Archives for posts with tag: be present

It’s a time of year I’m often thinking about presents, more than I am thinking about presence, but there are a lot of good reasons to pause for a moment and reflect on really simply being, in the moment I’m standing in. I sip my coffee a little vacantly; I’m slow to get things going this morning, and woke too early for no obvious reason. I’m feeling a little sluggish, and a lot distracted – only there’s nothing really going on “in here”. I’m just existing for a moment, a little inclined to wait it out for the next moment.

I watched a video (again) yesterday evening that really “speaks to me”. The topic is Ichigo Ichie, and it is about presence – being in the moment. I think about the idea of being present, and understanding each lived moment as an entirely unique, unrepeatable experience. I breathe, exhale, and relax, and sip my coffee thoughtfully, awake and aware, letting my senses fill up with this moment right here. I skipped my walk this morning. I have a painful headache and headlights sweeping across my eyes in the darkness was unpleasant, so I came directly to the office. It’s chilly in the office, somewhat unpleasantly so, but maybe it’s just me? The experience of ambient temperature can be such a subjective thing. I sit quietly with my thoughts and this moment for a little while.

…13 days until Giftmas. I’m not exactly counting down the days, but I’m aware of the holiday drawing near. There’s very little left to do about it, besides enjoy the moments. The weekend will come, and with it the final payday before the holiday. I’ll finish up small purchases for Giftmas stockings, and stock the pantry with favorite holiday treats. I remind myself to talk over the holiday meal with my Traveling Partner and figure out the menu for brunch on Giftmas morning. I smile thinking about it. There have been years of such tremendous struggle – this doesn’t feel like that, and I explore the feeling of quiet joy, and relative ease. There’s very little stress, and that feels very good. I let myself enjoy the awareness of the lack of stress – that seems like something worth savoring.

I think about my Dear Friend. It’s still quite odd to be enjoying the holiday season without her presence in the background of every activity and every moment of joy. I shared so much with her, I sometimes feel a little lost, as if standing on something very unsteady and having to find my balance. We shared so many Giftmases together over the years of our friendship – about 10 of those in person, for at least some portion of the Yule holiday season, and through conversation and email for all the rest that followed my break-up with my previous partner, who had been her son. It’s a strange path we each take through life. Quite an interesting journey, and I was fortunate to share so much of it with my Dear Friend. I’m not feeling tragic about it, this morning, just sitting with the wonders of holidays past, that we enjoyed together. I remember a particular holiday, trudging happily through sloppy streets, ankle deep in slush and snow, finishing the holiday shopping as I made my way to the train station to meet my Dear Friend. Some details stand out quite sharply (like the snow, and the cold, and the starry night), others much less so (was she traveling alone? Was I?). I smile and think about what matters most in life, and on this very human journey.

I sigh quietly, sipping my coffee, sitting with my thoughts in this moment right here. It’s a good moment. I feel connected and present, and ready to begin again.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. It’s a cold morning, below freezing. I spent my walk with gloved hands jammed in my pockets. The light of my headlamp bobbed along seeming thin and inadequate. S’ok, I got a walk. Good exercise. Good start to the day.

I get back to the car before daybreak. I’m working from home today because my Traveling Partner’s Giftmas gift will be delivered and I’ll need to sign for it. I probably didn’t need to start out so early. lol I see a hint of color on the eastern horizon, as I warm up in the car, and change out of my boots.

A new day begins.

An ordinary enough Friday, I suppose. The sunrise begins, more colorful than I expect, and I sit to watch it. Why not? It’s early. Worth the time to see such beauty, isn’t it?

Silhouettes and colors.

I sit present, enjoying the sunrise, nothing else on my mind. Good use of time on a frosty morning.

Trying to capture the rich colors is tricky.

I sit with smiling and thinking over how to capture these colors in pastel, some other time and realize my mind (and presence) have wandered from this moment, here. I bring myself back. It’ll be soon enough that I’ll have to begin the day in earnest. It’s worth savoring this lovely moment right here.

… Later, I’ll begin again.

I woke with a peculiar, nagging, somewhat intense, headache. It’s very much as if the fracture line that cuts jaggedly down the approximate center of my forehead were itself the thing that hurts, which seems odd. Rubbing it doesn’t help, but I keep catching myself doing that as though it might. I acknowledge it, and let it go, over and over again; I have other things to do today.

Today is my Traveling Partner’s birthday! 😁

I’ve already given my partner his birthday gift. It arrived a couple weeks ago in a crate. A lathe for the shop, which is something he’s wanted for a while. Today will be spent in his good company, doing whatever it is he’d like to do. Those are the “house rules”, y’all.  I’m just following the rules! 😁❤️ Birthday cake this year has been swapped out for apple pie with ice cream. No idea what he might like for dinner; somehow we haven’t discussed it yet. I smile thinking about my partner, his birthday, and our life together for the past… 14 years? Yeah, almost exactly. Wow. I feel incredibly fortunate. I hope I can make his birthday special, today.

I sit quietly for a moment before I head down the trail. It’s an icy cold morning. The sky is clear and starry. It’s a good morning for beginnings. I sit with my thoughts of love and gratitude and deep appreciation for the complicated man who is my Traveling Partner. Smart. Funny. Practical. Skilled. Multi-talented. Organized. Insightful. Experienced. Caring. Loving. Romantic. Good-hearted. The list of wonderful things about this particular human being is long. He is human, so he’s certainly got a list of less than ideal qualities too, I suppose. Pretty short list, and entirely offset by the long list of qualities that make this man who I love so well. If that weren’t the case, I wouldn’t be hanging around by his side on life’s journey, you know? 😁

I’ll get my walk in, while the day is young, then head home to be with my beloved on his birthday. I took the day off so I could. Worth it, in spite of this weird headache vexing me.

I wonder what this day holds? I guess I’ll find out after I begin again.

It’s a blustery unexpectedly mild morning after a night of steady rain, autumn in the Pacific Northwest. It’s Veteran’s Day, too, and although it is a Monday, I’m off work. The silhouetted trees sway against the gray sky in the pre-dawn darkness. It’ll be a little while longer until daybreak comes, and I’m in no hurry.

It’s been a good weekend thus far, and it’s a good moment now. Later, I’ll get some housework done, and maybe watch some anime with my Traveling Partner, if he’s not out in the shop with the new lathe. I smile in the darkness; good choice of birthday gift, and it’s good to see my partner on his feet and in the shop doing things. He’s still got quite a way to go recovery-wise, after his injury, and his surgery, but he’s getting there. I can’t walk that path for him, I can only walk my own alongside him.

The cars woosh by on the wet highway, beyond the trailhead parking. I sit quietly with my thoughts, enjoying the moment. It’s not fancy or particularly special, but it’s mine. I’m grateful for the mild morning, although I’m in tremendous pain in spite of the somewhat warmer temperature. I’ve spent autumn and winter in pain since about 1986 I guess? Something like that. This past couple of years it’s been all year, off and on, and this year so far more painful days than not. While that does generally suck, there’s not that much more I can do about it, without profoundly increasing my risk of addiction or substance abuse, or related bad outcomes, so I endure and do what I can.

One of the most important practices for enduring the pain I live with, without losing myself to it completely, is being present. Sounds simple, but takes a lot of practice. It’s easy to end up focusing on the pain itself instead of acknowledging it, doing what I can, and moving on to other elements of my experience in the moment. My results vary, but it’s definitely better than being mired in the pain of my arthritis and my headaches. So I sit in the stillness and quiet of a morning, listening to the traffic, and observing the lights of businesses and houses beyond the fields on the other side of the highway. I breathe, exhale, and relax, watching the sky slowly lighten as daybreak approaches on the eastern horizon. I write, meditate, and reflect. I enjoy the moment as it is, without giving much thought to the pain; it’s just one detail of many. Is it a perfect solution? Nope. Is it a cure? Not even a little bit. It’s just better than letting the pain become my world.

Daybreak at last. I hear the geese waking up on the marsh. I lace up my boots and grab my cane. One step at a time, I walk my path, and it’s time to begin (again).

I’m no “expert” – not on mindfulness, nor CBT, nor emotional intelligence… I’m just a human being making my own way, fortunately with some help, and willing to talk about it pretty openly. (Definitely don’t look to me for the last word in whatever it is you most yearn to discover!) I’m not the expert you may be seeking. Limited education. No relevant credentials. Just a person, and not even a person of note. lol My opinions and experience are only that; mine. Subjective.  Lived in context. I share them with these caveats. (And thanks for reading.)

I was reflecting on something to do with the last few months of my Dear Friend’s life, recently (grief being a peculiar process that takes an unknown very individual amount of time, apparently). It occured to me that she had made it super clear she knew the end was coming, and was ready to face it, and explicitly opened the door to having conversations about that – clearly wanting to – and I missed that cue, choosing instead to offer reassurance, any time it came up. I failed her. She wanted to talk. She wanted to talk to me, and I did not give her that opportunity, when I so easily could have done so. I could have said something like “do you want to talk more about that, or are you making an observation?” I could have said “please tell me more”, or “help me understand why you feel this way right now?” I didn’t do any of those things because I wasn’t ready to face her mortality with her. How cruel and and how foolish. I could have done better as a friend. Why do I mention it, now? Only because you could perhaps do better, when that opportunity is given to you, when some friend or loved one says they feel the end is near, or that they “may not recover from this” – whatever “this” is – giving you the chance to listen and be there for them. You could choose something deeper and more intimate and… stronger… than reassurance. You could encourage them to talk, and allow them to share, and be there to listen – because you care.

Well, shit. This is one of those “no second chances” things, eh? I don’t even consider myself someone who has a problem facing death; I know we are mortal creatures. What I clearly do have a problem with is the pain of being uncomfortable with a loved one’s pain or sorrow or fear or anger or discomfort (no kidding). It’s a major character flaw. I should do something about it. I sit awhile with that thought…

Some time later my thinking takes me back around to discussions my Traveling Partner tries to have with me about his experience of injury, recovery, and disability. I can do better than I have. I think about it awhile longer, grateful to “have another chance”. I think about discussions of illness and mortality I have similarly tried to have with him, and his persistent attempts to reassure me and move on. I get it. Everyone wants to be heard, and hard conversations remain hard. Something to consider and to work on.

A steady rain falls this morning. I’d hoped for a break in the rain, but it doesn’t seem likely. Day of the Dead; the weather seems fitting, as I sit here missing those who’ve already gone. I breathe, listening to the rain tapping rhythmically on the car, and my tinnitus ringing and buzzing in my ears. It’s a quiet moment well-suited to reflection. It’s a Friday, too. The weekend ahead is the final stressful couple of days before the presidential election. The year is winding down, and daylight savings time ends Sunday. Shit. That’s all such a lot to take in… I’d rather be sipping coffee while I paint than dealing with all that. It will happen whether I’m paying any attention to it or not.

I remind myself to plan the Thanksgiving meal, grateful that it tends toward a handful of classic holiday favorites. It’s mostly a matter of coordinating tasks, housekeeping, shopping, and cooking. I sigh feeling relieved in spite of anticipating the work involved. As holidays go, it’s pretty routine, and for us, manageably small.

The rain intensifies, becoming a racket of pounding rain for a time. My alarm goes off, reminding me to take my morning medication. One more thing to attend to. Sometimes there seem to be so many…

… I breathe, exhale, and relax, letting my thoughts carry me on to the next moment. Soon it will be time to begin again, and the clock is ticking on this mortal life. This path won’t walk itself.

… The rain stops. I have another chance to walk…