Archives for posts with tag: each moment the only moment

Yesterday as I walked through town on my the commute into the office, I found myself fighting a feeling of urgently wanting to “just keep walking”. I walked through town wondering about neighborhoods I’d never seen. I took a couple sort-of-scenic detours down streets less familiar. I even slowed my pace a bit to more fully enjoy the moment. It was hard to fight off the feeling that I just didn’t want to be forced into a cubicle, a labor-box, in return for money… I wanted to walk on. I wanted to put miles on my feet, and feel the morning breeze in my hair. I wondered how far along the Willamette River I could go, along the paved walk of the Eastbank Esplanade, and where the day would take me if I only simply walked and walked and walked…until…

I pause in the usual place, and gaze across the river to the city that has been so much of my life for so long.

…I pause in the usual place…

…And then I arrived at my usual destination, quite properly grown up and adult, and sat down at my desk with my coffee, and got started doing all of the things. I started the day looking forward to hanging out with my Traveling Partner in the evening; by the end of the day, which was upon me rather abruptly and somewhat unexpectedly, I was tired to the point of regretting making any plans that did not include quiet, meditation, and an early bed time. lol Some adult I am. πŸ˜‰

...And on the other side of the work day, I return home.

…On the other side of the work day, I return home.

Actually… I did okay on the adulting. I enjoyed my morning walk. I allowed myself my emotions, and the freedom to let my imagination explore other potential choices. I showed up where I was expected to be for a day of planned employment. I worked well and efficiently, and got things done that needed doing. Tired at the end of the day, I reached out to my partner in a comfortably self-aware fashion, and suggested a reschedule – because I needed rest, and a late night would potentially impact days to come. I got home, and took care of me. I think, just maybe, I still struggle a bit with how very different my thoughts on adulthood are as an adult living life, than I expected to from the youthful perspective of someone not yet quite adult. (I had no idea I’d value sleep so fucking much, for one thing. lol) πŸ™‚

Here it is today, again. Time to begin again. Again. I wake. Do some yoga. Meditate. Enjoy a shower. Dress. Sit down with my coffee to write. I’ll ride the train over the hill, then walk through town to the office. I’ll work my shift, and return home. I’ll enjoy a brief evening, in some modest way, and call it a night sufficiently early to get adequate rest and still rise again, well before 5 am. It is an adult life built on my choices, directed by my goals. I’m not imprisoned in my life; I’m building something. It takes time.

I look ahead to the weekend with a smile. Right now, it’s enough.

Tomorrow… I’ll begin again. πŸ™‚

 

 

I woke to ducks on the lawn, and a misty rainy day. I’m okay with that, let it rain. πŸ™‚

They enjoy rainy days, too.

They enjoy rainy days, too.

A few minutes sipping coffee in the patio doorway. Meditation under a gray sky. Yoga in the rain-fresh air filling the apartment. Quiet time.

There is time to consider raindrops on roses.

There is time to consider raindrops on roses.

I enjoy the rain-drenched summer patio garden, aware that summer is quickly fading, and savoring this fleeting precious moment. Isn’t this enough? πŸ™‚

Last night was spent in love. Delightful. More than enough; love seems to always exceed sufficiency. πŸ™‚

I hear my traveling partner grinding coffee, awake for the day. I smile. This, too, is enough. πŸ™‚ I keep practicing. Today is a good day for it. ❀

I’m up earlier than I really need to be, and I have the day off. I’m okay with that; it’s simply more time in my day. My coffee is tasty, and the day begins gently.

This one is a short one this morning. I am thinking about reason, assumptions, and how we human primates build so much of our understanding of the world on incomplete or inaccurate narratives we make up in our own heads. It’s worth giving some thought to, I think.

This image is not a black and white shot.

This image is not a black and white shot.

Very few things in life are as simple as we make them. Very few things are ‘black and white’ – or more accurately ‘black or not black’, ‘white or not white’; the logical rules Aristotle left for us don’t account for the rich tapestry of ‘real life’, and humanity has long since moved on from the limitations of simple Newtonian physics, too. Just saying – allowing assumptions about things in life I don’t (or can’t) really know isn’t just a limitation, it colors my experience a great deal.

Today is a good day for not knowing, and for allowing reliance on certainty to fall by the wayside. Today is a good day to be unsure. Today is a good day to be open to more possibilities, and a broader perspective. Today is a good day to abandon assumptions, and let go of expectations. Today is a good day to be open; it’s a very different world that way.

I woke too early, but didn’t get up until 5 minutes before the alarm; I turned it off, grateful to avoid it. I have a headache, feels like one from being dehydrated and whatever else goes with crying. Easily resolved; I drink more water.

I woke with my consciousness free of emotional debris – that’s a nice change that occurred somewhen, over time. It’s a new day. I find myself glad it is just one work day away from a long weekend. I feel as if I need the rest, though I am doubtful resting will be my first choice; in spite of last night’s… difficulties, I feel inspired to paint. It’s an almost overwhelming feeling and I find it difficult to remain in this moment, in this time/place, so overcome am I with thoughts of what could be appearing on my canvas(es).

So…another day. I begin again. I don’t know where it will take me. I wish my traveling partner well with my whole heart, somewhat saddened that we’re unlikely to spend any part of Valentine’s Day together; we go days, sometimes weeks without seeing each other. We managed to get through last evening, unintentionally, without even embracing. How odd. Unsettling and unsatisfying occur as words in my thinking, too. It’s okay – move along, brain, nothing to see here. πŸ™‚

The work day starts super early on Fridays – but this morning I didn’t forget that (which is probably why I woke at 2:30 am, and did not return to sleep; last week I forgot it was Friday when I woke on Friday morning, and was very nearly late, which I don’t handle well). Coffee soon…

Today is a very good day to begin again. I’ll start right here…

Be love.

Be love.

…Well…hardly ‘coffee’ …Β and you may be sipping something quite different. (I’ve read somewhere that more people drink tea than coffee, and considered it myself this morning.) Maybe you didn’t even sleep well? I woke in the night to the sound of a cough next door, which caused me a moment of concern before drifting back to sleep; my neighbors are elders of many years – and my bedroom is separated from their by the differing floor plans which put their living room between the bedrooms of the two units, I find myself hoping no one is seriously ill. When the alarm goes off, I am alert – reaching to switch it off, and listening for sounds of wakefulness next door. Still, generally speaking, I woke feeling well-rested in spite of that.

Wait…why ‘hardly coffee’? Because I’m out of coffee beans, and don’t keep instant in the house. lol I noticed last night before bed, and took no action on the basis of ‘I can get caffeine at work soon enough’. We’ll see, eh? This cup of dark warmth here next to me is half decaf – in order to get enough beans through the grinder for a whole cup of coffee, I added decaf to it so… yep. It’s not the usual brew, and it won’t have the usual wake-me-up factor. I begin sipping it almost reluctantly, as if my brain is guiding my will via ‘who cares’ signals, but once I overcome my vague feeling of dismissiveness about the coffee this morning, I am finding it quite tasty and suitable to the morning. Assumptions, expectations – humans. (Note to self: just go ahead and give yourself a chance to enjoy things without forecasting the outcome, would you please?)

My back cracks and pops through my morning yoga, but the pain I am in is somewhat diminished having gone ahead and practiced my way through my practice – each change of posture accompanied by an assurance to myself that “I can always stop after this one…” I just keep going until I am finished. (Is it going to be that day?) I shower, dress, take medication… each step in my morning routine feeling subtly forced, like a child being pushed along on a school morning. I am the grown up in this house! Yeah… but I am also the laughing naked childΒ dashing through the house, resisting ‘what must be’ for all those other opportunities… to play. I earnestly want to ‘skip school’ today – just not go to work, just not do ‘the thing’. I don’t really want to be the grown up today. I’d like to stay home and paint, or read, or listen to music, or garden. All the truly worthwhile things life offers for our enjoyment – and for which I do not get paid. LOL “Welcome to Adulthood” I hear the woman in the mirror mutter back to me – out loud. Considering I am alone with my thoughts in this wee haven, that just seems mean – it wasn’t at all necessary to speak the words! Besides… I haven’t really had my coffee yet, and I don’t want to hear conversation just now.

If I only see what is unpleasant, if I only hear unpleasant words, will it be a surprise if my experience is also unpleasant? I can choose my perspective.

If I only see what is unpleasant, if I only hear unpleasant words, will it be a surprise if my experience is also unpleasant? I can choose my perspective.

It isn’t a bad morning. It is a fairly ordinary, very human, sort of morning. I’m okay with that – as I said, it isn’t bad. Is it good? My traveling partner would most certainly point out that I am phrasing it in the negative to say the morning ‘isn’t bad’ (“How is it?” he might ask…) I might answer “It’s okay, better than bad… not noteworthy…I’m enjoying it well enough.” All rather vague, but all… okay. πŸ™‚ It is in the nature of contentment that the fancy adjectives and superlatives get a little dusty from disuse. lol

The work week is at a half-way point. I am eager to hear word on the apartment I’d like to move into, but I am not impatient about it, since it is happening rather faster than I expected as it is. The weekend is ahead of me… a date with my traveling partner Friday night… friends over to plan shared hikes this year on Saturday…Sunday…well…I’ve no idea. The housekeeping doesn’t do itself around here, so perhaps Sunday will be spent on practical matters, and invested in myself entirely? I find myself wondering… once the chaos and damage has all been sorted out, and put away, and once the gates of The Nightmare City are closed permanently and locked, and once life has proven it’s point about lasting contentment… then what? Does such a thing ever occur in life? Would I stop writing? I haven’t really had to look at any of that realistically in earlier years; it wasn’t a realistic likelihood in the past – it may be the future. Life isn’t about perfection and standing still, though, and I am confident that life’s curriculum is more vast than any single lifetime, so… yeah. Probably still writing for a while. LOL πŸ™‚

I tend to think about work and life very separately, and sometimes wistfully imagine that I make my living doing something profoundly important to mankind, something remarkable, or something meaningful… I wonder what that would be like? Ah, but I remember in this same moment things that do matter. The gratitude of the young employee whose needs were met using unconventional solutions. I remember a day when some particularly elegant piece of analysis improved efficiency by illuminating a challenge in a way that allowed it to also be easily addressed. I remember great moments of partnering with colleagues on exciting projects. I start feeling renewed excitement and commitment as my thoughts shift toward the professional side of my life. It’s complicated. I’d like more time to paint, more time to live my own agenda – I don’t actually hate what I do, as much as find that it competes with what I love. Perhaps I am almost grown up enough to tackle this one, too? πŸ™‚

Today is a good day to live each moment right here in the moment I am in, enjoying the thing I am doing now with my entire awareness. Doing so tends to change my view of the world. πŸ™‚