Archives for posts with tag: finding balance

I’m at the trailhead, waiting for the sun. I could walk in the predawn darkness, but this morning I choose to wait for a bit of light. Daybreak comes, and I sit with my thoughts a few minutes longer.

One morning, one moment, unique and brief.

I am thinking about how differently two individuals (any two) can view the same set of circumstances (any circumstances) or even a shared experience. We are each having our own experience. We each view the world through the lens of our own perspective, further altered by the filters of our expectations and past experiences. As with cameras, the differences in our “equipment” (our education, our economic situation, our individual values) make some difference, too, but our “camera settings” – the choices we make, how skillfully we adapt to new information, our critical thinking skills and willingness to apply those – often matter more. A lot more. An affluent person with a great degree who comes from “a good family” can still be a heartless dumbass carelessly wrecking other lives, which is to say, rather obviously, that the photographer matters more, to a point, than the camera does.

When we view the world, or even some brief moment, we bring our baggage with us. We see the world through the lens and filters of our individual experiences and understanding, making us prone to some pretty fucked up errors in thinking. You do, I promise you. I do, too. They do. We do. There are no exemptions and there is no escape. We can only do our individual best with that shit, making a point to be kind, considerate, thoughtful, and reasonable. We can make a point to listen deeply – a whole other huge endeavor that requires learning and practice (and is super worthwhile). We can ask clarifying questions – and hear (and accept) the answers. We can assume positive intent, and understand that generally speaking, most people are doing their everyday best, or think they are, without any desire to cause harm. We can refrain from taking shit personally (it mostly just isn’t). None of this is “easy”, at least not at first, but it can all be done willfully and with practice it becomes pretty natural.

It’s on my mind this morning because I’m human. I’m prone to seeing the world through my own eyes and overlooking how many other potentially also quite valid perspectives there are, which others may hold. There is often more than one “right answer” to life’s questions. Acceptable behavior is very context dependent. Two photographers at the same location, taking a picture of the same bird, will get two different pictures. It’s the same bird. Neither picture could be described as “wrong” or “incorrect”, they are pictures of some real, lived, moment. (Let’s leave AI images out of this discussion entirely, since delusions are their own thing, related but not what I’m going on about this morning.) The point I’m making is that for practical, cognitive, and contextual reasons, we really are each having our own experience.

It’s pointless to argue that someone’s feelings in some moment are “incorrect”; emotion is very subjective. It is unhelpful to reject someone’s understanding of circumstances, even in those instances when it seems obvious they’ve gotten some fact wrong. Most people cling to their own subjective flawed understanding of the world, even when provided with facts to the contrary. Human primates are limited that way. Yelling other information at a human primate trying to force a shared perspective doesn’t generally work very well, either. Even if you were to pass your camera over to another photographer, position them precisely where you stood to “see things from your perspective”, they would still get a different picture of the scene.

I don’t have an easy solution to offer on the many ways our individual perspectives complicate our interactions with other individuals. Communication is a lot of work. Building community and nurturing healthy relationships is a lot of work. People often don’t listen to each other, and when they do they often don’t accept what they hear (or don’t make good use of the information). People are emotional creatures who persist in trying to put reason and logic in charge, in spite of clear evidence that emotion arrives to every party before intellect does.

I guess one path forward is maybe practice those listening skills. Gratitude, kindness, and consideration are great steps on a path to “common decency”, too. Accepting that your way (or opinion, or choice of religion) is not the only way, is a stepping stone further on the path. Hell, your way – the path you choose – may not even be the best way. You don’t know enough as one human primate to make that determination; it’s a big world and the menu of The Strange Diner has a lot of options. There is a lot to learn and experience in life.

Tis the season

I sigh to myself, thinking about recent days and moments of conflict or stress. Looking back it often seems so obvious what different choices could have been made in the moment with better results. I focus my attention on my own behavior; it’s the part I can control, myself. I practice letting go of lingering hurt feelings, reframing experiences through a different lens, and examining my “filters” for fallacies and thinking errors. I breathe, exhale, and relax. I improve my perspective and my understanding through self-reflection. I practice the practices that have helped bring me so far, already. Non-attachment. Gratitude. Meditation. Letting small shit stay small. Savoring small wins and simple joys, and giving disappointment, resentment, and anger less room to live in my head.

Practice is more than a word. Practice is a verb. “Do the verbs”, I remind myself.

The sun rises. The day begins. I see my path stretching forward, between the oaks and along the meadow’s edge. I’ve got my camera, and it’s time to begin again.

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.

It is the fall equinox. I took the day off from work to reflect, and to find balance. It’s the equinox, after all. It is a time for balance, day and night briefly the same length, a reminder that balance can be found, but not held static. Balance is not a permanent condition.

Lincoln City, at Road’s End, before sunrise.

I sip a hot coffee. The paper cup is warm in my hands. The morning is chillier here on the coast. I’m grateful for the foresight to have worn a warm sweater. I listen to the roar of the waves and the sea breeze, watching the sky begin to lighten, as daybreak, then dawn, each arrive in turn. As the dawn lights the horizon, I begin watching the waves roll in, in rows, stretching along the now-visible beach. The horizon itself is obscured by morning fog or dense clouds. I hear sea birds taking flight, calling to each other.

Where do I find balance? I guess anywhere that I create it, from whatever chaos is handy in the moment. Balance is in the choices I make. Same with “finding my center”. I create that center, that firm foundation, that moment to pause, to reflect, to breathe, and to simply be. I know that I’ve made it sound too easy. It’s not reliably easy. I sometimes choose poorly, or attempt to snatch a sense of balance from a moment that wanted something else of me entirely. As with painting, composition matters – just because a sight exists, doesn’t make it visually beautiful, worth putting on canvas – and so too with moments and seeking (or finding, or creating) balance. It’s not always “time for that”.

Moments later, same location, different perspective.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. This is a good place for meditation, and a good moment for it. I take time for that as the sun rises, watching the waves, listening to the sea breeze, letting my thoughts float gently by, observed but not engaging with them. I focus on my breath, and the waves, and the distant horizon. There is time later for other things. For now, this is enough.

… Time passes. What’s left of my coffee is now cold. So are my hands. Curious gulls stand very near the car, eyeing me curiously. The misty western horizon has taken on a delicate shell pink hue, and the waves are steely gray edged in frothy white as they reach the shallows along the shore. Beautiful.

After meditating, before walking on the beach.

Certainly there is enough daylight now to easily see the steep path down to the beach. It’s quite chilly this morning, but I’m warmly dressed, appropriate for the chill of an autumn walk along the ocean beach early in the morning. I’ll take my time and enjoy the sights. The morning is mine, for finding or creating balance, on a lovely fall equinox. Later, I’ll return home and prepare a lovely meal and celebrate at home. It’s nothing particularly fancy, and doesn’t need to be (although the recipe I’m following is complex, and the dish suited to a celebration). I’m simply observing the change of seasons my own way.

…Then, I’ll begin again.

Pause and reflect.

A piece of trim fell off my everyday glasses a couple days ago, and I haven’t found it. I’m working in the office, instead of from home as I had planned. The coffee drive-through I like to frequent on a workday didn’t open this morning. I poked myself in the eye by mistake. I forgot the midday snack I’d meant to bring for later. I stubbed my toe on my way into the office and dropped my computer bag on my foot.

All of these are minor aggravations barely worth a moment of my attention. There are no bombs dropping here – a useful observation for some perspective. There was a time when any one of these things would have had me angry enough, frustrated enough, to really mess up my day. I’m grateful to practice other practices, these days, than uncontrolled anger and frustration*. Anger and frustration not only wreck my own mood, but they are “contagious” to be around, and tend to degrade the quality of any shared experience. It helps to put these things into context, to frame them differently, and to understand them in a broader perspective (which is a choice I can make).

…So I do that…

I’ve got another pair of glasses with the correct prescription in them (I feel both grateful and fortunate). I have the convenient option to work in the office or from home any day; it’s my choice either way (and I am fortunate to have that choice and appreciate it greatly). There’s decent quality local coldbrew on tap in the office that is provided at no (direct) cost (and I’m grateful to have it). Poking myself in the eye did no lasting damage, and already doesn’t hurt at all (only minutes later). I forgot my snack, but I remembered my lunch, so it doesn’t actually matter. My foot aches a bit but I’ve got my cane handy anyway, and it is a minor aggravation that lacks meaning (even as pain) in the context of the everyday experience of chronic pain – it could be worse. Hell, I’m grateful to be able to walk.

…Better…

So, I breathe, exhale, and relax, and sip my icy cold brew. It’s not a great cup of coffee and the morning has not been a great experience, but it’s only a moment out of a day, and it will pass. I find the experience of anger fairly toxic – my own anger, within myself, specifically. I don’t care for the experience of feeling angry, or having someone in my vicinity dealing with their own experience of anger. It is, for me, wholly unpleasant. It is also reported to be unhealthy to squelch it entirely and take no action to resolve whatever has brought it to the surface in the first place. There’s a balance to strike with regard to anger. Venting doesn’t work to resolve anger – it just tends to become a practice of being angry. Not a great state of being (or practice), in my opinion, and I like to choose (and cultivate) other more positive ways to approach circumstances*. Gratitude certainly feels better than anger…

I have a lot to be grateful for. I sip my coffee contentedly and prepare to begin again.

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*And I do have to actually choose and actually practice! Anger management is a skill that needs to be cultivated and practiced and worked at and… I’m very human. My results vary. lol I’m ever so much better at keeping my anger in check in a healthy way and communicating my feelings with care these days than I was years ago, but it has taken years of practice. Be patient with yourself, if you struggle with anger. Keep practicing. Incremental change over time will win… in time. 😀

I am sipping some iced tea with lemon. I didn’t make it. It is a canned commercial product. It’s okay. Mildly carbonated, which seems pretty unnecessary for iced tea, but it is available, it is cold, and it did not require me to make iced tea to have some. lol I am thinking about what that says about my desire for “ease” vs my desire for good quality of life. It seems the sort of thing worth thinking about.

As I made the drive in to the city this morning, I was also thinking. Mostly about “work life balance” and what that actually seems to mean, and what that can (or has)(or does) look like (for me). I have tended to mostly think about “work life balance” in terms of … a scale. Two opposites in equal measure, you know – balanced. It has not generally been the case that I have been able to make that work out quite that way. I mean… there are 7 days in a week. I work 5 of those, most of the time. The common assumption is 40 work hours in a week, divided more or less into 8-hour days (when we’re fortunate to enjoy working conditions that preserve an expectation of employee leisure being respected). That’s a pretty big chunk of our life time, so… where’s the “balance”?

Fairly often, in my own experience, any appearance of “work life balance” has been more like a pendulum swinging between extremes, some weeks mostly work, some weeks a bit more leisure than is typical, and back and forth pretty endlessly. There have been notable exceptions where the “routine” wasn’t routine at all, and finding any “balance” was more like a dance than a pendulum’s steady swing. In other cases, any hint of “work life balance” was purely linguistic, and not to be taken at all seriously by anyone involved. Those are commonly pretty toxic experiences, and I avoid those.

I continue to look for a better balance, though; more life, less work… it gets tricky when the conversation turns to pay. I definitely still want to get paid. LOL

I sip my tea and reflect. I think about how tricky it is to balance all the elements of a life well-lived… the living, the loving, the working, the resting… and I think about how often one or another detail feels “just right”, while literally everything else seems to be going to shit. lol How very human. Certainly it’s been those “just right” experiences that have often been what has “kept me going”, avoiding despair, keeping up practices, breathing through the emotions, and accepting that “this too will pass” – because it will, and it does, and it’s on to the next thing.

My Traveling Partner has got the truck set up for camping and off-roading and overland adventuring. Exciting. I’m expecting that any day now he will calmly advise me that he is going to “hit the road and check everything out” in preparation for camping together for my birthday. I’m super excited about the camping trip we have planned. I’m also excited to have a couple days home alone… by July we’ll have been in this little house for 3 years. I’ve never spent a night at home alone in all that time. I guess I’m fortunate to be able to say that, given the quality and good character of this love of ours. I’m still looking forward to it. 🙂

…And every time I think about being home alone, while my Traveling Partner travels, I miss him with an incredible ache in my heart that feels just a bit like… withdrawals. lol I’m pretty crazy about this particular other human being. Like a teenager with a first crush…

The minutes tick by. I sip my tea and think my thoughts. I breathe, exhale, relax… soon enough, I’ll also begin again. It’s a new day ahead. New options. New choices. New circumstances. There is room for improvement. Room for change and for growth. All it takes is a new beginning, and a handful of verbs.