’t buy a ticket. I could have, I suppose, in the spirit of ‘Can’t win if you don’t play!’ On the other hand, I am also not out the money spent on the ticket, which I’ll contentedly spend at some future time on something I need.

The PowerBall jackpot just kept growing, and people were getting so excited about it that for some short time their day-to-day fears and insecurity were drowned out by the eagerness to escape their lives in a moment of good fortune. I’ve been there…daydreaming about how I might spend the money, what the moment of realization would feel like, how life would change…earnestly wishing for more, different, or ‘better’, and forgetting entirely that I can have ‘more’, ‘different’, and ‘better’ – yes even that – by using some verbs, and letting time take its course. There are choices – and a lot of useful verbs.

I’m not criticizing you if you bought a PowerBall ticket, let’s be clear with each other; I have bought my share in years past. I even used to have rules for how and when I would do so, and which included, very specifically, just buying just one. I was fortunate when very young to see the impact on a family when a family member compulsively buys up lottery tickets with the grocery money – as with any other damaging compulsion, the outcome isn’t pretty, and I have avoided that behavior, aware that the odds of winning are such that those behaviors do not realistically improve the odds of winning a jackpot. My focus in recent years on sufficiency and emotional self-sufficiency just tend to turn my attention away from ‘instant win’ schemes, generally. I wish the winners well, and hope that each of them were the sort of folk who will both benefit from, and truly appreciate, the opportunity they now have to change their lives. That’s really the bigger deal isn’t it? 🙂

It is a quiet morning, and I feel a little as if I am a ‘blank page’, a clean whiteboard, or an empty day in a generally crowded day planner. It is not a bad feeling. It’s also not a particularly good one. I feel… ready? Available. I am not ‘waiting’ – nor am I acting on plans. I sip my coffee aware of the world, aware of the quiet space wrapped around me, and aware of this strangely timeless moment. I am aware of the clock ticking, and the distant sound of traffic outside these walls. I consider the state of my pantry; declining as I use things up and don’t quickly replace them. I consider my tidy habits, and calmly anticipate the tasks I plan to handle after work tonight (it is too noisy to vacuum at 5:30 am). I breathe. I live. I have enough.

Clearly sufficiency is still on my mind. I find myself wanting so badly to reach back in time, and have an earnest conversation with the woman in the mirror as long ago as 1995 or so, and talk about ‘sufficiency’, particularly emotional self-sufficiency, and talk about why it so quickly feels like there isn’t ‘enough’, when I squander what I have foolishly, or thoughtlessly. I want to point out her 10 or more $5 coffees every week in the 00’s, eagerly consumed morning and night – while struggling to make ends meet and putting a partner through college on wages that most definitely didn’t feel like ‘enough’ to begin with. I want to show her how her fears are preventing her from managing her challenges with greater skill. I want to talk to her about love, loving, and taking care of herself. I want to tell her not to wait to make the changes that will turn things around for her…but she can’t hear me from ‘now’. I smile, realizing that it’s enough that I eventually did make some good changes, woke up to some important [for me] ideas, and did eventually embrace the values that find me here, now… There’s more ahead of me, more challenges tackle, more problems to solve, more eagerness, more loss, more verbs… because the journey is the destination, and there are more opportunities to choose, to practice, and to learn.

Practice the practices that take you closer to being the human being you most want to be.

Practice the practices that take you closer to being the human being you most want to be.

Today I will practice the practices that take me ever-closer to being the woman I most want to be. It’s enough.

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Categories Brain Injury, Free Will, Healthy Living, Mindfulness, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, solo hiking, The Art of Being, The Big 5, Words

A Good Night’s Sleep and a Cup of

January 13, 2016 //
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…Well…hardly ‘coffee’ … and you may be sipping something quite different. (I’ve read somewhere that more people drink tea than coffee, and considered it myself this morning.) Maybe you didn’t even sleep well? I woke in the night to the sound of a cough next door, which caused me a moment of concern before drifting back to sleep; my neighbors are elders of many years – and my bedroom is separated from their by the differing floor plans which put their living room between the bedrooms of the two units, I find myself hoping no one is seriously ill. When the alarm goes off, I am alert – reaching to switch it off, and listening for sounds of wakefulness next door. Still, generally speaking, I woke feeling well-rested in spite of that.

Wait…why ‘hardly coffee’? Because I’m out of coffee beans, and don’t keep instant in the house. lol I noticed last night before bed, and took no action on the basis of ‘I can get caffeine at work soon enough’. We’ll see, eh? This cup of dark warmth here next to me is half decaf – in order to get enough beans through the grinder for a whole cup of coffee, I added decaf to it so… yep. It’s not the usual brew, and it won’t have the usual wake-me-up factor. I begin sipping it almost reluctantly, as if my brain is guiding my will via ‘who cares’ signals, but once I overcome my vague feeling of dismissiveness about the coffee this morning, I am finding it quite tasty and suitable to the morning. Assumptions, expectations – humans. (Note to self: just go ahead and give yourself a chance to enjoy things without forecasting the outcome, would you please?)

My back cracks and pops through my morning yoga, but the pain I am in is somewhat diminished having gone ahead and practiced my way through my practice – each change of posture accompanied by an assurance to myself that “I can always stop after this one…” I just keep going until I am finished. (Is it going to be that day?) I shower, dress, take medication… each step in my morning routine feeling subtly forced, like a child being pushed along on a school morning. I am the grown up in this house! Yeah… but I am also the laughing naked child dashing through the house, resisting ‘what must be’ for all those other opportunities… to play. I earnestly want to ‘skip school’ today – just not go to work, just not do ‘the thing’. I don’t really want to be the grown up today. I’d like to stay home and paint, or read, or listen to music, or garden. All the truly worthwhile things life offers for our enjoyment – and for which I do not get paid. LOL “Welcome to Adulthood” I hear the woman in the mirror mutter back to me – out loud. Considering I am alone with my thoughts in this wee haven, that just seems mean – it wasn’t at all necessary to speak the words! Besides… I haven’t really had my coffee yet, and I don’t want to hear conversation just now.

If I only see what is unpleasant, if I only hear unpleasant words, will it be a surprise if my experience is also unpleasant? I can choose my perspective.

If I only see what is unpleasant, if I only hear unpleasant words, will it be a surprise if my experience is also unpleasant? I can choose my perspective.

It isn’t a bad morning. It is a fairly ordinary, very human, sort of morning. I’m okay with that – as I said, it isn’t bad. Is it good? My traveling partner would most certainly point out that I am phrasing it in the negative to say the morning ‘isn’t bad’ (“How is it?” he might ask…) I might answer “It’s okay, better than bad… not noteworthy…I’m enjoying it well enough.” All rather vague, but all… okay. 🙂 It is in the nature of contentment that the fancy adjectives and superlatives get a little dusty from disuse. lol

The work week is at a half-way point. I am eager to hear word on the apartment I’d like to move into, but I am not impatient about it, since it is happening rather faster than I expected as it is. The weekend is ahead of me… a date with my traveling partner Friday night… friends over to plan shared hikes this year on Saturday…Sunday…well…I’ve no idea. The housekeeping doesn’t do itself around here, so perhaps Sunday will be spent on practical matters, and invested in myself entirely? I find myself wondering… once the chaos and damage has all been sorted out, and put away, and once the gates of The Nightmare City are closed permanently and locked, and once life has proven it’s point about lasting contentment… then what? Does such a thing ever occur in life? Would I stop writing? I haven’t really had to look at any of that realistically in earlier years; it wasn’t a realistic likelihood in the past – it may be the future. Life isn’t about perfection and standing still, though, and I am confident that life’s curriculum is more vast than any single lifetime, so… yeah. Probably still writing for a while. LOL 🙂

I tend to think about work and life very separately, and sometimes wistfully imagine that I make my living doing something profoundly important to mankind, something remarkable, or something meaningful… I wonder what that would be like? Ah, but I remember in this same moment things that do matter. The gratitude of the young employee whose needs were met using unconventional solutions. I remember a day when some particularly elegant piece of analysis improved efficiency by illuminating a challenge in a way that allowed it to also be easily addressed. I remember great moments of partnering with colleagues on exciting projects. I start feeling renewed excitement and commitment as my thoughts shift toward the professional side of my life. It’s complicated. I’d like more time to paint, more time to live my own agenda – I don’t actually hate what I do, as much as find that it competes with what I love. Perhaps I am almost grown up enough to tackle this one, too? 🙂

Today is a good day to live each moment right here in the moment I am in, enjoying the thing I am doing now with my entire awareness. Doing so tends to change my view of the world. 🙂

 

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Categories Brain Injury, Free Will, Healthy Living, Logic & Reason, Love, Metaphors, Mindfulness, more than a little bit of bitching, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Relationships, The Art of Being, Words

Making Fire

January 12, 2016 //
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Sipping my coffee on a quiet comfortable morning, and I am musing at lessons learned on other days, in other moments. I am thinking about the crackling fire in the fireplace that kept me smiling much of the weekend. I am thinking about a camping trip last March in which I experienced a real moment of dread and anxiety – because I wasn’t easily able to make a fire. I am thinking about the distance I have traveled between those events, and what it has taken to grow from one to the other.

I wasn't as prepared as I felt.

I wasn’t as prepared as I felt.

In March, I had planned a camping trip of 4 days to gear-test new gear, and find out whether I was up to colder weather camping (newsflash: it’s not my preference to camp if low temperatures are below 45 – it’s an important planning detail). I headed for the trees thinking I had everything I needed. Truthfully, the lack of coffee was what kicked my ass emotionally (I’d also overlooked tea), and looking back it was a huge opportunity to overcome that limitation, but the headache spoke louder than reason. I had also not packed my bee sting kit, thinking that the weather was not yet ‘bee weather’. Being wrong about that was a safety issue, and that was the deciding factor to ‘call it’ only two days in and return home. My traveling partner retrieved me from the forest, and although he genially teased me just a bit about my lack of readiness, we both knew that was why I went out there for that particular trip; I’m planning much longer ones, solo, more remote – and on those occasions, it’s pretty urgent that obvious mistakes not be the mistakes I am making when I am too far from home to call for a ride. But this is simply some context on the experience; the lack of coffee may not have kicked my ass if I had been easily able to make fire from on-hand resources, no cheats.

Light without heat won't cook dinner.

Light without heat won’t boil water.

I camp fairly light, and I make sure I have flint and emergency fire-starting gear, but generally rely on Esbits for quick fuel to boil water. Doing so let’s me travel fairly light, and doesn’t place a requirement on me to actually build a fire and burn wood traveling through forests, or in places where a fire is a bad idea. It had been so long since I actually made a wood fire I had entirely lost those skills – and was wandering around in the world unaware of that (far more important than the loss of skill was the fact that I was unaware of the short-coming). It was an embarrassing discovery. I had brought along an alcohol stove, another common hiker/camper favorite, but one I wasn’t so familiar with using and didn’t have a lifetime (any time) of personal experience; my use of fuel was inefficient, even wasteful, and I didn’t bring enough fuel to account for that. I used up my fuel figuring things out (and setting my cook pot handle on fire – don’t ask). To prevent myself from ‘falling back on favorites’ on this particular trip I hadn’t packed as many Esbits –  and I “knew” I had enough alcohol. (I was wrong.) These sorts of things add up to potentially life-threatening fails under extreme circumstances, and it was wrecking my nerves even after I returned home. (I thought I could count on myself for fire for crying out loud!) I had some work to do. There would be verbs involved.

No skill required - yet.

No skill required – yet.

Over the winter holidays, I enjoyed a number of fires in the fireplace, and have continued to do so. Each new fire in the fireplace became an adventure, a learning experience, and part of a progression – the first one was just a Duraflame log, lit and enjoyed for a couple of hours (and an opportunity figure out the flue with confidence). Each successive fire has been more reliant on skill, until this past weekend I started a lovely warm fire without cheating it at all – lit with a lighter meant for lighting fires, but aside from that nothing made it effortless, and success was not assured. I learn from each stumble, each mistake, each new transition toward being more fully reliant on the basics (wood, oxygen, and spark or flame to begin it). This weekend I explored a variety of tweaks on placement of wood on the grate, size of kindling, timing of putting heavier wood on the fire, and had quite a lot of fun with the experience, and ending each day with a bed of coals banked and ready to begin again.

The cozy warmth of a fire built with purpose and skill.

The cozy warmth of a fire built with purpose and skill.

In between my March camping, and my lovely warm fire this past weekend there has been quite a lot of study, and some practice (with more practice yet to come – because a fire in the fireplace is not 100% analogous to making a fire in the cold, or the rain, or the wind, and there is much more to learn about fire, about readiness, and about self-sufficiency and interdependence). I’ll probably continue to hike and camp relying on what works best (and most reliably) for me, and what feels most comfortable, but I’ll be heading to the trees far more prepared to take care of me when circumstances don’t allow for what feels most comfortable, and more aware of what I may really need to enjoy the experience.

Taking care of me has a lot of verbs... and some nice perks. :-)

Taking care of me has a lot of verbs… and some nice perks. 🙂

Today is a good day to be a student of life and love, open to new understanding. Today is a good day to put aside assumptions, and ask clarifying questions. Today is a good day to look suffering in the face with a mind open to understanding what my needs really are. It’s a journey worth taking. 🙂

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Categories Anxiety, Brain Injury, Free Will, Healthy Living, Love, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Oregon Trails, Parables, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, solo hiking, Spring, The Art of Being, The Big 5, winter, women, Words
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