Archives for posts with tag: begin again

I’m sipping my coffee and noticing, once again, that I seemed to have paused my daily writing. There’s a lot going on in my brain, new, unprocessed experiences and thinking, the simple joys of living with love and contentment… a spring garden. Life’s natural ebb and flow competing with (and kicking the ass of) rigorous habit. lol It is what it is.

…Funny… It feels very much like “progress” to accept it so comfortably. 🙂

So. Instead of attempting to bend reality to my whim, or force real life to comply with my favorite version of myself, I’m just going with it. At least for now. Until I’ve learned the lesson, and have words to put around it… at least, for now. 🙂

Each evening my head is filled with points I’d like to make. Ideas I’d like to share. Practices I find that work. Notions that feel significant. Correlations between this and that. By morning it has all dissipated, like the clouds of vapor that had wrapped them so prettily the night before. lol This, too, is what it is, and one characteristic of all of it is that it will pass. No stress required.

Each new day I begin again. Some of them will be mornings on which I write. Others, perhaps not so much. 😀 Each new beginning worthy, each new beginning… truly new. What will I do with the moments that follow? Unknown. Unknown, at least, until I live them.

I queue up my playlist. Put on my headphones. I start the day.

…My coffee is just now drinking temperature. The clock does not wait for “my” moment. It’s time, already, to begin again. 😉

This is a good cup of coffee. The morning is quiet, relaxed, and pleasant. I am, in general, physically comfortable. Nice start to the day, so far. 🙂 It’s enough.

My sleep quality has degraded somewhat, notably with considerably more dream activity, difficulty falling asleep, and waking ahead of the alarm. I consider it all of that for a moment or two, while I enjoy my coffee. It’s not all that rare or strange. After a pointless couple of moments of thought, I let it go. Too nice a morning to be spent ruminating over what is not strange. lol

I think about friends far away. I think about the long weekend coming up – my first planned time away from the new job since it started. My Traveling Partner and I celebrating anniversaries. It’s our 10-9-8; 10 years of a great friendship, 9 years as lovers, 8 years married. Wow. Nice milestone… although, admittedly, the “10” starts more as coworkers, and genial associates, becoming a close friendship a bit late in the year… LOL. I stretch it to fit because I’m just that eager to count it a decade with this human being who is so dear to me. 😀 (It’s my romantic anniversary narrative and I shall do the math as I please! LOL)

The lovely sunny weather yesterday has me thinking about the garden, and I’ll be out on the deck among the containers this weekend, putting things right after the landlord’s visit to give the deck a thorough pressure-washing. It wasn’t at all convenient, but the deck does look very nice, and I’m over being irked by the inconvenience. 🙂

Someone commented recently about my positive attitude. I remember laughing; I wasn’t always in this place, or so easily able to “be positive”. It is kind of a state of being at this point. Enough choices that favor a positive approach, enough choices to let bullshit go, to compliment authentically instead of give “negative feedback”, to help or support instead of tearing someone down, to politely refrain from mean humor even when I’m hurting so much it seems funny, to make the day-to-day attempt to be – in every interaction – respectful, considerate, compassionate, reciprocal, open, and mindful, has eventually resulted in a fairly enduring positivity, just generally. I didn’t really “see that coming”. It was, initially, mere compliance with a request that I “be” less negative. I started studying up on what that could mean, what it could “look like”, and what sorts of characteristics people perceived as “positive” demonstrate. I started changing choices. I adopted new practices. I explored different styles of humor, of conversation, evening making new choices about viewing material, reading material, even the clothes I wear… and over time, in small increments that felt entirely natural in the moment, I became… still me. Yep. I’m still me, from my insider perspective, only… I’m generally contented, generally pleasant (so I hear), generally positive, even notably inclined (per my associate yesterday) toward lifting others up, and explicitly supporting their personal and professional growth through positive reinforcement. 😀 Wow. Nice.

…Most mornings, all of that just comes out as contented coffee consumption and a few minutes of writing… I finish my coffee, my curiosity nudges me in the direction of reading those earliest posts, to look for “clues” or “signs” or “early indications of change”, a chance to study the actual mechanism of getting from “there” to “here”… only… yeah. I check the time. It’s already time to begin again. No turning back. 😉 There’s an entire life ahead of me to live. 🙂

This morning I hurt. I woke with such a shitty headache, and neck pain. Did I sleep on my neck wrong? Maybe… I hurt. I know that.

Meditation? Sure. Still hurts. Stretching? Yoga? Yep. Hurts. Take something for that? Okay, fine. Still hurts. I put on my headphones and play the only song that makes sense right now. I scroll through the news, looking for a distraction. No luck, still hurts. Fucking hell. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

I sip my coffee, and remind myself it’ll take time for the pain relief available through OTC measures to kick in. I start the song over. lol I remind myself to correct my posture, knowing that will also help. I remind myself that small incremental improvements eventually add up, and remind myself not to dismiss the seeming ineffectiveness of measures taken that seem to have little effect – again, it all adds up.

…Doesn’t it?…

I sip my coffee and consider the situation from a larger quality-of-life perspective; even those steps I take that don’t provide a “cure for pain” are genuinely improvements in overall quality of life, nonetheless. Why would I allow petty frustration with a headache put those out of reach based on a fairly subjective measure of their effectiveness (which is to say, immediate substantial pain relief of this fucking headache right here/now)?

…I still have a fucking headache…

…Well, but on the other hand, there’s not much else to bitch about, just at the moment, life is pretty good. So. There’s that, right?

Maybe if I begin again…? I change up the music.

“What’s in a name? That which we call a rose By any other name would smell as sweet.” (Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet)

“Sticks and stones may break my bones, but names will never hurt me!” (a damned lie from childhood; some of that shit stings for a lifetime)

“That’s just semantics.” (A corporate management professional who should know better)

“I didn’t mean it that way!” (Nearly everyone, at some point)

Words and meaning – they do matter, don’t they? It’s how we get our point across (short of frustrated sobbing, or shouting, at which point no one hears the meaning over the volume of emotion).

“Use your words.” (A thing generally said parent to child, and potentially far more useful that a lot of other advice about words one could hear)

The point here is clear; gentle honesty, authentic civility, being “real” without willful offense, being truthful – and also accurate – seem wise and purposeful, constructive, ways to use language, on the “word delivery” side of things. I’m not saying people seem intent on wise use of their words, I’m just calling out the potential. We’re human primates; it is not unusual to see the worst of our nature. (I make this observation on an Easter Sunday, after reading new reports of police shootings in the US, and suicide bombings in Sri Lanka; we’re the scariest and most dangerous of all the primates, no doubt about it. 100% “most likely to destroy their own world.”)

I’m also contemplating the listener’s obligations in the face of some torrent of untruthful or hurtful bullshit, delivered in the form of words (spoken or in print, bullshit is bullshit). Clear, explicit communication is useful stuff; we sometimes allow a personal agenda of some kind (or fearfulness, or baggage) to nudge us away from truth, accuracy, consideration, necessity, kindness, and wisdom. Capable of spewing some heinous vile nonsense, we often also seem rather unprepared to deal with receiving it. What then? What to do when the world piles on, and we suffer the weight and the pain of it, feeling unable to defend ourselves, feeling compelled to try?

I’m not sure I have the best advice on that one; my tendency (and my practice) is to detect drama (or bullshit) and, if possible, walk away from all that. I attempt to avoid having drama-prone, hostile-seeming, or trolling-inclined associates join my social circle in the first place. I attempt to defuse discussions headed toward drama, explicitly, gentle, firmly, and without argument; I’m not interested in loosing the wild dogs of emotion in conversations that are ideally handled less passionately. I’m not interested in being provoked.

The world we live in can be exceedingly provocative, in all the worst ways. I mean, seriously? We’ve built a world in which people feel entitled to make their point by blowing up explosives in crowded places, taking innocent lives by way of gunfire, or using torture. How does any of that not provoke decent people (of all backgrounds and ideologies) into wanting to fight back, to insist on change, to reject the thinking that appears to be at the source of the violence? It’s a strange paradox, though; if we become the fighter, and take to the battlefield, we are immediately at grave risk of becoming that thing we so despise. I don’t have answers this morning… I’m just sipping my coffee, and noticing we have so many better ways to express ourselves, than by way of guns and bombs.

We could each do better. We can all begin again.

Finishing up a great week, I realized my headspace was cluttered, over-filled, and really over-flowing with not-yet-fully-processed information of various sorts. Not enough time spent on meditation, and too much task processing, event living, information seeking, and conversational time enjoyed with my Traveling Partner. I felt quite exhausted, cognitively, and rather as if I were “way behind on things”. My brain’s “buffer” was entirely clogged with a backlog of not-yet-fully-considered bits of this and that, and it had become a full-time distraction, in the background. I had a persistent sensation of having “forgotten something”.

…so busy… I lose sight of details staring at the distant horizon.

This morning, after sleeping in most deliciously (until 7:00 am!), I put on water for coffee, and took a seat on my meditation cushion. Some time later, I rose, and completed the process of making coffee, feeling much more rested, on a much deeper level. I enjoy my coffee slowly – without words, without news, without email, or blog posts, even without music… just a woman, a Saturday morning, and a fresh cup of coffee. I take time for me. Time for reflection. Time to breathe. Time to consider, and to be considered. It is time that passes slowly, gently, and fills me up with contentment, resilience, and wonder, for future moments that are less than ideally satisfying.

I listen to cars passing, on the street beyond the driveway. I listen to early morning birdsong. I watch the dawn become a gray spring morning. I sip my coffee. For too long, I resisted these calm moments as “wasted unproductive time” pushing myself to rush through my life, “binging” on tasks that queued up and crowded my days, and “purging” on sleep when exhausted, and feeling life slipping through my grasp – unsatisfied, dizzied by distraction and fatigue, and emotionally wrecked by the utter lack of self-care that characterized my experience. Done with all that. I make a point to take time for me. Time to reflect, and to consider, and to wonder, and to appreciate, and to experience, and to savor, and to enjoy… the choice, as it turns out, is mine. 🙂

A random moment I took for me. 🙂 Totally worth it.

There is no “perfection” – only practice. The destination is the journey. All things pass, and there are verbs (and choices) involved. Results vary. Every failure is a lesson. Every end is the potential to begin again. I keep at it – living my own experience, letting go of the temptation to try to live any other. I am my own cartographer; my journey, my choices, my map, my dictionary. The map is not the journey. The plan is not the experience. The goal does not determine the outcome.

Delightfully enough, if I don’t like where I’ve taken myself in life, I can always begin again. 🙂 I think I’ll start with a second cup of coffee. This lovely moment doesn’t need a do-over. 🙂