Archives for posts with tag: compassion

Another quiet morning. Another day closer to the Solstice and to Giftmas and to a new year. Another moment to reflect and breathe and be. Another moment of this very human experience. Another moment to choose and to act and to accept the consequences. I sip my coffee, iced, black. I feel calm, and little chilly; the office is not particularly warm, nonetheless I’m grateful for the quiet calm space.

It was raining too hard for a walk this morning, and when I arrived at the trailhead the small parking lot outside the gate was filled by several battered old RVs (clearly dwellings) and trash newly strewn about. I didn’t feel comfortable staying, so I drove on into the office. I know the park staff will clear those folks out after the day begins; there’s no camping permitted there, and they’re quite strict about it. As I drove away, I felt a familiar concern and compassion – where will those people go? Why are they having to live that way? What the hell do we do about the problem of homelessness? I can’t help thinking that generally speaking, it is a problem that ought not exist at all, but I’m aware that life has become so incredibly costly (rent, bills, medical care, groceries, connectivity, education…) that more than a few people end up literally unable to afford the expenses of a completely ordinary American life. My mind pauses on that healthcare CEO who was shot in the streets; people are angry, and healthcare is stupidly expensive (and not very good quality in many cases), and it’s not the patients causing that.

Some of life’s problems are damned difficult to figure out. Sometimes the solutions are obvious, but there is a profound reluctance to pay the price to solve the problem. Messy. Adulting is hard.

I remember a conversation with my father when I was a ‘tween…

Me: That seems so unfair!
Dad: The world isn’t fair.
Me: Why isn’t the world fair, though?
Dad: That’s not the right question to ask.
Me: I don’t understand – shouldn’t we be trying to make the world more fair?
Dad: You’re being naive. You’ll understand when you’re older.

Funny… I still don’t understand why we aren’t all working together to make the world more fair. I’m definitely older.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. The office is quiet and comfortable. I’ve got a routine day of work ahead. I’d rather be painting, but there’s a price to pay to live the life I do, and it’s the work ahead of me that pays for it. I sip my coffee, and enjoy this few early minutes of solitude and reflection. Being chilly is a distraction, but the thermostate is locked and I can’t change the settings. There’s a metaphor there, isn’t there? We may have an idea of a solution to a real life problem – but we may be “locked out” of making the change we think is required. That’s something to think about. Be compassionate; you don’t know what other people may be going through, or what limitations and hurdles they have to face just to survive. It’s cheap to be kind.

I stare at my iced coffee with a frown. I chose poorly. Hot coffee would have been a better choice. I laugh at myself in the quiet – humans being human; sometimes even when we have the information to make a wise choice, we choose poorly. There are consequences.

It’s time to begin again.

I slept like crap last night. My sleep was restless and disturbed by strange unsettling dreams. Not exactly nightmares, I guess, but my dreams were peculiar and distressing enough to wake me. I woke a bit more than a half hour early for the day to begin, too, feeling restless and fussy. My Traveling Partner was already up, rather oddly, and as soon as I entered the living room he said “now I can go back to bed”, or something of the sort (I was still pretty groggy). It was weird.

Later, after I was long gone and out on this trail in the fog and darkness, he pinged me, awake again (still), and told me about his restless night. Rough. I send him my love and some affectionate stickers and emoji. Probably not very helpful, but hopefully he at least knows I care. Before I can share the love song that has been stuck in my head since I woke this morning, he’s headed back to bed. I hope he finally sleeps.

I pause on the trail in the cold to write a few words and gaze at the sliver of moon in the east through the fog, before I finish my walk and head to the office. Today feels “too busy” and I’m short on rest. I’ll do my best. What else is there to do?

It’s Thanksgiving week, of course it feels busy. I laugh to myself. Human challenges. Human limitations. I breathe exhale and relax. I meditate for a few moments, unconcerned with the cold. It’s not quite freezing. I’m glad I wore warm layers, and my scarf and gloves! I think about sitting by the fireplace, cozy and warm. Winter soon.

“Fireside” pastel 2024

I look at the time, in the pre-dawn gloom. Daydreaming can wait. It’s time to begin again. The day is waiting.

Quiet morning. Nothing much going on. Nothing much “in my head”. Pain is pain. Love is love. Human primates are a mixed bag of wonderful and vile. Life is worth living. The journey is the destination.

… Get off your fucking cell phone when you’re with people, and most especially when you’re operating a moving fucking vehicle. There’s no text message worth dying for, and no distraction worth killing for. Just saying. Stop doing that dumb shit. (Being glued to your damned phone when you’re spending time with people is just rude, not lethal, but still rude, so maybe don’t, eh?) Friendly PSA. I know, you didn’t ask.

I sit quietly with my lack of thoughts and my breath, waiting for the sun. Another work day. My tinnitus shrieks in my ears. My back aches. My head aches. I’d like to feel more comfortable but that’s apparently not a today thing, at least not in this moment. I distract myself with my coffee (it’s very good this morning), and some moments spent gazing at the nearly full waning moon. Beautiful. Worth the time spent just looking at it. It hangs overhead successfully outshining the parking lot lights that are unfortunately also in view. (What the hell is the matter with us, always trying to light up the darkness as though it were daylight and making all kinds of noise?!)

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I have the vague feeling of “having a bunch of shit to do’, but can’t recall why I feel that way. I’ve got a bit of a break, some away time, planned for a couple weeks from now. I clearly need it. Again. G’damn why do I run myself ragged this way? I can’t possibly get “all of everything” done all the time, and I only exhaust and frustrate (and disappoint) myself by thinking otherwise. I could treat myself better…

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I feel my shoulders relax, and my back. Pain sucks. It’s not always easily manageable. Sometimes it isn’t manageable at all. I generally make a point of “not bitching about it” – but this doesn’t always serve me well, it just keeps anyone else from being overly troubled by it while I trudge onward, doing my best. “Chronic pain” is not particularly descriptive of the lifetime experience of living with pain. It’s just a handy label. Be kind to people; there’s a lot of pain in the world and a lot of people not complaining.

… The sky begins to lighten…

Another chance to begin again.

Perspective. Sufficiency. Mindfulness. Kindness. Compassion. Non-attachment. Self-care. Consideration. So many things to practice on this journey… I can’t say I’ve “mastered” any of these, though they all matter to me, and I do practice them. It is a very humbling experience, this human life. My best efforts often feel inadequate, not because they truly are, but simply because I am so very human, and somehow expect so much more of myself than I know how to deliver. I keep practicing. I reflect on my failures – without ruminating. I reflect on my successes – without becoming arrogant or complacent. One day, one moment, at a time down this path that has no end. No end I can see, at least for now. We are mortal creatures. I don’t recall the beginning of this journey. I may not be aware of the end when it comes. How very peculiar. How very human.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. Daybreak has come. I can see the trail sufficiently well to walk it safely. I’ve got my boots on, and my cane by my side. I finish my coffee and look out across the meadow. A low mist clings to the ground. It’s time to begin again.

Every sunrise a new beginning.

I’m sipping my coffee and thinking about a question. “How do I actually change my perspective?” The colleague who asked the question wasn’t being flippant or obtuse, and the context was work we were doing together. Sincere question. I was stalled for a moment, because for me the answer is ludicrously practical; make a literal change in the angle of view, or distance from which something is observed, or… I think you get it? Something as simple as standing on a chair to see something a different way, or looking out a different window to capture a different view… right?

Looking out one window of the office, onto a city I’ve known for 42 years.

We continued the conversation as we walked to the break area for coffee. We looked out other windows, still talking about how to shift perspective, metaphorically and for real.

Maybe it’s only been 22 years? Depends on what years “count”, doesn’t it?

Different window, different views… same city. So, different perspectives on this one place. Handy to have a real-life demonstration available. Lovely morning for it. We get pretty easily locked into a point of view, or some very specific limited understanding of the world or our circumstances based on our perspective. Being able to shift our perspective and “see things another way” really matters for things like communicating with others, being compassionate, and effective problem-solving that presents an inclusive solution to a problem that affects many different groups. We’re not a homogenous mass of flesh all of one mind; we’re individuals.

There are so many ways to look at something.

I sip my coffee and consider my perspective – then and now. Even those differences can provide new perspective. I certainly don’t see the world quite the same way I did when I was a woman in my 20s, 30s, or 40s. Time passed. I experienced more of what the world had to offer, and learned and grew through my experiences and decision-making. It doesn’t take standing on a chair, or looking out a 10th floor window, to take advantage of this mortal lifetime to reflect on changes in perspective. It’s hard not to change one’s perspective. How much effort do people have to put into to clinging to a poor understanding of an event, or a mistaken assumption, or limited perspective to “stand still” and “never change”?

It may be as easy as a chair or looking out a different window, or asking a new question of the person in the mirror. Change is. Our perspective easily shifts with our changes – if we allow it, and take notice. The trickier bit, I guess, is constructively changing our perspective to give us a “better angle of view” on something we don’t necessarily experience or understand from our own circumstances.

I think on it for a while, sipping my coffee on a rainy chilly winter morning. Would my thoughts be different on a summer day?

My eye falls on my to-do list. I smile; I’ve worked the list down to just one or two inconsequential tasks, and an errand. Not bad. It won’t stay that way; I’m always adding to it and working it. It’s just a list of reminders to change something. My coffee is cold now, and I could use a manicure. It’s far too early in the morning to get a manicure; it goes onto the list. That’s how it works. LOL

…I could use another cup of coffee. It must be time to begin again.

Look, sometimes shit gets real. No kidding. Happy life, good times, great friends, deep love, wellness, safety, security, luxury – you (or I) can literally “have it all” and in spite of all of that, sooner or later, tears will fall. I’m just saying – suffering is part of the human experience.

Sometimes shit hurts.

Sometimes we fuck up.

Sometimes people are dicks.

Sometimes the cards are stacked against us.

Sometimes the homilies feel disrespectful.

Sometimes the feedback feels like an attack.

Sometimes the suffering feels like the one thing it really isn’t; ceaseless.

No kidding. We can choose to stop amplifying our misery. We can choose to let more shit go. We can choose to take a step back and regain perspective (or gain it for the first time, yes, even that is within reach). We can choose to treat ourselves a bit better. We can choose to treat those we love better than we ever thought to before. We can right our wrongs – or at least make an honest attempt at it. We can be heard – and we can choose to listen.

…I did not say any of it is easy…

Begin again.

There is no “happily ever after” – do not be bamboozled by the sweetest of sweet moments; those moments, too, will pass. Hard times will come (again). S’okay. Expect it, be ready for it, and still let that go, too. Live. Love. Choose – and learn from past choices.

It’s not easy at all. My results vary. This morning’s tears, I hope, become tomorrow’s wisdom. Struggling with it? Fuck, yeah. Every time. I suppose I will have new opportunities to be a better human being than I was yesterday… every day. It’s sure true today.

…This morning’s failures can be a stepping off point for tomorrow’s success. It’s time to begin again.

…Again.