Archives for posts with tag: Empathy

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October 4, 2025 //
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I reached the trail before daybreak. I walked down the path in the darkness, the bobbing half circle of light cast by my headlamp lighting the way ahead of me, but obscuring anything I might have seen beyond that bit of light. I consider that metaphorically for some distance, until my thoughts wander on.

Daybreak, and a new day.

By the time I get to my halfway point on the trail, I am thinking about the many “versions” of “myself” I have been over a lifetime. Each of the many jobs, addresses, relationships, traumas, and triumphs, have left their mark on the woman I am today. Steps on a path. A journey that is its own destination. I find myself asking some questions as I reflect on my life and the changing context(s) in which I have lived it. I think about the “here and now”, and the changes that brought me to this point.

  • In what version of myself have I been happiest, most often?
  • In what version did I most respect myself?
  • In what version did I enjoy the greatest sense of consistency between my values and my actions?
  • In what version did I seem to be most likeable?
  • In what version was I most likely to compromise my values for personal gain?
  • In what version was I villain, hero, or “NPC” in my life?
  • Are there versions of me that I regret so thoroughly that I am ashamed of the person I was?
  • How do I hold on to the best bits of all of the many versions of the woman in the mirror, and discard the worst, to become truly the woman I most want to be? (And is that version truly worthy of the effort required?)

I find self-reflection a worthwhile practice. I sit with my thoughts, listening to the sounds of an autumn morning between marsh ponds and meadow, breathing the chilly air carrying the scents of fall flowers and some hint of…mildew? It is a gray morning. The sky lightens slowly revealing a cloudy sky. The threat of rain exists in the scents on the mild breeze, and also in my arthritis pain.

The pain is annoying. I think (and write) about it too much, probably. It sometimes feels inescapable.

My Traveling Partner and I both deal with chronic pain. I do my best to manage my pain. When we’re hanging out, in pain, we each do what we can to take care of ourselves and each other. Our efforts are not reliably successful. Last night was difficult. I’d find some position in which my pain was lessened, and hold myself rigidly trying to hold on to that bit of improved comfort. He perceived it as “tension”, which I guess it was, in a sense. My tension is uncomfortable to be around, for him. He wants to help if he can (but he can’t really, it’s not that sort of thing).

His experience of pain had him squirming in my periphery, trying to get more comfortable, which I find uncomfortable to be around. I’d very much like to help, if I could (but I can’t really, it’s not that sort of thing). We do our best to be kind to each other, compassionate, empathetic without fusing with the experience of our beloved partner. It’s difficult. Pain “shrinks our world” and we’re sometimes terse with each other, when it’s actually the pain itself that is annoying us.

We ultimately ended the evening early, withdrawing to separate spaces to seek some kind of relief, if only from dealing with each other’s pain on top of our own. Seems a harsh and rather isolating approach to take, but it’s probably better than hurting each other’s feelings or taking out our discomfort on the person we love most.

I didn’t sleep well. Pain, again. I struggled with falling asleep, and once I had, I was awakened multiple times by one noise or another, or light, or the sound of angry voices, but each time I woke, the room was dark, and the house was quiet. It was weird. I woke abruptly, around 02:00, feeling a sense that “something wasn’t right”, but again all was apparently well and quiet. I returned to sleep and dreamt that I was awake… really thought I was, until my artificial sunrise woke me from a deep sleep. I had forgotten to turn it off for the weekend. I was still feeling groggy and a bit out of sorts even as I began my trek down the trail, some time later.

Saturday. No hurry, and there’s certainly ample time for self-reflection, and this is as good an opportunity than any – better than most. I breathe, exhale, and relax. I let my awareness of my pain recede into the background (for as long as I can). Daybreak becomes dawn, then daylight. I watch from my seat on this fence rail. A soft sprinkling of rain falls briefly.

I sigh to myself, suddenly missing old friends far away, and yearning to sit down over coffee and conversation. I’m momentarily overcome with a poignant feeling of nostalgia… Annapolis… Killeen… Monterey… Augsburg… Fresno… Times and people, long ago and far away. My eyes tear up a bit. The moment passes. My thoughts move on.

It begins to rain softly. I look down the path toward other places and new experiences. I admit to myself with some reluctance that it must be time to begin again… and I get to my feet, and walk on.

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Categories Allegories, autumn, breathe, Free Will, grief, health, Healthy Living, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Sleepless Nights, solo hiking, The Art of Being, War and News of War, women, Words

And Then What?

December 12, 2024 //
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Another quiet morning. Another day closer to the Solstice and to Giftmas and to a new year. Another moment to reflect and breathe and be. Another moment of this very human experience. Another moment to choose and to act and to accept the consequences. I sip my coffee, iced, black. I feel calm, and little chilly; the office is not particularly warm, nonetheless I’m grateful for the quiet calm space.

It was raining too hard for a walk this morning, and when I arrived at the trailhead the small parking lot outside the gate was filled by several battered old RVs (clearly dwellings) and trash newly strewn about. I didn’t feel comfortable staying, so I drove on into the office. I know the park staff will clear those folks out after the day begins; there’s no camping permitted there, and they’re quite strict about it. As I drove away, I felt a familiar concern and compassion – where will those people go? Why are they having to live that way? What the hell do we do about the problem of homelessness? I can’t help thinking that generally speaking, it is a problem that ought not exist at all, but I’m aware that life has become so incredibly costly (rent, bills, medical care, groceries, connectivity, education…) that more than a few people end up literally unable to afford the expenses of a completely ordinary American life. My mind pauses on that healthcare CEO who was shot in the streets; people are angry, and healthcare is stupidly expensive (and not very good quality in many cases), and it’s not the patients causing that.

Some of life’s problems are damned difficult to figure out. Sometimes the solutions are obvious, but there is a profound reluctance to pay the price to solve the problem. Messy. Adulting is hard.

I remember a conversation with my father when I was a ‘tween…

Me: That seems so unfair!
Dad: The world isn’t fair.
Me: Why isn’t the world fair, though?
Dad: That’s not the right question to ask.
Me: I don’t understand – shouldn’t we be trying to make the world more fair?
Dad: You’re being naive. You’ll understand when you’re older.

Funny… I still don’t understand why we aren’t all working together to make the world more fair. I’m definitely older.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. The office is quiet and comfortable. I’ve got a routine day of work ahead. I’d rather be painting, but there’s a price to pay to live the life I do, and it’s the work ahead of me that pays for it. I sip my coffee, and enjoy this few early minutes of solitude and reflection. Being chilly is a distraction, but the thermostate is locked and I can’t change the settings. There’s a metaphor there, isn’t there? We may have an idea of a solution to a real life problem – but we may be “locked out” of making the change we think is required. That’s something to think about. Be compassionate; you don’t know what other people may be going through, or what limitations and hurdles they have to face just to survive. It’s cheap to be kind.

I stare at my iced coffee with a frown. I chose poorly. Hot coffee would have been a better choice. I laugh at myself in the quiet – humans being human; sometimes even when we have the information to make a wise choice, we choose poorly. There are consequences.

It’s time to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, autumn, breathe, Free Will, Frustration, gratitude, Healthy Living, meditation, Metaphors, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Perspective, Practices, The Art of Being

Shifting Perspective

January 12, 2023 //
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I’m sipping my coffee and thinking about a question. “How do I actually change my perspective?” The colleague who asked the question wasn’t being flippant or obtuse, and the context was work we were doing together. Sincere question. I was stalled for a moment, because for me the answer is ludicrously practical; make a literal change in the angle of view, or distance from which something is observed, or… I think you get it? Something as simple as standing on a chair to see something a different way, or looking out a different window to capture a different view… right?

Looking out one window of the office, onto a city I’ve known for 42 years.

We continued the conversation as we walked to the break area for coffee. We looked out other windows, still talking about how to shift perspective, metaphorically and for real.

Maybe it’s only been 22 years? Depends on what years “count”, doesn’t it?

Different window, different views… same city. So, different perspectives on this one place. Handy to have a real-life demonstration available. Lovely morning for it. We get pretty easily locked into a point of view, or some very specific limited understanding of the world or our circumstances based on our perspective. Being able to shift our perspective and “see things another way” really matters for things like communicating with others, being compassionate, and effective problem-solving that presents an inclusive solution to a problem that affects many different groups. We’re not a homogenous mass of flesh all of one mind; we’re individuals.

There are so many ways to look at something.

I sip my coffee and consider my perspective – then and now. Even those differences can provide new perspective. I certainly don’t see the world quite the same way I did when I was a woman in my 20s, 30s, or 40s. Time passed. I experienced more of what the world had to offer, and learned and grew through my experiences and decision-making. It doesn’t take standing on a chair, or looking out a 10th floor window, to take advantage of this mortal lifetime to reflect on changes in perspective. It’s hard not to change one’s perspective. How much effort do people have to put into to clinging to a poor understanding of an event, or a mistaken assumption, or limited perspective to “stand still” and “never change”?

It may be as easy as a chair or looking out a different window, or asking a new question of the person in the mirror. Change is. Our perspective easily shifts with our changes – if we allow it, and take notice. The trickier bit, I guess, is constructively changing our perspective to give us a “better angle of view” on something we don’t necessarily experience or understand from our own circumstances.

I think on it for a while, sipping my coffee on a rainy chilly winter morning. Would my thoughts be different on a summer day?

My eye falls on my to-do list. I smile; I’ve worked the list down to just one or two inconsequential tasks, and an errand. Not bad. It won’t stay that way; I’m always adding to it and working it. It’s just a list of reminders to change something. My coffee is cold now, and I could use a manicure. It’s far too early in the morning to get a manicure; it goes onto the list. That’s how it works. LOL

…I could use another cup of coffee. It must be time to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, Healthy Living, inspiration, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Relationships, The Art of Being, winter

Shit Gets Real

December 23, 2020 //
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Look, sometimes shit gets real. No kidding. Happy life, good times, great friends, deep love, wellness, safety, security, luxury – you (or I) can literally “have it all” and in spite of all of that, sooner or later, tears will fall. I’m just saying – suffering is part of the human experience.

Sometimes shit hurts.

Sometimes we fuck up.

Sometimes people are dicks.

Sometimes the cards are stacked against us.

Sometimes the homilies feel disrespectful.

Sometimes the feedback feels like an attack.

Sometimes the suffering feels like the one thing it really isn’t; ceaseless.

No kidding. We can choose to stop amplifying our misery. We can choose to let more shit go. We can choose to take a step back and regain perspective (or gain it for the first time, yes, even that is within reach). We can choose to treat ourselves a bit better. We can choose to treat those we love better than we ever thought to before. We can right our wrongs – or at least make an honest attempt at it. We can be heard – and we can choose to listen.

…I did not say any of it is easy…

Begin again.

There is no “happily ever after” – do not be bamboozled by the sweetest of sweet moments; those moments, too, will pass. Hard times will come (again). S’okay. Expect it, be ready for it, and still let that go, too. Live. Love. Choose – and learn from past choices.

It’s not easy at all. My results vary. This morning’s tears, I hope, become tomorrow’s wisdom. Struggling with it? Fuck, yeah. Every time. I suppose I will have new opportunities to be a better human being than I was yesterday… every day. It’s sure true today.

…This morning’s failures can be a stepping off point for tomorrow’s success. It’s time to begin again.

…Again.

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Categories anger, Anxiety, Brain Injury, Despair, forgiveness, Free Will, Frustration, grief, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, The Big 5, winter

Every Bit As Human

August 10, 2017 //
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So human.

This morning, I wrote, as I do, but to a dear friend, only. It met my own needs, and I considered no others this morning. Huh. Still human.

The other day, I got poked by a rose thorn, but thought nothing of it; roses have thorns, it’s a thing people know about. Today I am fussy and irritated by the discomfort of the thorn still lodged in the pad of my index finger, rather inconveniently precisely where my finger strikes the keys of my keyboard. I don’t actually do anything about the thorn, I just bitch about the discomfort. Still human.

I read the news, get caught up, feel annoyed with myself for wasting precious limited lifetime on media bullshit, again, knowing it messes with my head for hours, sometimes days. I sometimes do it anyway, even to the point of reading and rereading the same news, covered the same way, by nearly identical media outlets, multiple times…until I finally notice I’m learning nothing new, and don’t even actually care. Still human.

I make a cup of chamomile tea to enjoy as the evening winds down, and can’t quite enjoy it, either because it is still too hot to drink, or perhaps because now I don’t understand why I didn’t make coffee, which I’ve already had more than enough of today…but I don’t know which, and don’t move to change anything. Still human.

I distract myself from all of these things with thoughts of love, and loving, and feeling grateful to be so well-loved, and so thoroughly accepted – and then distract myself again with my disappointed recollection that my Traveling Partner still has not made it over to see my new place once… Which… well, he’s hundreds of miles away, and has only been within an hour’s driving time of this address for about 24 hours in the past 5 (6?) weeks, so it’s not really a realistic expectation. Still disappointed. Still human.

It’s a life. My life. It’s not the life I had 7 years ago. Hell, it’s not the life I had 3 years ago. It’s a pretty good life. I’m content – and this is true nearly all of my time, even moment-to-moment, generally. That’s… yeah, so much beyond what I could have hoped for a decade ago. Sure, it’s taken awhile, and I’m still so very human. Still have ups that are too far up. Still have downs that are scary far down. Still have many moments and emotions in between the extremes. It’s a life. My life. I’m very human.

Just one moment of many

Tomorrow, I’ll begin again.

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Categories anger, Anxiety, Brain Injury, Free Will, Frustration, grief, loneliness, Love, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Relationships, Roses, Summer, The Art of Being, The Big 5, Words