Archives for posts with tag: being and becoming

I’m waiting for the sun. The morning is chilly, hinting at autumn ahead. I’ll get a walk in, then head home to start the work day. So far this feels like a fairly ordinary Wednesday.

Perspective and a new day.

My Traveling Partner has a project going that he wants some help with. There are errands to run, including a trip to the grocery store. There are housekeeping tasks to get done sooner than later. And work. I’m not even bitching. I’m grateful to have the life I do. My quality of life is better than average and by far better than I’ve known in my own life at many prior points. There’s just a lot of real work involved in maintaining hearth and home and staying caught up on “everything” with very little help (right now). If nothing else, my Traveling Partner’s injury, surgery, and recovery, have served to emphasize his day-to-day efforts (and value), and his contributions to our life together. I definitely miss having his help around the house! He’s really good at some things I absolutely suck at.

Life is busy and the verbs are many. Some days I have been so tired. For now I seem to be managing to get the rest I need, mostly. Having some help from the Anxious Adventurer is an improvement (although there’s also a lot of guiding, coaching, and pointing out things which seem obvious to me, which adds to the emotional labor involved). Improving my self-care has been helpful, but also requires effort and attention from me, moment to moment. It all requires focus, balance, effort… practice. A lot of fucking practice. Sometimes, rather discouragingly, I feel as if I still very much suck at all of it, though I suspect this is bullshit created in my own head. I let that go whenever it turns up, as soon as I notice.

… I really want to be painting…

Yesterday I checked in with my Traveling Partner about his recovery from surgery, and whether he thinks he may be ready to handle things without my help every day by the end of September? I’m eager to take the pastels out to the coast again, and get another camping trip in before the nights are once again too cold for my comfort. I get his loving encouragement and find a campsite, and make reservations. New location. New perspective. New things to see. No way to know what the weather will actually be like this far in advance, but the historical details look promising and I feel enthusiastic and filled with anticipatory joy.

… I pause to hold on to the understanding that if my partner still needs me, I just won’t go…

Non-attachment isn’t about not caring about things. Non-attachment isn’t built on cynicism, bitterness, or disappointment. Practicing non-attachment, as I understand it myself, is more a matter of not clinging to events and ideas that are not happening as planned, or not happening at all, and it is a practice about letting go, generally. Non-attachment lets me more easily endure hard times by making me less likely to take shit personally. Big or small, life’s disappointments hit so much harder if I am gripping my expectations and assumptions tightly and trying to force reality to do my bidding, instead of mindfully observing my experience and the world around me, and just being okay with things as they develop. I’m not intending to “tell you how it is” or what to do with your life, I’m just saying my own experience is greatly improved when I can avoid getting trapped by my expectations and assumptions, and can simply be, as life unfolds ahead of me moment by moment.

…It still takes actual practice

Being skillfully human takes so much work and practice sometimes. It’s harder than it looks to become the person I most want to be, and then to simply exist as that individual, living the values that matter most to me. I keep practicing. It’s a worthy journey.

I sit with the sunrise ahead of me at the halfway point of my morning walk, writing these words and thinking my thoughts. It’s a good morning for meditation, for mindfulness, for being and becoming. It’s a good morning to walk my own path. The journey is the destination.

… It’s time to begin again.

I beat the sun to the trailhead this morning by a few minutes. The morning is dark and peaceful before daybreak. I wait for enough light to see the trail before I walk.

The distant glow of the human experience doesn’t cast enough light to see by.

Yesterday was good. We got a lot done (together, as a family). The whole weekend was busy and productive. I got most of what was on my list finished. I feel a certain sense of accomplishment from that. The work involved, in this case, was 100% to do with my Traveling Partner’s comfort and refinements and quality of life improvements to his personal space. Comfort, ease, and accessibility matter, and we all worked together to complete projects towards this end (some of which had been planned nearly four years ago). It was satisfying work.

I promised myself at the start of the weekend that I would make time for something creative and that I would do at least one thing for myself, that wasn’t any sort of common domestic chore. I managed to live up to that commitment to myself, late Sunday evening, finally, after my feet were too sore to keep standing on them. No new paintings, but I did open my pastel case and carefully placed new pastels into their places, enjoying the displayed colors and giving myself over to artistic contemplation for a little while before calling it a night. It’s not much, but it was time spent on my own needs, my own way. Enough.

… Daybreak comes, and soon enough light to walk the trail…

It gets light so much later now. I breathe in the cool morning air. Fall is coming. There may yet be some very hot days ahead, but the days are definitely getting shorter, the mornings cooler, and the season is changing. Noisy trucks crossing the parking lot headed towards the construction site on the other side remind me this is a work day. (Fucking hell, humans, do you really have to make so g’damned much noise all the fucking time?)

A new day, a new chance to begin again.

I get my boots on, grab my cane, and head out. A new day is dawning. In practical terms, I know where this trail I’m walking will lead me, but in metaphorical terms, the “trail” ahead of me is a mystery, unfolding ahead of me, each new moment truly new and only revealed to me as I live the moment. There’s a lot of comfort and delight in that notion (for me). No reason to anticipate disaster, chaos, or pain; the future is not known. No exceptions. I breathe, exhale, and relax and start down the trail, eyes wide with wonder.

There’s a low mist clinging to the ground over the meadow, near the river beyond the trees. The air is fresh and sweet, and for the moment the morning is quiet as the sunrise begins. It’s enough to live this gentle moment. It’s a good time to begin again.

This moment is enough.

We become what we practice. Prove me wrong. When I practice being calm, I become a calmer person. When I practice listening I become a better listener. When I practice kindness, I become more inclined to be kind, generally.

…If I practice being angry, I become more easily angered, more often, and more likely to react with anger to circumstances and people that may not warrant such a reaction at all…

When I practice perspective and consideration, my perspective on life deepens, and I become more considerate.

The next conversation you have with someone may determine whether you continue to have the relationship you do. Good or bad. More connected or more distant. The words you choose and the emotions you embody become reality. A real experience being experienced. A memory being made.

Who are you? Who is that other person to you? If you live as the person you most want to be, how will you behave? What are you choosing to practice?

The way ahead is not always clear. It’s still your path, and you choose your direction and your steps.

You have choices. Choose wisely.

I reached the trailhead before daybreak, park gate still closed. I’m okay with that. I find the quiet solitary time necessary to my well-being and sometimes hard to snatch from a busy day. I enjoy every quiet moment that I happen upon. I sit awhile and reflect before I ever reach for my device, listening to the sound of traffic on the highway, and the ringing in my ears that never ceases and rarely diminishes.

A morning well-suited to solitary reflection.

The gate opens with a sort of screeching creaking sound. This morning my plan is to walk the entire loop trail around the marsh, (3 miles), then cut over to the river trail, and walk that out and back (1 mile each way) for a 5 mile walk. Goals. I change into my boots, remembering to grab my water bottle, my cane, my lightweight collapsible 3-legged camp stool, and a beautiful tangerine for later. The sky begins to lighten, and the fog begins to lift. Nice day for a walk with my thoughts.

I stand ready at the beginning of the marsh trail, listening for a moment, before  I begin. I breathe the meadow-sweet air at the edge of the marsh. I feel vaguely sleepy under the cloudy gray sky. I sigh to myself as I step forward; no beautiful sunrise this morning and it looks like rain.  As an afterthought, I grab my lightweight rain poncho and stuff it in my back pocket, “just in case”, and head down the trail.

Weed or wildflower? It’s largely a matter of context and perspective.

Sometime later, I stop at my decision-making point, where the marsh trail and river trail intersect. Walk on? Three miles or five? I unfold my little camp stool and take a seat to rest a moment. The air is cool and fresh and scented with something that seems at once both floral and spicy. I breathe, exhale, and relax. This moment is mine to enjoy however I wish. I choose gratitude, contentment, and joy, sitting here with my solitary thoughts.

…It really doesn’t have to be more complicated. Choose. Practice. We become what we practice…

I can’t tell you how to live your life. I’m just pointing out that you have (and make) choices. If your emotional experience of life is characterized by anger, frustration, and disappointment, which definitely sucks, you have the opportunity every day to choose (and practice) something very different. Life isn’t something inflicted upon you; you are living your experience. You choose your words, your actions, and to a large degree even your thoughts. If you don’t enjoy life as you live it now, choose to live it differently. The choices (and consequences of those choices) are yours.

… Sometimes growth and progress are uncomfortable. Sometimes we have to work harder, and go farther. Sometimes we have to chuck out what hasn’t worked and begin all over again. I look down the trail ahead of me. Five miles. I choose to walk on, and go further. I collapse my folding stool and sling it over my shoulder. It’s time to begin again.

I’m sitting quietly with my coffee, reflecting on recent days, resilience, self-care, love, and the sometimes limited success of “doing my best”. My results definitely vary. Very human. I keep practicing.

A new day, a new beginning.

I reached the trailhead before daybreak, and it began to rain (again) just as the sky lightened enough to walk it safely. So… I wait for a break in the rain. I don’t mind; it’s lovely quiet time to write, meditate, and reflect on recent successes and joy. Time well-spent on a self-care practice that matters more than it seems it should, for such a small thing. I definitely need this quiet solitary time in order to truly thrive.

Yesterday was peculiarly difficult until my Traveling Partner realized he had made an error with his medication that affected his experience in a negative way. He asked me to resume helping him by setting up his medications for him. He still needs my help for now, and I am happy to provide it. Taking a careful, considerate, and collaborative approach, he told me what he needs, I got it together and set up for the night and first thing this morning. Later today I’ll set it up for the afternoon and evening. So far, this feels like a good approach, appropriate to where he is with his recovery.

The evening was a quiet one. I went to bed early enough to get a good night of rest, and even slept through the night (rare for me). I woke feeling rested and comfortable in my skin. It’s a pleasant feeling and a good start to the day. My pain is not a big deal for the moment, even my headache is only about a 2 out of 10, this morning. I sit with that awareness for a while, just enjoying it. Enjoying – savoring – these good moments, however small, is a profoundly powerful tool for building emotional resilience.

This morning I plan to give my Traveling Partner some quiet time for rest. I’ll start work a little later, maybe run some errands before then (after my walk). The cloudy sky revealed by the dawn promises more rain to come, but for the moment it has stopped raining. I grab my boots and my cane. Time for that walk. I smile, enjoying the lush hues of green of the trees and blackberry thickets along the edge of the meadow beyond this parking lot and think about painting the scene in pastels. Maybe this weekend? I sigh contentedly to myself. It looks like a good time to begin again.

Breathe, exhale, relax. Begin again.

Sometimes, regardless of your attempted attention to detail, your willingness to do more, better, your drive to improve and grow, or the hours of work and study you’ve put into being your best self, it won’t be enough (for someone, or for some circumstance). That’s frustrating (maddening), and real. It’s a harsh truth in life that while we’re walking our own hard mile one step at a time, someone else is also walking theirs, and conflict, confusion, or miscommunication can make just about any endeavor contentious and unpleasant. Humans being human. Some people are truly doing their best. Some people maybe not so much. It’s not really obvious which are which. There’s likely always going to be someone around who just doesn’t think you’re doing enough. There will be someone who thinks you’re doing it “wrong” (often simply because you’re not doing things the way they would). There may even be travelers along the way who earnestly hope to see you fail, though it will be rare for them to say so explicitly.

…We’re each having our own experience…

Points of view differ. Individual perspectives on shared events are sometimes at odds with each other. Personal values may not be shared. People are quite individual, and often we don’t even share the same understanding of the basic meanings of the most common words we use. Recollections of even the most recent events may be quite different among individuals who shared the experience. None of this makes communication easier, quite the contrary.

It can be helpful sometimes, I find, to be very open to the possibility that I’m incorrect. Mistaken. Flat out wrong. It’s helpful to really listen to what someone else is saying about their experience or perspective. This isn’t always easy; I may disagree. I may find my own thinking at odds with theirs. I may recall events quite differently. We may have different values, or place importance on different details. Being open enough to really listen and humble enough to accept that I could be wrong can make a lot of difference and create an emotionally safe environment to sort things out more easily. It takes practice (a lot), and I can’t honestly say I’m “good at it” (yet). I keep practicing.

All of this sounds good “on paper”, but it’s not “easy”, and it really does take a lot of practice, commitment, willingness to fail (and to begin again), and a steadfast refusal to take someone else’s emotions personally, and to refuse to internalize their frustration, anger, or criticism. Listen, yes. Hear them out, yes. Understand their point of view, yes. Be open and compassionate, yes. And refuse to allow their frustration, anger, or criticism to dictate “who you are”, nonetheless. Be the person you most want to be. Make room for them to be who they are, also. Becoming the best version of yourself, the person you most want to be, may bring you into conflict with people who are walking a very different path – their own path. Whatever you choose to do about that, it matters that you still live your values, take care of yourself, and treat people with kindness, compassion, and consideration.

…You’re probably going to fail, a lot…

Keep practicing. Savor the wins, however small. Learn from your mistakes, and avoid allowing them to bring you to despair. This shit isn’t easy, but it’s worthwhile. Change takes time. Time, practice, effort, commitment – and beginning again. Often. Sometimes it’s especially hard, like a barefooted walk on blistered feet down a gravel path. Sometimes it’s easy, like a firm level trail through a sun-dappled forest on a mild summer day. You’ll choose – sometimes poorly. You’ll face anger, frustration, disappointment, and grief. It’s not personal, just part of the human experience. Learn, grow, and walk on.

I sit sipping my coffee, re-reading these words. This one’s for me, from… me. I need the encouragement today, tomorrow, maybe always. It helps to reflect on what works, and to remind myself that it is a complicated journey. It is useful to consider missteps, and to learn and grow, and try again.

Keep walking.

Yesterday my sister messaged me to let me know a favorite aunt had died after a lingering illness. (COVID is still taking lives, people, be safe, be considerate, be vaccinated.) It seems like I’m now in a place in life when the losses come more frequently. We are mortal creatures. I will always remember my Aunt fondly. She opened her home to me more than once when I needed a place to heal. She was peculiar, and special, and interesting, and the first adult who would sit and talk with me for hours about all manner of things, into the wee hours of the morning. Some of who I am developed sitting by her kitchen table in Baltimore on summer evenings, talking about life, love, music, reality… I’ll miss her.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I don’t know what’s around the next bend on this path. I don’t know how far this path goes, or where it may ultimately lead. I don’t know how long this mortal life will last, or how many moments of joy I can wring from it along the way, nor how many tears I may need to dry from my cheeks. It’s a very human journey.

…It’s time to begin again…

New day, new beginning.