Archives for posts with tag: etic and emic

I have goals. I have practices that I have confirmed (through practicing) work well to meet my needs over time. I make choices, and changes, that tend to keep me on track toward achieving my goals, meet my needs over time, and build a beautiful life with a foundation in sufficiency, contentment, day-to-day ease, and my Big 5 values (Respect, Reciprocity, Consideration, Compassion, and Openness). Generally, this all works out pretty well… although I find I also need to be firm with myself about managing ‘distractions’.

Sometimes the things that seem to be holding me back are just shadows of things; they have only as much power as I give them.

Sometimes the things that seem to be holding me back are just shadows of things; they have only as much power as I give them.

Everyday distractions are things like internet haters and trolls, OPD, media over-stimulation and marketing, the daily stress and tedium of employment, or becoming emotionally invested in someone else’s narrative. Sometimes my own libido is distraction enough, other times a touch of ennui or fatigue can throw me off course. My go to solution for these distractions, most of the time, is to look away, or walk on. It’s hard to do sometimes when people are so skilled at (and committed to) developing really engaging click bait, or have really well-developed skills at baiting people into becoming emotionally invested in the offered distraction. It’s not a coincidence that the stress levels of everyday life are so much higher for many people ‘than they used to be’ – the internet is a powerful tool for knowledge and connection, but it also drives a lot of stress (more through the distractions than through the legitimate valued content). People openly bully each other to share interest in numerous otherwise worthy causes; the bullying costs them any chance of me taking an interest, personally; I will not be bullied into choosing what matters to me.

I often find that reducing my stress level quickly is most easily done by disconnecting from the social media web, shutting down the streaming data pouring into my head space, and finding my way to stillness. It works in practice as well as on paper. This morning, being as human as I am, I found myself distracted from what works – by an article on the internet about how meditation doesn’t work! Oops. Well, yeah, I’m still human, and I am emotionally invested in these practices that are working so well for me. Feeling attacked by the writer’s opinion and observations, I felt myself getting sucked into the drama cycle; I took the bait. I also spit it out and moved on with my day, without further delay, having recognized that I was being baited.

A helpful practice, indeed.

A helpful practice, indeed.

It can be frustrating to feel attacked by someone else’s differing opinion, or experience. I am easily moved to want to share my own success, or my differing path. There’s only so much sharing that can be done, before I have become… a distraction. If I am having to foster, persuade, advertise, argue, reinforce, or support my experience beyond simply sharing it and citing my references, I have become a distraction on someone else’s journey. They choose their own path, wherever it may lead them, and they choose their own goals, their own practices, and determine the nature of their own successes and failures. I can’t really help with that, and if I find myself seeking to persuade, I have already been blown off course, myself; my writing isn’t about persuading you that I am right (about anything). I’m not here to convince, to argue, to persuade, or to map a more direct route; we are each having our own experience. I am my own cartographer, but I am not creating a map that can be relied upon by anyone else; it leads only to my own destination. I share some practices that work for me – and caution that your results may vary. This is not about ‘winning’, and it is not a competition.

Most of the time, the opinions and experiences of others, however they are expressed, are not truly an attack on anyone else. More likely that even the most aggressively confrontational narratives are less an attack on others than they are a defense against a perceived attack in the prior experience of the person delivering the narrative. Compassion is helpful, for me, and I often find that it allows me to be sympathetic, and open to understanding, without feeling pressured to commit to agreement, or to condone poor choices. It isn’t necessary for me to resolve every misconception or misunderstanding I see expressed around me; we are each having our own experience, and I don’t have any reason to expect that I will share every detail of someone else’s experience, or understand it in similar context. I have reached a point where it is enough, for me, to recognize differences, and accept those as having the potential to impact shared understanding. I make an effort to define my terms clearly, cite references (even in conversation) and accept when a discussion can go no further due to ‘magical thinking’ or very human impediments to reason (one cannot rationally argue with ‘belief’ – a believer has already acknowledged that their opinion has no provable basis, and that proof is not their concern.). I find it a comfortable fit to simply walk away from discussions that are impeded by a lack of reason, without finding it necessary to attack the other person; their opinions have consequences, and no further action is required from me. Attempting to continue the discussion as it spirals into argument is just one more distraction; there is no knowledge to be gained, and argument does not improve my quality of life.

For my own sanity, I make an effort not to cling to beliefs, and to stay current on new science and new knowledge – information increases, changes, develops over time. Staying current requires the use of verbs, and it is helpful to be able to determine whether a catchy headline is click bait, or worth my attention. (Hint: most often it is merely click bait, and an unworthy distraction.)

Finding sufficiency and contentment in what is, is enough.

Finding sufficiency and contentment in what is, is enough.

Yesterday I took a break from the digital world to relax, take care of me, and get some rest. I spent the day writing, doing yoga, and watching a show recommended by my traveling partner – and napping. I did quite a bit of napping. (I must have needed the sleep.) This morning I woke refreshed, and in much less pain, and mostly ready for another work week. Totally worth the time taken to take care of me, although I did very few of the tasks on my ‘to do list’ for the weekend. There’s no guilt there. These days, taking care of me is always at the top of my list of things to do. 🙂

It’s a lovely morning and I am still aglow from the fun of making ‘fairy gardens’ with one of my partners yesterday. We visited the home of a lovely artist for this shared activity, along with a couple other women and a younger girl, who arrived separately. The girl had a beautiful name, and was very shy.  The woman teaching the activity has her education and vocation in ‘horticulture therapy’. I’d never considered it as a possible line of work to be in, and it delights me that not only is my own garden a haven for my serenity, and a source of peace and contentment, but that somewhere ‘out there’ people are ‘led down the garden path’ figuratively speaking, to their wellness, too. Pretty awesome.

A garden in miniature.

A garden in miniature.

We had a lot of fun talking and creating tiny gardens, sipping tea, and no kidding – coloring. Like children, we chose pages to color, selected colored pencils with great care – because in those moments, the very colors themselves were up to our choosing, and seemed to matter. It was quite calming and wonderful. I wonder when I stopped coloring? 🙂

This morning I find myself struggling between a rather practical-minded grown-up within trying to resist constantly wanting to clarify ‘of course fairies aren’t real‘ – and can’t quite do it. It has little to do with any legitimate reality or lack thereof of potentially unseen wee beings lurking in the shrubbery, honestly. Could there be? Why couldn’t there be? There was a time when as a child I was quite firm in my conviction that there was a ‘coffee brownie’ hiding in my Mother’s coffee cup. I could see her pert nose and bright eyes looking back at me when I looked down into the caramel brown of my Mother’s coffee, any time. Real? Not real? My own reflection. Well, okay, sure, but…

We live our myths with as much ease and certainty as we live our realities. We have as little comfort with having either toppled through ‘proof’. Look at the creationist movement in the United States – people  of such firm conviction that the earth is quite young and was created from a void, in a motion, by the will of an entity, that they fight fiercely to have that perspective taught, even to the sons and daughters of Science. How odd. On the other hand, Science fights back with all the forces of reason and data at its command, captured succinctly in a t-shirt slogan, “Science doesn’t care what you believe”.

We are each having our own experience. We define our world  – define it? Hell, we create it! We create what we can and can’t see with the words that we use to tell ourselves what is, and what is not. We change our opportunities in life by defining who we are, ourselves, with our state of being statements and self-talk. We limit our relationships with our un-tested assumptions about others, about their will, their intentions, their abilities, their knowledge.

I used to get quite furious with people about Reality. It was not, I would insist quite emotionally, whatever we choose to make of it. It has unquestionable substance and character independent of what we understand or recognize! That’s probably true. Maybe that’s true. I’m 50 now, and I understand the world differently these days. The closest I care to come to ‘unquestionable’ at this point would be to acknowledge that there is little chance I can recognize, understand, know, or be aware of enough of the stuff of pure absolute reality on an ‘unquestionable’ level to ever be certain that indeed that is what I’d gotten hold of. I would have been so angry with this being I am now – and ready to do intellectual combat at the suggestion that we could change reality with a change in thinking. I made progress philosophically and emotionally to gain an understanding that Reality was really more likely ‘reality’ – lower case ‘r’. That ’emic’ and ‘etic’ realities were a pretty easy distinction to make, and possibly needful.  People do have their own experience, and their experience does color their perceptions and understanding of their world. So… easy enough. Their personal individual emic reality would stand somewhat separately from the theoretically immutable etic reality. That meant a lot to me. A foothold on something real the understanding of which I could at least strive for.

What a mess. How could I ever be sure? Somewhere along the way, the pursuit of Reality cost me a lot of humor and whimsy – and fun. Somewhere along life’s path I stopped being wowed by Greek mythology, by allegories that teach and delight me, by wonder itself. On a rainy Saturday I found myself ‘finding my way home’ in some hard to describe way.  Stories are important, too. Fictional characters have their own ‘reality’. Brownies in coffee cups play their role in who we are. Perhaps it is irrelevant whether a faerie ever visits my fairy garden, and important only that it is a small and beautiful garden, and representative of possibilities and whimsy and great love for a delightful moment in the company of women on a rainy Saturday? And were a faerie to visit, and be taken by surprise by my keen eye open to the possibilities and wonders of the world, wouldn’t that be okay, too?

Today I face the world ‘open like a child’s mind‘.

I woke in an excellent mood this morning, after a surprisingly good night’s sleep. I didn’t expect to sleep well, since I had crashed feeling rather anxious over one of life’s small challenges. I was pleased and surprised to wake in such a good, balanced, place. The loveliness of a calm leisurely morning is hard to describe; too often lately it feels like a luxury. I resent the fragility of exceptional mornings.

Joy meets anxiety; I have a sick fish in the new aquarium.

Joy meets anxiety; I have a sick fish in the new aquarium.

My mood is volatile this morning, and once the peace and serenity that I woke with faced its first challenge of the day, it dissipated like a mist as the morning sun rises on a summer morning. Mindfulness keeps things mostly in perspective, even now, but also has me attentive to the nature of my challenges today, observing them without judgement when I can, and digging myself out – metaphorically speaking – when I fail and discover I am judging myself quite harshly. I feel angry. I feel frustrated. I feel the pressure of unmet needs – and my resentment and outrage when I turn it all inward on myself. I don’t care to indulge in pointless wallowing in the details, or allowing reflection to become self-loathing, or rage. I can’t tell anymore, with any certainty, whether or not hormones are ‘an issue’… I’m so far beyond having a ‘regular cycle’ at this point it isn’t even worth guessing. (That, interestingly, is one more thing that keeps me focused on ‘now’ – when I let it – because I just can’t predict, or plan, for the hormones anymore. They just are, when they are.) My shitty mood is slowly becoming a migraine headache, as I fight the tears lurking just under the surface of my professional demeanor. Today is the sort of day when I feel as if my most fundamental needs as a being are entirely at odds with each other – mutually exclusive, and entirely unreasonable, and not at all likely to be met. Ever. Worse still, I’m pretty sure that if that is true – that it’s entirely my own choices that put me in that position…only…I don’t know…and I don’t know why…and I don’t know how to do what I suspect needs to be done about it…or something.

Simple pleasures offer some relief.

Simple pleasures offer some relief.

I’m able to understand that I have choices that can put me in a better place… working on that. Again and again, I nudge my Observer self back into the driver’s seat, and kick my Thinker self into the background. It helps, but I find myself having to make a firm consistent effort with it. There’s a feeling of internal resistance to it, which I don’t understand, but continue to experience. Still…practice…practice…practice… eventually something practiced enough begins to feel natural…right?

Some lovely things in my experience this morning, too. I so want to focus on those…

Seedlings in the greenhouse quickly becoming plants...

Seedlings in the greenhouse quickly becoming plants…

...the 'Irresistible' beauty of a miniature rose on a rainy morning...

…the ‘Irresistible’ beauty of a miniature rose on a rainy morning…

...the wonder of 'Ebb Tide' thriving in the most amazing way her very first year...

…the wonder of ‘Ebb Tide’ thriving in the most amazing way her very first year…

...the mystery of exotic flowers I didn't expect in my garden, and don't know the name of...

…the mystery of exotic flowers I didn’t expect in my garden, and don’t know the name of…

...quite dramatic up close, and a ready reminder of the variety of unexpected pleasures   in life.

…quite dramatic up close, and a ready reminder of the variety of unexpected pleasures in life.

So…maybe not completely awful, as days go. I vacillate between feeling I urgently need to address specific needs – take care of me more skillfully – and feeling as if I am ‘just being a big baby’ and ‘very high maintenance’. It’s just a Wednesday, maybe, and perhaps this is all a hormonal illusion… what is ‘real‘, anyway, beyond the loveliness of flowers, and the smell of a drizzly summer morning, and the certainty that love is, even when it is imperfect.