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What I Think I Meant…

July 18, 2016 //
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…isn’t what I thought I said. I woke up with those words in my head, and the soundtrack to my dreams still playing in my head. My impression was that I was the source of the music, myself. Funny how the bits and pieces of my days fills my dreams – or at least fills in the details, and provides a bit of familiarity to the strangeness.

I spent Sunday practicing on my bass guitar, taking breaks each time my forearms began to ache again. I’d watch an episode of Cowboy Bebop, which has theme music in a genre I really enjoy, musically. Sometimes I’d fill a break with live performance videos of bands with great bass players. Saffron Monkey. The Brothers Johnson. Stanley Clarke. There are a lot of amazing bassists. It’s sometimes hard to get a good look at them; most of the focus is on the lead singer, lead guitar player, or other ‘showy’ elements of a planned performance. I enjoyed the day filled with music. I kept coming back to the Seatbelts, the source of the day’s inspiration.

I found myself generally disinclined to be part of the everyday fuss and bother of the media outrage machinery, and although I quickly skimmed the headlines for the day, early on, I quickly lost interest and set it aside. It was enough to sass the headlines to myself, for amusement. I mean, seriously? It’s not likely there is going to be ‘real’ actually new information in most articles headlining today’s news, either… shall we take a look together?

I choose a mainstream retailer of information and head to the home page. “Baton Rouge Bloodbath!” – nope, yesterday’s news right there. Moving along… “7 Things You Need to Know”… about the Republican convention? I think not. That’s not news, it’s click bait. lol If I’m Republican, I already have whatever information is presented, probably days ago. If I’m a Democrat, Independent, or other sort of voter, well, I don’t actually care about the Republican convention at all. It’s a performance piece. “Obama Pleads for Unity” – with a very sorrowful, somber picture. Well, that’s part of his job. Done. Next? “Turkey Detains 6000 People” Yeah… messy when a coup attempt fails. Things are hard over there. Will I get the best perspective from a news retailer seeking ad revenue, clicks, and viewers with their highest priority on gross margin? Probably not. Might have to wait for the history books before a broad global perspective is really available… or wait for Noam Chomsky to write about it. Civil war is ugly stuff. I know that, and for now that’s enough. “Donald Trump Floats Grotesque New Conspiracy Theory About Barack Obama” Huh. They almost got me with this one – maybe because they used more words, giving the impression this really matters, but truthfully? Does it? I mean… do I even care what some rich nut bag makes up on the fly to smear peers or competitors? Don’t I just play the game by even taking time to read the story? I move on, with a hint of a smug smile; I beat the game on this one. I go down the list of headlines, finding nothing of real substance worth my attention [at least not in the presented format, by the providing news source]. Why should I get all churned up over bullshit first thing in the morning? Seems silly.

I watch the neighborhood cats prowl the edge of the meadow. After weeks of laughing at their efforts, I saw one catch some small mammal down in the grass the other day. I stopped laughing at them. Pampered predators, surely, but quite lethal. Cats, I mean, not people. (Well… yeah. People, too. We’ve a way to go before we’re really any more civilized than our less talkative cousins.) Now I watch the cats prowling their wilderness for exotic treats with greater appreciation; they just keep at it. Most days, no cats [visible to me] catch anything at all [that I see]. That doesn’t ever seem to stop them. I smile. I have time for some bass guitar practice before I head out for the day. I think I’ll do that.

Is it ever really “too late” to begin again? If we become what we practice (and experience suggests we do), isn’t the choice to practice something that makes us somehow ‘more who we are’ a good step on the journey, regardless what other direction we may head in life?

Choose. Begin again.

Choose. Begin again.

 

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Categories Anxiety, Brain Injury, Fiction, Free Will, Healthy Living, Logic & Reason, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, The Art of Being, Words

Time and Timing

July 11, 2016 //
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This morning I woke with the alarm clock. It’s been weeks since that’s been necessary. I’d probably have awakened plenty early without it, but having a firm departure time this morning, it was the safer choice to set the alarm. This one small change is enough to throw me off my routine this morning, and I overlook taking my medication for almost half an hour after I am “awake”. I’m not sure I’m actually quite awake even now. I take another sip of my coffee.

Rain? Maybe.

Rain? Maybe.

The morning sky seems peculiarly dark. I find myself wondering how this is so – I’m generally up at this hour, and don’t recall the sky being so dark… The sun rises 12 minutes later than it did on June 21.  So. Darker at this time? Yeah, probably a bit, but I think it’s more to do with the heavy dark clouds overhead. I watch the dawn begin with a flicker of sunlight breaking through the clouds, and breathe deeply.

Day break. Time to begin again. :-)

Day break. Time to begin again. 🙂

The sunrise begins to color the sky in shades of peach, pink, and orange. Feeling my toes cold against the concrete patio, I feel a moment of appreciation for walls, doors, a roof, and this moment as the sun rises. I put the morning on hold and enjoy the sunrise, until the heavy clouds take back the dawn.

The sunrise is so brief, surely there is time to enjoy it?

The sunrise is so brief, surely there is time to enjoy it?

It’s back to the VA, this morning. I’m feeling hopeful, and mostly pretty emotionally comfortable. I am looking forward to a visit with my traveling partner after I return home. The minutes and hours we spend together are precious. I take time to appreciate love. I check the clock. I smile contentedly; I’m right on schedule.

I’ve no specific expectations of the day, beyond attending this appointment and returning home. I’ll see where the day takes me, and then I’ll know what I’ve done with it, afterward. I’ll practice being present for each moment. I’ll breathe through any stress, remind myself it will pass, and practice not taking things personally. I’ll make a point to enjoy is enjoyable in each moment, however challenging. I’ll let go of my attachment to outcomes, expectations, and assumptions. I’ll walk my own path, and practice making mindful choices that meet my needs over time. Today seems a good day for it. 🙂

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Categories Brain Injury, Free Will, health, Healthy Living, Love, Metaphors, Mindfulness, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, The Art of Being

Healing Takes Time

July 9, 2016 //
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It takes time to recover from an injury. I over-eagerly pushed myself to complete a longer than usual last Monday, and arrived home with a sore knee. Tuesday I stayed mostly off of it and it felt much better by day’s end. Wednesday, it felt better still, though not fully recovered, and I undertook some nearby errands on foot – and worsened the injury. I knew better. I chose poorly. Yesterday, with some discipline, I stayed mostly off of it again, and this morning find myself ‘better’ although I still feel it aching, and occasional twinges if there’s any hint of lateral movement…and my brain happily chimes in first thing with hiking suggestions! No. I’m staying off it today, too. 😦 It’s a more difficult choice than I’d like it to be.

A good day to relax in the garden.

A good day to relax in the garden.

Doing what I know is the correct thing, the most effective or appropriate choice to take care of my long-term needs well, is not always the easiest choice. It is, in fact, most often not at all the easiest choice.

After a night of rain showers, and a morning of sunshine, the garden needs little help from me besides enjoying it.

After a night of rain showers, and a morning of sunshine, the garden needs little help from me besides enjoying it.

I think about choices. I think about growth, and progress. I think about the world. I wonder about all the people who seem never to have taken time to reflect on that person in their mirror, to reflect on their choices, their actions, the outcomes. I can’t actually imagine that the vast numbers of ignorant hateful people shoring up our badly broken culture actually ever pause to reflect on what they do, on what they’ve done, or on why it matters so much that they learn another way – that we all learn other, better, ways. (We are each having our own experience. Most people, even really vile hateful people, imagine themselves to be the good guys in their own narrative.) I think about how far I’ve come myself, growing up in ignorance, and learning so much to come so far – to discover how very ignorant I remain. Different things. The more I’ve learned of life, of love, of things universal or specific, of science, of violence, of art, of madmen and monsters in the darkness, of the fictions I craft for myself, of journeys to be taken, and of all the many practices within reach to become a better person than I was yesterday… the more there seems to be to learn. About all of it.

"Where did I get that idea?" "Why do I think so?" These are important questions to ask myself.

“Where did I get that idea?” “Why do I think so?” These are important questions to ask myself.

I’m no longer so frustrated by my own ignorance; this is a journey, and I continue to grow. I may have observed that I am unsure what other purpose life has, than growth, development, learning. We become. We become, in fact, what we practice. (But what we think we know weighs heavily on what we may choose to practice.) I began life knowing nothing. I know so much more now – and so little compared to the vastness of all there is to know. “I am only an egg” says Valentine Michael Smith. I can’t argue with that.

It's a good day to begin again. A good day to learn, and to love. A good day to change the world.

It’s a good day to begin again. A good day to learn, and to love. A good day to change the world.

Today I will spend my time being – and becoming. Painting. Practicing. Breathing. Loving. Treating myself and others as I well as I know how to, and learning to do it just a bit better while I’m at it. Today that’s enough.

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Categories art and the artist, Brain Injury, Epsom salts, Free Will, gardening, Healthy Living, Love, Metaphors, Mindfulness, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Summer, The Art of Being, The Big 5

These Are Your Choices?

July 8, 2016 //
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I woke up this morning to see, reflected in my Facebook feed, more news of more killings. It saddens me. Black lives do matter. All lives do matter. It’s a statistical given that not all cops are the bad guys. It’s apparent that black lives and white lives are treated differently under the law; the statistical, factual data regarding outcome, analyzed by racial characteristics, make that quite clear. Human beings have great potential – and great potential for violence. Doesn’t seem to matter whether those human beings work in law enforcement or not. Our culture is sick, and as so often happens when an organism is ill, the culture itself has no idea how vile the sickness is, how at risk of collapse this sickness puts us, the true nature of the illness, or how to cure it. It’s beyond sad, it’s indescribably depressing, when one additional detail is added, and it’s a very true thing; we’re choosing this.

Choose something different. I don’t know what else to say about it. Don’t kill people. Are you a cop? Don’t kill that person – yes, there are other choices. Are you a citizen just minding your own business? Don’t kill anyone. Even if you think, in some strange moment, that it seems ‘the only choice’, choose differently anyway. Angry that someone broke your heart? Don’t kill them. Angry that you’ve lost your job? Don’t kill anyone. Angry that life seems to favor some group of people you are not part of, at your expense? Don’t kill them. Seriously. Damn. When was the last time you – yes you, right there – read a news article in which someone was killed and thought to yourself, “well, that makes sense, that was just, and rational, clearly the only choice, and that human being – that dead one – their life had no actual value to them, or anyone else, as it was and killing them was entirely necessary for the remainder of humanity to survive and thrive”? I’m betting… oh hey, never! It has to stop. Doesn’t it? Why are we choosing this, of all things?

I’m frustrated, and I’m frightened. The world doesn’t feel very safe. I still don’t think taking up arms and going around killing people is the solution to that problem. Today let’s not kill people. Let’s choose differently. Let’s change the world.

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Categories Anxiety, Free Will, Healthy Living, Logic & Reason, Love, Mindfulness, more than a little bit of bitching, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, The Art of Being, War and News of War, Words

What Will You Do With It?

July 7, 2016 //
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I slept late this morning. I had awakened during the night for no obvious reason, and woke breathless, heart pounding, in the grip of anxiety. I forgot to take it at all personally, or to read anything whatever into it, these were simply sensations I woke with. I got up. Opened some windows to let cool night breezes blow through the apartment. I took a seat on my meditation cushion, and gazed into the night sky, obscured by clouds that roiled and shifted, a kaleidoscope in shapes and shades of gray. The world was very quiet. Some time later, apartment cool, heart soothed, content and comfortable (except for this aching knee), I returned to sleep quite easily.

Moments are neither magical nor cursed, not really. They are what I make of them, myself, with my choices, my perspective, my baggage… What I do with any given moment is what makes the moment what it seems to me to be. That probably seems crazily obvious. I need the reminders, sometimes. 😉

Yesterday, after plans to hang out with my traveling partner fell through, I found myself inspired artistically, and spent the afternoon painting. My knee is not really happy with me this morning, and I pay that price in continued pain, instead of feeling it eased today. It’s peculiarly a price worth paying, although a wiser voice in my head suggests that had I approached the work differently, I could have also taken better care of this knee while I painted. Choices. Practices. Verbs. I keep at it, and continue to improve on how I approach such things. I don’t get much chance to be smug about successes…if I stop practicing, I generally forget fairly quickly how I was managing something. LOL These days that’s more a humorous inconvenience than any reason to treat myself badly.

I find myself thinking about the vast potential that exists in life – in my life – and how little of that potential I’ve tapped, even though I’ve been wandering around for 53 years on this gigantic jawbreaker hurtling through space. There’s so much more. It’s really no wonder life can seem so busy, or overwhelming, or mystifying. I’ve spent most of my life just bumbling along from one moment to another, occasionally doing some things (or people) I’ve really enjoyed, but without any really clear plan (or map)… and there’s so much to do and learn! I’m grateful there’s no expectation that being intelligent, well-read, or entertaining to know, requires me to learn everything, because… it’s not really possible. At all. Much of what I think I know, when I reflect on it, actually amounts to acceptance of what some other person has discovered, proven, noted, analyzed, stated more clearly, theorized, or observed, and written down, considerately enough, for the rest of us to benefit from. It gets called ‘education’, and I suppose it serves me well enough. I’d love to see particles in motion… I’d love to hear now-dead languages spoken by native speakers… I’d love to visit all the exotic remote places of great beauty, wonder, historical significance, and mystery, in person… Ah, but it’s not about time, or even money, in so many cases the things I have the good fortune to learn about don’t even exist in this moment, at all. How fantastic that I can learn about these things!

Human experience holds so many potential choices, options, circumstances, and perspectives… live a million lives and I would not have lived them all. There are no duplicates. There are no ‘do overs’. There is this fragile vessel, this mortal lifetime, and this very long and varied menu of choices and possibilities.

What matters most? Is it a diagnosis I don’t yet have? Is it a job I no longer work, or am not yet working? Rent? Bills? Housework? Is love what matters most? Or is it… now? This moment? This one pin point in time that gives me the power to choose my adventure?

Choose. Begin again.

Choose. Begin again.

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Categories Anxiety, art and the artist, Brain Injury, Free Will, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Sleepless Nights, The Art of Being, Words
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