Archives for posts with tag: ACT

Well…here we all are. Here I am, anyway. There are opportunities to wonder about the rest of it. It’s been a year, to the day, since I started this blog. I was somewhere very different as a person one year ago. My understanding of myself was – and remains – incomplete, but certainly I am in as different a place with that as a journey of 365 days could possibly make, for me. Very different, indeed. Change, as comical as it looks on the page, is a constant.

People do change, therefore they can change.  It is not a given that they will change. That last is rather dependent on their own desire to change, for their own reasons, succeeding based on their will and actions.  These seem obvious enough observations, but I did not have that understanding a year ago.

We are each having our own experience. That, too, seems damned obvious to me in 2014, but I have an understanding of myself that recognizes and acknowledges that this was not ‘always’ my understanding of things.  It’s difficult to be certain quite when I became really sold on that understanding – that we are each all having our own experience. It feels like I ‘always’ understood this – but I can prove in my own journals and past writing that I did not, and also that the lack of this understanding in prior years was something that really had an effect on my ability to learn compassion, to build intimacy, to provide emotional support – even impeded my ability to listen well to others and respect or value their perspective.

Every step I take illuminates another step to be taken – like walking with a flashlight in the dark. I can recall, at some past points, saying something casual or flippant about ‘being a work in progress’, generally to minimize some mishap, or the consequence of some poor decision. This past year I’ve spent a lot of time learning what a very active thing progress actually tends to be – there is so much more to it than being aware it needs to happen, or reading up on some process for getting it done.  ‘Work in progress’ is an incredibly active thing, with a lot of verbs involved, and a hearty helping of will and action, and practice doesn’t lead to mastery, it leads to good habits and improvements over time.  I do not always feel up to the task, and I am surprised and even satisfied with myself for how far I’ve come in a year.

I feel powerfully committed to myself (that’s very new), and to building a good life, good relationships, a good heart, a compassionate nature, and to leave when my time is up able to say the world is, in some small way, the better for having endured my humble efforts. This is the most concise statement I know how to make about ‘who I am’ at the end of this one year.  I doubt I’d have made such a statement in any earlier time in my life.

Words like ‘mindfulness’ and ‘compassion’ have become everyday parts of my vocabulary over the past year.  I am learning new things; listening, caring, understanding, empathizing, sharing – no strings, less baggage.  It still seems strange to me that so much of what I’ve needed all along has come from within… and that ‘taking care of me’ isn’t about being ‘selfish’, defensive, territorial, or confrontational, but is very much about living a contented life, and enjoying a sense of well-being, by ensuring I see to my own basic needs with as much commitment and skill as I do the needs of others.

I am spending time today contemplating this one year journey because, as journey’s go, it’s been it’s been one of the most meaningful I’ve ever taken, and one that I understand more clearly now to be both ongoing, and worthy of more active participation. It’s my life, after all.  Sure, had I understood some things more clearly earlier in life, I’d have made some different choices perhaps, or had some very different conversations, but there is still so much ahead – many more moments, opportunities to choose, to talk, to act – to change. My will is truly my own – when I use it.

So are my words. This year I’ve used this blog to explore my world of words in a more honest way, with greater vulnerability, learning to share my experience without using emotional weaponry, and with consideration of possible outcomes beyond words on a page. Using my words to understand my experience more clearly, myself, without endless rumination or becoming mired in some momentary drama, and without over-burdening the emotional resources of my loved ones has been eye-opening regarding the limitations of words and language, and how it can direct my experience – and how I can learn to use those words to direct my experience,  myself, from within.  (Thanks for helping with all that, by the way, I appreciate you, and the time you’ve taken to share this journey with me in some small way.)

Soft jazz in the background, a latte gone cold on the side table, a soft gray morning sky on the other side of the window, the household sleeping… just one year? The distance between where I was a year ago, and where I am this morning can’t really be measured in time or distance.  The journey isn’t even completed – there is so much more to learn, to do, to experience, to share, to understand, to contemplate, to enjoy… This is just one moment of many. 

There is a lot to enjoy. This has definitely been a year to explore how very true that is.  There is a lot to enjoy.  Enjoying life is also a choice.

Here's to free will and good choices!

Here’s to free will and good choices!

Today I…

It is a lovely morning for meditation, for yoga, for calm thoughts and contemplation, and for a good cup of coffee. It is, indeed, simply a lovely morning.

I love these moments, sometimes hours, between the last of time spent sleeping, and the beginning of time spent in the company of dear ones. Life is rich and complex and filled with shared moments of all sorts. It often feels busy and tumultuous, sometimes rushed and unstructured. These few quiet moments feel most ‘my own’. Oddly, I don’t at all consider myself a ‘morning person’.

I am beginning something. I’m not really sure quite what it is.

My strange companions on a new journey.

My strange companions on a new journey.

I found myself contemplating meditation (just thinking about that sentence puts a huge grin on my face) and feeling inspired to create something that speaks to my experience.  I explored my imagination on the subject, without limitations, just thinking about resources on hand and what exactly was it I was trying to say, share, or experience myself. I am not ‘a Buddhist’. I am, however, fascinated by the concept of the Buddha (“The Enlightened One”) as a broader idea. Certainly, as a student of life, and of love, I eagerly seek enlightenment, myself.  I wanted to craft a figure that somehow spoke to me on the subject… using glow-in-the-dark Fimo, would be satisfying, I thought.

This guy was the first.

This guy was the first.

There is quite a bit of distance to cover between inspiration and outcome. When I crafted the first figure, I was certain he is ‘not The One’…but…I really enjoy him, nonetheless.  I felt bemused and puzzled by how quickly my brain and hands intervened to create something quite different from what I thought I was going for. I contentedly considered him for a day. I sat in contemplation the next day, still considering the distance between what I considered to be my intent, following it like a thread from my inspiration, through my actions, my will…clay in my fingers…

Being puzzled takes on a face.

Being puzzled takes on a face.

Huh. I gave myself a moment to gaze on the quizzical little face with my own quizzical expression. Where did this come from? All my questions – all sorts of questions – suddenly felt ‘queued up’ and I experienced a sensation of being ‘overloaded’ and breathless with the unknown in life. There’s a lot of it. lol. I continued to work the clay – but I’d run out of glow-in-the-dark. I played with the knowledge as I worked, allowing words to become metaphors, and my thoughts calmed and became more still and easy. Deep breath in, deep relaxing breath out… fingers in the clay, mindful of the shapes, the color, trying this, then that…

What does the simplicity of mindful observation and breath look like?

What does the simplicity of mindful observation and breath looks like?

I smiled at the small calm face. I wondered at the simplicity of it. I had thought, when I was moved to craft a figure, initially, that once I had ‘done it’ I would be done. I continue to muse on the wee faces and heads, small figures expressing… things. I continue to be captivated by the figures, the process of crafting them, and their small significance – they express something for me. I found myself struggling to find simple words for what I am after – what I’m ‘going for’. The sensation of inspiration is, for me, rather dynamic and ferocious…but the feeling of the Fimo clay in my fingers is calming.

'Dynamic and ferocious'?

‘Dynamic and ferocious’?

I’ll likely keep making them. We are each having our own experience, moment by moment, and even the moments themselves are singular and unique and as individual as butterflies or snowflakes…or so it seems when I find the stillness to wonder at the fullness of a moment.

These small figures didn’t spring up unbidden from some mysterious recess of my heart, or some dark corner of my experience, long-buried. Nope. It’s more obvious than that.  When I was quite small, my Mother made some strange Easter egg ornaments – blown eggs (pretty uncommon these days, I think). They were painted and decorated. D’Artagnan and the 3 Musketeers are the ones of which I have the most clear memory. She also crocheted some ornaments for the Christmas tree – heads. Later, as an adult, I was delighted that some of them became mine, and each year I put one or two on the tree (they are delicate and I handle them with great care).

The one on the right is crocheted.

The one on the right is crocheted.

So, some obvious inspiration to draw from in my own experience. Then too, in so many of the anime series I watch, there are stone figures depicted in the forests and along the roadside. They often look like serene child-Buddhas of some sort.  Mizuko Jizo statues.  They fascinate and delight me. They touch my heart; they are used in a soul-soothing ritual for women who have lost a child.  This, too, is meaningful for me.

an example

an example

So here I find myself, contemplating small faces, Buddhas, journeys, emotions, experiences… and 5 children that were never born. Strangely emotional place to end up, but journeys are like that – even when I have selected my destination with great care, it often turns out that the trip wasn’t even about reaching that place. lol.

I have stories to tell. So do you. So do we all – we are each having our own experience. I hope to choose my companions with great care, today, and to treat them well – they are an important piece of my experience, and every journey is greatly enhanced by good company. 😀

 

 

 

It is some moments after a pastel frosty dawn. The sky is still pink with it, lightening to a chilly gray-blue. Winter. A new year unfolding, each new day its own, and I have not spent much of it writing.  That is not a complaint; my time has been well spent.

My coffee this morning is smooth and sweet on my tongue. The house is quiet. I feel content.

I celebrated the New Year with an interestingly 3-dimensional, very hands-on, sort of meditation; craft work, building, as a physical metaphor for investing in myself, of being the change, of building a future aligned to my values, that supports my needs over time. I assembled a desk, re-arranged my space, and ‘moved in again’. I did each activity as mindfully as I was able, which was ‘mostly’, investing care, commitment, and love in assembling the desk, the chair, moving a bookcase, arranging ‘things’, eliminating clutter…  I can’t own the idea, it developed during a conversation with my partners about my challenges making my time really count for me.  I have not found it easy.  We discussed the nature of the challenges, and one partner suggested – and had before – a more dedicated writing space (I generally cozy up on the sectional, and perch my laptop in my lap). There was real wisdom in many of the observations and suggestions, and the outcome was a shopping trip out to Ikea, and a New Year’s Day project.  It was a powerful experience to build a solution in full awareness, mindfully, and with great care – as a treat for me.  It brought me face to face with the reality that I rarely treat myself with the same quality of good treatment that I am inclined to deliver to my loved ones. In the abstract, I had thought I was past that. lol.

The changes result in some small amount of upheaval, of course. These days I have some understanding why that is, and it didn’t linger longer than needed to get my attention to the matter, and I take time to be in the changed space frequently to chill and be, allowing it to return to a level of familiarity that feels comfortable. I have been sleeping very well since I moved the bookcase, and put the desk in my room. The room seems much quieter.

It is always interesting to rethink a space, and configure or use it differently. Having made these changes, like elaborate dominoes others now seem necessary, and the tight efficient arrangement of objects in a small space will require a high level of attention of detail and tidiness to stay beautiful and cozy, but last night when I stepped into my room at the end of the evening, it felt rather like a homecoming in a very visceral and supportive way.

The new year is off to a good start, for me.

Another lovely metaphor, eggs on a leaf in my aquarium. Happy New Year.

Another lovely metaphor, eggs on a leaf in my aquarium. Happy New Year.

I love making new wonderful memories. I also enjoy smiles. This year’s Yule holiday had plenty of both. Quite a nice holiday. If I were still a child I would excitedly list off ‘all the things I got’, and it would be a short – and very satisfying – list. The best gift this year was unquestionably the good company, the low stress level, and the ease with which events and time flowed. A lovely holiday. I’m still smiling.

I'm still smiling...so is this thing. :-)

I’m still smiling…so is this thing. 🙂

One of the most delightful things about this year’s holiday is the strange stuffed animal one of my partners gave me this year. It was perched on the sofa, in the evening, unexpectedly. Its big happy smile has, since then, reliably evoked my own smile. It speaks to me beyond the mechanical “Merry Christmas” message it plays when I push it’s button. Big wide-open eyes, a friendly approachable smile…I have realized more than once since it showed up that I was carrying it about the house with me. lol. The simple delight of a smile is hard to overstate.

This year really wasn’t about ‘stuff’*. This year was also one of the most lovely winter holidays I’ve enjoyed. Good fun and good company, and it rather seemed as if everyone brought the very best bits of who they are.

I looked over my ‘Best of 2013’ results on my Facebook profile. Wow. A year of growth, of change, and so much to cherish and be grateful for. I am struck by how much there is to enjoy in life, even at the toughest times. I’m grateful for so many opportunities to grow, and to be heard.

Soon enough the year with end, and the New Year will commence – with or without fanfare, time passes. Time – so much and so little of it. I hope I am able to use what I have wisely.

This morning I hurt. I’ve a headache and a stuffy head. My arthritis is making me stiff, and I feel grumpy listening to the ‘snap crack pop’ and crunch of arthritic bones as I slowly work on regaining my mobility for another day. I slept badly. Really badly. I think back on yesterday and wonder… did I really have 4 quad lattes yesterday? Did I really have one of them past 4:00 pm? Am I really surprised that I didn’t sleep well? The house seems noisy, although I don’t find anything specific to pinpoint as noisier or louder than usual. I have an appointment and I am up earlier than I need or want to be. I’m hormonal and cross with the world, and vaguely resentful to also be aware that it is all pretty inconsequential stuff.  None of this has to be any more important right now than words on a page. I could choose to escalate my irritation to ire, and perhaps from there to anger or even rage… really, though, I’d rather not. It’s managing to be a pleasant enough morning in spite of pain, fatigue, and hormones, as I sit here in the quiet with my coffee.

I find myself wondering about ‘is’.  This lovely morning could be so easily derailed with a few poor choices. ‘Is’ it a good day – or a bad day? How much of that do I really choose, on any given day, at any given moment? What is the difference – really – between a day when I hurt, and hurting doesn’t matter, and a day when I hurt that becomes a day when all that matters is the pain I can’t seem to escape? Is it ‘choice’? What are the choices that make the difference?

So many of us struggle with so much… and I often see people dear to me struggling, and want to say ‘choose differently!’, but even in the moment I recognize these are not helpful words to hear, however helpful taking the action of making difference choices might be.

This morning I am looking for opportunities to make choices that have more desirable outcomes. Today I am learning to be more compassionate with myself, and less judgmental. Today, I am asking good questions and enjoying the beauty offered in each moment. Today I am changing the world.

 

*I did get some very cool “stuff” this year, though, and I would not want to diminish the thoughtful generosity of my loves this year.  They obviously know my heart.  I even stepped a little further into the 21st century by embracing eBooks at long last. 🙂

I took a long walk on the Winter Solstice again this year. Most years I have, it definitely counts as a ‘ritual’. This year I took a camera – and I think it is the first year I have taken pictures along my Solstice journey.

Last year’s Solstice walk was spent fretting aimless and sorrowfully, mostly about my brain injury – an event something like 30 years in the past, but last year it was new information for me. I was also deeply, and profoundly struck by the heinous gang rape in Delhi just days before – an event so powerfully traumatizing that the whole world paused to take notice, and rape became an everyday topic of conversation for a lot of people. My post-traumatic stress symptoms had flared up, and my sense of self, and all the bits and pieces that are ‘who I am’ started to unravel. It was a painful and very lonely time in my life; even surrounded by people who love me, I felt isolated and alone.   For me, on that Solstice, it was simply an uncomfortable walk ruminating fretfully and unproductively. I did not write in my journal. I hadn’t started my blog. I was silent; words had failed me. 

This year’s Solstice walk was very different. I eagerly ventured forth, feeling hopeful, content, and satisfied to take my time with my journey. I brought my camera, a smile, and a serene heart.  I went to a favorite small forest near where I live. I grinned happily at a little girl in the parking lot who noticed me removing my shoes.  I take my walk bare footed (or for as much of the journey as I can, weather and fitness permitting), it’s been my practice as long as I can recall, and has a certain sacred feeling to it, for me. 

I walked about 5 miles. 5 miles of soft winter sunlight. 5 miles of sodden mossy paths dripping small sparkling gems of recent rainfall from leaf tips and branches. 5 miles of birdsong and frogs peeping. 5 miles of oak, maple, and pine. 5 miles of fern and lichen. 5 miles of squirrels playfully managing their affairs. 5 miles of sweet-scented breezes, and the regular beat of my own footsteps.  I walked 5 miles and managed a handful of pictures, a couple of hours of quiet observation, and a few minutes of meditation wrapped in forest.  I’d share all of it, if I could. As it is, I can really only share the pictures, and some handful of words that don’t really do the experience justice. 

I enter the forest, shortly before noon.

I enter the forest, shortly before noon.

The path as metaphor was a common theme.

The path as metaphor was a common theme.

Beautiful details, up close.

Beautiful details, up close.

So much dripping moss.

So much dripping moss.

Ferns nestled between tree trunks.

Ferns nestled between tree trunks.

Gazing skyward.

Gazing skyward.

A miniature world.

A miniature world.

'The distance' is trees. I consider the living depth of field.

‘The distance’ is trees. I consider the living depth of field.

A lot of lichen, visible in all directions.

A lot of lichen, visible in all directions.

Several sorts of lichen in this forest.

Several sorts of lichen in this forest.

A soggy path lit by soft winter light.

A soggy path lit by soft winter light.

Sun filtering through the trees.

Sun filtering through the trees.

Near to noon, and at the edge of the forest.

Near to noon, and at the edge of the forest.

The noon solstice sun.

The noon solstice sun.

5 miles is a lot of path...

5 miles is a lot of path…

...more to see around every bend...

…more to see around every bend…

There are ferns.

There are ferns.

So many ferns.

So many ferns.

A mossy tree hung with pine needles.

A mossy tree hung with pine needles.

A little festive...

A little festive…

More paths to walk.

More paths to walk.

Some paths are darker.

Some paths are darker.

Small wonders.

Small wonders.

...And more ferns.

…And more ferns.

More paths, and I keep walking.

More paths, and I keep walking.

The hustle and noise of humans being is silent here.

The hustle and noise of humans being is silent here.

Crossing a creek.

Crossing a creek.

There are, of course, more ferns.

There are, of course, more ferns.

The sun breaks through the trees, reminding me time is passing.

The sun breaks through the trees, reminding me time is passing.

A spider's hammock.

A spider’s hammock.

Up close, sparkling rain drops like jewels.

Up close, sparkling rain drops like jewels.

Reflected sky, and a metaphor for reflection.

Reflected sky, and a metaphor for reflection.

My companion while I meditate.

My companion while I meditate.

The end of the journey.

The end of the journey.

By 2 pm the sun was already beginning to drop lower in the sky.  I finished my walk with a smile, and a few deep breaths, and returned home to love and holiday spirit, home and hearth, and mindful service. 😀