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Morning, and Coffee

July 21, 2015 //
0

This is a simple good morning, right here. With some effort, I come up with a couple really first-rate topics on which I could be writing.  I sip my coffee, and make a note elsewhere. I add them to the running list of potential topics for other days. (While each new idea this morning is certainly worthy of my attention at some point, they do not hold my attention this morning.)

I contentedly sip my coffee without concern over waking up later than usual, or falling asleep earlier than usual last night. It’s not cause for panic, and unlike nights that are short on sleep, the deviation from my routine is likely healthy rather than potentially harmful – I probably needed the rest. Yesterday was a hot day, and I walked to and from work, and did so also over my lunch break. I enjoyed somewhat longer routes, too, beating my loose goal of exceeding 5 miles a day of walking. I did enough yoga, before and after work, to ease stiff joints – and enough to ‘get some exercise’, too. Tired at the end of the day seems reasonable. I didn’t even ‘over sleep’ my alarm; I woke and reset it for another half an hour of sleep. (There are some nice advantages to getting up so early each day.) There’s no stress over any of this… only coffee.

Enough.

Enough.

I sip the fragrant dark roast and wonder just a bit at how obviously it is ‘not my favorite’. Having moved into my own place, and finally feeling really ‘settled in’, I am finding moments of surprise that my taste has changed, or that I didn’t understand some detail about myself better. I did not expect that there truly would be a ‘getting to know me’ stage in all this – as with building any new relationship. Who is this woman in the mirror? When did she stop preferring the very darkest roasted coffee? When did she start being okay with sleeping in now and then – even on a work day?! I rub my eyes sleepily, and continue to sip my coffee – daydreaming about the Brazilian coffee I had just the other day. (It was a small sample, only, and it is gone – utterly enjoyed to the finish.) Is that the coffee I most enjoy? What else about me is not who I expected to find on the other side of the mirror?

Who am I “really“?  What does that question mean? In a world so driven to perform, to compete, to ‘measure up’, to achieve, to present an ideal image – I guess I am not surprised to find that in a safe, calm space, characterized by day-to-day contentment, I am able to explore details of who I am – and find surprises. Too much precious time is spent ‘selling ourselves’ to the world, or trying to be something someone else wants. Giving up on that is a start, but apparently like any journey… simply beginning down the path of authenticity is just a start to a much more involved process. I spend enough time with myself, in gentle solitude, that I can hear the softest voice within expressing those preferences that have been beat down, held down, and twisted for far too long.

I actually do like my coffee black, most of the time. It is my preference. Adding half and half and something sweet is nice for a treat now and then, but it isn’t my day-to-day preference at all. I didn’t know that until I moved into this space, alone with my coffee and my choices. Where espresso beverages are concerned, a simple vanilla latte is my favorite – and I like it best made by my traveling partner (his are without question the very best lattes for texture, temperature, mouth feel, and given the right beans, for flavor as well) – but lattes are a treat. Calorie laden and creamy, they are very much a dessert sort of thing, for me.

There is a lot to learn about myself. I’m living in an environment where the “I” in “who I am” really stands out – good qualities and those less good as well. I am learning how much of my day-to-day experience of the past has been compromised to better suit other people over the years. I lost my way here and there, and wandered off a path I didn’t know I was following. I allowed myself to cave to pressure to conform, to change, to be something other than the creature I am…and didn’t follow-up with me, to find out who this person is, resting within this fragile vessel, and to make sure her needs are met, too. There’s joy in getting to know me, in becoming comfortable with myself, even in finding out that I prefer my tuna casserole with broccoli instead of peas, and that I like the mushroom sauce to be made from scratch using crimini mushrooms…and that I like to top it with fried onions. Those things are not ‘important’ taken one by one… but if I spend my lifetime doing things in the fashion that most suits others, when do I take time for me? At what point must I acknowledge that I don’t know me, anymore, and question who the hell those others think they are involved with, in the first place? (Cuz… it may not be me.)

I will, thanks. :-)

I will, thanks. 🙂

It’s a quiet morning over my coffee, content to listen to morning become day through the open patio door, and content to feel the soft breezes cooling the apartment. Contentment is quite a lovely feeling. Today is a good day for contentment, and a good day to know myself.

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Categories Brain Injury, Free Will, Healthy Living, Mindfulness, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Relationships, Summer, The Art of Being

An Eye-Opening Moment

July 19, 2015 //
1

Life is rich with eye-opening moments. Some of them are heart-breaking (like the moment I realized I was only a resource to someone I thought loved me, many years ago). Other eye-opening moments are simply moments of greater awareness than the moments that preceded. A few are literally moments at that point at which I open my eyes – like this morning, when I woke, opened my eyes, and found as my initial eye-opening experience that I am in tremendous physical pain this morning. My arthritis. It’s not a crisis of any magnitude, and there’s not much to be done about it that would be new, or particularly noteworthy; I take my pain medication, and I head for my yoga mat. After my morning coffee, I will soak in a hot bath and hope that the saturating heat will ease my pain and stiffness further.

My arthritis is in my spine. I rarely think much about how I rely on my spine until I find myself mostly unable to make use of it in any sort of flexible way. This morning getting out of bed was complicated by both the stiffness and the pain. I rolled off the side of the bed, letting my legs drop to the floor, and leaning on the wall to slowly stand. Sitting and standing maneuvers are difficult today, even after yoga eased some of the stiffness.

The pain is another matter. Even after easing some of the stiffness in my spine, I am hurting too much to find joy in the day, so far, which makes me cross. I reach out to my traveling partner and cancel plans to hang out. I am in no mood to be in the company of others, and for the time being, all I can think about is the pain. While that may change as I practice good self-care practices, I can’t really rely on being able to hold on to a pleasant demeanor long enough to be certain of treating others well. Solitude is a good choice when I am in this much pain. I don’t mind the solitude – and I definitely dislike finding that I have treated my traveling partner poorly over something as trivial (and commonplace) as pain. It was an easy choice to make, and my traveling partner does not complicate such things with manipulation, tantrums or drama; he appreciates being treated well.

Summer flowers are everywhere; I only see them when I look. Awareness matters.

Summer flowers are everywhere; I only see them when I look. Awareness matters.

The weather forecast is for a hot day. I take a moment to appreciate the existence of air-conditioning, sip my coffee, and pretend to plan my day in some way that isn’t centered on the pain I am in – but I keep finding myself accounting for the pain in a very frank way as I figure out what I want to do with this day – I keep having to remind myself that some of the things I might like to do are going to be damned difficult if I can’t bend, reach, lift, carry, get down on the floor and back up, sit in one place, or generally move with any ease. I am irritated to be stalled by pain. I remind myself to be kind to myself; this fragile vessel can only do so much on a day like this, and there’s nothing lazy about that.

I sip my coffee indifferently, contemplating just going back to bed…but that won’t work either; it was the pain of being in bed that woke me, earlier. I frown at myself for a moment; I am not making taking care of me easy, at all. I pause and put the focus on the good qualities of the day, the pleasant features of this moment, just beyond the pain…

Clematis on a summer morning is lovely even when I hurt.

Clematis on a summer morning is lovely even when I hurt.

…It’s a lovely morning, in spite of the promised heat of the day. The early morning sunlight is clear and bright, and filters through the blinds casting interesting stripe-y shadows that I enjoy greatly. The coffee I have been sipping with such disregard is quite delightful – a darker roast than I have been drinking (I tend to prefer darker roasts, myself). I am enjoying the warmth of the mug in my hands when I pause to take a sip.  (I nearly always finish my coffee in sips, consuming it well before it cools off, most days.) The a/c kept the apartment quite comfortable through the night, and I slept well and deeply, and woke feeling alert and clear-headed. Most of the housework on my ‘to do list’ for a Sunday can be done with relative ease, even when I am hurting, and occupying my time in that fashion will quite likely take my mind off the pain for a time. I have a couple new books to read, and it looks like a great day for that, too. I can choose from  Pablo Naruda‘s “Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair”, Thich Nhat Hanh‘s “Anger”, or Naomi Wolf‘s “Vagina”. Taking breaks between chapters to do yoga will help ease my pain and stiffness if I find myself sitting too long.

It’s admittedly easier to focus on the pain; it shouts at me within my consciousness in a way that the pleasant details of the morning simply don’t compete with easily. It is worthwhile to patiently choose to be aware of more. Like so many practices, it does take practice, and there are verbs involved. My results vary. 🙂

The heavy scent of summer jasmine reminds me of my childhood home. I wonder why I haven't gotten a potted one for my patio yet?

The heavy scent of summer jasmine reminds me of my childhood home. I wonder why I haven’t gotten a potted one for my patio yet?

Today is a good day to practice exceptional self-care, and to treat myself well. Today is a good day to make choices that result in not treating others badly. Today is a good day for good choices, good practices, and an awareness that there is life beyond pain. Today is a good day to enjoy everyday moments of delight, and to practice self-compassion. This fragile vessel can only do so much, and there is no rush to complete living as though it were on my task list; the journey is the destination.

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Categories Brain Injury, Free Will, Healthy Living, Metaphors, Mindfulness, more than a little bit of bitching, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Relationships, Summer, The Art of Being, The Big 5, Uncategorized, Words

Fleeting Thoughts

July 18, 2015 //
2

I slept well and deeply, although I didn’t sleep through the night. I woke for a time, around 1:00 am, and although I was not anxious or in a lot of pain it was clear I was not going back to sleep easily. I did some yoga, meditated, and read a chapter of a favorite book – sleep was not far away at that point. I slept so well, actually, that I overslept my loose plan to take an early morning hike. Since there’s nothing I want or need to escape from, and no necessity to aggressively pursue exercise outside the home, and plenty to do (and to entertain me) right here, I am content with the spontaneous change of plans brought on by sleeping in.

There is enough structure and symmetry in life, there is no need to impose more.

There is enough structure and symmetry in life, there is no need to impose more.

I have the day ahead of me, to think, to be, to write, to do… it doesn’t seem necessary, today, to impose more structure on myself; I have a list of things that I’d like to get done, and I will likely do a great many of them today. It’s a good day for verbs. Some of the tasks on my list are utterly mundane day-to-day things like doing the dishes, cleaning the bathroom, or watering the garden. Other tasks on my list are a combination of tedium and delight that are both time-consuming, and requiring great care and attentiveness, like sorting and archiving my digital images, and updating my art archives with photos of more recent work. Some of the tasks on my list are creative endeavors, such as working on my manuscript, writing poetry, writing in my journal, or painting. Others are social endeavors; I have a long list of people I mean to write letters to.

Enough.

Enough.

 

I have not committed to any specific plan of action for now. I am simply enjoying my coffee. It is a remarkable coffee, too. Brazil Nossa Senhora Fatima – it has amazing aroma and flavor. I find myself wondering why I have explored so few Brazilian coffees in the past. I will no doubt have another cup or two; it is Saturday, and if I choose to ruin the upcoming night’s sleep with too much coffee, it is the one night of the week I can easily do so with few consequences. 🙂

I face the morning aware that I have recently had a number of significant moments that resulted in recognition that ‘this would be a good topic for a blog post’…and failing to write them down along the way, they are lost to me, for now. My memory doesn’t work as well as it might (I make jokes about my corrupted file system), and I know that when I don’t make notes on an idea for writing, or for painting, I am at risk of losing it altogether, and quite quickly. I no longer treat myself poorly over it – there is no ill intent, just this TBI, and being cruel to myself over my limitations has not done anything to ease the limitations themselves, in the past. It was a poor practice, and I have given it up.

The cool morning air pours in through the open patio door. Dawn has become daylight, and the sunlight on the lawn beyond my patio holds my attention for a time. I lose track of the moment, gazing out the window, listening to the aquarium trickling in the background. I wonder, after time passes, is this another sort of meditation, this rapt attentive gaze into the beyond, lacking in active content, simply breathing and seeing…or am I ‘stuck’ on some ‘damaged sector’ of my metaphoric hard drive? My mind wanders again, from thinking on that question, to some other notion. I realize I have been sitting quietly, holding my warm coffee cup in my hand, for some considerable time now. 37 minutes. Is it wasted time – or does this lovely stillness, content, aware, and calm, nurture some part of me that doesn’t get the attention it needs day-to-day in the fuss and bother of busy 21st century life?

Eye-catching bits of morning often catch my eye - is it a distraction, or is it the point of living?

Eye-catching bits of morning often catch my eye – is it a distraction, or is awareness the point of living?

Taking time for me takes many forms. Today is a good day for it – pretty nearly every day is, actually. Today is a good day to enjoy taking care of me, and applying verbs to my to do list, putting my effort where it pleases me most, and meets my needs over time. I build this beautiful life with my choices, and my actions. Today I happily do so with a grin and a challenge – to do so without the need to acquire more, or go elsewhere; I have what I need right here at home. That’s enough.

 

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Categories Brain Injury, Free Will, Healthy Living, Love, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, The Art of Being, The Big 5, Words

Who’s Your Bestie?

July 12, 2015 //
3

If someone had asked me 5 years ago who my bestie is, I would have offered a name, maybe two. I would have made my choice from the few of my dearest friends of long-standing historical association that I recognize as ‘always being there’ for me, and figure that I had answered that question accurately. 3 or 4 years ago I would have answered that my traveling partner is my best friend, and even to this day those words feel ‘true’. If you asked me today my answer would be “me”, and sitting here in the cool stillness of a weekend morning, that feels very true indeed, although I have used a lot of verbs to get here from a very different place with myself on a journey that began not so very long ago.

The woman in the mirror and I have been through a lot together, and haven’t always treated each other well. I’ve found her actions (and her motives) suspect, more than once, and she hasn’t always ‘been there for me’, historically. We’ve worked hard for the past couple years to come to a better understanding, a ‘meeting of the minds’ that sweeps the chaos and damage aside, and it’s been worth it – because all my other friendships and associations have improved, where improvement has been an option. There is still free will to consider, and not all the choices to be made are mine. I’ve lost a couple of friends along the way, who did not find me suitable friend material as they got to know me through my growth and changes; I am not the person I once was, perhaps, or not the person they wish to know. I could take that all very personally – rejection does suck. It’s quite painfully, actually… but the woman in the mirror has a lot to offer me, and compromising that relationship is a ‘deal breaker’ in any other.

I spent yesterday wrapped in love. In the morning, I hung out with my new bestie – the woman in the mirror – and took care of me by way of mindful service to home and hearth. I enjoyed the simple practices of household chores attentively, bringing additional order to corners of chaos, revisiting prior storage solutions along the way and improving on them, doing some aquatic gardening to keep the aquarium in its usual day-to-day state of loveliness. I have at long last learned that while it is wonderful when the outcome appears effortless, this is not to be confused with any actual lack of effort. There are verbs involved in living beautifully. It was a lovely morning that finished with yoga and a shower, and plenty of time for meditation and study before my other bestie joined me for the evening.

My traveling partner joined me for the evening. We had talked about setting up the big TV, even wall-mounting it; the age of the apartment building, and the construction quality caused a change of heart on wall-mounting anything seriously heavy on that wall. (Something so permanent will have to wait for a home that is truly my own, next year sometime.) We had also talked about doing some upgrades on my laptop; the SSD for that purpose arrived safely just the other day. My traveling partner arrived and… we enjoyed the evening. That was what we did – enjoyed each other for a few hours. No work. No chores. No agenda. No planned activities. We did what I love to do with my traveling partner so very very much; we hung out, talked, and enjoyed the simplest of joys – the pleasure of each others company. It was quite delightful. It was…more than enough. I am still smiling.

I could wax rhapsodic on the topic of love and loving, my traveling partner, and endless delightful minutes spent wrapped in love…but…you had to be there. I linger on the recollection long enough to stall my writing and distract me, and I am content with that and uncritical, but there’s nothing more to say about the evening that doesn’t stray into overshare, or to details more personal that I prefer to share in such a public forum, or… writing dialogue, which I’m not skilled at. It was a lovely evening, well-spent with my bestie, loved and loving. It would be misleading to say we got nothing done – we did the one thing that truly matters; we loved each other, sharing our experience for a time.

“Communion” 24″ x 36″ acrylic on canvas w/ceramic and glow 2011

Lovers come and go. In my own life, that’s been true of partners and spouses as well. Of my 4 significantly long-term relationships as an adult, 3 ended on such poor terms we do not speak (which makes sense since those relationships were characterized by chronic mistreatment of one sort or another, each contributing in some way to my chaos and damage). I am inclined to recognize all three has having been abusive, and damaging. Of those three relationships now behind me, none began as a friendship. My traveling partner, on the other hand, was a friend long before we became lovers. Many of my friendships are relationships that span decades – longer time periods than those ‘long-term’ relationships, by far. Some of my friends have been lovers along the way, without damaging the friendship we share. I have learned something about my romantic needs; I value the friendship, and having the foundation of future romances in a legitimate friendship with a firm foundation is a requirement these days. In principle, for me, meeting sexual and romantic needs has never required the ‘permanence’ of a long-term relationship, and I am not monogamous. In practice, over time it has become clear that monogamy is not the issue for me; I value, and need, a connection on a deeper level to enjoy everything I know sex can be, and those are the qualities I crave most from sex (and love). Lust doesn’t build the kind of connection I yearn for – friendships do; there are no short cuts to emotional intimacy, even for a woman with a disinhibiting brain injury. I no longer bounce from bed to bed, or fill my nights with hook ups, as I did in my twenties and early thirties; these are not practices that meet my needs over time. I am also not looking for ‘the one’ – I found her in the mirror. She likes to spend time with her friends.

It is an interesting journey, this ‘life’ thing. 🙂

Today I am enjoying my morning coffee with a smile, thinking of love, lovers, and good connections. Thinking of friends, old and new. This morning I will have brunch with one of my dearest friends of many years – a man of exceedingly gentle character who has known me since I was defending myself from the world by being permanently on the offense, emotional weapons of mass distraction set to kill, and existing as a land mine on the journey of other unwary travelers. He has seen more of my growth over time up close than most of my friends, and has been both encouraging and delighted to see me become kinder, compassionate, gentler with myself and others, and more aware as the years have passed. I am eager to hang out over a meal and share new growth – hell, I’m even learning to listen more than I talk, these days, and he may be able to get a word in edge-wise, himself. 😀

Today is a good day for brunch with a friend. Today is a good day for love. Today is a good day to hang out with the woman in the mirror – she’s a good sort, and she really cares about me. Today is a good day to treat the world as well as I am learning to treat the woman in the mirror.

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Categories art and the artist, Brain Injury, Free Will, Healthy Living, Love, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Relationships, Summer, The Art of Being, The Big 5, Words

It’s Not a Competition

July 11, 2015 //
3

I slept well last night. I slept in this morning. I woke sufficiently early to enjoy the dawn. The kitchen is filled with the aroma of freshly ground coffee. The overcast sky promises cooler weather. The cool soft morning air fills the apartment by way of the open patio door. The morning is quiet, even serene.

Cooler weather and lovely overcast skies often come at a cost for me, and this morning this is the case; my arthritis pain is significantly worse after many days of not bothering me much at all. I shrug it off – at some points quite literally for the relief that movement gives – and wait on the kettle to put coffee nearer to ‘now’.

I look around my home contentedly, and without dissatisfaction, although it is Saturday following a week interrupted with stress; there are chores to do this morning. There generally are on Saturday morning, and I don’t offer myself any criticism that one or two things I could have done Wednesday or Thursday wait for me today. Why would I? My home is lovely and well-kept, and in any case, the rules are my own, the standards are mine, and the outcome need please and satisfy only me. I am enjoying this moment.

You see, it’s not a competition – until or unless I choose to make it one, of course. I don’t. I dislike competition [in life] rather a lot. I enjoy ‘game-ification’, and I don’t mind working to measure up to the standard I have set for myself, but frankly – there is no one else I compete with for my success, my sense of self, or my enjoyment of my experience. You can’t have what is mine [me] – and I can’t have what is yours [you] – on a level beyond mercantile goods, destination vacations, just the right schools or just the right neighborhoods; we are each having our own experience, and all the purchasing power in the world can’t change who we are. Of course, you could choose differently. You could choose to focus on what someone else has, what they enjoy, what their life looks like from an outside perspective, and you could make all your effort focused on getting there, being that, and doing those things. Let me know how it turns out? I haven’t seen any remarkable success stories on that front, mostly tales of frustration, discontent, disconnection and woe, instead. I have found that when I strive to be something or someone I am not, the less easily able I am to enjoy who I actually am – and the less easily able I am to grow or change. I consider my choice to fully embrace authenticity quite fearlessly to have been one of the most profoundly positive things I have ever done for myself.

Having said that I don’t find life to be a competition, myself, I admit that this is based on the choices I make, and what I enjoy in life personally. Perhaps you enjoy competition? I won’t [can’t] take that from you – but I won’t be keeping score with you, or making any effort to participate or ‘keep up’. I don’t invest in relationships in which it becomes clear the other person is ‘competing with me’, generally. I dislike it when people undermine someone else’s experience in order to get ahead, themselves, and don’t favor those sorts of people for relationships, either. It comes up a lot out in the world. Is your house bigger? (Probably – this place is small. And enough for me.) Do you make more money? (A lot of people do, it’s really not the focus of my goal-setting or effort, nor do I measure my own success in dollars.) Are you leaner, stronger, fitter, or more muscular? (I bet you’ve worked hard to get there! I’ve worked hard to get where I am, too. There are verbs involved, regardless of the goal.) Are you famous, expert, or highly sought for your opinion, or your charm? (Is that filling when  you are hungry? Does it secure better sleep for you at night? Are you well-loved and secure in the companionship of those you love?) I guess my point is that there is always someone with more, someone with less, and those quantities are not truly relevant to living well and being a skilled and loving human being.

Have I drifted off topic? I was thinking about housework on a Saturday morning. Ah! I was thinking about my Granny being, perhaps, appalled that there is hair in my hair brush, or that my bed is not yet made. I am thinking about my first husband as I notice that vacuuming is a thing, and that today is a good day to do some. I glance at the kitchen and recall other kitchens, in other conditions. For a moment, my thoughts turn to laundry. My wee home is quite tidy, but so small that any disarray whatever is very obvious – and I’m okay with a bit of disarray before dawn on a Saturday morning as I sip my coffee; there is no rush, and this is not a competition. There is literally, quite definitely, no competition at all – this is my home, these are my rules, this is my way. After coffee, chores – it’s a lovely Saturday morning and that’s enough.

I grin at myself thinking back to other circumstances, and being annoyed at getting sucked into the ‘housework rodeo’ because someone would be coming over; it is the antithesis of ‘being myself’ to radically change my environment to impress someone, or to measure up to my assumptions about their expectations. I can’t imagine any of my friends would be so rude as to come over to visit and criticize my housekeeping – it’d be the last time they were invited in and given a chance to do so. I feel pretty much the same about family – and every bit as willing to be very frank and to say out loud “how dare you be so rude and ungracious – get out.” lol Even my late grandmother’s spotless home filled with antiques from all around the globe lingering in my memory does not fill me with the drive needed to compete with her by cleaning my home to meet her expectations – and…um…why would anyone else’s expectations of my home be relevant to my own experience at all? Just saying.

More than the housework, the stacks of paintings not yet hung, and not yet stored, cause me some concern; I hesitate to paint because they are so very much at risk of damage stacked here and there, out in the open. If I lose myself in a creative moment, I could so easily find, later, that I have damaged existing work that I greatly love. My traveling partner is eager for me to get a loveseat, so we can cuddle and watch movies or talk. I’d like that, too. My own needs in the moment have more to do with finishing getting moved in…which means doing something about the stacks of paintings. One of the cabinets I generally use for that purpose is currently filled with my valued porcelain; I have no curio to display them in, yet, and the sideboard I lovingly hauled all over the world for 25 years is gone now. So…what is the most practical next step? What best meets my needs over time? That’s a tough one. I do enjoy cuddling my traveling partner… I also enjoy painting, and seeing my home in a very ordered state. (Stacks of paintings here and there do not seem especially ordered, to me. lol)

Enough.

Enough.

Needs of self. Needs of others. Needs of Love. Expectations. Unanswered questions. Well…it’s a good thing enjoying a pleasant Saturday does not require that all of life’s questions have answers. Today is a good day to be, unanswered questions and all. It’s not a competition, and this, right here, is enough.

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Categories art and the artist, Brain Injury, Free Will, Healthy Living, Metaphors, Mindfulness, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Summer, The Art of Being, The Big 5, women, Words
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