Archives for posts with tag: are you going my way?

It’s a quiet evening, and I am alone with my headache and my arthritis, by choice. By mid-afternoon, my pain was just too much to find the thought of spending time with anyone else particularly enticing, and I asked my traveling partner for a rain check – as eager as we are to see each other, to cuddle, to laugh together, I am sometimes a bit of a lost soul when I hurt this much. Spreading that poison around is not a gesture of love.

Be love.

Be love.

I walked home thinking about the many ways that lovers communicate, and wondering how it is than anyone can ever justify being vile and inconsiderate to someone they love. Think it over for a moment – and just about at that moment when you’re at the edge of excusing some bit of heinous nastiness you may have recently visited upon someone you love by saying you didn’t mean to, or couldn’t help it – think about how many times you’ve shown greater self-restraint and not said something you felt was justified… because it could cost you your job. A job. I walked and wondered. How often have I – even with the little self-restraint as I can sometimes muster at all – how often have I held myself back from some angry remark  for a fucking job – but shown so little courtesy to a lover, or partner, that I would allow myself to say something that might be intentionally hurtful, diminish their value to me, or threaten their security in the relationship itself? Even once is too often! Even once is entirely incomprehensibly inappropriate between lovers. Seriously. Those sorts of words, those sorts of moments of unrestrained hostility are not love. Not only are they not love – they are not even adult. The anger of hurt children. Well…yeah. I do have this injury…  but… I don’t really find that my injury excuses treating someone I love worse than I treat my coworkers –  and I can do so much better, I mean, this is love we’re talking about! If I can generally and with exceptional reliability refrain from most bad behavior at work – how can I ever ever say to someone I love that I couldn’t do better in the way I treat them at home? It does take practice, but how is that not entirely acceptable, and needful? Isn’t love of far greater value than a job? Isn’t love worth practicing?

We choose our path, our words, our actions.

We choose our path, our words, our actions.

I’m not sure why I was thinking about all that, specifically, as I walked home. It’s been a very long time since I have had to deal with any of that. Shadows of old baggage. Remnants of nightmares. Maybe some relief that I’m not still ‘there, then’ with relationships that were a profound source of new pain. Relief that I am so much less heavily invested in old pain, too. Tonight I hurt – but it is only the more manageable hurt of headaches and back pain. Feeling my heart break hearing angry words is on an entirely other level of hurting, and there are no pills or prescriptions for heart breaks – and I am grateful to love and be loved by someone who recognizes the value of being love.

Perspective. What matters most?

Perspective. What matters most?

Attachment is a funny thing; I get so hung up on some detail that I earnestly want to be very real, and find myself unable to have the beautiful thing that is, or I fail to recognize what works for me because I am too busy struggling with what I’ve lost or can’t have. We are such complicated fucking monkeys. lol

Undisturbed by solitude.

Undisturbed by solitude.

I am enjoying the evening with myself. Listening to music I love. Feeling valued and respected by a man I value and respect in turn. Feeling valued and respected by the woman in the mirror. Content and unshaken. It has taken some hours to write even 683 words, and I wonder about that, too; I seem to write using fewer words when I write in the evenings, but it generally takes me much longer – and I’m not as certain that I’ve said what I thought I meant to… or anything worth reading significant, or insightful. I’m not bitching. I’m not feeling particularly critical on any point. It’s more the emotion that goes along with the funny face, head cocked to the side, of something I can’t quite fathom… “quizzical” is a word that comes to mind…only…it’s the wrong word for the moment. lol (…And here we quite possibly see the effect of fatigue on my injury as I begin to struggle to find words. Often. It is a source of ongoing frustration for me, but I don’t gloss over it anymore, or try to fake my way out of it; vulnerable frankness is a better fit for me. Your results may vary.)

I am tired. I still hurt. I am happily grooving to favorite tunes I’ve never heard before as I write. Think. Write some more. This is my life…at least…this is part of it, and it’s a really good part that I enjoy find meaningful. In this moment I can comfortably say ‘this is a really good part of my experience’ and it feels secure, safe, and comfortable; unthreatened. I don’t need this moment to also be the next moment. I am not regretting some other moment. No forever. No expectations of some moment beyond this one; I am so much more comfortable enjoying this one right now, just as it is. I have a slow back and forth conversation with my partner in the background while I write. It’s not an interruption; the conversation is paced to the things we are each doing, where we are.

Just in time to sit, quietly, to be still, and to listen...

Just in time to sit, quietly, to be still, and to listen…

The evening winds down slowly. Tomorrow I can begin again. 🙂

I enjoyed my beach trip yesterday, and arrived home quite late and very tired. I didn’t rush off to bed once I got home. It was a pleasant opportunity to relax and take my time taking care of my basic needs, in spite of the hour. There’s something about not rushing that feels very satisfying and…something. A word for a saturating self-care goodness that is emotionally nourishing, and joyful…is there a word for that?

When I rush through my life I can't really see what's going on around me.

When I rush through my life I can’t really see what’s going on around me.

I took my time all day – and that was part of the whole point of the day I had planned. I sent one last email to my traveling partner on my way, and use my “phone” as a camera for the rest of the day. (I’m not sure why anyone would call them ‘phones’ now, anyway – I rarely use mine for that, at all, and it spends most of its time as a camera.) I relaxed, walked the beach, walked the town and enjoyed the entire day on foot. I split my time between solitary reflection walking on the beach, and interacting with actual live humans. Real ones. Using words. I spent more time listening than actually talking. I made a point of making eye-contact, and asking fairly ordinary social small-talk questions – but slowing myself down enough to let people really just talk. I was definitely ready for the quiet bus ride home, but I finished the day feeling visible, valued, heard, appreciated…a lot of very emotionally nourishing experiences packed into one day. I guess next I work on figuring out how to be sufficiently open to these interactions moment-to-moment to enjoy them more, and more often.

Yesterday's beach trip was more about the horizon than the beach.

Yesterday’s beach trip was more about the horizon than the beach.

The weather on the coast was common enough for autumn; it was misty, cloudy, chilly and hazy. Somehow the photos look backlit from every direction. I don’t mind; if I get even one really good picture I am delighted.

More about a feeling, than a view.

More about a feeling, than a view.

I walked miles and miles up and down the beach. Any time I needed to rest there seemed to be a big driftwood log handy to sit on for a while. At one point I sat awhile meditating. Something got my attention out of the corner of my eye, off to the side. Ankle deep in the ocean was a woman with a friend and a camera…trying to get a yoga picture. I watched her awhile. She was attempting an asana I can’t yet do, and I am curious how people get those awesome yoga pictures. I watched, and it slowly became clear that this particular woman doesn’t actually do yoga; she’s just trying to get a cool yoga picture to turn out. It was more than a little weird, and I found myself thinking words like ‘sham’ and ‘fraud’.  Yoga pictures are pretty cool though… I look at them and think ‘wow, someday…’ It’s easy to understand wanting to be that. There are still verbs involved. It was a strange moment and I found myself uncomfortable with making a judgment about it one way or another, but feeling sad for the woman wanting to have that picture so badly she didn’t want to do the work to get there.

A fisherman, actually fishing.

A fisherman, actually fishing.

I had interesting conversations and a couple of great coffees, and saw art that inspires me as an artist. I watched clouds cross the sky. I slowed things down until I could hear myself think, and then took more time to listen. Listening is a very good practice, even if I am practicing listening to me.

A day spent well, listening to the wind, the waves, and my heart.

A day spent well, listening to the wind, the waves, and my heart.

I’m enjoying the day. It’s winding down. There’s music I love on the stereo. The lighting is precisely the way I enjoy it best in the evening; lights down low, strategically selected to create a muted warm glow – too dim to comfortably read a bound book, or do fine needle work, but quite enough to relax, meditate, do yoga, write (at the computer), or just sit quietly with a coffee or a cup of tea. I’m wearing comfy clothes that I favor for time at home. My dinner will be food that appeals to me, without any regard for other people might prefer. I am unapologetically simply this woman who I am, nothing more, nothing less – and no stress about it.

It's a beautiful sunrise, I'd like it to be more meaningful, or significant...do the things that are precious need to be anything more than what they are?

It’s a beautiful sunrise, I’d like it to be more meaningful, or significant…do the things that are precious need to be anything more than what they are?

I miss my traveling partner. I am thinking about him while I cook, while I write, when I’m in the shower, when I’m walking from there to here…he’s on my mind a lot. Tonight I spent a considerable time appreciating a particular quality he brings to our relationship; his comfort with who I am, and his encouragement that I be the woman I most want to be – even when that means I am doing my own thing some evening when, perhaps, with planning we could have been enjoying each other. It’s not even that he is resigned to missing me because I’m doing something, or that he accepts it that I may be unavailable – it’s beyond that. He loves me being me. He loves me living my life. There’s real joy in conversations about things we do as  individuals – we have so much to say to each other when our lives are not consumed entirely by each other. I confess, when we live together, I tend to be… available. A lot. I adore my traveling partner, and there are qualities [for me] of love and loving that are damned near drug-like. It’s hard to say no to him in order to say yes to me. This is no more comfortable for him than it is for me. I am enjoying this evening when it’s not even an issue – because I am loved and valued as I am, not as property, a prop, a tool or a resource; freedom is a powerful quality to bring to a romantic relationship. We’re human people – partners, making life work together. It’s quite lovely to be so well-loved, and so valued.

Love.

Love.

…I still miss him. 🙂 I’m enjoying being in a truly supportive partnership that encourages growth…and I miss my traveling partner most of the time that we are apart. That’s okay, too. There’s a yearning to missing him, and anticipate in the yearning; seeing him again is a thing that will happen. These aren’t ‘bad’ feelings – they’re feelings, though, human feelings that tell me something about what I value (and who) and what I need (and want) and what hurts (or heals) – I’m pretty sure I’d miss out on a lot of life to give up on all these feelings. My heart will soar to new heights with wings – not forged in the fire of passion, but crafted tenderly of memories, and tears cried when I am lonely; there’s perspective to be had in feeling the feelings, and wisdom to be gained in experiencing life. I’m okay with that – it’s enough to love and be loved, it doesn’t also have to be effortless, or without discomfort.

Over-reaching for a good metaphor...content to watch fish swim.

Over-reaching for a good metaphor…content to watch fish swim.

Dinner is just about ready. I am eating dinner alone, watching new fish getting acquainted with their home, and enjoying a quiet solo evening. Tonight is not one of the lonely ones; I am enjoying the evening with the woman in the mirror. This, too, is enough. 🙂

I spent last night sick, and disinclined to write. Tonight, although I was in quite a lot of pain and my traveling partner was feeling somewhat unwell, we spent a handful of hours hanging out. I am still smiling. I’m inclined to say more – certainly the evening is on my mind. I don’t know that I have the words.

Sometimes when I hang out with someone, I walk away from the interaction still feeling very much that we are strangers. Other times – other people – it is easy to connect deeply, to be open and comfortable, to be easy with each other, and walk away afterward feeling closer, and feeling connected. This evening was more than just a pleasant good time together. We spoke intimately on difficult topics, shared our emotions comfortably, and gently, and when we said good-bye at the end of the evening I felt heard, and I felt I knew a little more about my partner’s heart than I did before. I even felt a little more well-understood, myself.

It was an ordinary enough evening when it started. Then, somewhere midway through some possibly completely unrelated bit of conversation, he said…something.  My eyes filled with tears, and his filled with puzzlement. “You said the ‘L word’, I replied, trying to smile. “Loneliness,” I continued, “I’m not very good at talking about it.” I struggled to regain my composure (there really wasn’t anything wrong at all) and explained that for some reason, just hearing the word “loneliness” has the potential to cause my eyes to tear up. He looked at me with such love and empathy. There was no hint of awkwardness, or strain. We talked awhile about loneliness in general, and in our own experiences in life. We talked about solitude, and the things that differentiate those experiences one from the other. It was beautiful. I feel comforted, and supported. I feel loved.

The listening thing is huge. It wasn’t obvious whether or not my traveling partner felt it too. I’ve been practicing ‘listening deeply’; I find the most elegant and lovely explanation in a favorite book on mindful love (How to Love by Thich Nhat Hanh).  The extraordinary intimacy of the conversation, and the evening, was quite wonderful. Comfortable. Easy. The result? A very secure feeling of loving and being loved.

Love.

Love.

I don’t have much of real value to share about tonight; I am wrapped in love, and inclined to relax, feet up, just smiling. Maybe for a while. Some evenings, I sit in the twilight and I wonder. Tonight, I sit in the twilight and marvel.

I woke very early this morning, minutes after 4:00 am. It’s a work morning, so making any effort to sleep longer isn’t likely to be very satisfying. I get up, and linger in the shower, while I take the chill off the apartment by pre-heating the oven. I’m up early enough for a proper breakfast. No idea what I’ll make, or whether it will actually require the oven. It’s definitely autumn, now; I am no longer making any effort to cool off the apartment. I have been here in my wee place long enough for the seasons to change. 🙂

Enough.

Enough.

There is very little drama in this experience. I sip my coffee and let myself wonder what ever kept me in any abusive relationship, ever, in the first place? Love? No – because that sort of treatment doesn’t qualify as being loved, and doesn’t tend to produce love as a reaction. I learned that the hard way. Fear of being solo, of being unqualified to adult all alone? Could be, at least the first time. I was very young when I married my first husband, and mostly did so because I earnestly wanted to move out of the barracks and ‘didn’t know how’ otherwise…and… it seemed expected, culturally, that I would marry. Now that, right there? That’s a shitty reason to get married, or be in a relationship of any other sort. Loneliness? I suppose loneliness is an important reason people may stay in an abusive relationship – loneliness sucks that much, sometimes – so much that self-care and good decision-making are undermined in favor of the mere idea of love.

Be love.

Be love.

Living alone? Not so scary, honestly. By far better than living with chronic mistreatment, neglect, disrespect, deceit, evasion, misdirection, or physical, emotional, or financial abuse. Do I get lonely? Sure. I’m human, and I miss touch, and the everyday intimacy and connection of living with someone I love dearly – but I’ve got to be honest, I’ve only approximated that experience in most relationships, generally very short-lived during the newest weeks of the relationship, and with only the most superficial level of connection, and very little real intimacy – because I didn’t have well-developed skills, practices, or understanding of what relationships take to build and maintain in the first place. My own ignorance and lack of personal development definitely limited my ability to forge the bonds I didn’t know I was looking for in the first place. Now I have the skills, the desire, the partnership – but we are separated, day-to-day, by 14 miles that sometimes feel infinite. Now… I am also learning that however common love can be, when we live from a loving place, a love like the one I share with my traveling partner is on another order of magnitude entirely, and it is not affected by the distance between us, even in lonely moments, when I yearn to be near him.

"You Always Have My Heart"

“You Always Have My Heart”

I sip my coffee and think about love, and loving. Is there some magic, mystical secret to this powerful love we share? I suspect not. It’s quite probably part chemistry, but I feel fairly certain that the larger portion of it is simply that we treat each other truly well. The Big 5 are pretty consistently in play (respect, consideration, reciprocity, openness, and compassion). We’re human, there are moments that challenge us now and then, but day-to-day, moment-to-moment, I can count on my traveling partner to treat me well, to support my growth, to encourage me, to listen deeply, and to be connected and really with me when we are together, and he can count on those things from me. It’s quite lovely, and it’s all in spite of being quite human (the both of us), with our own baggage, our own chaos and damage, and our own view of the world.

"Cherry Blossoms" 12" x 16" acrylic on canvas 2011

“Cherry Blossoms” 12″ x 16″ acrylic on canvas 2011

There are other reasons to build a relationship than for love, even marriage is not always built on love. Even the most practical, logistical, or political basis for a long-term relationship benefits from The Big 5, and suffers without them. I think so, anyway. I think a lot about treating people well, and what that means, and how I get there. How we treat people changes us. What we endure in our relationships, and the treatment we receive at the hands of loved ones, changes us. We become what we practice. When we treat someone poorly, however valued we may say they are to us, we change them over time; the damage piles up and changes how we are treated in return. Living alone, I have only one person to count on to treat me well day-to-day – and I’m still learning a lot about taking care of me, and treating myself truly well…but I’ve got a lot less drama while I do, and I’m not having to expend precious resources, or waste valuable time, healing fresh wounds.

"Communion" 24" x 36" acrylic on canvas w/ceramic and glow. 2011

“Communion” 24″ x 36″ acrylic on canvas w/ceramic and glow. 2011

I know you want to be treated well. I think everyone probably does (in the way they define that, themselves). This morning, I’m not thinking as much about how I want to be treated – I’m thinking about how I treat others. How about you? Are you treating your loved ones truly well day-to-day, or do you let your temper get the better of you and say vile things you regret later, then expect people around you to ‘stop taking things so personally’ or ‘grow a thicker skin’? Maybe you justify the terrible hurts you deliver with your words by rationalizing the truth of them, or the necessity of hearing them said, or because you are ‘right’? Do you excuse your own bad behavior by saying it’s your hormones, or you had a rough day, or you hurt or don’t feel well? Are you aware you are still causing someone you love pain, and maybe even tearing down something you built that was once beautiful? Treating someone you love poorly is like spraying political graffiti on a precious work of art, or painting over a mural, or… well… it’s actually just not okay, and is entirely unpleasant, and doesn’t show any hint of love. Just saying. Even a heartfelt apology does not make the words unsaid, or take away the experience of being hurt – and no one forgets those things, not really. In a good relationship, it’s simply that the good moments outweigh the difficult ones a lot.

"Contemplation" 11" x 14" acrylic on canvas 2012

“Contemplation” 11″ x 14″ acrylic on canvas 2012

I am humbled by the wonder in the realization that I am good at love. (I wasn’t always, I’ve worked to get to this place.) This is a powerful place to be in life. Practice matters, even on this, and it isn’t the bit about being loved that needs the practice, generally. Loving isn’t just a word – it’s a verb, and one that requires quite a lot of things, like kindness, and deep listening, and attentiveness, and authenticity, and vulnerability, and compassion, and patience, and surrender, and tenderness, and being comfortably wrong as easily as being right, and laughing, and touching, and sharing experiences, and eye contact. I enjoy how many verbs there are from which to choose to show love. Practicing them is both entirely necessary, and highly rewarding… I mean… If you want to love, and be loved in return. Some people only want to be loved (or maybe just worshiped, adored, or served); it’s much less work, but eventually love dies when it isn’t nurtured.

p.s. I love you.

p.s. I love you.

Today is a good day to love well, and to deliver on the promises made by love. Today is a good day to treat every heart well, not just my own. Today is a good day to make eye contact, to be kind, and to really listen when someone is talking. Today is a good day to practicing loving. The world could use a little more love, and we become what we practice.