Archives for posts with tag: a life well-lived

Time. What are you doing with yours? Such a finite limited resource in a single mortal lifetime, eh? It can drive a real feeling of desperation trying to “stay caught up”. I think of an old Joe Jackson song… I used to be seriously hung up about time (and timing). It was problematic and stressful. Not helpful at all, and the anxiety did nothing to improve my efficiency. That frenetic driven pace wasn’t particularly useful, and I often felt as if I was chasing seconds at the cost of hours and days. I don’t do that now (not generally). Instead, I let that go and practice living my life, instead. 😀

It’s a strange journey, and the distance between my starting point and my destination is sometimes quite a way to go.

The limitations time places on me, as a mortal creature, comes with a certain poignance, now and then, a feeling that “I’m not doing it right” or that “time is running out”… a sensation of a ticking clock, always in the background, counting down these precious moments… It’s an illusion, as is that sensation of pressure to do more faster. We’re mortal creatures, for sure, and that feels pretty limiting sometimes, but… a life well-lived feels – often – pretty “timeless”. I’ve been enjoying that sensation a lot, lately.

It’s not where I’m seated that matters most, it’s more about what fills my thoughts.

The clock keeps ticking, however I choose to spend my time…

What enriches your life? I’m not talking about cash assets here. I’m asking what fulfills you? What do you want more of in life? How do you choose to spend your precious limited life time?

Sometimes I just need to get away.

I’m learning to make room in my day(s) for the moments that feel the best – love, loving, a good book, a good meal, laughing with friends, sharing my thoughts with my Traveling Partner, walking and thinking… there’s a lot to enjoy in life, and the time is short. Every moment of pointless bullshit or drama robs me of an opportunity to experience some moment of joy; the time is finite. Moments come and go, and once they are in the past, they are what they are were – for always. Just memories. I’m learning to make good ones. (Memories, I mean.)

There are signs of human endeavors almost everywhere.

My recent birthday camping adventure was well-spent on long moments of quiet reflection, and the joy of my Traveling Partner’s good company. I could have “done more”, or gotten more “activities” worked into the experience, probably, but what was filling my soul and nurturing me was simply sitting and enjoying that time that was such a departure from the routine. Calling it “fun” doesn’t really share the experience in a meaningful way. (It was a lot of fun, for sure.) I definitely really needed that time to chill and reflect quietly, and just observe the world in the form of breezes, waves, and blue skies, without all the fuss and bother of humanity’s comings and goings and frantic attempts to control time.

I took pointers on “how to relax” from the local wildlife, they’ve certainly mastered their method. 😀

I came home with a renewed sense of presence in my experience, and some new perspective. I came home feeling uplifted, and deeply in love with my Traveling Partner. I came home feeling comfortable in my skin and sure of myself. All good stuff. The best part? I came home. It felt good to be at home, to have a home to come home to in the first place, and to be there with my Traveling Partner was a hell of a bonus. Life well-lived? Working on it – and getting great results.

Sometimes the best thing I can do for the woman in the mirror is to pause, and reflect.

I reflect for a moment on the practices that work, the practices that have been less effective (for me), and sip my coffee contentedly.

…And already it’s time to begin again. 😀

Here we are, a new year. Today is my first day back to work after the New Year’s holiday. I sip my coffee and wonder what sort of year this one might be…

The weekend was filled with year-end sorts of things, including the massive journal-disposal project that I’ve been mulling over for a long time, and honestly didn’t expect to sit down, start, and finish so… “soon” isn’t the right word. “Unexpectedly” also missed the mark. I just… I guess I’m glad it is behind me. Surprised I pulled it off, perhaps. 🙂 After wandering through many hundreds of thousands of words across something like 15,000 pages, I’m glad to be done with it and free from the storage and “document security” headaches that went along with keeping those journals all these years. There were some worthy observations of life in those pages, for sure, and some beautiful, poignant, or insightful turns of phrase, and I’m glad I took a look back. Those details were sparse compared to the tedium, the tantrums, the madness, and the committing-to-paper of details that generally do best lived-in-the-moment and not written down for later review. I mean… damn I was angry a lot. Bitter. Disappointed. Frustrated. Lusty. Struggling. Did I mention the lustiness? Yeah… I could have made a career writing pornography, I’m sure. LOL

…In some sense the hardest part about letting go of these journals and the years of writing was discovering that I already had

It was interesting to see the change in my writing at the point at which my Traveling Partner and I had gotten together. Before we were lovers we were friends, and it was at that point I also began tapering off the various psych meds I was on at that time, (in part due to his encouragement and fueled by his astonishment at what I was taking and at what dosages). I really couldn’t write easily (or paint) on those meds; my creativity was severely impaired. To get that back, I had to go off the meds I was on (and it would be until very recently that I stayed wholly off all those medications, generally). My partner was very supportive of my painting and writing and my wellness.

At my most heavily medicated, I wrote very little.

My Traveling Partner and I had met many many years earlier – we resumed our friendship when we reconnected, working for the same employer in 2009, but didn’t start hanging out until early in 2010. By March that year we were nearly inseparable friends, jovially sharing our commute on public transit each day.

I was tapering off the psych meds, and both my writing and my painting were becoming a bigger part of my experience.

In October, after we each/both broke things off with other relationships, we moved in together. By May 2011 we’d gotten married. My writing exploded in an environment in which I felt emotionally safe to just write, to just fucking be. It wasn’t always comfortable; there were times when my Traveling Partner would actually choose to leave rather than be around me while I was writing or painting. There was so much “bottled up inside me” that finally “had a voice”. It was an intensely creative period.

2011 used a lot of pages!

When I think back on that time, and I think specifically about how much my current partnership has both inspired and supported me creatively… I’m astonished, and filled with love and gratitude. My Traveling Partner, as much as any one person ever could claim to be, has been my muse. My inspiration. My day-to-day “driving force” – for change, for momentum, for growth and progress, for continuing to begin again. Love makes it all matter so very much. He is also more uniquely capable than any one other human being of hurting my feelings in an instant, moving my heart, pissing me off, and being part of my journey. Fuck I love this guy. I could say more… but I think I’ve said it all at some point… I mean, just based on the amount I’d already written down since we got together…

My partner’s presence felt in every volume. Inspired by love.

I’m not sure…, but it could be that this post is sort of a love letter to a human being who played an important part in freeing me to truly work on becoming the woman I most want to be… finally. That can’t be an easy part to play in this messy life of mine.

If I could have easily done just one additional thing with all those journals it would have been to run the entirety of the content through some sort of algorithm that could reduce it down to just the unique observations – removing the duplicates, the mad spirals, and the redundancy, leaving behind only the things I said, wrote, and observed, each just the once. I wonder how much would actually be left? What wisdom have I gained (and lost) over time? I sip my coffee and think about that… and the way redirecting my writing to this space, this practice, has improved the quality of my writing. (It’s easy to see, having taken the opportunity to compare those volumes to these posts more or less “side by side”.)

I actually “write more” these days. It’s not always obvious; no clutter to measure by. lol I’m also much happier – and it was clear flipping through those pages that the deeply conflicted, traumatized, chronically unhappy woman I once was has been transformed over time. I still have challenges. I still have work to do. I’ve still got an eye on my mental health – and probably always will. I’m also doing pretty splendidly most of the time, by most measures. It’s a good place to be, and I’m grateful to my partner for sharing this journey with me. He’s a hell of a good “traveling companion” for a trip like this. lol I gotta remember to say thank you. 😀

In the meantime, I suppose I’ll just begin again… again. 😀 I wonder where this path leads…

The waves hit the beach in a regular cadence, still managing to be quite varied and individual. The sound of it is thunderous through the open balcony door. The sky is azure, broad, vast, and seemingly infinite-of-horizon. The mild beiges and tans of the sandy beach separate land and sea quite conveniently. The numerous rocky outcroppings of various sizes just “offshore” become a fun festival of tidepools when the tide is at its lowest. The weather is “perfect” (for me), neither chilly enough to require a fleece or sweater, nor hot enough to make bare feet on sand uncomfortable. I walked miles yesterday, and again this morning. It feels good to feel so solitary, so conveniently. I’m not far from home (about an hour’s drive), and the beach is certainly not deserted, but in every practical way, I am far from the routines of every day life, and wrapped in solitude in spite of the nearness of other stray human primates scattered along the beach, walking with their thoughts, their dogs, or their families.

…I even went walking among the tidepools before I had my coffee this morning! I did not want to miss the revelations that low tide has to offer. 🙂

Tidepools to explore

I returned to the room after coffee and a bite of breakfast – a bit of a luxury. [Side note: I love “brunch”. My Traveling Partner is less enthusiastic about being up and dressed and out the door dealing with other human beings first thing, just for a meal as easily made (and often better quality) at home. I enjoy the variety and lack of effort (no cooking, no clean up). So, when I take time away, I definitely look for a choice opportunity to get breakfast or brunch. 😀 I’d even plan an entire weekend away around a really noteworthy brunch… I’ve got one or two of those on my “do this someday” list. LOL ]

Today, I’ll spend more time writing, reflecting, and letting my brain “get caught up” – clear that overloaded buffer – and then return to the beach for more miles and minutes.

I’ll be quite content if this little getaway is no more productive than a series of walks and naps, honestly. This is one way I recharge. 🙂 Making a point to take this time to recharge is one way I ensure I am most able to be my best self, and fully participate in a wholesome healthy way in my relationships. When the relationship I have with myself is not sufficiently nurturing or self-supporting and emotionally self-sufficient, I lose traction on being able to skillfully provide loving support and nurturing to my partner. 🙂 That was a hard won lesson to learn, and I sometimes feel I must be quite a bit stupider than I feel day-to-day that it took me so long to understand that.

…I do miss my partner, though… funny how these emotions exist side by side, mixed up together.

The coffee in the hotel room is quite horrible. I have no idea why otherwise nice hotels persist in providing these absolutely shit little drip coffee machines, with ancient packaged ground coffee of similarly terrible quality in these rooms. It would not be notably more costly to do just a little better than that. Hell, an electric kettle and a good quality instant would be an improvement. LOL I knew what to expect, so I made a point to bring along a better quality of coffee, so… it’s at least drinkable, more or less.

The beach, easy to see through the open balcony door, begins to fill with people. It’s after 10:00 am now. Time to begin again. 🙂