Archives for posts with tag: can you hear me now?

Simply This

September 3, 2015 //

I am sipping my coffee – this morning it seems very ordinary, and at some earlier point in life I might have spent some measure of time inclined to troubleshoot the coffee-making, or perhaps poured it out in frustration and made a new cup of coffee. This morning, I am sipping my coffee and recognizing that it is adequate, not bad, just not worth raving about…but some coffees are like that, right? Good enough to drink…not quite good enough to write a favorable review.

I slept well this morning, with few interruptions and no nightmares. I woke slowly, and took my time with my yoga, meditation, and shower. It doesn’t seem the sort of morning that requires rushing through things – it’s rare than any morning actually requires rushing through things, but some of them seem to want it. Rushing is not my preference. I take my time. I sip my coffee and grin at my awareness that taking my time is not, by itself, what makes a great cup of coffee.

A moment of reflection over coffee

There’s something on the edge of my consciousness, and understanding of something that I haven’t quite managed, perhaps, waiting to be recognized more fully, and embraced, or perhaps shared…like the way my nose tickles before I sneeze, I sense the understanding on the edge of my awareness. The morning is chilly, and autumn approaches. There are other things crowding into my experience, begging to be noticed: the sweater I am wearing to work wraps me in softness, paintings I hung last night tug at my senses yearning to be viewed again, the stiffness in my spine that characterizes nearly every morning at this stage in my life, the soft ping of incoming email… The rich immediacy of the moment has so much to offer that I find it quite difficult to try to focus on something on the extreme edge of my awareness, teasing me that there is more to understand about myself, or the world. I’m okay with that; understanding comes with time, and waiting on it doesn’t wear it down, or make it less worthy.

Autumn approaches.

I love the poetry of language, and the nuances available in a rich vocabulary. It is possible to say so much, so clearly… Sometimes I fail my intention, and lose the meaning in the words. It’s actually quite common. I am practicing simpler ways of communicating in direct conversations in my relationships, and not because the poetry of language has no value on its own, but rather because I actually enjoy it when my needs are met in my relationships. Sometimes that requires fewer or simpler words. I find myself wondering if my traveling partner has noticed any change? Simple, practical, direct – and not in an unkind or terse way – is useful in day-to-day communication between friends, lovers, family, co-workers. I guess that seems obvious… I find it a challenge, more often than I would like to. I sometimes come across as terse or abrasive when I am being direct. Sometimes simple and practical language, coming from me, sounds…child like, or over-simplified. There’s balance to find, and I have not yet found it. I like colorful language and clear descriptions and don’t necessarily get why there is an improvement in describing someone as having ‘curly hair’ versus ‘she is surrounded by vast clouds of soft brown bouncing when she talks’. If two curly haired women were standing side by side, you would know immediately which of the two was the one I meant if I use the poetry language has to offer. I have much to learn about language, and communication. I could just point and grunt, I suppose…but I do like words.

Simple words are beautiful, too. They require greater skill to be poetic. Coming to that understanding finds me exploring shorter formats poetically, and in prose; can I say it with fewer words? Can I communicate accurately – and simply? More of life’s curriculum. I absolutely detest “tl:dr” finding it an extreme discourtesy. I also like being heard – and there is great value in being able to easily communicate in the broadest possible circumstances with the greatest number of people. I am still a student, even of words, even of language – even of poetry. This amazing journey offers much to learn.

Even the flowers know autumn approaches.

I have a long weekend ahead. I plan to paint this weekend, after I run a couple errands on Friday. I will likely spend much of the weekend alone, which means far fewer words. Where will inspiration take me? I am eager to invest the time in me, no timers, no alarm clocks, no calendar…just an artist at work. Simple enough.

“Monochromatic Flower” 18″ x 20″ acrylic on canvas 2010 . A single color on canvas seems simple enough…very challenging to photograph. (It’s a metaphor. 🙂 )

Today is a good day for simple words, and simple things. Today is a good day to savor simple pleasures. Today is a good day to communicate big ideas with fewer syllables. Today is new and fresh and exciting – and wide open with possibilities…what will I do to change the world?

Tags art and the artist, being heard, can you hear me now?, choosing words with greater care, colorful language, having my own experience, I'm just saying, I'm only trying to say, learning to be a woman of fewer words, let me put that on the whiteboard, ptsd, simple words, speaking softly and carrying a big dictionary, TBI, the what and the how, there is wisdom in silence, understanding, use your words, words of anger, words of love, words words words

Categories Art, art and the artist, autumn, Brain Injury, Free Will, Logic & Reason, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Relationships, Summer, The Art of Being, Words

Source Material

August 17, 2015 //

This morning I made a very nearly perfect cup of coffee. It’s not really remarkable; my coffees are generally quite consistently very good. I have practiced this particular method of brewing, now, for 89 days, amounting to a minimum of 178 coffees, adequate practice to reliably make a good coffee. I’ve made a couple of really terrible coffees along the way – usually because I stopped paying attention at some point during the process, having gotten distracted by something else. I enjoy my morning coffee greatly, and I enjoy the practical self-sufficiency of making my own, precisely the way I prefer it, without any imposition on someone else in the moment. I enjoy being able to fully rely on myself to take care of my needs in this small way. I enjoy feeling knowledgeable, and competent.

My thoughts followed the feelings of ‘being knowledgeable’ and ‘being competent’ along other tangents while I sipped my coffee. I start wondering how much those feelings are actually tied to subjective experiences of knowing more, or having more skills, and how much they merely reflect my perspective how being able to apply the things I do know to my circumstances to achieve a desired outcome… without any particular connection of some noteworthy portion of knowledge of all the things possible to know. There are a lot of things to know…even about coffee. I don’t claim extraordinary knowledge of coffee… I know enough to make a good cup of coffee in the morning, one that satisfies my own expectations of ‘a good cup of coffee’. It’s enough… but there is more to know, and I could choose to pursue that knowledge, or not.

I keep following my thoughts down this particular rabbit hole and find myself wondering about this ‘body of knowledge’ that is my own…all the things I have learned in a life time, all the things I “know” (whether facts or opinions), all of the information and experience on which my understanding of the world – and myself – is built… Isn’t the ‘source material’ pretty critically important? I find myself reconsidering all the books on all the shelves; I have a lot of books and I make a point of keeping only those that seem to represent important pieces of who I have become over time… I find myself wondering, this morning, if I am perhaps hanging on to some of my chaos and damage in the form of “knowledge” – fundamentals in my thinking that are not just erroneous, but built specifically on concepts or information that tend to prevent forward progress, or foster ongoing negative self-talk; it seems more likely than not, and I support that suspicion with the many volumes of “The Great Books of the Western World“, a product developed and marketed by the intellectually mighty Encyclopedia Britannica, whose online presence is rather costly, compared to the vastness of the internet itself, at one’s fingertips with a Google search.

I bought “The Great Books” when I was not quite 21, and eager to advance my knowledge of the world, and to become ‘educated’. A smooth talking encyclopedia salesman skillfully persuaded me that all the knowledge I could ever desire was within those pages. It was an expensive purchase – and my first payment plan. When they arrived, I marveled at their weight, and beauty…and I read them all over the years (or at least began them – I’ll admit Fourier kicked my ass, and a couple of the philosophers just irritated me well beyond wanting to read another word). Had I attended most of the liberal arts colleges of the time, my education would have been based largely on the works included in “The Great Books”…but the controversy over the collection existed as soon as the collection was published, and the 2nd edition, published in 1990, would have been a better fit for my own tastes. Neither collection represents the voices of women with any vigor or thoroughness (or, let’s be honest here, at all)…and sitting here in the cool of morning, it hits me that there is a fairly direct connection to the cultural thinking that fuels so much of my own very personal anger about how society treats women, and the willingness to slap a label like “The Great Books of the Western World” on a collection of work that largely just ignores women, even in the 2nd edition. I mean…seriously? It’s not even “Some Great Books…”, it’s held up as “The Great books…” Giving readers the impression that all the world’s vast knowledge and progress has been the knowledge of men, the progress of men, the thinking of men – and it’s not actually true.

Why wouldn’t about half these books be written by women?

I look again my bookshelf for the voices of women… for the voices of my own experience… I feel a certain strange heartsick feeling that I, too, neglect the voices of women in my library. It feels like a great wrong, that urgently needs to be made right – and for me, making that right starts with a question. “Do I actually find that these volumes are “The” great books of western thinking? Truly? Who says? Based on what, exactly? Is Descartes more worthy, from my own perspective, than Simone de Beauvoir? Is Fourier more relevant than Marie Curie? What about William James? Has his work provided me more value and perspective on my own thinking than Gloria Steinem? I find myself feeling fussy – and ignorant. My education is lopsided, heavily weighted in favor of the thinking of men, the voices of men, the experiences of men… and it isn’t limited to dusty books on untouched shelves; this is a deeper issue that affects how children are educated, and what we see on television, and in theaters. This lack of women’s voices, this disinterest in giving us a seat at the grown-up’s table, or making our presence an everyday part of significant historical discourse is a disservice to human progress, and our sense of who we are – and it fuels the quiet seething anger that is so often a part of my experience; the lack of feeling heard begins with these books. Or so it seems over my morning coffee.

There’s something beautiful about choice, and perspective, and new understandings; taken all together, they make great things happen, they create an opportunity for change. There are verbs involved, of course, and I expect my results may vary. I have spent my life listening to the voices of men, and mostly being a pretty good sport about having my own voice silenced to allow some man to speak, erupting in uncontainable rage only now and then. It’s no wonder my anger has taken so many men I have loved by surprise; based on the books in our hands, surely their expectation has been that it is always ‘their turn to talk’!

It’s an uncommonly pleasant Monday morning. I am eager to make some changes in my library…if “The Great Books of the Western World” were all the voices of women, what books would I see there on the shelf? It’s time I include them. It’s time to change the world.

Tags are you listening, can you hear me now?, talking while female, the 50%, the great books, the voices of women, tired of being silenced, use your words, walking my own path, who decides greatness?, women's thoughts and women's words

Categories Free Will, Healthy Living, Logic & Reason, Metaphors, Perspective, The Art of Being, women, Words

A Woman of More Than a Few Words

July 6, 2015 //

I will not ever be described as ‘a woman of few words’. I use a lot of words. I don’t, myself, mind that I tend toward verbosity in both speech and text; I tend also to attract people who similarly enjoy words. My traveling partner once noted “you have a lot to say”. Maybe. I certainly say a lot. Sometimes it gets in the way of saying what I most mean to say, or need to say most urgently. I can take a while getting to the point. I seriously overuse metaphors. I sometimes don’t notice the glazed look in someone’s eyes when they are finished listening before I have finished talking. It makes asking ‘do I ever actually finish talking?’ a worthy question.

I spend a great deal of my time these days not talking. Living alone, and not being the sort to talk to myself, generally, there are often hours where there is no sound of human speech in my living space. I don’t talk to my fish (very often). I don’t talk to inanimate objects, or my Barbie dolls (yes, I said it, and it’s true; I still play with my Barbies). I am not in continuous communication with other human beings, or in regular daily communication with any but my traveling partner…and you, right here. Facebook gets a share of my attention, but it rarely feels like ‘conversation’ as much as it feels like passing notes in class. I am, oddly, not at all talkative – until you place another human being in front of me. Then… yeah. I don’t seem to even notice how continuous the flow of words are then. Eventually, I may become aware that I’ve gone on too long, but… I lack sensitivity to those cues. I am a beginner, still working around the edges of life’s curriculum, and hoping for a passing grade reflected in good quality of life, and good relationships over time. I am learning to be patient with myself – it’s slow going on some points.

I interrupt a lot. I’m working on it, however it can be slow going when I lack continuous awareness of my tendency to snag any breathing space between someone else’s use of language to continue my own. It’s rude – admittedly so, but without ill will, I assure you. My brain injury doesn’t excuse the resulting poor behavior, just puts the challenge in front of me (often) to be addressed over time. What’s so irksome for me is that I really enjoy listening to other people – they have stories to tell, a different perspective and history than my own, they are a living record of their slice of the human experience – and I love hearing about it. I want to know more…If I can only stop myself talking.

I was concerned that living alone would worsen the tendency to talk over people, to interrupt people, or to ‘talk too much’ (I define ‘talking too much’ as exceeding that point at which people no longer want to listen, or having crossed some boundary by continuing the discussion). Interestingly, that seems not to be the case in conversation at all; I’m finding it somewhat easier not to interrupt – perhaps simply losing the habit of continuous speech because I am not with people almost 24/7? On the other hand…my writing tends to be somewhat more verbose these days, exceeding 1k words in almost every post. Seems harmless…you can always set it aside and come back to it later. Or not.

I think my point this morning is that I had some expectations of myself and my behavior in the context of living alone that seemed well supported by what I understood about myself, and those expectations proved to be every bit as unreliable as any other untested expectations. I was incorrect. It seems instead that living alone is doing something positive to help me build the skills to bridge the communication gaps that have gotten in the way for so long. (I’ve wrecked some valuable relationships because someone dear to me just couldn’t get a word in edgewise. Ever.)

“Taking Another Look at Me” 11″ x 14″ acrylic on canvas w/mirror 2011

Part of my commitment to myself this past Independence Day is to allow myself – to require myself – to step away from my own assumptions about who I am, and take another look at the woman in the mirror – change is, and perspective matters. What about you? When was the last time you took a look at who you are with beginner’s eyes, really accepted the changes that have molded you over time, and paused to reflect on where you are right now, with yourself, with who you are, and with what you really want of life? When was the last time you swept away the expectations and assumptions that hold you back, and limit your decision-making freedom, or your growth?

What could be more worthy of study than communication? Even though we are each having our own experience, we are all in this together. (detail from “Communion” )

Today it won’t take 1k words to be this woman I am, and to be open to the vast number of options, decisions, choices I am free to make. If I can let go of my assumptions about myself, if I can set aside my expectations of myself based on those assumptions… can I similarly do so in all my interactions, with each person…today? It’s a good start on changing the world. (I just need to give the world room to get a word in edgewise!)

Tags a lot to say, a woman of many words, are you listening, art and the artist, be the change, being and becoming, but you said, can you hear me now?, choosing the right words, deep listening, don't let me interrupt you, emotional self sufficiency, everyone has a story to tell, getting a word in edgewise, giving someone else a chance to talk, I'm listening, meditation, mindful interactions, mindfulness for beginners, p.s. I love you, perspective, practicing the practices, ptsd, TBI, The Art of Being, The Big 5, walking my own path, what's your story?, words words words

Categories art and the artist, Brain Injury, Free Will, Logic & Reason, Love, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Relationships, Summer, The Art of Being, The Big 5, Uncategorized, Words

The Meme is not the Experience

April 25, 2015 //

Life in the Information Age is pretty amazing. There are so many sources of information, so many formats, so may ways to share, to process, to filter, to understand…and so much to know. Realistically, ‘being a student of life’ is a journey that concludes only at the point at which life itself ends. There is so much knowledge available that repetition isn’t really necessary, and following hyperlinks wherever they may lead is the drug of choice for many an intellectual dilettante. The wellspring of knowledge never seems to run dry. There are still choices to be made, verbs to apply…your results, and mine, may vary. Keeping up with it all is pretty challenging…We’re not only drowning in information, and in facts, we are provided misinformation, lies, and advertising slogans in similar quantity, forcing us to sort out bullshit from information pretty much continuously if we expect to hold on to some understanding of the world that is at least somewhat consistent with reality as a shared experience… But… We’re each having our own experience. Hell, even ‘placebo effect’ is a real thing that has real effects on actual people, in spite of ‘it doesn’t work that way’.

So…yeah… ‘reality’ and ‘truth’ and ‘facts’… how’s that working out for you?

Some of the rules are outside our power to change them.

What about when someone disagrees with your position, your emotions, or your experience? What then? Is ‘being right’ more important than being content? Is ‘winning’ more valuable than enjoying your experience?

What matters most?

What about when your experience of events, and your sense of self, find you feeling invisible, misunderstood, or a stranger to your loved ones, because you are not recognized as the being you experience yourself to be? Is correcting the erroneous assumptions and misunderstandings worthwhile in the moment? We are each having our own experience – which means that even our assumptions, expectations, and understanding of others, in the moment, is also truly our own; like so many things, our understanding of others is mostly made up, and not based entirely on our direct experience. Is contentment found in a quiet smile, and self-acceptance – or in ‘righting the wrong’?

Just be.

Is it enough to be, and to understand being, from the vantage point of this self, that I am – or is there some need to assert some moment of self more explicitly to feel the powerful connection that comes with recognition, acceptance, and understanding by others? Is the connection worth enough to compromise authenticity – knowing that such a choice results in a poor quality connection, indeed?

Self-acceptance, self-esteem, self-compassion… there is value in knowing who I am.

Are there ‘right answers’…or simply my answers, or your answers? These are only questions; I have no answers for you, only answers for me. I do think the questions have value… I keep considering them.

What else matters this much?

One last question… It’s a tough one, but the test is an open book sort; the world-wide web is vast, I’m sure you can Google it. What do you actually know about people who are most dear to you…and how much are you simply assuming?

Change is. Choose wisely.

Today is a good day to test assumptions, to ask clarifying questions, and to recognize one another in the moment. Today is a good day to embrace love, because it has more value than ‘being right’. Today is a good day to check facts, cite sources, and know myself. Today is a good day to trust that no one else knows me like I do. 🙂

Tags are you going my way?, can you hear me now?, change is, experience, good self-care, I am, namaste, perspective, putting my own oxygen mask on first, reflecting on reflections, self-awareness, sufficiency, what matters most?, who are you?, you don't tell me!

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

Thoughts and Moments

January 26, 2015 //

I spent the weekend in pursuit of real downtime, and somewhat ironically putting effort into relaxing. It was somewhat successful, but perhaps not so much as I really needed. I’ll keep working on that. Life is not a competition, and no prize at the end of whatever ‘rat race’ this may be is likely to be worth missing out on the things I truly love while I chased something that didn’t matter so much to me personally. 🙂

I had quite a bit of solo time yesterday, and spent it wisely on moments, rather than on thoughts. Thoughts can quickly fuck me up completely… you, too? I can count on a moment to be what it is, to feel what I feel, to enjoy – or not – that experience. It is. Thoughts are less reliable in that respect; they lack substance, and have only what reality I choose to give them. It’s the choosing that’s tricky… at 2:30 am, half-sleeping, half-waking, a troubling thought can quickly take on life, importance, significance, magnitude, trending, relevance…and somehow become quite real… or… seemingly so. That some stray thought dredged from troubled dreams seems real at 2:30 am – or more precisely, at 3:02 am, after it has stewed in my consciousness for some period of time, doesn’t change something that is quite true; it’s still only a thought, without form or substance. It exists only in my mind, as images, words, or emotions.

In the wee hours…

This morning I woke, around 2:30 am. I know it was earlier than 2:43 am – when I finally looked at the clock – because I was awake for some minutes before making the effort to check the time. I don’t know what woke me. I know that I still felt sleepy, and wanted to slip gently back into the world of dreams. At 3:02 am, I sat up, frustrated with the direction my thoughts were taking, and considering getting up rather than passively enduring an attack on my well-being by my own brain, in the wee hours. I sat up, and my ‘sense of space’ still seemed consistent with sleep and sleeping and being horizontal. I tried again to sleep. I tossed and turned, finding wonderful comfortable positions that seemed sure to be fit for sleeping… only to restlessly re-situate myself again and again. Finally, I got up, went through a relaxing yoga sequence that highlighted how stiff I actually felt, even as that stiffness eased a bit. I checked the clock, resigned to the dawn. 4:54 am.

Some thoughts stuck with me from the restless night. They have some value for later consideration, and I make notes, and then move on; the time for that is not now.

There was a time when I had very little, and the dominant struggles day-to-day were practical logistical struggles, the financial and qualify of life challenges that accompany poverty. I often blamed my unhappiness on those circumstances. I thought surely, if I had more I would be happier…or more easily find my way to that place. I definitely have sufficient proof now to understand that this is not ‘true’; happiness and financial means may sometimes correlate, but money is not a cause of happiness. Neither is a big house in a safe suburb. Nor is a degree from a respected university. Feelings are not material goods, they are not things, there is no ‘market value’ which one can pay to obtain the happiness they seek…unless that happiness is quite specifically and clearly the purchased thing, itself… which is probably rarer than true love. Emotions operate in their own reality, and most definitely outside the national economy. In the wee hours, I contemplated how little of my resources I really invest in the ‘economy’ of my emotions…there is more to understand.

That wasn’t what kept me awake, though… what kept me awake was a nebulous fragile connection to a completely different thought that wanted to jump into the mix on the same grammatical structure (thanks, Brain)… I kept coming back to that stray thought, as irrelevant as it was; however many words I use… I can’t ‘purchase’ the understanding of what I am trying to say. Language as currency has limitations. Sometimes, silence has more to offer to communicate well… to ‘be heard’, there has to be some listening. There is an exchange. I don’t know that this has real value, or whether there is an underlying truth to consider. I do know it kept me quite awake, until I finally rose to greet the day, feeling somewhat irked by my wakefulness, and disappointed that my thoughts didn’t really take me anywhere new. There’s probably a lesson there.

Today is a good day to take care of me, and to treat others well. Today is a good day to be mindful that thoughts are not moments, and being in the moment is not about thinking. Today is a good day to be present in every interaction, without scripting, and without expectations. Today is a good day to be open to success, and willing to learn from failure. Today is a good day to recognize change.

Tags can you hear me now?, dream a little dream, feel like making love, in the still of the night, in the wee hours, it's about breathing, let's make this easy, love and lovers, meditation, mindfulness matters, no market value on love, sleepless, talk to me, that's why I'm easy, thoughts and moments, words and music, yoga in the morning

Categories Anxiety, Brain Injury, Logic & Reason, Love, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Relationships, Sleepless Nights, Words

Simply This

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Source Material

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A Woman of More Than a Few Words

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The Meme is not the Experience

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Thoughts and Moments

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