Archives for posts with tag: compassion

Are you “one of the good guys”, or are you just an asshole? (Are you familiar with Wheaton’s Law, and it’s history? There’s even a rap song celebrating Wheaton’s Law.) These are trying times, you’ve got choices. You can choose to be “one of the good guys” in some legitimate and authentic way, beyond whatever half-assed self-serving measures you may be inclined to rationalize, or you can truly make a difference in the world around you. It’s something to think about. I’m not telling you what to do – hell, maybe you are already one of the good guys, already doing your best every single day to make the world just a little better…? If so, I thank you for that. It can’t easy.

…I know I definitely don’t find it “easy”; there are verbs involved…

On Saturday, apparently, national park rangers at Yosemite flew the American flag upside down from El Capitan. For real. Wow. Freakin’ park rangers engaging in visible protest in a relatively bold act of civil disobedience. I feel a certain amount of civic pride as an American to see that. I wish them well.

…Park rangers and librarians, the superheroes of the 21st century…

These are emotionally trying times for people. It’s important to avoid rationalizing terrible behavior by those in power. It’s important to check every fact. It’s important to call out liars for their lies. It’s important to hold on to our kindness, compassion, and wisdom. It’s important to remember that every human being hurt by terrible policy and bad acts are indeed human beings, worthy of dignity, of care, and of being treated equitably and respectfully. People ahead of policy. The goal should not be set based on “acceptable collateral damage” when we’re talking in terms of human lives, human quality of life, and human rights. Figuring out how to treat people sufficiently well may be a question to be answered, but there is no question whether to treat people well. That seems, to me, like minimum basic human decency. Just saying. Do better.

Also? Stop electing assholes into important public offices. (This should probably go without saying.)

I sigh and sip my coffee, and think about a far away friend dealing with his own shit, figuring out his own path. No map. So many choices. It’s easy to become distracted by the chaos and bullshit going on in the world and overlook the little things (the simple joys, the solvable problems), but there’s so much less any one of us can do about the chaos of the world – besides vote with care, and speak truth to power, and do our own humble best to avoid being a major asshole ourselves – and losing focus on the things within our own control ultimately adds to the sorrows of the entire fucking world. It’s a weird puzzle, isn’t it?

Simple pleasures can be so satisfying.

The weekend passed gently, and I spent it mostly focused on hearth and home. Time well-spent. Simple joys like home-cooked meals, and a tidy house can really add up. It was worthwhile to invest my time and emotional energy in the activities of my own life, and I spent very little time on matters outside my own home, family, or community. (Enough to be distressed by what absolute raging assholes some people can be, and saddened by how easily so many otherwise well-intentioned people can be bamboozled by powerful or wealthy jerkwads. Yes, I’m being intentionally crass and disrespectful of such individuals – they do not deserve better. They have earned my disrespect and my loathing. It upsets me too much, and there is so little I can do about it in any obvious way, I have to be careful to avoid letting it overwhelm me.)

I did notice something while I was out and about on errands, though, and it’s not the first time. A particular petty bit of fraud (maybe “dishonesty” is more accurate?) that I find distasteful; “student driver” bumper stickers on cars used and owned by, being driven by, people who are definitely and obviously not “student drivers”. It was awhile before I caught on to this particularly petty fraud. Why would someone do this? It is dishonest. It is a lie. (I mean, unless you’re actually a student driver, obviously.) What is the point? These sorts of “little” cheats undermine a person’s entire ethical foundation. Why do that? (Go ahead, I’ll wait…) How does a person justify this particular lie? Every time I see it, I wonder. Every time I see it, I know I am seeing someone I can’t trust to be honest and true. I wonder if the people who use this “strategy” understand that they’ve sold out their integrity? I think about it awhile and sip my coffee. Humans being human, it’s likely that such people have found some way to rationalize their behavior. Just as people who vote a monster or a fraud or a rapist or a dictator into office likely find some way to rationalize their terrible choice, even as the consequences of their choice become clear to them in painful ways they did not (or refused to) see coming.

I think my point is that we’re all making choices, and the choices we make do say something about who we each are. The outcome matters. My question is, are you “one of the good guys”? Are you even trying? Are you thinking critically about your own decision-making? Do you consider the potential consequences of your actions, not just for you, yourself, but also for the people around you – and the other human beings in the world who may be affected by what you may choose? Could you do better than you did yesterday? Better than you’re doing right now?

It’s time to begin again.

I’m sipping my coffee on a rainy winter morning, feeling cross and irritated and in considerable pain. It’s the pain making me so cranky, but it’s “only” my osteoarthritis (and my perpetual headache), and there’s not much to do about it, really. I live with this. A lot of people live with pain, that’s a real thing. I sigh to myself, as I pull my posture more upright. It helps a tiny bit, though barely noticeable in the moment. The moments add up. I’m grateful to have gotten a good night’s sleep. I’m grateful to have what limited Rx pain relief available to me that I do (and am willing to use).

My reflection stares back at me from the window; it’s not yet daybreak, and I see a middle-aged woman with slightly tousled carelessly-kept long hair, glasses, wrapped in a warm (if a bit frumpy) sweater, looking back at me. She looks pleasant and approachable, relaxed, with a soft smile hinting at a life well-lived, and maybe some interesting stories to tell. She looks just a bit… amused. I don’t see the pain, just the smile, which reaches her eyes. At the corners of her eyes and her smile, laugh lines, no frown lines. She looks… capable. She looks ready for the day and unbothered. I find myself liking what I see reflected there in the window. I sigh again and think “you’ll do”, and take another sip of my coffee. I’m not at all sure how I got “here” – it’s been a difficult journey in spots, and I’ve often wandered off my path – but I’m okay with where I am, and that feels like a win.

I sip my coffee thinking about friends. Thinking about love. Thinking about errands I need to run. I think about hearth and home and all the things that add up to this life I live. It’s not perfect; there’s the pain, obviously. That’s its own difficult experience. I try not to take it personally. Things could be so much worse. Instead of living with this pain, I could have rejected having the surgery to repair my shattered spine, and taken a chance on things “just healing up” more or less, and most likely ended up in a wheel-chair, unable to walk at all. It can be hard to trust the opinion of an expert; we live in cynical times. I’m glad I did – I walk every day, and often see the sunrise from some favorite trail. The pain seems like a price worth paying for that privilege, most of the time. My irritation slips away. I chose this with my eyes open. I may not have understood the full measure of the price I’d be paying when I lay there sedated in the ICU so many years ago, but I knew there’d be a price. TANSTAAFL.

One cold winter night 40 years ago, I ran from a knife wielding man to save my own life. I took the only route available to me, that I could see in the moment, which led me to dangling from a balcony rail, dangerously high above a beautiful tiled patio, slick with ice. That man was my then-husband, who rushed to the balcony to plead with me not to let go. I looked back at him in a moment of unexpected clarity and calm, aware of my agency in a new way. The choice was mine. “I have to,” I said, and I did. The explosion of light in my head and the sudden pain that shot through me and my breath knocked out of my body overcame me only for seconds before adrenaline and terror drove me to my feet to seek help. It was a moment of profound change. One choice. One moment.

I sit with my thoughts a while. “I had no other choice” is reliably a lie. We have choices (many) – I know I’ve made a lot of them. Probably the worst choice(s) I’ve ever made? Telling myself I’ve no other choice, and and following the path that took me down. The menu in The Strange Diner is immense. We choose, on our own, to keep it folded, and to narrow our options willfully. Refusing to consider all the options is also a choice.

We’re born “a blank page”, and although we have little to say about our introduction to life, we have so many choices as we grow, and more once we are adult and free to do as we will. What will you do with it? The menu in The Strange Diner is impressively vast. What will you choose? Will you make your world (and your life) a better place in which to thrive? Will you walk a path that leads you somewhere beautiful? Will you take the steps that carry you to becoming the person you most want to be? Who is that? What will your legacy be? You have choices. Choose wisely. Pay the price. Don’t take the pain personally.

It’s time to begin again.

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.