Archives for posts with tag: each having our own experience

This morning an enormous full moon hung overhead as I left the house. I tried to get a good picture of it, which is to say a picture that looked like what I was seeing. This proved quite difficult. The camera “wasn’t seeing it right” – or at least it wasn’t capturing my perspective well, at all. Funny thing is, the camera only sees what’s there. It’s my perspective that’s giving me the beautiful view I’ve got. My brain changes what I see, providing undetected foreshortening, changing the scale based on what seems important to a human primate, things like that. I see a fantastically luminous full moon, very large overhead. The camera shows me what was actually there. I think this is worth thinking about. We create a lot of our experience and what we see and understand about the world. Our perspective may not reliably reflect what reality actually presents.

… Perspective is very personal. We’re each having our own experience…

So, I find myself thinking about the lens through which I view the world. It’s probably worth thinking about.

In the darkness, a man approaches my parked car unexpectedly. This is a first at this trailhead. He appears to be wearing jeans and a T-shirt, which seems strange for the chill of the morning. He begins asking, breathlessly, if I would give him a ride home, and says he’s run six miles, which also seems very strange – running at this hour? Along the highway? I firmly reject the request without opening my window and direct his attention to a nearby bus stop. I double check that my car door is locked, though I know it is. The lens through which I view the world tells me this individual is more likely to be dangerous than not.

Daybreak comes soon, but I’ve become reluctant to walk the trail in the early morning twilight. I examine the feeling more closely, as one might examine a watch under a jeweler’s loupe. Am I overreacting? Being ridiculous? Responding to a non-existent threat? Relying too heavily on past experiences with dangerous strangers? Perhaps, perhaps not. Sometimes we only get one chance to be wrong about something like that.

I sit with my thoughts awhile. I think, too, of my Traveling Partner, and the way our experiences with other lovers, in other relationships, informs our responses to each other in some moment of stress or conflict. We’re each having our own experience. Always have been, whether the experience is shared or not. We see the world through a different lens. Our perspective is our own. Even taking a much closer look may not reveal additional commonality so much as blow up our fears or doubts way beyond what they deserve… but it’s quite difficult to remain aware of it in the moment.

Between daylight and darkness.

I see the silhouette of the stranger in the darkness, lingering between the nearby bus stop and the trailhead parking lot. Why? I feel grateful for the techniques I learned for seeing things in the darkness that I learned as a soldier. So many things I have learned in a lifetime have had lasting utility. Unable to ascertain the stranger’s intentions and uncomfortable with his proximity, I move the car into the more distant parking lot as soon as the gate opens. I wait for daylight. I wait for the sunrise. I wait for a different perspective and more information. It’s nothing personal or even directly to do with that stranger; I’m choosing to silence the alarm bells clanging away along my nerves by reducing the potential threat. Feels like the safer choice.

Strange morning. Nothing really wrong, exactly. Good morning to think about perspective and the lenses through which we view the world. How accurate are those, really? I suppose only as accurate as our experiences hone and polish them to be. Probably not very accurate at all – how could they be, if we’re each having our own experience?

I think about conversations with my Traveling Partner yesterday. Some of those went incredibly poorly. Some were contentious, others loving. There were numerous miscommunications and misunderstandings. We don’t reliably see the world (or our shared experience) through the same lens. We’re different people, having our own experience, lived through our own perspective. It’s complicated by my brain damage. It’s complicated by the medication he’s presently on. It’s complicated simply because being human can be so complicated all by itself.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. Today is a new day.  I am fortunate to love so deeply and to be loved deeply in return. I have an opportunity to do better, to be kinder, to listen more deeply and to practice non-attachment. Perspective does matter, and so does giving people the freedom to have their own (and to have that respected). Another breath. Daylight comes. There’s no sign of the stranger who approached me in the darkness earlier. I feel a sense of relief.

It’s time to begin again.

I woke with the alarm this morning. It almost felt like sleeping in. I stepped out onto the trail just at daybreak. The morning air has a chilly quality and the sky was clear and starry. Nice morning for walking. I’m glad I wore a warm sweater. Feels like fall is just around the next bend.

The sunrise begins with hues of orange and a hint of lavender down low on the edge of the horizon. Pretty. I walk on, watching the sky lighten and the colors change as the sunrise continues.

There’s a lot of promise in a sunrise.

Most of any “free time” this weekend has been spent on quality of life improvements like building new bookshelves for my Traveling Partner, and running routine errands or doing chores. I wouldn’t call it restful at all, just different kinds of work than what I would be doing on a work day. With my partner still needing post-surgical recovery support, there’s not room for much else in a day besides work… and other work.

I sigh as I walk, feeling the depth of my frustration with the limitations of a 24-hour day. I’d really like to be painting. I feel inspired by my walks, and by my thoughts, and there just aren’t enough moments left over in a day by the time all the errands and housekeeping are done. Having the Anxious Adventurer on hand is no small thing and I am grateful; I’m no longer facing exhaustion moment by moment, I just don’t have time for anything but essentials, aside from a few spare minutes here and there when I can pick up the book I am reading, and read another page or three (rarely more than that before someone wants my attention). It’s not ideal, but it’s temporary and I am managing to mostly make it work.

…I stop at my halfway point to write and reflect…

I’m looking forward to a return to some kind of normalcy when I can read, paint, camp, and be – on my own terms, doing what I love, for myself. Another sigh and a big breath of fresh morning air. Being real about things, it’s probably weeks or months away, and then the busy holiday season will be here.

… Well, shit. My Traveling Partner pings me a greeting and a request to come home and make coffee. Maybe I’ll get a second walk in later today. Looks like, for now, I’ll need to begin again. I finish this sentence and head back to the car.

I take a quick gulp of my iced coffee and lace up my boots to get a quick walk in, before the work day begins. My thoughts are with my Traveling Partner. I am already dealing with feelings of guilt and regret for agreeing to come into the office today. I hope to make it a fairly short day, which causes me some anxiety. No reason for that (the anxiety), really, my boss and my work team have been very supportive of the time I have needed to take to support my partner, first while injured, and now following his surgery.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I remind myself that anxiety is a liar. I remind myself that my Traveling Partner was okay with me going into the office today, and that he’s been making great progress on his recovery, and even that he won’t be alone all day because he has a friend coming around to visit a little later. I still feel distracted by the distance from my partner, concerned for his well-being, and worried in an abstract persistent way. Perhaps this is a predictable bit of the slow return to normalcy? I sigh and grab my cane; I no longer take walks without it.

Every journey begins somewhere.

I get back to the car, fleece unzipped, warmed through from walking briskly, and pleased to have covered a good distance in half my usual time. Sunrise is just getting going. Daybreak comes much later than a few weeks ago. My back aches this morning and my tinnitus is loud in my ears, but my headache isn’t particularly bad, and that feels like a win. It’s enough to build the day on. I sit for a moment watching the clouds hustle across the morning sky, shades of gray with hints of blue. I sip my coffee and breathe the meadow-sweet air. This is a pleasant moment. I don’t rush it, instead I linger here long enough to really feel it.

Last week is a blur; too much too fast, too tense, too emotional, and too little sleep. I’m glad it’s behind me; it may have been one of the most emotionally difficult weeks of my life. It sure feels that way from this vantage point, but it’s still very “fresh”, and no doubt my perspective is skewed. I breathe, exhale, and relax. I let it go (at least for now; there’s more to learn from that experience).

Hints of pink in the clouds skittering by remind me to check the time. I finish swapping back from boots to shoes. I take my morning meds with a swallow of coffee and silently complain about the pain I’m in, before thinking about the pain my partner still experiences as he heals and the many months of more severe pain he had to endure to get to this point. Perspective. (In spite of the many tense moments between us recently, I miss him dreadfully right now, although I am only 20 miles away, and only for a couple hours at this point.)

I sigh and admit to myself the inevitable; it’s time to begin again.

Like it or not, you’ve got to walk your own mile.

[Some time about 2 hours later]

It sometimes feels as if “life” and “change” are entirely interchangeable words. On my way between my walk and the office, my Traveling Partner phoned. He needed my help, and it really highlighted the necessity. Non-negotiable; I need to be there. I turned the car around immediately and headed back. It’s one thing to be away an hour, maybe two, but all day? I can’t. I really can’t. Not yet. Fuck.

I reach out to my work team and reset expectations. No problem there; everyone’s good with it. I reach out to the Anxious Adventurer; can he be there sooner, and be immediately helpful while I’m on my way back? He can. I feel relieved, and alert my Traveling Partner that help is on the way – and I am, too. Change is.

It’s later. My partner is resting. I’m settled into work. “Nothing to see here.” It’s a Tuesday. I’ve got this cup of coffee, and this day plan in front of me. Routine? Hardly. It is what it is… And what it is, is time to begin again. Again.

I write a lot. It isn’t explicitly and specifically about you. …Or…well…maybe it is? I mean in the most general sense that sooner or later generalities land with us. Some particular thing or another, sooner or later, is going to strike you in a potentially eye-opening or insightful way. The odds are in favor of it. It’s literally how things like the cold readings of a side-show huckster or small town psychic down the road sound so convincingly knowing. Tarot cards. Fortune tellers. Salespeople.

I’ve got a friend who recently remarked how “spooky” it is that I so often seem to be writing about exactly what she’s going through, even though we don’t often hang out these days, and no longer work together. I pointed out that I write – often – in generalities and aphorisms that spring from a shared common human experience. Unconvinced, she pointed out that it’s “all the time, though”. (It isn’t.) When I laughed and reminded her how often she remarks quite conversely that she didn’t get my point at all, she shrugged it off and let the whole thing drop. I’m no mind reader. Most of the time my writing is relatively trivial; casual generalities and interesting (to me) turns of phrase that help me along my own journey. I’m glad there are a few folks (like you) who take time to read what I’ve written. It gives my writing a lot more meaning that it is being read.  (Thank you.)

…But. No, I didn’t write that because you… I mean, not you personally, is all. 🙂 People. Maybe you? Maybe that person over there? Maybe it was just an idea I had that sounded like something you’ve experienced for real, recently? Maybe someone you heard about through a friend of a friend? Maybe it was in a news article (that I also read) or a movie (that I also saw)? Just saying – it’s not you. More likely it’s me. I mean… I can at least try to make a useful or necessary change in my own behavior or in my own life. I can’t do that for you.

It’s very much not “personal”.

…Which is true of most things, actually, and that is probably worth thinking about further.

I tend to take observations and new learning to a bit of a meta place when I think things over, and even when I listen to song lyrics. It is the thing that makes some casual observation become a useful living metaphor (for me), or that allows me to apply some abstract idea to my own circumstances. Because I write in the same way I think, I’ve then opened the door just a bit wider that you might find some handful of words I’ve strung together to either be quite… pointed… or enlightening and useful. I’m not all that wise, actually – just another human primate doing my best to tidy up my chaos and damage and build a good life on the wreckage that came before. You, too? No wonder some of this “rings true”, eh?

Humans being human, each having our own experience, and somehow also all in it together.

I sit with my thoughts on the afternoon of what has proven to be an unexpectedly difficult day between lovers both after the same experience; a shared experience of calm, healing, and contentment. How vexing that we don’t quite get there! So frustrating to feel this unsteady and uncertain and uncomfortable. Try. Try again. Listen. Hear. Begin again. Fuck it all up. Apologize. Listen more. Try to say, but… Listen more. Try again. Do the damned thing differently. Sweep away the eggshells. Begin again. Assume positive intent. Listen more carefully. Begin again, again. No lack of love nor lack of will to try on, and listen longer. Just humans being human and sometimes failing to be our best selves. It’s hard. Caregiving? Yeah, sure, caregiving is crazy hard and demanding on a whole different level, but just now I mean more generally that simply doing our best in the face of everything we’re dealing with. Hard. At least it is for me, today.

I’ll keep practicing. Keep trying. Keep listening and growing from my mistakes. I’ll keep beginning again.

I’m sitting at the trailhead. I meant to be walking, but as I set off, my right leg buckled at the knee. I didn’t fall; I had my cane in my hand and steadied myself… but for the moment, I don’t trust my legs. Life, too, feels suddenly unsteady and unpredictable. I mean, I guess that makes sense; it is.

My thoughts careen through my consciousness. I didn’t sleep well last night. My Traveling Partner needed care during the night and woke me. I was groggy and stupid and not very helpful. I didn’t understand what was needed. Hell, I barely understood where I was in the first place. When my worthless efforts were abruptly dismissed, I attempted to return to sleep… It was nightmares, pain, and wakefulness from there. Less than ideal for the day ahead, which I took off from work to care for my Traveling Partner as he recovers from surgery. My consciousness is scattered, fragmented, and chaotic. I’m tired and fragile.

… I’m also doing my best…

I remind myself that this is only a moment. Temporary. It will pass, and change is. Nonetheless I feel low, beat down, and sorrowful. I’m tired and triggered, reminded of a time long ago and a very different earlier relationship, from which I am grateful to have escaped alive. This isn’t that, it’s just a challenging time and sometimes it’s hard to do the needful sufficiently well. I feel grateful for so many other things – I focus on the gratitude, the positives, and the kind, gracious and appreciative words my partner has shared over recent months. I breathe, exhale, and relax.

… Some things in life just aren’t about me at all…

My tinnitus rings loudly in my ears. My head aches. I observe the discomfort and let my mind move on. It doesn’t alleviate my pain to do so, it just prevents me from making my pain my whole world, for a little while, sometimes. My results vary.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I sit quietly wondering what the future may hold, and where this path leads. I consider and reconsider what I really want in life, and contemplate whether the path ahead of me leads to that outcome at all… There are things I’d like to change. There are things I regret saying or doing (and not saying or not doing). It’s a very human journey.

… I think quietly about my Traveling Partner on this journey…

My partner pings me, frustrated, tired, and hurting. He can’t sleep and struggles to find any way to be comfortable after surgery. He’s pretty hard to live with right now (understandable), and has insisted that both the Anxious Adventurer and I leave so he can rest. We reluctantly do. What else can we do?

… Fucking hell, caregiving is hard

I sit quietly, recalling my Traveling Partner before his injury, before his pain became unmanageable. I think about him – and us – in the “beginning”. I wonder how to go about restoring that beautiful vibe, and wonder if it will slowly return because it’s who we are and how we love, or if life has changed us “too much” over time and circumstances? I remind myself, too, that my mood and thinking are colored by recent events and present fatigue and stress. I breathe and let go.

I make room for gratitude, and think about things that have gone well. Doing this is often enough to lift me out of a funk, maybe it will today?

…In any case, I definitely need to begin again.