Archives for posts with tag: be love

I’m sipping my coffee, and smiling. Profound joy, and great delight, fill me up this morning. I’m content. Well-loved. My coffee tastes good. I got the rest I need. It is simply a lovely morning, and I’m in love. πŸ™‚

…The love, and loving, do tend to “light up” the day, most splendidly. πŸ˜€ I hear love songs in my head.

It’s a bit peculiar… I was so cynical about love as a younger person. I’d been hurt too often, too deeply, to “believe the hype” or appreciate the promise offered by real intimacy. It was a painful journey from that place, to this one, and I struggled for a long time to balance my tendency toward inappropriately deep (often undeserved)loyalty, with my lack of ability to form healthy attachments, or bond closely with lovers.

… I’m not there, now. Love feels so much different, from my vantage point, now, it is quite tempting to take a satisfied approach and figure “damn, I’m awesome at this love stuff!!” I’d lose a great opportunity to continue to grow my skills, and deepen my relationships, if I did. πŸ™‚ I breathe, exhale, relax, and let go of my expectations and assumptions, and sit present on a lovely morning, feeling loved.

Last night I came home to work to a magical wonderland of being loved, appreciated, valued, and cared for. It was an evening of connection, intimacy, warmth, and an experience of deep, lasting passion – with a human being who is also my best friend. Wow. I’m still smiling. My Traveling Partner blows my mind with his ability to love, to demonstrate that love, to share it, to deepen it, to connect with me.

This morning, I sip my coffee, smiling at the world, and myself. Love is “all that“. Love really does “matter most”.Β  πŸ™‚ I’m grateful to have the chance to experience, explore, deepen, and enjoy the love I know. It’s hard to embrace the next moment (or begin again), just now… I’m very much enjoying soaking up the love in this one. πŸ˜€ I think I’ll do just that, for now, sit here, contentedly, feeling the love.

p.s. I love you.

Well. That was a night of something other than rest. lol Nightmares woke me around 2 am. It was almost three before sleep caught up with me again. My dreams, thankfully, shifted gears, but… the content was strange (very) and fantastical… something about a church service breaking out into a raucous, violent, drunken party in the basement of a building in which corporate performance reviews were about to be given out under (for some reason) strict secrecy. There were Leprechauns in attendance (whether they were party-goers or work colleagues wasn’t at all clear), and for some reason, the professional folks were all wearing pajamas, and big screen tvs were showing Saturday morning cartoons. Very odd. Let’s never discuss it again. LOL

…Being awake, sipping a hot cup of coffee, seems a relief, and a clear return to normalcy. πŸ™‚ It’s enough. I yawn through these first sips of coffee, tired after the 3rd (4th?) consecutive night of fairly bad sleep. These things often go in cycles, so I refrain from taking it at all personally, and figure, more than likely, the rough sleep is due to the injured shoulder; it is a pain that is disrupting my sleep. I feel it every time I try to turn over, every time I lay on my right side, and my sleep ends up interrupted, restless, and not very deep. Lots of opportunity for dreams, and yes, nightmares. I remind myself that I already have a doctor’s appointment scheduled, and look at my calendar. It’s not on my calendar, so I look it up online, and add it – and invite “my work self”, so it’ll be on my calendar in the office also. πŸ™‚

Nothing to see here – all routine human stuff, the business of living life. πŸ™‚ I’m okay with “average”, “routine”, and “normal”, and drama is not welcome here…so… yeah. I get back to sipping coffee, and feeling this shoulder ache. lol

My thoughts careen through memories and random stream-of-consciousness weirdness for a time.

I breathe, exhale, relax, and sit present with the pain in my shoulder, and the tinnitus in my ears. It’s some time before I realize some of what I’m hearing is traffic beyond the window, and some of it is the fan on my computer. Another sip of coffee, contemplating the day ahead, gently (work has been intense, lately). The cup returns to the stone coaster on the desk with an unexpectedly loud clunk, and I shoot a suspicious look at cup, coaster, and fingers still wrapped through and around the white porcelain handle, motionless – as though freezing for a brief instant somehow mitigates the loud noise in the quiet room. LOL

…I wonder, for the first time, why the hell I am using a stone coaster with a porcelain coffee mug, early in the mornings, in a very quiet environment, when I am specifically cultivating the quiet? This seems an inexplicably counter-productive choice. Shouldn’t I be using a soft, silent, coaster, perhaps of cork… or… fake fur…with googly eyes? I quake silently with mirth at the mental image of a fake fur coaster. (Omg, I need more sleep. lol)

Something about the mirthful moment is a reminder of recent inspiration; my Traveling Partner shared something artistic (a painting technique), and I found it inspiring, fascinating, and potentially very suited to my artistic approach. I’m excited about the weekend to come; maybe I will spend some of it in the studio? The idea becomes a smile, another sip of coffee, and a moment – it almost becomes a plan. My eye roams the room… paint… glitter… glow in the dark… canvases… Yeah, I’m overdue to get some creative work done. I think I screwed myself attempted to exorcise the toxic demon that is an X of mine by way of paint on canvas; an individual so utterly vile, so irredeemably poisonous, that even finishing the representation was hard to approach, and the likeness sits unfinished on my easel, holding me back. Maybe I should “finish” it with some quick machete work, instead? The idea amuses me, maybe enough to finish it properly, let go, and really, finally, completely move on.

…It’s the forgiveness that’s hard, isn’t it? Once we have been wounded badly enough, deeply enough, damaged thoroughly enough, the forgiveness becomes… difficult. It’s hard to stay with the awareness that the forgiveness isn’t about the person who hurt us, not really, it’s about us, ourselves, letting go. Forgiveness doesn’t absolve someone of the wrongs they have done. It’s not an excuse, and does not condone bad behavior. From my perspective, the forgiveness simply allows us to move on, to admit to our pain, to refuse someone who has injured us any further opportunity to command our attention through their hurtful acts; we can walk on, and leave them to deal with their own pain, their own chaos and damage. Not my circus, not my monkeys. It’s a letting go that mitigates some of the damage, releases us from the powerful hold someone who has hurt us can maintain, and lets us get on with our own lives. There is no lasting requirement to see the forgiven one again, ever, or interact with them, or pretend we were not hurt, or to allow any further damage. I think what makes forgiveness hard is that it is clearly more kind, and more compassionate, than vengeance or punishment – but even though either of those (or both) may be entirely deserved, they do a lot of damage to the person needing to deliver them. It’s a bother, and a weird puzzle.

I can’t have vengeance, and I can’t punish that X, ever, enough to “make things right” – there is no amount of punishment available that could do that work. It is what it is. (Maybe we’re all someone’s villain?) Forgiveness tastes bitter in my mouth, like unripe fruit; I haven’t been ready. That portrait has mocked me, now, for months. That X does not “deserve” forgiveness… then I remember; my X may not “deserve” the relief that forgiveness may bring… but I do. πŸ™‚ Forgiveness is for the one forgiving. Forgiveness allows us to walk on. I guess it’s time. After all, what are they to me, now? Nothing and no one; it’s time to let them go in a proper and final way. I’ll feel so much better – and I’ll finish that damned painting. LOL

I glance into my empty coffee mug. Obviously. It’s time to begin again. πŸ™‚

Too hot… Tooooo hot… My coffee’s too hot, Lady… πŸ˜‰

Seriously, though? My coffee is too hot. lol …And it’s okay to be amused, to be silly, to be whimsical, to make jokes, to be merry, even in the morning, yes and all day, too. Lighten up whenΒ  you can, enjoy the moments that don’t weigh you down, and savor those, too. Even if – especially if – your heart is heavy with grief, pain, or trauma; those lighter moments can help us through some really dark times.

For clarity, because I assume by this point you are somewhat familiar with my whimsy (and word play, and over-use of metaphors), I’ll explicitly point out that this morning is merry and quite delightful, thus far. Neither the song I linked, nor the context of my experience right now, is weighed down by pain, or grief, or trauma – I’m just saying letting your heart be light when it will is a healthy thing. πŸ™‚

Yesterday was as easy as the day before was difficult. It was a lovely day, summery, fun, fulfilling, exciting… did I mention the fun? And the fulfillment? A good day.

If you’ve made the whole thing about the job, you may be missing the point. πŸ™‚

…Good days also end. They come around again. However dark times feel in one moment, it’s only one moment. There’ll be another. We can make choices, change choices, put verbs in motion, adjust our perspective, and even walk away from what doesn’t work. We have so much power over our own lives, often more than we use, certainly more than we recognize, when we feel hurt, trapped, or held back. How often is it our own choices allowing us to be hurt, trapped, and held back? (Sometimes it isn’t, let’s be real about that, and the harshness of our circumstances can be imposed upon us by bad lawmaking, by human nastiness, and by the choices of others, just as it can be by anything we’ve done, ourselves – also a thing, and yeah, even there, our decision-making can alter our experience of our circumstances to a greater or lesser degree, and we still have tremendous power to change the future.)

“This too shall pass,” applies even to the best of times. The best, sunniest days, eventually see the sun set. It’ll rise again. The wheel turns. There’s a new beginning just over the horizon. With this being the case, then it is also a given that it’s true of our darkest times. I mean, generally… there’s also death to contend with, eventually, no argument there. I don’t have much to say about that, and existential angst can get out of hand pretty quickly if we’re overly concerned about that.

Oh, nice… my coffee is cool enough to drink. I smile merrily. In this moment, that matters. That’s okay. I think all I’m getting at this morning is… be sure to have a good time, too. Enjoy living life. Enjoy the sunshine, and the rain. Enjoy this human being that you are – even while you work to become the person you most want to be. There is only practice, there is no “perfect” – enjoy the journey (you may not ever reach the destination).

The clock keeps ticking. It’s a new day, a new beginning, a new chance to be the woman I most want to be. It feels like summer.

…It feels like time to begin again. πŸ˜€

Well… still human. I checked. lol

The path is not always smooth, paved, nor well-lit. We each walk our own hard mile – often doing so while assuming everyone else “gets it”. Truth is, though, sometimes we’re not even sharing the same language, or going the same direction. Taking that personally is just an extra – and unnecessary – “fuck you” that we invent and deliver… to ourselves. Unnecessary. Doing better is complicated sometimes.Β  Awareness. Non-attachment. Letting go of small shit. So many verbs. Practices to practice. Not taking things personally is hard sometimes. We have assumptions, expectations, and beliefs, all getting in the way of clear-headed-ness, and tripping us up in vulnerable, meaningful, important moments. What a mess.

Sometimes “human” is complicated, and a little weird; I just now noticed I am writing with my glasses off. This makes no fucking sense. I can’t see without them. LOL There’s a metaphor there.

I put my glasses on. Sip my coffee contentedly. From the vantage point of this morning, right here? This path is just fine. πŸ™‚ Maybe I just needed to put on my glasses. πŸ˜‰

Today’s the day. The return of my Traveling Partner from his weeks of travel. I’m eager to see him. I woke, this morning, ahead of the alarm clock, with Panic in Detroit left playing in my head, leftover from my dreams. There’s nothing mysterious about that; I love the bass line in that track, and the theme of revolutionary chaos sort of resonates with in these peculiar times. A few words are exchanged, over chat, when he stops for fuel, while I sip my morning coffee.

Life shifts gears almost imperceptibly. I live a bit differently alone, than I do living with anyone else. For one thing, I’m a tad weird about being very considerate, so cohabitation generally means that I slip out of bed in the morning darkness, and take care of most of my routine morning self-care in the hall bathroom, instead of the master bathroom – to avoid waking a sleeping partner, obviously. πŸ™‚ Well, doing that also means laying out tomorrow’s clothes in advance, and placing them in my studio, where I get dressed, again, avoiding disturbing a partner’s sleep. I do the dishes after work, instead of before work. I am careful about noise, generally, closing cabinets and doors with great care, to avoid as many knocks, clicks, bangs, and bumps as I can. It’s to do with my own inability to sleep when other people are careening around shared space raising hell and carrying on (probably quietly, in perfectly ordinary ways, but making no specific willful effort to silence themselves) doing the things they do. I have difficulty sleeping through that. lol One of the many reasons I do enjoy a solitary life without regret or complaint; I struggle to deal with the general noise and chaos of shared living (it’s a struggle that is symptomatic of both my PTSD and my injury). Still… this human being returning to home me? I like living with him. It does change things a bit to do so, and I’ve no particular regrets about that, either. It’s pleasant and comforting to share life’s journey with someone dear, given a supportive relationship between equals.

So… I shift gears. I’m okay with that. It’s not as if life isn’t already in a constant state of change. lol This has been a deliciously luxurious, greatly appreciated, savored-in-the-moment, time to enjoy living life without shared context, and to lavish little freedoms on the woman in the mirror. I’ve particularly enjoyed cooking for myself, without having to consider other taste preferences. I’ve even taken time to shore up habits that may have slipped a bit in the utter chaos that was having my partner move in, and I’ve taken time to enjoy many small things that are peculiar to my taste and aesthetic, unreservedly, filling up on experiences I love without the challenge of working them into a shared routine of daily life, or explaining them, or excusing them. I’ve re-explored what it means to be this woman that I am, and where this path appears to lead. I’ve planned a couple camping trips, realizing I also need some time away.

…Fuck, I have been missing this human being, though. I’m glad he’s heading home. πŸ™‚

I look around the apartment, once more, before getting my things together to head to the office. I think about what I could make for dinner, later. (Wondering, even, if he will be awake for anything like that? He’s finished the trip home with round-the-clock driving, eager to be done with it, and realistically, could just crash out once he’s finally home.) I shake my head and let that go; I’m prepared for whatever, and just happy he’ll be home, it honestly doesn’t require further planning. I look around… and smile. This place is worth coming home to. Tidy. Peaceful. Orderly. Relaxed. πŸ˜€

I finish off my coffee with a smile. It’s time to begin again.