Archives for posts with tag: evening light

11 hours (and a bit more) sleep later, and I woke feeling a bit puzzled why I was waking up… even though the room was beginning to show hints of light through the curtains and blinds, I managed the impression of it being “the middle of the night” and rolled over to go back to sleep, oh, several times. lol It was lovely to wake to the awareness of being fully well rested, with a day of leisure ahead.

I meditated in the chill of dawn, out on the deck. The light drizzle was no deterrent. From there to a deliciously luxurious hot shower. Then coffee… I should have stayed away from my newsfeed a bit longer, though. Fucking hell, America, seriously? Okay, well, that’s not what today, as an individual day, is about, so I quickly move on to other things.

I sit down to plan my day, fresh cup of coffee ready to go. I contemplate plans and actions, intentions and outcomes. I think about my list of things to do. I think about a recent very frank conversation with a physician about my health, my weight, my lifestyle choices, my longevity – and the verbs involved. I look around this room, right here, with a certain subtle-but-honest discontent; there’s always more to do, isn’t there?

Too often starting my day here, writing before living, feels pretty comfortable, and on weekdays it works pretty well with my routine, overall, more or less, but I am finding – too often – that it also results in lazy hours of web-surfing, reading, chatting, and scrolling through other lives being lived, that could be spent, frankly, living my own. I’ve got shit to do, People. lol (Looking your way, Self, don’t let me down!)

…So… I’m going to switch back (again) to writing in the afternoon or evening, during the day, life-in-progress, as my default. I have been finding many of the things I want most to write about come to me, lately, in the late afternoon, or evening, or on the commute home – and by the time I’ve slept through the night, those ideas are long gone, or lack the compelling elements that made them seem worth writing about, initially.  I’m going to nudge more of my self-care into my mornings (sounds so healthy!) and more of my writing into the evenings. Figured I’d mention it, just in case someone out there has their own routine built such that my timing change may mess with the flow of their day. 😉

This? Right here? Right now? It’s just a placeholder. Life is already in progress, the day has already begun, I’ve got a list in front of me, and hours ahead of me. It’s time to get started on changing the world… ❤

 

I watched the sun set as I rode the light rail across town. It was lovely. I didn’t think to take a picture, and I’m not sure I could have captured the quality of light reliably. I enjoyed the moment. The ride was fairly quiet, as if all the other commuters were similarly wrapped in their own thoughts, or simply tired at the end of a long day. I didn’t think much about it at the time. I rode along wrapped in my own thoughts.

Home. There’s not much on my mind besides this gentle quiet place, and love. It’s enough.

I spent some time, before it began to get quite dark, rearranging the potted roses and herbs on my patio; the contractors had their own idea about placement, and left my garden in disarray when they left. It was a lovely soothing moment tending home and hearth, and the evening feels very satisfying. This is also enough.

A different evening, a different place, some other moment.

A different evening, a different place, some other moment.

There was a point at which I had pulled fine filaments of words together in a complex braided thread that became quite properly an idea. It dissipated like mist in the golden sunset as I rode along smiling at the evening light, and I arrived home pleasantly tired. Satisfied with the moment; all of it, every bit, quite enough.

Every long journey ideally has an occasional rest stop along the way, or a place to pause, pull off the road, get some rest, or some refreshment. Why would a spiritual journey, or a journey of self-discovery or healing be any different? Moving through life at break-neck speed is not only rushed, pressured, and full of momentum that robs one of detailed observation; it’s exhausting. I still approach my experience, some days, with a sense of urgency – as if, perhaps, I am too late to find my way out of the darkness, or perhaps if I don’t move quickly enough to change, or find a better way to treat myself well, and enjoy my experience, the clock will run out with the work left undone. That’s a lot of pressure.

When I move through my experience at a speed dictated by pressure, I get all tangled up.

When I move through my experience at a speed dictated by pressure, I get all tangled up.

A series of recent experiences, moments, and observations find me, this morning, feeling a bit as if I pulled off the freeway to rest for a moment. The morning is calm and quiet, but beyond that, beneath the calm surface of this morning’s gentle thoughts and acceptance of the moment, is a similar deeper calm and contentment within my heart, as though the very framework of how I experience myself and my life are somehow altered from some other prior observation of them. It’s not ‘good’ or ‘bad’, it is exquisitely not related to value judgments at all. I feel present, alert, content. I feel aware and calm and strong. It’s a pleasant morning.

Last evening was its own experience...

Last evening was its own experience…

Last night wasn’t about me. There isn’t more to say about it than that; I was more passenger on that journey, than driver, and I wasn’t even the passenger in the front seat. There is no criticism in those observations, and no yearning that things be different. I am not alone in the universe, and each of us having our own experience definitely means that many many experiences are not even a little bit ‘about me’.  I found it a worthwhile experience to share, to participate in, to observe; I definitely value the lesson in perspective.

Somewhen recently, very recently, I found a sense of inner strength that feels like I had simply misplaced it along life’s longer journey; a strength that has been with me all along, that I count on so utterly it functions entirely outside my awareness, generally. I’m glad I spotted it in the wreckage and dusted it off. I love this piece of me. These past couple days I have been exploring this sense of comfortable experienced womanhood and wisdom gained over time. That doesn’t sound at all humble, and if reflecting on my strength makes you feel  uncomfortable, I understand – me, too. Still, here I am, and I am okay with this moment in time, this point in my experience, this unhurried complex nexus of will and experiences that is some part of what is really ‘me’. It’s certainly worth spending some time getting to know me, yet again.

Because...flowers.

Because…flowers.

Today is a good day to explore the outcome of change over time, and take a step back from the details and enjoy the experience at leisure. Today is a good day to take a break from the work of becoming, and enjoy being. Today is a good day to love. Today is a good day to embrace the change we’d like to see in the world with enthusiasm, and will, and unhurried desire.

This week has been peculiarly difficult in spots, amazing in others; the challenges seem to outweigh the benefits just at the moment, but that may be a byproduct of whatever new Hormone Hell I am enduring, or simple lack of sleep. My sleep has been disturbed for a couple of days now, and last night I was wakeful until after 3:00 am, the last time I checked the clock, and I needed every moment; the alarm at 5:00 am sounded actually annoyed with me for not being able to wake to shut it off sooner than a dozen or so beeps into the morning. I’m tired. I’m emotional. I’m saying good-bye to my traveling partner, and feeling my own feelings, having my own experience, facing my own challenges; this time around it’s too much, I guess. I am alone, for the moment, weeping quietly as I write.

What’s with the emotional intensity? Why is my emotional experience so uncomfortable for others? Why is theirs so uncomfortable for me? My brain and my heart and the things that I feel don’t ‘feel age’…but my body is sure taking a beating with the whole ‘aging process’ and I find myself resenting the hell out of it, wondering where it leads, struggling to find balance and meet needs. Struggling to feel valued, desirable, meaningful. This morning is an emotionally difficult one. I’m fucking exhausted, and the last shreds of functional intelligence know it, but I’m so tired I also have obviously impaired executive function, and my emotional volatility is through the roof. Hell, I don’t want to be around me right now, why would my good-hearted loves want to endure it if they can walk on?

IMAG2481

Looking up as a positive metaphor, although beauty needs no justification.

I’m doing my best. Pausing for cleansing breaths, meditating, doing my best to be compassionate with myself…but fuck, all this hurts so much right at the moment.  This week has been too much for me…and not the too much of terrible experiences or trauma, most of the week has been filled with amazing highs, achievements, connected conversation, delightful moments… The number of minutes in any given day is the same. This week has been crammed with experiences and emotions, from my amazing solo weekend – that I’ve yet to have a few minutes to really process – to the joy of the travelers coming home, changed by their own experiences. There has barely been time to share any of that, because it is also one of the busiest professional weeks I’ve ever had, filled with long hours, new software, and new knowledge.  I’d be in better shape this morning if I’d been able to sleep last night, I’m sure.

IMAG2482

Practices require practicing

So now what? My coffee has gone cold. My heart feels heavy. Tears just keep streaming down my cheeks… I have to go to work soon. I am alone when I want so much to be in the arms of my traveling partner. My feeling of connection and intimacy and warmth feels sheared off, as if too much happiness just won’t do, and must be cut away before I get too comfortable with it. My experience of self, itself, feels painful. I just don’t know why.  I have trouble accepting that ‘too tired’ could be reason enough, and that ‘too tired’ plus ‘hormones’ is more than reason enough, and that ‘enough’ is a good place to find balance, and stillness, and accept that this what it is, and just be. I want to feel loved, but even in my own heart I feel myself recoil from me, even as I see that desire to recoil from me reflected in my partner’s eyes. This shit sucks.

IMAG2485

There are choices, changing those changes everything…how to choose the better choice is a question.

Our mortal lives are so finite, so brief…it is pure raw unfairness that even one moment would ever feel like this; love exists, I still know that. I wish I didn’t feel so completely cut off from feeling that experience. Like it or not, eventually we all face the evening light.

IMAG2487

Feeling very mortal indeed, this morning.

Today is just one day. Today will teach me something about being the woman I most want to be. Today will be one of many in the rear view mirror all too soon, and it’s part of a bigger picture of precious minutes that cannot be repeated. Today is most especially a good day to change the world.