Archives for category: Words

It’s a weekend of quiet, spent mostly on housekeeping, meditation, and reading/studying. I spent some time, too, coloring in tiny squares on my Life in Weeks chart, which I started this year; it’s already an eye-opening project. I’m a very visual analyst, and I see patterns and trends fairly easily – especially painted with such a broad brush. I’m not imagining things; I’ve spent the largest portion of my life devoted to, and in support of, someone else’s agenda besides my own. Now, though, I also see the next 40 years laid out ahead of me – incomplete, unknown, and wide open with possibilities.

I’ve also been feeling fairly lonely. It’s odd. I’m not alone. I’ve spent considerable time in shared space with loved ones, too. The thing is…we’re not connecting easily. We’re each at such different places in life, with ourselves, with our understanding of the world; it is a season of change. I am learning to take care of me in moments when a conversation takes a turn that doesn’t really involved me, or isn’t the sort of thing I care to be all caught up in for one reason or another…by gently disengaging, or refraining from becoming involved in the first place. That’s a positive step for me…my tendency has been to be all up in everything, if it is within earshot, which over time feels more invasive than supportive for my loves, and for me quickly becomes a drain on my emotional resources, and just not much fun. There are other experiences I’d rather share with people who matter to me.

Taking a step back and letting other people’s business be other people’s business, and letting them have their moment – without me – feels like a better choice for my emotional wellness…but I had no idea just how much of what is going on around me has nothing whatsoever to do with me, at all. I am surprised to find that although I am aware that too little of my time supports my own agenda…I may not be prepared for what life holds if I stand firm on putting more of my emotional resources, and time, into my own needs and agenda; it could be very lonely indeed. This is a chapter in life’s curriculum I will study with great care; it looks like one of the more challenging bits. 🙂

OPD swirls around me in the background. I stay to myself. Sometimes it’s lonely, but it is less stressful, less emotionally fatiguing, and interestingly – I also seem to have far fewer, less intense, headaches. I don’t know that there’s any causality in there, but it’s an interesting coincidence.

When I started this journey I had some idea what I might find, built on assumptions and expectations.

When I started this journey I had some idea what I might find, seen through a veil of assumptions and expectations…

My traveling partner shared an article this morning, and I learned a new word that just delights me. The word is ‘listicle’ – you know, an article that is a list. I’m just delighted. It’s a needed word, that describes a real thing. It’s even in the dictionary. I feel like a child seeing a butterfly up close. lol I love words – they make it possible to communicate some very nuanced ideas. The article itself has value; it is a list of 7 traits the author suggests are common to chronically unhappy people. As I read the article, I felt a sense of forward progress, growth, and accomplishment, because there was a time when I definitely had all 7:

1. A default belief that ‘life is hard’ was definitely part of my experience until some relatively recent point. I’m not sure I really noticed when it changed, but reading the article this morning I feel keenly aware that it has. I would go so far as to acknowledge that I sometimes find life complicated, challenging, or moments when life feels hard, but it’s recognizably not my default experience.

2. A belief that ‘most people can’t be trusted’ most certainly describes how I used to feel about ‘people in general’; fearful, distrustful, and very very certain that if I dropped by guard for an instance, or turned my back, or shared a confidence, the consequences would be swift, severe, and painful. I don’t feel that way at all now. I find that generally, people mostly do their best, and are well-intended within the limits of their understanding of the world they live in. Well-meaning isn’t always enough for a good outcome, and I find that I am pretty accepting of that, too. I’m aware that people lie, that people are capable of fraud, bad acts, and real nastiness. I trust that each person I meet will likely behave very consistently with their nature, and underlying values, and that the best outcomes come from clear communication, awareness, and refraining from making assumptions, or holding on to expectations – or grudges – and that walking away from ‘toxic people’ is sometimes the only productive healthy choice.

3. Concentrating on what’s wrong versus what’s right is something I still struggle with. I get emotionally invested in something that seems unjust, unfair, unreasonable, and unnecessary, and my frustration with it can push me into becoming over-invested, and emotionally involved to a point that I lose perspective. I see this, too, as progress; I started in a very different place than I stand today. There is further to go.

4. Comparisons to others, and fostering jealousy are something I suppose most people struggle with; comparisons are an easy shortcut for measuring where we stand. The thing I’ve learned over time is that it’s not a competition, this ‘life’ thing. It’s more like a journey, and I take it pretty much alone – my own progress over time is my only measure of performance, really, and what that other person over there is doing with their time, money, heart, or intellect has little to do with me.  At the end of my life, when I look back, it won’t be to say “Well, compared to [insert name of celebrity or role model] I sure went far”; my life will have to stand on its own merits. Jealousy is new for me; I only recently learned what that feeling is, at all. I’m not really wired for it, and having finally experienced what it feels like, I’m okay with moving on as a being to a place where it is simply not likely to come up. Like ‘worry’ or ‘guilt’, ‘jealousy’ is a pretty pointless emotion that tends to start trouble, without offering any solutions. Having finally experienced what all the fuss is about, though, I am learning to use the feeling as a flare that pulls my attention to a specific need that I am not taking care of, and identifying that thing; making the underlying need, and taking care of that, a priority has tended to entirely satisfy any moment that feels like ‘jealousy’ – it nearly always turns out that some small thing I need isn’t being handled by me, and that I’ve made the mistake of assigning blame or responsibility to some other person, without being aware of it.

5. Striving for control isn’t something I have much problem with, at this point in my life, and it’s been a long while since it has. For me, letting go of the need to control everything in my experience turned out to be easily resolved by avoiding controlling or manipulative relationships; relationships of that sort tend to find me ‘pushing back’ to regain my freedom of will. It becomes an unpleasant see-saw of competitive power games that I find distasteful, and I went a different direction some years ago, and never looked back.

6. Considering the future fearfully comes up now and then. That’s sort of a given with anxiety. It’s not on the same order it once was, and these days I generally find that taking time to meditate kicks fear to the curb pretty handily. A better understanding of the value of thinking, of thoughts – and the understanding that thoughts have no ‘reality’ that I don’t give them, that I create them myself – has freed me to consider a ‘what if’ scenario to its conclusion – however ludicrous – and learn from it without being wounded by it; it’s not real.

7. Gossip and complaint filled conversations…yeah…just not my preference these days. Living in chronic misery, though, what else was there? It was a way to lift myself up…by comparing my experience to someone else’s. It was a way to make myself important…by venting about some unsatisfying thing or another. It was a way to get  and hold attention for some moment…and feel a little bit supported. It’s not honest, though, and it’s not … consensual. It also isn’t as effective as simple communication about my own feelings, and experience, using ‘I statements’ and just asking for a hug. Taking that more effective approach requires me to embrace a level of genuineness and vulnerability that was pretty scary, at first. It’s been worth it.

I don’t say much, above, about what I did to make these changes happen over time – because I’m not actually sure. Is it the meditation practice? Is it better health care? Is it taking care to get enough sleep? Is it a byproduct of changed perspective with time, and aging? Is it all the studying of the neuroscience of emotion, and the structured practicing of techniques intended to craft a more positive implicit memory? Is it love? Is it a coincidence? Is it my own idea – or someone else’s? I have no idea what specifically I’ve done that has amounted to so much change for the better, over time… I wasn’t even aware so much had changed, until I read that article (expecting to find myself nodding along and checking off all 7 as things characteristic of myself) and realized that it doesn’t speak to my ‘now’ experience.

...Without the powerful limitations assumptions and expectations place on my experience, I have found wide open vistas of possibility, and broad horizons of potential for change.

…Without the powerful limitations assumptions and expectations place on my experience, I have found wide open vistas of possibility, and broad horizons of potential for change. There are verbs involved, and your results may vary.

Today is a good day to share progress, and feel encouraged. Today is a good day to recognize change for the better. Today is a good day to say with conviction “I have come so far!” Today is a good day to see that I am changing the world…and to remind you that you can, too, and probably do. 😀

Love is wonderful. Life is fairly amazing as experiences go. We are, however, imperfect mortal human primates, made as much of flaws and bad decision-making as we are of ‘star stuff’. This human experience is complicated. In every moment of misery, I try to hold on to something I find to be true about suffering, which is that the intensity of suffering tends to be a fair indicator of the magnitude of joy I am also capable of feeling. Some days that’s not much in the ‘something to hold on to’ department, but paired with ‘this too shall pass’ it’s generally enough to get by on, in a bad moment.

This morning I raise my mug in wry appreciation for the misery that woke me. I’m grateful that my traveling partner was awake, and there with a warm hug, and a hot latte. I woke feeling bereft, cut off, lonely…’lonely’ doesn’t really do the emotion that woke me justice. It was the loneliness of the friend standing by as the person they yearn for talks about ‘finding someone just like you’. It was the loneliness of the ‘tween who wants with so much hunger…and hasn’t yet become woman enough to be interesting romantically. It was the loneliness of sleeping alone, of waking alone, of being alone…and wanting intimacy and connection and companionship so much more than solitude. It was the loneliness of love lost, and the loneliness of the realization that what had been found wasn’t love at all. It was the loneliness of being ignored, or being forgotten. It was the loneliness of being unpopular. It was the loneliness of walking away. I woke feeling every lonely moment I have ever known, simultaneously delivered as a single waking moment, a sort of distilled essence of loneliness. The power of it was horrific. I woke stunned and emotionally immobilized long enough to take my morning medication, and try to go back to bed, uncertain what else to do. I felt ‘coated in distance’.  I pulled the covers over me, made my body comfortable, took a breath and relaxed to return to sleep and… and then I cried. I cried for every lonely moment I’d ever felt that I didn’t have tears for at the time. My heart melted, and it broke, and I cried until no more tears would come. I am clearly not going to be going back to sleep.

Thoughts of coffee differ from actual coffee.

Thoughts of coffee differ from actual coffee. It’s strange how intensely real thoughts can seem.

I finally woke up enough, some minutes beyond the crying, to realize that just laying there was pretty pointless, and, well… coffee. I got up and went first to my traveling partner, rather reassuringly relaxing in the living room and reading his email, sipping his morning coffee, looking for all the world like a man having a nice morning, in a world that is…just fine. He asked me how I’m doing, and I said it simply enough, without baggage or drama, “I woke feeling lonely and weird.” I accepted the offered hug, and he held me for the rest of our lives – well, no, actually just for some moments of lovely warmth and comfort, but it felt good – reassuring, safe, and comforting. By the time I sat down at my keyboard, with my latte, my heart was already feeling calmer, and the loneliness I woke to was receding. I have to wonder…how deeply can I connect to someone, how intimately close can I be with another human being, how vast is my capacity to love – if the loneliness that woke me is something I am able to feel, at all – and not only to feel, but to endure, and survive? Wow. I am eager to find my way to that connected intimate place.

Loneliness is a painful emotion to experience, and one that I find difficult to discuss, or to ease. I don’t often feel it so intensely; I enjoy my own company, greatly. For so many years my ability to connect with someone on a deeply intimate level, and my interest in doing so, was very limited. Lonely didn’t come up much, because I hadn’t the capacity to recognize I was missing something when I was alone, and when I did feel lonely it was generally a fairly biological thing driven by hormones and sexual needs, not at all on the order of the powerful loneliness experienced by someone yearning for a cherished deeply felt intimate connection that has been lost, or the loneliness of heartbreak. Perhaps learning to love truly well must include the experience of loneliness, to be valued in full? That seems a positive way to consider it, and I’m content with that for now.

I don’t know what today has to offer, or the weekend ahead, or the work week that follows. I am adaptable, life is unscripted, and reality brings spontaneity and change every moment of every day. Today I am a fearless explorer on a journey into an unknown future, with only ‘then’ and ‘now’ as compass and map. I hope to discover great things. Today is a good day to discover love.

 

Today has been…strange. Peculiar? Sure, that, too. Perhaps a bit surreal, too, although bizarre would go too far. It’s late in the afternoon, and odd time to find me writing. That’s strange, too.

I slept deeply and well, and woke easily this morning – but woke thinking in the moment that it was during the wee hours. I felt discontent and off kilter to check the clock and have the alarm go off in my hands. My coffee was hot, and the household woke shortly after I did – only, I did not wish to interact with anyone. I heard beautiful music in the other room, and felt moved to greet my traveling partner, and the start of the day. He changed the music just at the moment I got to the living room. It was still a great track, not in step with my mood, but I lingered to enjoy it. Conversation developed, on a topic of shared-interest, and I didn’t really get to listen to the music. Then curious fact-finding questions resulted in de-railing the conversation, itself and I ended up being cut-out of the conversation. No one noticed, and I excused myself politely. Shortly after that I managed to turn a compliment into a contentious moment, making the mistake of trying to explain something that didn’t require an explanation, as it had gone unnoticed by anyone but me.

I’ve felt more than a little ‘out of step’ most of the day. Peculiar describes it well enough.

I don’t really have any enthusiasm (or interest) in troubleshooting circumstances; there’s really nothing ‘wrong’. I also don’t know that I have much more to say about it. I feel… weird. The weekend is almost here. The day is almost over. There’ll be another tomorrow. I don’t know what, if anything, I want out of ‘now’ – a connection; that’s as close as I get to understanding what I want.  A particularly intimate, deep, comfortable, reliable, loving, romantic, profoundly secure emotional connection…that I don’t know how to achieve, yet. (I will not be particularly surprised to find, on my deathbed, that this thing I yearn for doesn’t actually exist, but I am not convinced that it doesn’t…because I have the recollection of having achieved at some other time, what I yearn for now…which I also can’t count on being real.)

Inconveniently, the doctor put me on an Rx that may influence my thinking…so…what can I be sure of, at all? Yeah. Well…I’m sure it’s been a strange day.

A moment of illumination is sometimes not so easy.

A moment of illumination is sometimes not so easy.

No fooling – warm indeed; my hormones have been all over the place this week, and at the moment I am uncomfortably warm, window open on a winter day, trying to cool down. Hot flashes are odd; I’m definitely feeling ‘hot’, as in ‘the temperature is too high’, and I am sweating uncomfortably, and feeling weighed down by my clothing. The room is a comfortable 70 degrees…and my body temperature is normal. Hormones. I feel what I’m feeling, and it’s real enough…but…it also isn’t something that directly affects anyone else, unless I start racing around panicked and tearing my clothes off, trying to find relief in the open refrigerator door, or throwing all the windows in the house open, or some similar foolishness. Now and then it can be pretty comical. In the moment, it mostly sucks. It’s not so bad, today; enough to notice, but not so much that it is really disruptive.

The hormone thing that is such a huge part of a woman’s life is complicated. Compassion for that complicated experience is valuable. Real recognition that not having experienced it from within means there are likely elements of the experience won’t be obvious, or easily understood is nice, too. I’m fortunate that my traveling partner is generally very kind, accommodating, and understanding about ‘the hormone thing’; he’s also very perceptive, and sensitive to the shift in comfort and mood, which results (less fortunately) in feelings of discomfort for him more often than either of us would prefer. The easy answer on both sides is love, and giving each other some space. I like the love; the need to take some time apart in order to care for each other most efficiently (on the principle of ‘this too shall pass’) is something I enjoy less, but value having a partnership that makes it easy. Hormones are what they are, and the machinery is winding down, an understandably complicated process. I am fortunate to be well-loved along the way.

Life isn't on rails, we have choices, and our path is our own to choose.

Life isn’t on rails, we have choices, and our path is our own to choose.

Raised voices on the other side of the door interrupt the flow of my thoughts. Today I woke earlier than the rest of the household, for the first time in many days. I’ve enjoyed the luxury of late nights, sleeping in (well, as much as I am able), and living without the ticking clock of the work routine in the background. This morning, I was up, and having my first coffee well before anyone else stirred. I didn’t bolt into the kitchen to throw my arms around my traveling partner; neither of us is at our best first thing upon waking, and the loving thing is to give the man some room to have some coffee and wake up. At the moment that I considered heading into the great room for good mornings, hugs, kisses, and happy greetings, I heard raised voices, and the vocal tones of stress, irritation, and frustration. I decided to let that moment pass.  The house is quiet now, and I feel calm and content with the choice to take care of me.

My coffee is almost finished. I’ll have my second coffee in town, with a friend. I’m looking forward to the outing most especially because we no longer see each other as much, now that we don’t work together. Then it’ll be home, and laundry, and getting ready for the work week. The holiday is over, and it’s been mostly quite nice. I’ve enjoyed the time with family, with love, and with myself. It’s been a very good time for growth, and contemplation, and I feel more prepared for the new year than I might have without this interlude.

The stereo comes alive with a favorite Santana track…the day begins in earnest. Today is a good day for love. Today is a good day to be kind and considerate. Today is a good day to change the world.

 

I was standing in the shower tonight, feeling the hot water slide over me, following gravity to the drain. My thoughts slipped gently through my awareness in much the same way, sensuous, ephemeral, fleeting. Thoughts about love, and loving, about life, and the ceaseless passage of time, and whether time actually affects love, really… It’s the sort of thing I think about in the shower, I admit it; I’m at an emotional place in life, and love is The Big Deal among emotions. I’m fortunate to experience the wonder of love, and specifically, adult, romantic, sexual love.

The shower filled with a fog of steam, and transported me to another moment, a distant time, and I paused there, recalling it with great clarity. It had been a nasty several days; I was exhausted, stressed out, and feeling bereft of comfort or affection from my then-partner. We’d been fighting like a seashore – the sort of experience where one issue is put to rest, and another surges, as if the emotions beneath the whole mess could not be defeated, solved, or turned for the better. Through out the difficult week, I’d worked, too. I came home, one evening later in the week, committed to ‘making things right’ and hopefully making amends and communicating support, comfort, and love enough to hold each other, maybe even have sex. Not only did the evening not turn out so pleasantly, it went from bad to worse and before dawn we were done. Finished. Over with.

Sometime out in the middle of all that, there were a couple of hours – after he stormed off, and before he returned – that I might have spent in solitary misery, if a dear friend hadn’t stopped by to check on me, worried and wanting to be sure I was okay. I clearly wasn’t ‘okay’, and he stayed awhile. It is this interlude, with that friend, on the described night, about which I was thinking in the shower, tonight. He had asked me a question, you see, and it is one that has stuck with me like an echo. I heard that question in my thoughts tonight, and let it rest there to be considered… “When was the last time you’ve been made love to?” he had asked me. I remember, also, being puzzled by the question at the time, how it could be relevant in the moment, what he might mean by asking it just then, and honestly – what he meant by it, at all. I replied with something to that effect, something more or less “How is that any different from any other sex?”  Even so many years later, I remember the compassionate and saddened look in his eyes – I remember that look, that expression, more clearly that most other details of that precise moment, though I know he responded to my reply. I remember my heart pounding, my mouth dry, and the sudden panic that there was some quality, or characteristic, or technique that lovers might be expecting that I just didn’t ‘get’… could they tell? Is it a character flaw? We probably talked longer, and knowing him as I do, I know the transition from conversation to contact was natural; I only remember his eyes, his touch, and being in his arms. I remember the lovemaking that followed. I remember the connection, and the intimacy, and the puzzled laughter when we realized together that this magical few moments had been unexpectedly snatched from the middle of a break up… it seemed incongruous, possibly inappropriate – and such a relief to be held, cared for, comforted, and…something more, something I didn’t have words for.  We talked more; I felt stronger when he departed.  I felt loved.  The sex actually was different that evening… and that is what I was thinking about, in the shower. (Oh! Hey, not ‘those’ sorts of thoughts, just thoughts. lol)

"You Always Have My Heart" 8" x 10" acrylic on canvas with glow.

“You Always Have My Heart” 8″ x 10″ acrylic on canvas with glow.

Comedians often make jokes about the phrase ‘making love’, or the term ‘love-making’; it seems generally considered to be ‘verbal slight of hand’ – a convincing way of talking a woman into sex, or a way of thinking about sex that is ‘for women only’ in some way. Sex is sex, after all, isn’t it? I thought so, too, for a long long time. My thinking on the topic changed that evening. Love-making is perhaps Love’s best magic trick – it has the potential to literally create love between beings. Think that over – we can actually make love. Wow. Powerful. I stood there in the shower, wrapped in mist and warmth, pondering the nature of love… and trying to cleverly capture it in a succinct phrase or two, or some brief explanation of how it could be that way at all… (I watch way too much Science Show, apparently).

So…Really…What’s the deal with ‘making love’? How is it different from ‘sex’, if it is, at all? I gave the matter a great deal of consideration, comparing and contrasting my own experiences, thinking over conversations with past lovers, and things I read in studies of various sorts. I could only identify [in the shower, no notes or references] one characteristic, in the context of my own limited – and highly subjective – experience with such things, that differs between sex and ‘love-making’ (which doesn’t require love to exist in advance, but can result in love as an outcome); it’s something to do with connection, intimacy, awareness…mindfulness. (It’s in the way we touch, but not the technique, and it is the level of awareness of each other, but not a particular act, or script, and it is that we matter to each other, in the moment.) Mindfulness? No kidding? Huh.

I’ve been struggling with understanding mindfulness in the context of sex for some time, and not finding my way with any ease (mostly just feeling ludicrously self-conscious, clumsy, and awkward)…and standing there in the shower thinking about love, a puzzled piece snapped into place quite neatly. There’s likely a lot more that could be said about this, and certainly I think about sex a great deal (being among the many people who generally would like to have much more of it than circumstances provide), but I’m so not an expert on intimacy, or love, or sex…I’m a student of love, as much as a student of life, and here too, I am more about questions than answers.  I feel like I’ve taken a step forward on an important part of my journey, though, or perhaps I’ve at least correctly oriented my map. I find myself feeling encouraged by this new understanding of how love-making differs from sex, and I’ll make a point of telling you why; if making love is about the mindful nature of a romantic connection, or moment… then it isn’t ‘about’ the physical act. If love-making isn’t actually ‘about’ sex, then the sometime lack of sex that life sometimes throws my way is no impediment to love, loving, or love-making! I don’t mind going without sex now and then, sometimes we must – but I don’t want to go without love. I feel a bit like I’ve been ‘doing it wrong’. There’s so much more to learn – starting with learning to make love – without sex.

It’s just past midnight…it’s a good night for love. I have a lot to learn, and this is a very exciting bit of curriculum with which to start the new year.