Archives for posts with tag: do better

Sharing that important opinion? Don’t bother. I mean, okay, your opinion matters to you. It feels good, maybe even important, to “be heard”, and social media gives that sensation a tremendous immediacy, as though you can actually share your relevant (seeming) opinion with the important (seeming) people you perceive as capable of making changes, or needing to be informed of your (“obviously”) critical thoughts and perspective. Only… mostly? No one is actually listening, and generally no one gives a damn about the random commonplace utterly ordinary (often ill-informed) opinions of the average Everyperson on social media. Maybe you go viral because what you said is sufficiently amusing or poignant or well-stated – but mostly you won’t, and mostly no one is listening, and generally no one gives a shit. Hilariously, we’ve mostly (as a society) given up on snail mail, though it sometimes carries real weight. Even that, though, often just amounts to more “screaming into the void”, and trust me, most of what you feel most inclined to say with such urgency isn’t even novel or noteworthy or of any great import. It’s been said by someone somewhere already. Most likely. Human primates tend to be fairly conformist thinkers with limited imagination (in my opinion).

Posts on social media often just sound like someone shouting at their television. It’s pretty pointless and not even very gratifying. lol This? Right here? It’s an example of that; it’s my opinion. I didn’t do any actual research. I don’t actually “know more” than someone else does. It’s just my own impression, based on my own experience. Is it worth sharing? I’m willing to be sufficiently honest with myself to admit that I don’t know that it really is worth sharing; it’s just my opinion, and I’m choosing to share it without any certainty that it matters at all. Hell, it probably doesn’t, and it’s likely that very few people will read this, and fewer still will care.

I write because I write, it’s really that simple (for me). I’d be writing anyway, and this I do know for a fact based on my lived experience over many years. It’s too easy to get caught up in the bullshit drama and artificially inflated sense of importance on social media – so I left social media. I still talk back to thumbnail titles and news headlines, because so often the content isn’t worth actually watching or reading; everything I need to know is in the bullshit click-bait title, right there up front trying to get my attention, and seeking my engagement. I “engage”, more often than not, by commenting aloud whatever my personal bullshit opinion is, and I move on to the next item. This amuses me without inflaming anyone else, and it’s every bit as likely to “move the needle” on some issue (which is to say, not at all). Less time wasted of these precious limited mortal hours.

I’m feeling a tad cynical, I guess. I need to paint, and walk trails with my solitary thoughts, and distance myself from the many disappointments of humanity – and oh good g’damn there are so so many. Humanity kind of sucks, and our best efforts to do better are not nearly enough. Please keep trying though; the effort does matter. I silently remind myself to do my best, and that the journey is the destination. It’s not about what anyone else wants or needs from me. It’s about what I want and need from myself; to be the person I most want to be, the “best version” of myself that I can become over time.

I sigh quietly, looking out into the morning fog. It’s a chilly autumn morning, and this morning I am waiting for the sun. It’s Saturday, and there is no hurry. The morning is mine.

I sit with my thoughts and my coffee. Later, I’ll begin again. It’s my path, and I’ll walk it my way.

Disappointment and sorrow are part of the human experience. So are misogyny and poor decision making, I guess. I feel sad this morning. It’ll pass. I breathe, exhale, and relax, and take time for gratitude.

I’m fortunate. I’ve got a nice little house in a good neighborhood. I’m married to a man I adore and who loves me unreservedly with his whole heart. I’ve got a good job and my health is better than it’s been in a long time. My commute each morning is a pleasant one, and I enjoy long walks on lovely trails nearly every day. The bills are paid. The pantry is stocked. My stepson helps around the house. It’s a good life and I am fortunate. Four years feels like a long time, but it will pass, and the future is unwritten.

It isn’t generally helpful to waste time on anger that can be better spent on joy. It isn’t generally helpful to grieve horrible shit that hasn’t actually happened yet. I do my best with it, sitting here quietly before my walk, thinking my thoughts.

Another breath. I lace up my boots. It’s time to begin again.

I’m sitting at the trailhead listening to the rain drumming on the moon roof of the car. I can see clear skies here and there in spite of the rain and the predawn darkness, so I’m expecting this to be a passing shower and hope to wait it out before I hit the trail. I enjoy the sound of it, and for the moment I can imagine life without my tinnitus.

The drive this morning was delightful. There was no traffic. I don’t mean to say there were very few cars on the road, which is generally quite pleasant. It was better than that. I had the highway entirely to myself, aside from one car going in the opposite direction. The soaking rain storms in the night left the highway glistening. Autumn leaves clung damply where they fell. A sliver of moon peeked from between pearly puffs of clouds scattered across the night sky. It was quite wonderful. Still is, as I sit here waiting for a break in the rain and enough light to safely walk the trail. Even now, there’s very little traffic passing by on the nearby highway, and no one else here in the parking lot of the nature park. Lovely quiet solitary moment, and I sit within it, joyful and at ease.

… For a few joyful moments my background stress recedes to nothing and I am truly content, joyful, and calm…

I haven’t been sleeping well. Last night was unexceptional in that regard. It’s a combination of work stress (very busy time), life stress (my Traveling Partner is going through a lot and it requires much from me to support everything he needs), and election stress. I admit it, I’m really struggling with that last one. I so earnestly want to believe that we’re smart enough and have learned enough, not to put a treasonous, dishonest, mentally impaired, lying, misogynist, rapist, fraudster back into the oval office, and that surely – if nothing else – Americans don’t hate women enough to put us through that? But I honestly don’t know. Is misogyny still so prevalent that we’ll use any excuse to avoid electing a highly competent woman – even if it means putting the nation in the hands of an old man so clearly in the throes of serious mental decline? Scary. So very very scary. It’s actually wrecking my sleep, I am that worried about it.

I sigh. I’m so grateful for this quiet moment of real joy dropped unexpectedly into this stressful time. I really need all the joy I can find right now. The smallest moment of delight is worthy of my attention.

I sit with my thoughts. I am thinking about love, and how much it matters to me. I am thinking about my Traveling Partner, frustrated by the slow progress of his recovery, and wondering how I can be more encouraging, a better partner, and what other things I could do to be helpful. Recovering from an injury and surgery is hard, and demands a lot. I sometimes worry I’m failing to do my part to foster a hope-filled and uplifting environment in which recovery feels inevitable. I’d definitely like him to have that feeling. Caregiving is complicated and I still have so much to learn.

… I find so much joy in this relationship. I’m glad we’re “sharing the journey”…

The rain stops, then starts. It’s still quite early. I smile to myself. I’m okay right now. This is a delightful moment. I accept it as it is, and savor the experience. It’s enough, at least for now. Later, I’ll walk the trail, and run some errands on my way home… And begin again.

“Are you even a good person?”

I sip my coffee, listening to the rain fall, thinking about goodness, character, doing and being good, and what any of that really means in the world we actually live in, where nations hold themselves up as righteous while committing genocide, and human beings individually lay claims to being “good people” while espousing hate, and “othering” human beings who have never harmed them at all.

Are you even a good person? If you answer “yes”, the follow-up question has to be “what does that mean to you?” How will you answer that? How do you defend your less than ideally good thoughts or behaviors? You know the ones I mean – and we’ve all got some. We’re human. Our brief mortal lives don’t lend themselves well to aspirations of goodness.

… But are you at least trying, though? Are you making the attempt to be a good human being, a good person? Putting real thought and effort into it? Working day after day to be a better version of yourself than you were yesterday?

This is on my mind this morning because of a brief interaction with strangers waiting in line ahead of me at the pharmacy yesterday evening. I was tired, and irritable. Hungry. They were making conversation to kill time in the long, slow, line (and blocking the aisle, forcing other shoppers to detour around them). They were mostly shit-talking younger generations. One of them was a woman somewhat older than I, the other about my age. The details are pretty irrelevant, aside from admitting they sounded pretty ignorant to me, and more than a little offensive. One of them caught my eye and probably picked up on a microexpression of some critical sort. She laughed somewhat uncomfortably and said, as if in protest of my judgement, “But I’m a good person!”

… Sometimes my mouth has a life of its own…

I held the stranger’s gaze and and replied rather cynically “Are you?” I said nothing more, and she turned away uncomfortably. There was a brief pause in their conversation, before they resumed, quietly, seeming more aware of other listeners. The line continued to move slowly.

Since then, I keep coming back to this idea of viewing one’s self as a “good person”, while simultaneously doing, saying, or thinking things that completely undermine any potential truth to that statement. It wants thinking about.

Are you a good person? I’m not judging or accusing you. I likely don’t know you, and even if I do, how could I truly know the content of your character sufficiently well to judge you? But… Are you, though? Are you at least trying?

Am I a “good person”? Hell, I don’t know. I want to be a good person. I value the idea of goodness. I aspire to goodness. I recognize and appreciate goodness when I see it. I seek to practice goodness as I understand it in all of my relationships. But – and it’s a big but – I am human, I am mortal, I have been traumatized, I was raised and influenced by human beings of poor moral character, and have participated in systems that could not ever be described as “good” – for nothing loftier than a fucking paycheck. At best, I guess I can say I’m generally at least trying to be a good person. My results vary. My efforts are often more aspirational than practical. I’ve still got a lot to learn and I still need an entire lifetime of practice.

I guess my point is… be humble about what a good person you are. You probably aren’t all that g’damned “good”, if you’re truly honest about actions no one observed, lies no one ever caught you out on, or thoughts you’ve never admitted to another person. Definitely keep working at it – the journey is the destination. The world has a serious shortage of goodness, and maybe nothing keeps us from the darkness besides our own will to fight for what is truly good and right. The effort to be the best version of ourselves is worth making, every day, in every interaction. We’re going to fail a lot, all of us, so let’s also be kind to each other about how difficult it is, while encouraging each other and also keeping things real when we see it all going very wrong. “See something, say something” is a useful strategy. Make corrections, not excuses – but for goodness sake, turn that critical eye toward your mirror, first, last, and often!

… Funny that this is where my thoughts are this morning, but I definitely need to reflect on these things as much as anyone…

I could do better. I’ll keep practicing.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. The rain continues to fall. I sip my coffee waiting for daybreak and wondering whether the rain will let up enough for a walk before work. I think thoughts about art, about love, and fill my heart with gratitude. I’m fortunate to live where I do, when I do. This particular “here and now” is pretty good. I can comfortably afford to spend time reflecting on whether I am a good person, instead of worrying about drones, bombs, or whether there will be food or drinking water for my family.

I sit quietly with my thoughts for awhile. What defines a “good person”? I watch the traffic roll by like the seconds hand of a strange clock. Isn’t it time to begin again?

Another autumn morning, no sunrise before the work day begins and I’m okay with it. I’ve got these quiet minutes of solitude to reflect on upcoming holidays, ongoing genocides, and an important election. (Please vote, I hope that goes without saying.) The world feels like it has gone mad… maybe don’t contribute to the chaos, pain, and mayhem. Don’t add to the body count. Seems almost ridiculous to say such things, but… there’s a lot of killing going on, and it is being perpetrated by human beings. Don’t be one the killers. Actual people are committing atrocities against other actual people, and somehow finding a way to justify their participation in these horrors.  Don’t do that.

It’s morning. I’m okay, though I am aware of the world, and the pain, misery, and destruction we somehow refuse to end. It’s a foggy autumn morning. The sky overhead, though, is clear and starry. It gives me a brief hope.

Traffic in the fog.

Yesterday was a good start on a new week, that is already almost over. I’m over being ill, which is nice. Monday is a holiday, which I had forgotten, and the long weekend ahead feels like an unexpected treat. I sit quietly awhile, grateful for the small win. I gently shift my thoughts away from more worldly matters, and reflect with gratitude on the many things in my life that are working out well. Small moments of joy and satisfaction. Contentment. These things matter, too, and there’s an enormous reserve of resilience waiting within them. I breathe, exhale, and relax, giving myself over to a few moments of meditation, before I begin again.