Archives for posts with tag: compassion

Yesterday’s anniversary celebration was delightful, really memorable and lovely. It was the kind of night out that lingers in memory, lasting beyond the moment. I’m glad to be traveling life’s path with my Traveling Partner.

[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]

A new day dawns. Where does this path lead?

I went to bed later than usual, well-fed and still a little tipsy. I woke early-ish, rather abruptly. My beloved was already up. I dressed and headed for a hike along the seasonal marsh trail, now open for the Spring and summer. Somewhere along the drive up the highway I began to wake up more completely. I stopped for coffee along the way. I definitely need a cup of coffee this morning. 😆

… What an experience last night was! Remarkable…

I walk alongside the marsh ponds still thinking about last night… the wines, each so beautifully paired with the course they arrived with… the shrimp toast!.. the rabbit… the salmon!.. desserts… that chocolate cake, wow. The evening, and the meal, made its way into my top three most memorable meals of a lifetime, before the check ever arrived. I walk thinking about food, love, and Springtime. It’s rare that we splurge on such an evening, and the rarety made it even more splendid. I savored every bite. I’m grateful to my Traveling Partner for setting it up. His company for the meal was the best part.

I get to my halfway point, and take a seat on this favorite fence rail. The sky looks stormy and I have lost my enthusiasm for driving a great distance to a preferred retailer for peppercorns (and nothing else!). I’m enjoying the morning, but like a walk down any trail, I’m alert for tripping hazards after stepping into a pothole I didn’t see ahead of me. It’s a metaphor. Life’s journey isn’t reliably “well paved”, and surely it can’t be expected to be on “easy mode” for the entire game, eh? I sigh and swing my feet. A small brown bird darts away to a more comfortable distance and looks me over.

… We’re each having our own experience…

I breathe, exhale, and relax. It’s a beautiful Spring day full of promise. The path ahead no doubt still has potholes, and occasional obstacles to avoid. Detours. Bad weather. Wrong turns. The journey is the destination. I resolve (again) to enjoy all I can – and to learn from what I can’t enjoy. That’s enough.

I decide to sit a little while longer. I’ll enjoy taking the long loop back, around the meadow and down along the river. Good day for it. Good day to begin again.

Today is my anniversary with my Traveling Partner; 16 years together, a bit more, and 15 married. As long-term relationships go, it’s not exactly “a lifetime” – I’ve had to try a few times to “get it right”. This anniversary is a major milestone for a minor reason; it is my longest long-term relationship.

[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]

My next longest long-term relationships (14 years together, never actually married, and another that was 14 years married, but only 10 of those together) were problematic extensions of traumatizing models of “family life” I’d dearly like to erase from memory, but for the fact that my path through the chaos and damage eventually brought me here. I wouldn’t change a moment if it might mean missing out on the love I’ve found with my Traveling Partner.

“Communion” 2010

So here I am, walking as the sun rises, smiling and hearing love songs in my head. We have dinner plans tonight, and I’m excited about that. I haven’t gotten him a gift. I don’t know how to give a gift worthy of a love like this one on the limited budget I would have. Dinner together at the best restaurant in the area seems fitting. (His idea, which tickles me so much.)

“Contemplation” 12″ x 16″ acrylic and iron oxide. August 2011

Is love “enough”? I walk and think about that question and find myself answering “enough for what?” before shrugging off the question as irrelevant to my lived experience of love and loving. Love is love. Questions of sufficiency seem to lead down a path of price tags and comparisons and cost/benefit analysis, and that seems foolish. Love doesn’t have to be “enough” to fulfill some other purpose, it is enough to experience love, ever. I get to my halfway point, still smiling and feeling lighthearted. It’s a beautiful morning, and I am fortunate to be in love.

“Cherry Blossoms” 2011

I breathe, exhale, and relax. Meditation is difficult this morning. I fidget like a child in church, restless, excited. My mind wanders (don’t forget to pick up your Rx, don’t forget your manicure appointment, don’t forget to double-check the grocery list and stop by the store…). S’ok. It’s a very human experience. Most people don’t notice my brain damage; little glitches in the background, unusual difficulties with communication, oddball “quirks” that are actually coping mechanisms for getting around “thinking holes” and shit that just doesn’t work the way it should. I’m used to it, mostly. I’ve improved a lot over the years (so much). My Traveling Partner sees more of it than most people – and manages to be kind, loving, and generally very supportive, without succumbing to the potential temptation to exploit me to his advantage. (Not true in previous relationships, one of which apparently had exploitation as it’s specific purpose.) I feel safe and loved, which is pretty wonderful for this busted up weird human primate doing her best to figure life out, I must say. 😆

A token of affection. Love on a chain. The only heart-shaped locket I have ever owned.

I sigh contentedly, even happily. It’s a beautiful morning and I feel loved. I watch the sun light the vineyards along this trail. Such a beautiful moment. I sit here awhile longer. I have some errands to run before I return home to my beloved. I feel fortunate and merry, and supremely pleased to have taken the day off (and grateful to have had that option). Love makes it a beautiful day to be alive.

I smile and breathe the sweetly fragrant Spring breeze. I let the clock tick on (how could I even stop it?), soon enough it will be time to begin again.

Okay, so here we are. War. First things first; are there bombs dropping where you are, or is it a legitimate risk that they may? If yes, then please put this down and get to safety. I’ll still be around, later. You definitely have more important things to be concerned about, like safety, shelter, and potable drinking water.

Special Delivery, MC Frontalot – I earnestly wish this weren’t still so relevant.

If there are no bombs dropping where you are, and you are safe from harm, generally speaking, then please consider not immersing yourself in “war porn”. Read the news in words, no images if you must “stay current”. Or, you know, don’t. I’m not telling you what to do, just sharing what works for me.

I don’t want to watch bombs dropping – I already know what war looks like. I don’t need to watch hours of video footage of violence, destruction, and death. I have looked directly at the face of war. I don’t take it lightly, and don’t view it as necessary or needful or as a productive use of time and resources, at all. I am an anti-war army veteran. I’ve fought and been in combat. I’ve helped clean up damaged facilities and retrieved and cared for the dead. War is nothing to celebrate, even for the victorious; it is shameful, wasteful, and tragic.

People who wage war – who call the shots and send human beings to fight and die – don’t fight those wars or pay the price for the violence. I think they should. You want war? Then you pick up a weapon and go lead that fighting, you fucking monster. You go pull the bodies out from under the buildings you bombed. You answer to the grief stricken population.

I’m grateful no bombs are dropping here. I hope it always stays that way.

I take my usual morning walk feeling grateful and fortunate. I seem to be coming down with a cold (another one??), nonetheless, compared to being bombed, I’m quite fortunate. It is an ordinary Monday, following a lovely weekend.

I sigh to myself watching daybreak become a gray morning, without any hint of a colorful sunrise… but there’s also no rubble, no destruction, no death from above, no sirens blaring, no sounds of wailing or weeping. No fear. No stench of death or chaos. It’s another pleasant quiet morning at the edge of a small town, near where the vineyards meet the highway.

…We got so close to a world at peace, y’all…

Bombs or no bombs, it is a useful practice to take care of ourselves as best we can with the resources available. Breathe. Reflect. Be helpful, kind, and compassionate. Listen deeply. Lift people up. Use your words wisely, they are powerful.

I do my best to prepare my heart – and my resolve – to endure a world at war (again). I’m still hoping things may cool down once the billionaires and powerful grifters in office have what they want (that they could not simply purchase). I sit reflecting on how I can be truly helpful to the real human beings, the noncombatants affected by the trauma inflicted by war, if at all.

I take time for meditation. I breathe, exhale, and relax. I’m grateful to be where I am, and even who I am. It’s enough. It’s Monday, and it’s time to begin again.

Wakened unexpectedly by my Traveling Partner, who is having his own experience, I sat up to get my bearings. Stress, and sounds of a cupboard or door banging in another room. I don’t deal well with this sort of disturbance, most especially when I’m pulled from a deep sleep to deal with it. My temper flares. Not productive or useful. I breathe, exhale, and… get dressed. I get my work gear together, throw on a warm sweater and a warm cardigan over that. It’s a cold morning. I’m not yet up to long walks in freezing temperatures after being sick for weeks. Coffee? That’ll do.

I get my shit together before I find my way to doing or saying something out of anger that would be an unpleasant escalation. It’s too early for that shit. G’damn I’m so tired. Coffee, solitude, and some time writing sounds a lot better. I wish my Traveling Partner well and express hopes that he gets the rest he needs, as I head out into the darkness of a cold winter morning.

…I can’t say I have any particular fondness for Starbucks as a business, or even as a purveyor of coffee, I mean, it’s fine. Chain coffee. I’m fucking grateful this morning, though; they’re open. It’s damned early, and there aren’t many places open with indoor seating and hot coffee at this hour. We happen to have a Starbucks that is open at 04:30. Handy. Coffee, a table, an internet connection – and a woman with some time on her hands who needs to get her emotions sorted out without disturbing anyone else. This will do.

My friend, the Author, is coming for a visit later this month. It’ll be good to talk things over with him. He has so much perspective and lived experience. I think about other friends I can share with, talk things over with, get insights from, and just feel heard on subjects that I know I struggle with; my anger, healthy relationships, and boundary-setting. I send an email to my therapist asking to make an appointment, and whether he might have an opening this week? Sleep is important; my Traveling Partner needs it to heal and be well. I also need it, to recover from illness, to maintain emotional balance, to age gently, to be well… all needs that human beings share. We all need sleep. We don’t all get it easily. I find myself seething over it, and I know that taking action from a place of emotion can result in poor decision-making. So, I sit with my coffee and my anger, wondering what the actual fuck I can do with this emotional bullshit to create order from chaos?

Emotions are not actually “bullshit”. They are an important part of who and what we are as human beings. We have shared needs as primates and as mammals, and even as thinking reasoning creatures – but we’re each having our own experience. It’s regrettably easy to view the world entirely through the lens of our own experience, taking this or that personally, lashing out at perceived slights or hurts without pausing to consider the context, or to fact-check impressions. Emotions are useful – they give us a lot of information about the way in which our circumstances and values intersect. They tell other people where they fit in our world, too. Relationships are rarely held together by reason or logical thought. More commonly, they are built on an emotional foundation, and shared experience. And when that goes sour? What then? I frown to myself, feeling stressed and insecure in my closest relationship. This has been my longest… we’re going on 16 years. That’s 3 years more than the next longest. Where does this path lead?

I sip my coffee and reflect on life and love, and struggle and choices. Love is wonderful stuff – but I don’t find it “easy”. I’ve got issues (maybe we all do?), and I’m not an easy fit for cohabitation. Relationships take real work. Loving someone doesn’t seem to make that any easier, though I often find myself thinking that is somehow “should”. (Reality does not care how I think things “should be”. lol I chuckle to myself and some of my anger dissipates.) G’damn I’m going to be tired by the end of the damned day, though; I really needed the sleep I almost got. The thought makes my anger flare up again. I breathe, exhale, and relax. Fucking hell this human journey is messy, indirect, poorly mapped, and frankly it feels too damned easy to get lost on a path that looks clear on a sunny day, but is obscured in the fog. (It’s a metaphor.)

I think about my “Big Five” relationship values, again: respect, consideration, reciprocity, compassion, and openness, and this morning I find myself wondering how many of these my beloved Traveling Partner truly shares with me…? Maybe his values are different. I sigh to myself over my coffee. It’s difficult to ascertain how much of the emotion of the moment is coloring my thinking. Maybe a lot, that’s very human. Wisdom gained through painful experience and mistakes over time have taught me that it is best to reflect long, and let moments be moments. I sip my coffee grateful for the warmth of the cup in my hand, the shelter of a bustling retail space around me, and the wisdom to let moments pass. I catch myself wondering, though, what is on the path ahead.

Another breath, another moment. My headache is fueled by my lack of deep rest. My backache is worsened by the cold damp weather. My mood is not improved by the vapid pop music in the background – songs of lust and heartbreak, sung to the tune of a forgotten advertising jingle. Sometimes life is surreal to the point of seeming almost profound or insightful, without improving my perspective. Why so many breakup songs? Because breaking up is a thing human primates do, and we are singers of songs and tellers of tales, eh?

The world spins on madly… I keep drinking my coffee, hoping for that moment when clarity arrives and settles the day. Maybe. I get an unexpected text from my therapist directly to my phone, instead of the reply to my email I expected later. Something about my phrasing got his attention, and he replies by text directly to me. He has an opening tomorrow, if I can do a virtual appointment I can make the timing work. I gratefully accept; there are definitely some things I avoid burdening friends with. We’ve all got our shit to get through, right? I’m not trying to make anyone carry a heavier load, I just need to talk about some things, in real words, with a real person who really knows me. I’ve been seeing my therapist (off and on these days), since 2013. It makes sense to keep (and deepen) the relationships we have that work – whether friends, family, colleagues, lovers, or therapists.

There’s no “coded language” here. I’m just one human primate dealing with baggage, and the lasting chaos and damage of relationships that most certainly did not “work”, but left behind a lot of wreckage, and weirdness, and moments of temper or sorrow to manage. Our past relationships, and the trauma or hurts that resulted, create portions of the foundation on which our present and future relationships rest. This complicates things like perspective, boundary-setting, perceptions, assumptions, and whether or how we react in some moment. The way out is through, they say. (Who exactly are “they”? How many ways out have “they” explored in a practical way? Was what they were going through relevant to my experience at all?) I sigh to myself. People are complicated. Each having their own experience. Each walking their own path. Each using a subtly different “dictionary”, while also likely to be assuming those definitions are universally shared – and often without being watchful for variances that lead to miscommunication. Fucking hell, why is communication so hard? I frown at my coffee, head pounding. Some questions don’t have useful answers.

…”What do you want? Will it help you become the person you most want to be?” my mind whispers to me from the shadows…

I sit with my thoughts, waiting, wondering, and annoyed by the background music. Perspective reminds me things could be so much worse. Experience tells me this relationship is generally pretty good, and fairly healthy. We’re still humans being human. It’s messy sometimes. Disappointing sometimes. Aggravating sometimes. It’s also rewarding, joyful, enriching, uplifting, and encouraging… maybe just not this morning, right now, in this moment? Human. I sigh to myself, hoping my Traveling Partner gets back to sleep and gets some of the rest he needs, even though I won’t. Not this morning. Another sigh, and I finish my coffee. It’s time to begin again.

I know. It’s the day after Thanksgiving. A lot of people will no doubt move on from the holiday, forget all about gratitude, and return to snarling about petty bullshit, or worse, they may return to lobbing petty bullshit at others. Unnecessary. Unpleasant. (Do better.) I sigh to myself hoping to do better, and to practice healthier practices than that.

It’s early. Daybreak. I’m out on the trail, content with my solitude, and enjoying the sight of colorful holiday lights that have appeared here and there along my path, visible from a distance, peaking through the trees. Today I’ll begin decorating for the Yule holiday, myself. My headache dampens my enthusiasm for the tasks involved but does not diminish my fondness for the results. This year, everything is “easy to get to”, but it’s in a storage unit nearby, instead of the attic crawlspace. Ease sometimes comes at a cost. “Worth remembering that,” I mutter to myself, aloud.

Our Thanksgiving celebration was lovely. The meal was a good one. The errors, mishaps, and compromises were few. The cleanup got done in stages, after dinner. There was no yelling at all, no moments of lost temper or profound vexation. Admittedly, it was not a perfect day; I managed to talk over my beloved Traveling Partner (or failed to listen while he was talking) a couple times, which predictably enough hurt his feelings. That’s rude and inconsiderate, and I understood the hurt. I apologized and did my best to avoid repeating the behavior. I sometimes struggle to give attention to more than one speaker or task at any given time, and don’t “multitask” particularly well (although I once thought I did). It is a limitation that causes me quite a lot of stress. I do my best to juggle and carefully manage competing priorities. My results vary.

A new day, a familiar path.

Dawn unfolds as a new, gray, and rather mild autumn morning. It’s been rainy. Last night was windy and some trees have come down, although few; it’s mostly broken off branches I see on the trail. It could be worse.

There are challenges ahead of me (aren’t there always?), and challenges behind me (no good ruminating endlessly over those!), but this moment, here, now? It’s fine. I’m okay for most values of “okay”, and generally speaking, life is pretty good. Every damned thing is too expensive, and costs continue to rise, but we’ve got enough and we’re getting by. It could be much worse. I’m thankful for my good fortune. I’m thankful for my Traveling Partner. Turning the page on a calendar by one day doesn’t mean gratitude is any less worthy, or less appreciated. I’m still grateful. There is no value in limiting our gratitude to one day of the year. Gratitude is welcome and useful all year long. It’s a good basic practice for building perspective and a positive approach to life, too.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. Sure, my results may vary, and it’s a very human experience, but each day I have a chance to begin again, to do better, to make wiser decisions, to treat others with consideration, compassion, and kindness… including myself. I get another opportunity to become the woman I most want to be. As dawn becomes day, I think about what that takes, and prepare to begin again.