Archives for posts with tag: contentment

So. Yeah. Wow. Good things happen. It’s nice to be part of that. It’s powerful to learn more about creating that. It’s mostly built on choices, perspective, and sufficiency. There are verbs involved, and practice – a lot of practice.

I’m sitting in this quiet room, at my desk, fingers dancing rhythmically across my mechanical keyboard (still giggling that the burglar(s) didn’t take it, too, and I’m grateful; it’s very specific to my needs). My replacement laptop arrived ahead of delivery commitment, and before Giftmas. (Thanks, Santa!!) My Traveling Partner arrived yesterday and was already settling in, and got to be here for the fun – and the occasional moment of frustration or confusion – as I begin “moving in” to the new machine. She and I have a way to got together before we’re really comfortable together. All in good time. Funny thing; sitting with her in the living room, or at the dining room table just wasn’t feeling… “right”. I felt somehow out-of-place, mismatched for activities or circumstances, or… something. I was stalled. I got up for a break and walked around the apartment, tidying up here and there; it’s one of my little ways of gathering my thoughts. I stepped into the studio to set something down rather willy-nilly, and noticed with new eyes how much it was beginning to look like a storage space.

Choices. Verbs. Perspective. A few minutes later, my studio looked rather tidy, even welcoming. My desk, which had slowly gathered small stacks of miscellany to cover the emptiness, was tidying up, wiped down, and… ready. Ready to begin again. Ready to welcome me… home. I giggled at the thought – do I “live in” my laptop, more than my apartment? I suppose it could be a truth about my experience; it’s my “back up brain”, if nothing else.

So here I am. Writing in the morning, next to the window, looking out on the meadow. Here I am, enjoying my partner’s voice from the other room “Do you have more of my coffee?” I smile, feeling welcome in my own space, feeling warmed by love, comfortably wrapped in enough. I’m okay right now. Sometimes the disordered bits get away with more than they ought, simply because I don’t see them with clarity; in comparison to ancient pain and heavier baggage, it hasn’t been a big deal… but my Traveling Partner noticed. My therapist noticed. My close neighbor friends noticed. I mostly ignored it, because it could have been so much worse. Over time, though, the small failures to take care of me more fully would have worsened, perhaps spread – it’s best to handle things promptly, when possible, I suppose.

I do love Giftmas. “Merry” feels good. “Merry” has more than fun to it, it’s deeper than that. There’s a quality of appreciation, and awareness to this merry moment. I didn’t get here alone.

I sit soaking in the moment of contentment and stillness. Merry Giftmas, World. Today is a good day to enjoy the moment, to share merriment, to be there for a friend, to save the day, to lend a hand – as with any other, today is a very good day to change the world. ❤

Full house this morning. My traveling partner and his son still sleeping, the apartment feels very quiet. I’ll probably be gone for the day long before they wake. I made it through the work day fairly comfortably, yesterday. I face today feeling confident I’ll manage, in spite of continued cold symptoms, and generally feeling somewhat miserable with the commonplace stuffy head nonsense slowly migrating into my chest for future misery with the congested chest nonsense next week. Maybe it won’t go that way… experience suggests otherwise. Do I have a preference? Is that even a question that makes any sense?

I breathe deeply – and set off a coughing fit. The coughing fit somehow results in looking into the kitchen light – long enough to start me sneezing, immediately after finishing with the coughing. I break out in a sweat, as though it amounts to real exertion. My fitness tracker disagrees, insisting I am “inactive”. I sneer at it dismissively, playfully retorting “you don’t know me” aloud, quietly. I smile that I’m “keeping my voice low” to prevent waking people; I ran the burr grinder for my coffee, have had multiple fits of coughing or sneezing, and closed the bathroom door on my hand earlier, resulting in quite an audible yelp of pain. So. I’m pretty sure sassing my fitness tracker isn’t going to be the thing that woke the household. 🙂 Funny human primates. Even on small courtesies we lack perspective.

Life looks different this morning than it did two weeks ago. I’ve lost 40 hours of my time each week, and gained valued resources in the exchange of life-force for currency. My traveling partner and I talk “next steps”, and about the future together. His restless heart yearns to move about his universe, exploring, traveling, seeing sights, and tasting adventure. Mine yearns for a safe haven after a lifetime of stormy seas and rootless wandering. Sometimes it sounds a poor fit, the two of us together, and this morning I savor how very well it suits me, to be here, safe, wrapped in contentment, a welcoming harbor for a traveler’s homecoming. This works for us. Later there will be stories shared, hugs, kisses (well… once I’m over this cold), and time well-spent, because we spent it together. Enough? More than enough.

In what direction will the journey unfold, now? What next steps can I see? Are there others, worthy useful others, I may be inclined to overlook? Do I want what my lover wants? Where our desires differ… who decides? Life is a solo hike; sometimes we share the journey alongside another, but it’s our hike to make, bearing the weight of our own burdens, and the consequences of our own choices. I am my own cartographer. Will I “pack light” and move quickly through life committed to a plan, without pausing to enjoy it? The map is not the world. The plan is not the experience. Will I struggle under the weight of my baggage, mile by mile, exhausted and cranky, but well-equipped for the unlikely odd circumstance? We are each having our own experience. How do I share life’s journey with skill, however briefly?

I sip my coffee, losing interest in the metaphor in favor of some distraction, already forgotten.

Where will the journey take me?

Where will the journey take me?

…And still the household sleeps. I look at my list for the day and realize I’ve overlooked meditation. Practices work best with verbs involved. It’s time to set aside the written word for a while. Today is a good day for practicing practices, and for good self-care. Today is a good day to invest in wellness. Today is a good day to slow down, and enjoy the journey. 🙂

I woke early this morning. I considered going back to bed. I didn’t end up making that choice; I made coffee, instead. Yoga. Meditation. Then I took my coffee into the studio with the intention of writing. I found myself staring out the window, watching the sun rise. As the morning turns to day, I see cats, here and there, in the tall meadow grass, watching and waiting. Crows walk awkwardly about in the playground on the meadow hilltop. It’s an ordinary sort of morning, preceding what is likely to be a very hot day. All the windows and doors are open to morning breezes.

A sunny summer day.

A day ahead, ready to enjoy.

I sip my coffee, and think over a conversation with a dear friend, last night. Anxiety is a major demon for both of us. I understand how bad it can get [for me] and he has my sympathy, my compassion, my affection… and my frustration. How do I effectively communicate that some things have really helped reduce my anxiety, generally, and also resulted in the bad moments I still have being notably less horrible? Is that truly possible, or are we such that we must truly walk our paths utterly alone? Do I have any cause to expect that what works for me will work for anyone else? How do I force the understanding into his brain, give him hope, encouragement, shake him free of his suffering? I can’t, actually, can I? We can share our ideas… but the verbs involved are our own. When it comes to growth, it’s not possible to “grab the mouse” and say “look, move over, I’ll just do that…” – and it wouldn’t work, if we did.

This one’s for you. Yes, you. Here are some things that help with my anxiety, and they might help you, if you practice them. (It does take practice.) (No, seriously, you have to actually do them.) (More than once.) (Maybe a lot.)

  1. Breathe! No kidding. I can’t tell you how often my anxiety affects my breathing, which stokes my anxiety, with causes my chest to feel tight, which affects my breathing, which… yeah. Stop. Just stop. Breathe deeply. Feel your breath.
  2. Anxiety is a liar, and thoughts have only as much substance as we give them. Stop “thinking it over”, get out of your head and into your body – walk, dance, run, bicycle, lift weights – whatever physical activity you can connect with, really get into, and just be in that moment, doing.
  3. Meditation – we become what we practice. When I practice calm, I am calmer. Not only that – a regular meditation practice has, over time, become lasting calm, generally, and lasting contentment. I have bad days, bad moments, sure – they are days. Only moments. Weather, rather than climate.
  4. Connect with someone, talk, share an experience, or have a profound conversation with a friend – or a stranger.
  5. Allow yourself – or even reach for – an engaging intellectual distraction. Learn something new. Read something that takes your thoughts a different direction entirely.

I’m not a neuroscientist, or a doctor, or a therapist – just a person. A person who has struggled – does struggle – with anxiety. I don’t tend to have to struggle so much, or with such painful intensity, or as often these days… something is working. I’m pretty sure it’s a verb. 🙂

As for that other matter… the issue of self-loathing, feeling unworthy… you are loved. I know some of the people who love you (specifically you… and maybe also you, over there…), and they’re awesome. Why do you doubt? I mean… besides being human, and the anxiety and whatnot. 🙂 No, we haven’t overlooked some invisible flaw only you can see; we love you as you are. You are uniquely you, and as far as I know, each of us who love you earnestly desire to be in your good company. I don’t know better words to say you matter to me, that you are loved… Maybe you haven’t been there for  yourself as often as you’ve been there for those of us who love you so? It’s okay to change that. It’s okay to look yourself right in the face, just you and the mirror, and see some of what we see in you, and share that joy. It’s a new day. You can begin again. You can join us – and love you.

I sip my coffee, and think of my friends… each so valued. Each so human. I have friends who struggle with depression. Friends who struggle with anger. Friends who struggle with jealousy. Friends who struggle with ennui. Friends who struggle with anxiety. Friends who struggle with feeling unworthy. Friends who struggle with feeling a fraud. Friends who struggle to be their authentic selves. I also have friends who don’t struggle so much, at all. We are each having our own experience. Growth requires a hearty helping of verbs, of practice, and the patience to observe incremental changes over time.

Today is a good day to ask a friend if they are okay. Today is a good day to be there for someone. Today is a good day to change the world. ❤

Today is a good day for tidying up, and taking care of small things. I keep a list. I lose track if I don’t, and it doesn’t take long for some avalanche of little things to suddenly feel very big, and very overwhelming. So I have my list. Wobbly table? I put it on the list when I notice it (or when my traveling partner points it out!),  and practice staying on track with the moment I am in, without being distracted by minutiae. Some things just don’t ‘go on the list’ – a sticky spill, for example, or something that is a health or safety hazard, but most other sorts of small tasks that catch my attention go on my list to be undertaken in a thought out way, on a day that makes sense, perhaps grouped with other similar tasks. It is my way of getting as much done as I do. I can’t ‘recommend it’ – we’re different people. You likely have your own way.

Today it has been a rainy day of chores off the list: laundry, fix a wobbly table, build a lamp (some assembly required), empty a bookcase to straighten it, sort out some of the books, and a few other assorted household tasks that tend to seem ordered and fulfilling. I am sometimes surprised by how much difference a handful of small quality of life improvements can make in an increased sense of living well and treating myself well. These sorts of small tasks seem most pleasant and satisfying when I don’t feel rushed, compelled, or obligated, and I really dislike forgetting one of them completely for some prolonged period of time. They aren’t generally the sorts of things that improve for being overlooked longer, and I so easily forget them… and sometimes I… just can’t. Living alone there is no one else reminding me. When I live with other people, the observations (theirs and my own) come at me too quickly to keep track, and I certainly can’t keep up in the here-and-now trying to complete them immediately. “The Way of the List” works for me, and today I am working off the list. 🙂

Simple and enough.

Simple and enough.

Little things can make such a big difference. A tender word in a difficult moment, an unexpected smile, a sweet romantic kiss, a new solution, another point of view, a great cup of coffee, a word of praise, overcoming something I’ve struggled with, recognition of new skills, or appreciating a moment of insight, a shared moment – quiet, connected, intimate – and the little things love has to offer are every bit as big a deal as the little things I might do to treat myself particularly well. I think about my ‘to do’ list, and the way it sort of ‘holds on to my intentions’ so that I can take care of them later. How do I ‘hold on to’ all the little things I want to do to show my affection, my love, my appreciation… all the best of who I am, who I am inspired to be…so that when I am struggling with some other thing, feeling I am letting myself down, or failing someone dear to me, I can ‘check my list’ and do the things that I know matter most and say ‘I love you’ most clearly?  This isn’t about damage control, this is about growth and building on a good foundation. 🙂

Interesting thoughts on a rainy Saturday. I move through my space gently, practicing mindful awareness as I dust, straighten, and tidy up. Often playing a fun game with myself of ‘can I step so gently moment to moment that the water in the aquarium never moves?’ I’m not very good at it yet. I practice. I have left the weekend open, free of plans, giving myself time to really rest. The morning with my traveling partner was lovely, chill, and intimate. The afternoon has been productive, merry, and satisfying. I’ve no idea what the evening holds; I may be alone, but it’s not a given, so I keep working down the list, taking breaks to write, to have some water or a piece of fruit, or to chill quietly and relax for a moment and enjoy the day.

I find myself yawning. Coffee time or nap time? Looking out over the marsh I see the egret relaxing, and the ducks sitting, seeming quite content with their lot. I decide on a coffee; by the time I finished folding all the clothes (tossed unsorted on the clean comforter) so I could take a nap, I’ll have forgotten that’s what I was interested in. May as well have the coffee. 🙂

A nightmare about work woke me this morning, 5 minutes ahead of the alarm. It was a garden variety sort of ‘end of days’ nightmare, wherein small details communicated the end of…something. Something work-related, or perhaps the work itself. I woke feeling aggravated to find that work was now encroaching even on my dreams.

In the process of nudging my consciousness into the context of ‘now’ and letting the dream fade, I chose to check my Facebook feed. It’s been a very positive place lately, in spite of the rampant garbage political posts, and occasionally trollish nonsense that occurs; we’re all primates, each having our own experience. I figured a quick check in with friends, and some fun weekend pictures of goings on elsewhere would be a pleasant distraction from my nightmare. I notice that someone dear to me has commented on something I posted the day before.

(what I had posted)

(the post I shared, on which a friend commented)

 

My post was a share of a positive post from a page I follow that tends to be exactly that – positive posts, and often mostly affirmations of one sort or another, done rather well. The comment startled me right out of any sense of lingering nightmare, no doubt. The comment was angry [or sounded so to me] and was followed with another similarly angry comment [same commenter] that was rounded off with what very much appeared to be [possibly] a bit of actual accusatory name calling, and an angry demand that I change my behavior to reflect their [the commenter’s] worldview of [apparent] self-loathing. It was unexpected and peculiar. I walked away from it to make coffee.

I patiently and mindfully prepared my coffee, turning over the comment in my head. It was clear and specific on only one detail; the commenter disagreed with the proposition that there is value in loving oneself. He stated that love exists solely to be given away and asks how could we love ourselves (or be upset with anyone else) when people just suck so much? We all suck equally – so love the other person in spite of that, but don’t lie to yourself by loving yourself – because you suck, and we all suck, and no one deserves love but give it to them anyway. A harsh message delivered with an apparent demand for compliance.

I sip my coffee and continue to contemplate the words of an old friend, a while longer. First I am angry with his words – I don’t feel well understood to have it inferred that I am lying to myself to take the approach that I am worthy of my own time and affection – am I not? I certainly seem to be benefiting from taking better care of myself, investing in my own needs and desires, living beautifully, and showing myself real affection. My own experience suggests that these things are necessary, and that I am more easily able to love others because I value and appreciate myself as a human being, and take care of both this fragile vessel and the being within it. Why would I replace my experience with his words? His anger, so raw and recent, finds me self-conscious about simply saying I love this woman I am becoming – but I do, and it doesn’t harm anyone that I feel this way. Quite the contrary, my relationships with others are also improved.

I get over being angry and feel concerned for him, to be so angry about a positive message about self love that it inspired him to comment, when I ‘almost never’ hear from him at all, seems quite peculiar to me. It seems to be suggesting that he seeks to overcome self-loathing by forcing himself to go through the motions of loving others. It’s a perception as likely to be incorrect as any. I reconsider his words without the perceived anger – I don’t know that he felt anger when he wrote his comment, it’s an inference of my own – and I recognize that he, too, values love and is having his own experience. He expresses, however appropriately or inappropriately, concern and affection for me as a human being, and the path I choose. By itself, that’s a positive thing, although I find the demanding tone taken, and the insistence that I choose another way, both uncomfortable and unwelcome. It isn’t for him to make demands on me.

I think of a woman – this woman, the one in the mirror – from the perspective on life, self, and love that I had a decade ago, at 42. Could I have taken this path then? Would I have welcomed the suggestion that ‘being love’ and that choosing to love myself in order to love others wasn’t selfish at all, but necessary? Would I have accepted that suggestion and been able to make use of it at all – or would I have rejected the notion of taking care of me, because I didn’t value or love the woman in the mirror, and because ‘people suck’? It’s hard to know… It’s been a journey, and as with so many journey’s ‘skipping ahead’ isn’t really something we do so easily. I doubt I was ready then, for ‘positive’ messaging about my self. I have taken my journey in steps, in incremental changes over time, in moments of wonder, and the practicing of practicing that were chosen with great care for their successful outcomes – and I am the sole decider of success in the realm of my experience. My commenter friend is similarly choosing his own choices, walking his own path, and finding his own way. At least for now, it doesn’t sound like a very comfortable journey, and I wonder about his choices and who he has become… or is becoming.

His words aren’t worth lingering anger. His words don’t change my choices, or alter my path; they belong to him. Listening deeply matters, even in text – our written words communicate so much more than the handful of nouns and verbs suggest they might. We communicate emotion. We communicate shared experience – and we communicate our differences. We communicate warnings when we feel alarmed or frightened, whether that thing that alarmed or frightened us was real or not – as with a nightmare, perhaps. We are very human, my friend is correct on that point. He’s right, too, that what matters most is love. He is right that love is a verb, to be acted upon, and given – our only disagreement seems to be that I would further suggest that I am also worthy of my love, of my time and attention, of my care and consideration, because I too am human, and worthy, and that there is enough love for me to share some with myself.

I sip my coffee, smiling. I feel good today – I feel loved. I start the morning treating the woman in the mirror well, and I can expect that I will likely continue to do so throughout the day; it has become a practice. I’m human – that won’t be changing – so mistakes along the way are likely. I am worthy of the same consideration in the face of error that I would give anyone else – and I didn’t learn to give others that consideration until I had learned how to treat myself well. It’s a puzzle. It’s a puzzle with some verbs and a whole lot of practice. One practice I don’t need? Taking what other people say personally – they are also having their own experience.

It is a rainy spring morning, like so many; I choose my perspective, I choose my path, and I choose when to begin again.

It is a rainy spring morning, like so many; I choose my perspective, I choose my path, and I choose when to begin again.

Today is a good day for perspective and consideration. Today is a good day to walk my own path without concern about what path – or perspective – someone else may choose. Today is a good day to listen deeply, and follow my own counsel. Today is a good day to build the world I most want to live in. There are verbs involved.