Archives for posts with tag: baby love

In the Garden

April 28, 2014 //

This weekend was well-spent on healing and wellness, gardening, love, meditation; it was a delightfully quiet weekend. In spite of aching knees, juggling a cane, and the frequent heavy rain showers, I spent much of the weekend in the garden, hands in the earth, feet on the ground, eyes skyward or focused on some tiny wonder. The fresh spring air, and dampness of raindrops on my skin as they loose from where they had collected, when I brush by unconcerned, soaks into my skin, into my heart. I feel refreshed and whole and free.

There have been few places or times in my life when I had no garden at all. Even in apartment living, I’ve generally had at least some potted herbs, perhaps a rose, or a potted tree of some sort. In 32 years of adult life, I’ve been without a garden for only about 5 years. Some gardens were a continuous struggle with drought, heat, rain, drainage, bugs, critters, in-laws, distance…something. It isn’t always easy. Actually, it’s rarely ‘easy’. Gardening is work, and commitment, and planning, and more of all that and trouble-shooting on top of it. Long before I heard the word ‘mindfulness’ used in a sentence, I found ‘now’ in my garden. Healing perspective is in my garden. A breath of fresh air, that too, I can find in my garden. A few minutes of stillness, some wonder, excitement, a bit of novelty, a sense of home, peace and contentment, adventure…all in my garden. Lush greens, dark corners, hidden corners of peace and loveliness, and the occasional stray flower of a sort I don’t recall planting; my garden has been the foundation and safe deposit box of whatever sanity I could hang on to, in many years of my life.

Remember the gazing ball that was broken last year? I replaced it Sunday.

The new gazing ball, honoring the hold one; this one already broken, a mosaic of shattered glass.

It was that sort of weekend in the garden. I puttered around tying off loose ends, finishing projects, following up on things, taking a second look… it was a weekend for pleasure and perspective.

…And a new bird bath.

I sometimes overlook how healing I find the garden. A moment of OPD or weirdness, a flare up of my arthritis, or a trip to hormone hell, and even though I know how healing the garden can be, it isn’t always my first destination on that journey. Still human. I checked.

Beauty feels so good.

It’s worth taking the time to ‘be’ in the garden. Permanence is not relevant. I had allowed myself to be distracted by impermanence, somehow. Perhaps tomorrow, or next year, or 5 years from now, this will not be my garden. Is that important now? Now is the garden as I stand in it. It needn’t wait for another day, or more certainty, or something better, or more of… it needn’t wait at all. The garden has planning and future, and daydreaming, of course, and all that is as lovely as soap bubbles on a spring breeze. The garden is a very ‘right now’ place nonetheless. It has my history, my present, and my future along stone paths, and held in bright pots, unfolding each moment as a seed of some ‘next time’.

My history. “Splish-Splash” rose [Moore. 1994] I’ve had this miniature, this very plant, with me since 1995.

I have moved a lot. I’ve had more than one garden. I’ll likely have others. Each is precious to me, and each is ‘my garden’ for all the days I tend it. I hold nothing back; I garden now, even though the future is not assured.

The garden is my future, as well as my now, holding my daydreams gently. Seedlings of the California poppy border I planted this spring are just coming up now.

This weekend I enjoyed the garden and let life’s small drama’s pass me by as much as possible. It made for a beautiful weekend, and a lovely ‘now’.

Today is a good day to smile and make eye contact with strangers. Today is a good day to listen to the answers to questions, and hear more than words. Today is a good day to enjoy the spring. Today is a good day for kindness and wonder. Today is a good day to change the world.

Tags baby love, glass gazing ball, I'll be in the garden, OPD, planting the seeds of kindness, ptsd, ralph moore, roses, taking care of me, TBI

Categories Anxiety, Brain Injury, Free Will, gardening, Healthy Living, Love, Metaphors, Mindfulness, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Relationships, Roses, Spring, Turning 50, women, Words

Black Coffee & A Backache

April 25, 2014 //

I woke at 1:37 am to a loud bang. I returned to sleep. I woke again at 4:21 am for no reason that was obvious, and went back to sleep again. When I woke to the alarm, it was a bit as if I was never sleeping. My brain seemed pretty busy from about 1:37 am on until the morning alarm. Mostly playing mc chris’ “Tarantino” on repeat in the background of my consciousness. What’s that about? My back aches with the ‘everyday pain’ of arthritis. Yoga is difficult this morning. Sitting with good posture is difficult.

My coffee is neither creamy nor sweet.

This morning these are simply my experience, my observations. I feel pretty positive and basically ‘okay’ as an emotional being. It’s a nice change from Wednesday.

Wednesday, a bit like this.

Yesterday wasn’t bad at all. It started well, ended comfortably, and aside from a distinct lack of physical comfort in my experience, the day proceeded well between the beginning and end. Yesterday’s high points? Love, and roses.

“Baby Love” rose [Scrivens, 1992] first to bloom in my garden this year.

My very human experience has its ups and downs. This morning is still so new there’s no knowing. I meditate, sip coffee, study, do yoga, and prepare to face the world. I feel, for the moment, content and complete, in spite of my arthritis, in spite of pain, in spite of the headache, the bitterness of my coffee, or the slightly sick feeling of mornings. A little later than now, I’ll leave for work, probably have to remind myself to grab my cane before I go; it is an encumbrance as much as a help, and like I child I tend to abandon it anywhere I happen to sit down, if I happen to stand up with ease when I return to movement. lol

In spite of pain, and the unsteadiness of my knees lately, I still walk as much as I can. I’m still getting in about 5 miles a day, about 3 of that is commute, spread out over the morning and evening, and 2 miles for a walk midday. If I ‘give my knees a rest’ and allow myself to succumb to the illusion that not using them will somehow put things right, I put myself at risk of gaining weight, pretty much immediately. I keep walking every day I can put weight on my knees and ankles at all. (I’m heavier than I’d like to be, and very much aware of the toll that is taking on my knees and ankles. Stabilizing my weight below 200 lbs is within reach, and I’ll be very happy to hit that benchmark.)

Still, the pain is what it is, and it is part of my experience. As much as I look forward to the beauty of spring, and a lovely walk on a nice day, there’s a bit of a ‘Little Mermaid” element to it; every step may be painful. Growth has often felt that way to me; every step painful, journey and destination worth the difficulty.

Pain is a shared experience. Most people have some. It’s odd to be in a group of people and observe that one person commenting on their experience of pain or discomfort tends to launch a round of compare/contrast statements, with some one-up-man-ship thrown in for flavor. I try to stay out of those, and regret it when I launch one. Few things result in feeling less heard about hurting than everyone else chiming in about how much they also hurt. Everyone wants to feel heard about pain. I’m not sure anyone ever does. Our own pain is so visceral. The pain of others tends to be far less so. I have been working on compassion first, sympathy, understanding – hearing that this human being speaking to me is hurting, and recognizing their experience, without sharing mine, even out of sympathy. (Allowing them to have their experience, feel nurtured and supported, and not diminished by my experience, or denied the opportunity to be individual. ) I don’t know that it does or does not ‘work’ any better than countering every tale of discomfort with one of my own, but it seems likely to be less annoying or dismissive.

It’s Friday. Looks like a quiet solo evening on the calendar. I find myself hesitant to be at all excited about it. I’d rather not become invested in the outcome and have to deal with disappointment if life throws some changes in the mix. I’m eager to spend some time on my writing and dive deeply into meditation without a timer, clock, or deadline on the other side. It’d be nice to look forward to doing that pain-free, but that’s unrealistic these days, so I don’t bother about the pain until it speaks up with enough force to be a real game-changer.

Friday. Black coffee. A backache. Spring flowers. A quiet morning. This is not only ‘not bad’ – it’s actually pretty good.

Tags baby love, black coffee, comparing notes, don't be so negative!, experience, mc chris, ptsd, restless nights, roses, Rx strength mindfulness, spring rain, TBI, this hurts me more than it does you, what's up Doc?

Categories Brain Injury, Free Will, Healthy Living, Love, Menopause, Mindfulness, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Relationships, Roses, Sleepless Nights, Spring, Words

Don’t Pull That Trigger!

May 15, 2013 //

Wow. I dislike what ‘news’ has become. Political corruption? Hardly news-worthy, it’s an everyday thing, and it will continue to be for as long as we elect corrupt or corruptible human beings to positions of power. It would be nice if a politician had to accept that role with the clear contractual understanding that he or she could not ever personally profit from that role in a direct way, or if anyone in power were ever actually held accountable for what they themselves force the nation to endure by their decisions or actions. This is not an article about politics, or news. I found it profoundly adult to hear Angelina Jolie go public with her account of choosing a double mastectomy over her very high risk of aggressive breast cancer…and found myself dismayed and in some cases disgusted that anyone would choose to criticize her choice; it was hers to make. Period. It’s a shame that women without that level of income, or those resources, don’t have the opportunity, realistically, to make that choice themselves. This is not an article about breast cancer, or the limited health choices that women without means face, or feminist issues of gender-limited personal freedom and choice. Not a day goes by that the news doesn’t have another story about rape, and equally heinously, another story about what women ‘can do to prevent being raped’; rape is prevented by people not committing non-consensual sexual acts against others, it isn’t more complicated than that. Don’t rape. The news these days just isn’t worth reading most of the time. Not because the information isn’t valuable, not because some of what is observed isn’t newsworthy, but because the presentation of so much information is tainted with bias of one sort or another to the point that it isn’t ‘information’ at all; it is marketing, propaganda, spin, color, or outright lies. ‘Fact-checking’ relies rather heavily on someone, somewhere, being able to tell the difference between fact and opinion. lol.

I’m frustrated by how easily my balance can be disturbed by the media. ‘News’ that is intended to distress, to frighten, to alarm, to ‘call to action’ rather than inform, advise, or enlighten isn’t ‘news’ at all – it is an attack on my consciousness. I avoid it. I ask friends to stop sending me links to things. Ah, but we all use Facebook, don’t we? Well, I still do – some very dear friends and loved ones use it as their primary form of communication, long distance. It’s hard seeing some of the things people post. More and more of my friends use ‘trigger alerts’, which I value. I’m using them more, too.

28 days… one menstrual cycle away from being 50. lol.

Spring is still unfolding all around me. I love the walk to work in the mornings; strolling past each neighbor’s garden, seeing the flowers opening day by day, feeling the soft chill morning air against my skin, or perhaps a tender misty rain falling – like this morning. I keep returning to my own garden, morning and evening, watering, watching, loving…

“Kiss of Desire”, kissed by a misty morning rain.

I love the colors of morning, and the surprises…

“Graham Thomas” blooms for the first time this year.

Last year we picked out some roses likely to do well in this garden. “Graham Thomas” was one, and already quite large and eager to take his place as master of the central flower bed. I’m quite delighted, also, with “Ebb Tide”; covered with buds and blossoms of a rich deep purple.

“Ebb Tide” wowing me.

Old favorites draw my eye, too, and I smile even thinking seeing “Baby Love” on the other end of my walk home tonight. Selected with sentiment and love, she was the featured rose of my last garden, a much smaller space – too small for my grand plans. lol.

“Baby Love” will bloom like this through the year and well into November.

My garden is a sanctuary where ‘the news’ can’t reach me. When I’m in my garden, I am in the moment, aware, engaged, and being on this extraordinary other level. Still working on mindfulness practices I am hoping will one day be very natural in my experience, as natural as stepping into my garden.

A mystery rose.

…Life has a lot of lessons to share, a lot of mysteries to reveal. Perhaps one day I will find mindfulness an easy part of being, and figure out what that mystery rose is, or find the words to tell the world “You have no power over me.”

In the meantime, I meditate, practice mindfulness, consider my Big 5, learn better skills for taking care of me, and hope to ask the questions that reveal my own heart to me most clearly. In between, I garden. 😀

Tags baby love, gardening, life's mysteries, mindfulness, news that's fit to print, rape culture, roses in spring, surviving trauma, trigger warnings

Categories Anxiety, Brain Injury, Free Will, gardening, Healthy Living, Logic & Reason, Love, Menopause, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Rape, Relationships, Roses, Spring, Turning 50, women

I’ll Be In The Garden

May 13, 2013 //

I was pretty happy to see Monday arrive, this week. My weekend was a lot of Sturm und Drang and I was frankly relieved to be done with it. Between my hormones and rampant OPD (Other People’s Drama), the weekend was neither relaxing, nor especially productive, for me. I’m not really complaining; some good dialogues came out of it. (I suppose people also learn something about their driving when they are involved in a traffic accident.)

I have to walk my own path…

The weekend, on the other hand, was lovely and warm and sunny. Every minute spent in the garden was wonderful. More roses open their buds every day.

“Nozomi” (Pink Pearl) soon she’ll be covered with tiny pink buds…

“Nozomi” showing off her delicate blossom, for now just this one.

I enjoyed getting down at eye level with the garden now that the weather is fair and mild, and the ground isn’t muddy. The perspective is different, and I definitely needed a change in perspective more than once this weekend!

At ground level with the vinca, dewy from being watered.

Some of the bold big blooms I am waiting on keep me waiting like an old-fashioned cliff-hanger, tempting me with a hint of color through still-tightly wrapped petals.

Most of the peonies in the neighborhood have opened; mine apparently sense my watchfulness. lol

The roses are lovely, fragrant, and totally showing off.

“Ebb Tide” looking her best.

“Kiss of Desire” is new in my garden this spring.

“Secret Recipe” is an old favorite, and one of my most challenging roses to care for; she’s high maintenance. lol

I can’t take enough pictures of “Baby Love”; cute, easy, and lovely.

The hummingbirds alerted one of my partners recently that I was slow to refill their feeders; one dive bombed him at garden’s edge, as he attempted to relax with his coffee! Hummingbirds are one of my favorite garden visitors, and it delights me that my garden has such wonderful tiny visitors.

I could go on and on about the garden. It is my refuge from every day stress, when I find my mindfulness and meditation practices need a helping hand. In my garden I am ‘here’ and ‘now’ in a very engaged and present and immediate way, and it feels effortless and natural. I don’t mind the challenges in the garden; I understand them. I don’t always understand the challenges between people, and those frustrate me much more than some powdery mildew on a rose, or a slug eating the greens, or a few days without rain. A challenge in the garden is easy, as easy as recognizing the issue, troubleshooting the root cause (lol), developing/determining a solution, and applying the chosen solution. Repeat as needed. Why are people so much more complicated? (I’d shout that at you if I thought it would be helpful… but shouting rarely makes anything easier to hear.) Anyway, we all know the answer if we admit it to ourselves, don’t we? Why are people so complicated? Because they choose to be.

I’m making other choices for myself these days. I don’t always ‘get it right’. It’s not a contest. There is no ‘finish line’. There will be no awards ceremony, no report card, no pat on the back. But I’m taking better care of me, and understanding it more when things aren’t a good fit, or my experience is unsatisfying or unpleasant. I still have more questions than answers…and that doesn’t trouble me, generally. If I’m not stressing the answers, I’m also not worried about ‘being right’, or ‘making it work’. I’m finding it easier, much of the time, to make good choices that are tending to meet my needs over time, and improve my experience.

I suppose there is more…but today is proving to be an odd day. I feel the pressure of ‘things on my mind’ and I am feeling a bit fussy and raw. I have been spending too much time on OPD, a potentially worthy investment in time because one of my needs is ‘harmony in my relationships and a calm environment to live in’, but I ended up doing so almost entirely at the expense of things I wanted to do for me, or with my partners, and I definitely committed too much limited weekend time to it. I am very ready to have some of my other needs met. Today is something a bit new – I’m able to recognize and understand that my subtle shift in mood toward being a bit cross isn’t about what is going on around me right now – it’s about how I handled what was going on around me in days past and that I ‘missed the mark’ on taking care of me in some way. It is also clearly a ‘me thing’ and not about the choices or actions of others in any direct way. (It feels good to have a better understanding of my experience, and maybe to the point of being able to make practical choices to meet my needs as a result.) 🙂

Well, having said all that… it’s on with the day, eager to return to the garden.

Tags baby love, by any other name, ebb tide, gardening, kiss of desire, life, love, mindfulness, roses, secret recipe

Categories Anxiety, Brain Injury, Free Will, gardening, Healthy Living, Logic & Reason, Love, Menopause, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Relationships, Roses, Spring, Turning 50, women

In the Garden

Share this:

Black Coffee & A Backache

Share this:

Don’t Pull That Trigger!

Share this:

I’ll Be In The Garden

Share this:

Archives