I like the comfortable safety of solitude. I know being alone is a different experience for each of us; for me solitude feels safe, calm, and vastly soulfully nourishing. The few times my anxiety has found me when I was solitary, it has been likely to be driven by fearfulness of others in my periphery, undetected, or uninvited, or imminent. In my worst freak outs, the best thing that can be done in the moment is provide me with solitude and stillness; for years I did not understand how easy it could be to calm me. I have the weekend to be solitary. I need this time very much right now; grieving is hard on the one grieving, and harder still, perhaps, on those near who are not themselves grieving, but cannot stem the flow of tears. I prefer to grieve in solitude, although… I like hugs a lot, when I’m crying…so…there’s that. Human beings are social creatures. I am, myself, even fairly ‘extroverted’…but I do love solitude, and crave substantially more of it than many people seem to…and rarely have enough.

This weekend my partners are away at a festival. I find myself smiling and wishing them well; I hope it is amazing. Work changed my plans and I am staying home. At this point in the week, I am not regretting the change. Festival attendance hardly seems appropriate to grieving – at least not for me. This week the world lost a young woman with all the potential in the world, and an entire future ahead of her. She was just 13. My cousin’s daughter. Yesterday, an Army buddy moved on to something beyond his mortal existence, at 60-something, having completed his mission in some sense, I suppose. I am not ashamed to grieve these losses. I still go to work. This is my way; in the midst of grief I grab onto what is practical and routine, and hold on to it. I tidy the house after work very attentively and mindfully, cherishing the sensations of touch, the subtle feel of space I am in, the motions of cleaning, straightening, moving from task to task. I commute, enjoying the sensations as summer shifts gears to fall, and people-watching with a curious and open heart. I work. Task after task, I follow each small routine of work and life with greater than usual care, walking a sort of emotional balance beam. As I do, I consider life and death, and grief, and honor the departed in my own way, silently eulogizing them, honoring the memories of shared experiences, questioning, reflecting, and celebrating what they brought to my experience. I am very aware of my mortality and the brevity of life when I grieve. This is my way. There are highs and lows, of course. It’s a process. There are tears. These are emotional experiences. It’s difficult, but feels fairly natural to me, the sense of loss, the hurting, the contemplation…and the pain diminishes over time. I am satisfied with the way I grieve. I suppose, now that I’m over 50, that’s going to come in handy.

Here it is the Friday ahead of a solitary weekend. Here in this still moment I am content and serene. This ‘now’ is just fine, thank you. I will be, too. It’s a choice, and there are verbs involved.

Grieving is a very human experience.  Detail of "Emotion and Reason" 18" x 24" acrylic on canvas w/ceramic and glow, photographed in dim light. 2012

Grieving is a very human experience.
Detail of “Emotion and Reason” 18″ x 24″ acrylic on canvas w/ceramic and glow, photographed in dim light. 2012

Today I am grieving with distant family. This, too, is a very human experience, but today there will be no other words.

I like communication. I think most of us probably enjoy it, or some aspect of it. My favorite, as much as I enjoy words and talking and writing, is being heard.  I’d be surprised in that weren’t true of most people, but I’m not ‘most people’ in a lot of ways, so I likely shouldn’t go out on that limb. 🙂  I do enjoy being heard, however I have a lot to learn about listening; this is another statement I suspect is true of a lot of people, just based on observation.

It is a journey taken one step at a time.

It is a journey taken one step at a time.

I’ve noticed something strange…people who don’t feel heard are generally not listening (at least at that point at which they feel they are not being heard, themselves).  “Communication” so easily turns into tit-for-tat bullshit that there are actually enough books written about communication as a subject to fill a library without help from any other topic. Amazon has 339,665 books on “communication” across a variety of subtopics, such as “communication skills” (very popular, right at the top) and “law” (which I suppose gets involved when communication goes seriously awry).  Human primates work hard to communicate – hell, we created language to facilitate that! We consider both verbal and non verbal forms of communication when we discuss language, and make a big deal over one versus the other, and when it is appropriate to use them, and how to interpret them. We make rules about communication and set up hierarchies of information to sort fact from fiction, lies from well-intended misstatements based on erroneous beliefs, and novels from religious tomes. Us versus them. We get our emotions involved. All that fuss and effort – and we’re still communicating poorly, and taking shit personally based on untested assumptions, and expectations that source from fictions in our own heads.

Part of my own challenge in communication rests on the distinction between ‘hearing’ and ‘listening’. You, too? Have you ever been in a heated discussion, or contentious meeting, and rather than actually listening with awareness to the speaker of the moment, you were investing time in formulating a reply – to something you heard moments ago, or something you are only half listening to in the moment? It’s a poor practice. I can make that assertion comfortably, feeling pretty sure you’ll agree with me – all I have to do is make that observation from the vantage point of the disregarded speaker, themselves. We’ve all been there – making a point that matters to us, doing our best to be clear, concise, and hold the attention of our listener, and… aware that we are not actually ‘being heard’; the vaguely distracted facial expression, and loss of eye contact, or lack of focused gaze, are a hint – the real giveaway is when our listener begins to reply or rebut, and it is apparent they are not speaking to the salient points at all, they are just downloading what they spent time considering – while you were talking. They weren’t listening, they were waiting for their turn. Awkward. Rude. Ineffective communication. It’s so easy, though, to get wrapped up in what feels like matters the most – and lose awareness that what actually matters most is listening while someone is talking.  It gets more complicated if the person talking is an unqualified asshat, I get it, or espousing views that are “offensive” or inflammatory. That’s hard to take. Perhaps in that scenario the more effective communication is to say frankly that there is offense, or express clearly and simply that the information is in some way unacceptable – then disengage without further rebuttal or reply? (Is every battle mine? lol I’ve been making some different choices, lately, myself).

Deceit, treachery, willfully misleading someone, treating them poorly or bullying them with language; my perspective is that these things are not good uses of communication between honorable beings making compassionate choices, and treating people well. We don’t always make our best choices in the moment, though, do we? It’s easy for a person, in a moment of anger, to be willfully cruel, or in a moment of frustration to be impatient or callous. We’re all very human.

I dislike imprecise communication, particularly regarding emotion. I’m not always good at it, myself, and I practice some things I find key, and I do so in a very planned and studied way. The things I put that kind of structured emphasis on are simple enough. I practice communicating willfully in words – for me this means moving gently through physical space, and not using my body to communicate strong emotion instead of using words; no deliberate slamming or banging of cupboards, doors, drawers, etc to communicate distress or anger. It’s very upsetting and imprecise, and it tends (in my own experience) to foster panic, anxiety, and insecurity in the human herd without truly communicating anything with accuracy, or honesty. It seems mean, and it causes considerable extra wear and tear on household goods.  (Do you slam shit when you’re mad? Why do you do it? What does that satisfy for you? I’ve been there, but I can’t say I find anything of lasting value in that method of communicating; I gave it up in principle some time ago.) I won’t claim any mastery; I practice continuously whether I am upset or not.  The other key practice is listening, really attending to the words another person is taking time to share with me, without being distracted by the pressure of my own desire to speak and be heard, or caving to some need-in-the-moment to challenge or disagree. It’s very difficult for me – the disinhibition issues I struggle with often get in the way; practicing is very important for reinforcing better habits. Not interrupting people is a good start on a basic level. (I am so not there yet! I work at it every day.) It matters that much to me, that people speaking with me feel heard.

It was slow going to reach a place where I understand that because I desire to be heard, learning to listen is critically important. It was also a struggle to reach a place where I understand that communicating emotions is not about pushing the visceral experience of strong emotion into the consciousness of other human beings against their will, or without their consent; it is about using gentle words, clearly and simply, while allowing that other consciousness to continue to have its own experience. There’s a lot of practice ahead of me. The day I realized I am practicing these qualities and behaviors because they are who I want most to be – and by intention, who I am – I became so much more able to step back from frustrations built around ‘I will when they do’ and ‘they don’t so why should I?’ or issues of unfairness, and suddenly I felt more heard – because I am listening to my own voice. That matters, too. So often it has turned out the person not listening to me, is me.

Savoring each precious moment through awareness is a nice place to start a journey of discovery.

Savoring each precious moment through awareness is a nice place to start a journey of discovery.

Some rambling notes on communication early on a Tuesday morning. It’s a good day to communicate with love, and with great attention. It’s a good day to really hear the message I am sharing with the world, from the world’s perspective. It’s a good day to be kind, and to treat others with courtesy – not because they deserve it, but because it is who I am. Today is a good day to change the world.

I woke early this morning, ahead of the alarm clock by an hour or a bit more. It was an unexpectedly nice opportunity for connecting with a partner in the wee hours for a few precious minutes. Love doesn’t mind the clock.

The remainder of the morning, thus far, has been spent in meditation and study, quietly, gently, enjoying the stillness; except for that one bit when I whacked the back of my wrist against the corner of my desk somehow. Ouch. (It had that ‘blow to the funny bone’ feel to  it.) This morning I have been contemplating the nature of time. I haven’t meant to, it’s just what my brain latched on to when I wrapped up meditation. You see, it’s been an incredibly chill and restorative weekend for me. The subjective feeling of it is even that it was ‘a long weekend’ of painting, hanging out, and some shared evening time with partners watching videos (science shows and Archer), although it has been the ordinary 2-day sort. It’s been quite delightful, and an extraordinary way to prepare for the very busy workweek to come.

This weekend I took care of me, and managed to meet most of my needs for myself. It’s been an exceptional taste of emotional self-sufficiency. Powerful. Something clicked recently, and I’m enjoying the outcome of that. I hope, and intend, to continue to invest in the practices, choices, and changes that are proving to be such a powerful win for me over time.

"Summer Afternoon" and a lovely weekend to paint.

“Summer Afternoon” and a lovely weekend to paint.

I spent much of the weekend painting. It is a whole different magnitude of change in quality of life for me, as an artist, to have space to paint – not just room to do so when I take time to clear space, set up, work on a few pieces, tear it all down and put it away for next time; the difference is in having dedicated space to paint, and to work creatively. Now I know what I was yearning for, and having it, I now really understand why it matters so much. It’s a realization that feels a bit like the tail end of a South Park episode; the point at which Kenny delivers his short monologue that begins “I learned something today…”  I learned something this weekend; I need space to paint, and it is an emotional need, the meeting of which improves my quality of life enormously. It’s a practical understanding of myself, too; I’ll never again shop for housing the same way, for example, because I’ll be looking for ‘space to paint’ in a non-negotiable way, any time it comes up in the future.

The days of this weekend were much more ‘timeless’ than a typical weekend. I rarely looked at a clock, and the days seemed long and leisurely. Is it a byproduct of investing in doing what I love, and taking care of me without stress or worry? What slowed the hands of the clock this weekend? Whatever it was, I’m grateful for the wonderful weekend, invested in taking care of me. Bringing mindfulness practices to the realm of my emotional life, and my emotional needs, doesn’t come naturally to me, yet; I practice attentively, and with discipline and commitment. Sometimes it feels vaguely ‘forced’, and I find myself fighting old programming that says my needs don’t matter. Every moment of that battle is so worth it; this weekend was a small ‘payout’, a return on investment, and I feel recharged and refreshed.

...Because I don't do cross stitch. :-D

…Because I don’t do cross stitch. 😀

Today is a good day for beginnings. Today is a good day to be the woman I most want to be. Today is a good day to embrace change. Today is a good day to savor each precious moment, to connect, and to be present. Today is a good day to change the world.

How often have I heard it – how often have you – “you just…” or “you only…”, or “it’s super simple…” and subsequently found it a journey to new heights of frustration? It happens. Perspective matters. Experience counts. Aptitude gets to weigh in, whether we like it or not. What is obvious to one person, isn’t necessarily obvious to another. These are what make patience with each other, consideration, kindness, and compassion so incredibly valuable; we don’t all ‘get it’ with the same quickness, or in the same way, we don’t all learn at the same speed, and of course we are each having our own experience.

It’s been an interesting weekend to contemplate one particular very human duality, and finding balance between them. The first of these, and unavoidably so whether we recognize the truth of it or not; we are each having our own experience.  Recognizing that has been a big deal for me.  The other, and no less important generally; we’re all in this together. Yep. Interdependent, connected, social, and organized, one look at a global map of internet connections and it’s pretty obvious that we’re connected, by the communication of thoughts and emotions if not by flesh or ideology.

Each precious moment holds something worth cherishing now.

Each precious moment holds something worth cherishing now, something worth sharing.

This has been a good weekend to apply a number of things I’ve been learning over time. A good weekend to paint, to practice taking care of me, to invest in my continuing education as a human being, to invest in the qualities of mind that make me more who I want to be. The weekend went to ‘unscripted mode’ before I ever got home Friday night, though we’d had plans as a family that would have taken much of the weekend. I found myself undisturbed and content to let the weekend take me where it might, and I’ve been delighted with the outcome. Having space to paint set up and ready to go any time resulted in an easy and gentle switching of gears, yesterday morning, and it was as effortless as walking up a flight of stairs to be in another space, a different context, and enjoying my experience on my own terms. It was lovely.

"Summer Lamb's Ear" 8" x 10" acrylic on canvas w/glow.

“Summer Lamb’s Ear” 8″ x 10″ acrylic on canvas w/glow.

It was so productive, and comfortably so, that this morning I woke already thinking of painting, although my calendar clearly shows I’d intended to hike this morning. My arthritis chimed in early, having been my wake up call, alerting me that today would be characterized by more than usual pain, and less than ideal freedom of movement. Hiking would probably help. Painting could wait until afternoon. I dither over coffee. What do I want? 

"Carried Away by Opinion" 8" x 10" acrylic on canvas w/glow, glitter, and googly eyes.

“Carried Away by Opinion” 8″ x 10″ acrylic on canvas w/glow, glitter, and googly eyes.

Letting that go for the moment, I reconsider the somewhat peculiar weekend. I have been content, satisfied, serene… it’s been a lovely weekend so far, and I feel nurtured, comfortable, and secure. It’s peculiar because observation tells me that my partners may not be having the same quality of experience, themselves. Earlier plans falling through has seemed to find them discontent, and to my outside perspective, struggling with various levels of unhappiness moment to moment. That sucks. I see it. When I can, I attempt to appropriately support them both, and each, and nurture positive experiences, and treat them pleasantly, and compassionately. What I’m not doing this weekend is undermining my pleasant experience by adopting their discontent for myself. This is an area of life and relationship building where I find a lot of my challenges.  Ripping out programming that once drove me to make choices based on ‘well, if I really care, won’t I also be unhappy and share their feelings/experience with them?’ has been slow going; it feels somewhat disloyal to take care of me. That’s how programming works, though, it’s rooted in layers upon layers of internal dialogue, self-talk that uses key words and language to keep us in line, and it fights for survival as though it has an identity all its own.

Sometimes a change in perspective matters more than we can know before we get there. "Summer Lamb's Ear" photographed in darkness.

Sometimes a change in perspective matters more than we can know before we get there. “Summer Lamb’s Ear” photographed in darkness.

The weekend has been, for me, so far, quite wonderful. I have no idea where today will take me, and I have not invested in any expectations of it; spending the day on chores, painting, and study, and enjoying the companionship of my partners, would be satisfying and sufficient. I could enjoy investing time in keeping my image archive organized, or exploring my options for updating my webpage. A walk in the forest, camera in hand, would be lovely, too.

What do I want of my life, today? Whatever it may be, today is probably quite an excellent day for that.