I am reflecting on my “sense of self”, which I suppose is taking “self-reflection” to a very meta place. Definingly self-referential, and a bit like a funhouse mirror; I am lost in reflections and contemplating self-portraits I have done over time, most of them quite abstract. A friend – one of my dearest friends and among my most enduring friendships – reached out and asked to commission from me a self-portrait. An interesting commission, and I accepted it. I don’t know where this path will lead. Perhaps I am overdue to look at myself (and my life) through the lens of my own camera, my hand holding the brush poised over my own canvas? I am standing in a new place, seeing the world and my life through different perspective in a unique moment. I am at my most experienced, my most learned, my most positive – and my most fortunate. I am infused with love and a joy for living. This is not a place I’ve stood life for very long, ever, and here I stand – content and comfortable with myself. So. There it is.
The sky is still blue.
I sip my coffee and think thoughts of self. Who am I, now? Where is this path leading me? Who do I most want to be? How did I get here? I breathe, exhale, and relax. I think about colors, and I think about sunrises, sunsets, and the ticking of the clock. I think about my garden, and this sunny morning; I’ve planted seeds. What flowers will bloom, now? The morning sky is a delicate azure blue, again this morning. Same view, new day – new moment to be this human being. I think my thoughts awhile longer. There’s only so much time for that, and I enjoy it while it lasts. The clock is always ticking.
I’m sitting at the trailhead, waiting for the sun. There’s an owl somewhere very close, and I listen to it’s calls in the pre-dawn darkness. The sky is clear and starry, with a pale small crescent moon visible. A breeze stirs the tops of the tallest meadow grasses, but it’s not enough to move the trees on the horizon in any way I can see from here. I sit quietly with my thoughts. Waiting is. I’ve become rather good at it over a lifetime.
I am thinking about time and timing and wondering how best to make time for art and for painting in such a busy period in my life… I definitely need to figure it out. I was severely grumpy yesterday evening, and only partly because I was uncomfortable from pain and annoyed by the challenges of eustachian tube dysfunction and the possible loss of perceived hearing on one side. I was also grumpy because…
I very much want to be painting. I’m itching to pick up the pastels again and feeling inspired, daily… and I can’t seem to find even a few minutes of this precious limited mortal lifetime to call my own (besides these quiet minutes in the early morning, already spent on needed self-care). I’m not bitching that there are things to be done and that I must do them. It’s more that I am irritated that the days feel so short. By the time all the things that simply must get done have been done, I am too tired for anything more than a shower and an early bedtime.
… I could do a better job of setting my priorities perhaps, or explicitly asking for help from the Anxious Adventurer…
… It’s fine. It’s temporary. I’m carrying the load for two people in so many ways right now. It’s important to note how much I really am getting done. How well I am managing it. But…yeah… I’m letting myself down in this one important way, and struggling to resolve that sometimes has me feeling really cross and also pretty fucking invisible. No one else seems to notice anything “wrong”, so long as the dishes are done, the laundry is kept caught up, and all the errands are run.
I sigh quietly with frustration, then silently acknowledge that I subtly sabotage myself on this one by enduring conditions silently (most of the time) without speaking up about my needs. Would it even matter? Oh fuck yes, it would. It does. I know this because yesterday evening I did speak up – and did it without yelling or tears or any sort of tantrum. I just said I really want to make time to paint and that I was struggling to do that because there always seems to be more expected or needed from me. My Traveling Partner made eye contact with me, looked thoughtful, and made it clear he really heard me. He suggested he might already be up to short trips out of the house, if not now, then soon..? He asked me what I need. I replied that I don’t need him to be gone. I do want to be able to set things aside and focus on art for a little while is all. He gently assured me that if I make it clear I am taking time to paint or draw or work creatively, he would not make demands on my time until I was finished. Wow. I feel heard and supported. It feels really good. And…
…Well, shit… That does leave it up to me to manage my time, set and manage expectations about what I am doing, and to follow through with and for myself. It puts my agency in my own hands… which means the choice is mine. (Maybe it has been all along?) So… Okay. Maybe tonight? After work. After dinner. I feel excited and eager. Hopeful. A little bit timid. Do I have the strength of will to choose myself over the dishes now and then? I sit in the morning darkness thinking about will and freedom and choices and responsibility. I think about agency. I think about love. It’s a nice morning for thoughts and for self-care.
… It’s important to recognize whether circumstances are holding me back… or I am. I sit with that thought until daybreak.
Here it comes, a whole new day.
It is a new day. I can choose differently. I can do more to take care of myself, and enjoy my life. I can make choices that allow me to thrive vs merely surviving while supporting hearth and home. I can invest some of my time in more of the things that matter most to me. When I get the balance wrong (and I will), I can begin again. Like today.
I smile and think about my Traveling Partner, and how much he clearly loves me. I lace up my boots, and grab my cane. It’s time to walk a mile or two and watch another sunrise. It’s time to begin, again.
It’s a Monday. The weekend was odd… and also oddly delightful. No amount of actual proper planning went into it; it was simply a weekend on which life skidded sideways in a remarkable and wonderful way, and without creating agita or stress. It was … good. Time well-spent with my Traveling Partner, though it did “test me” a bit; I tend not to be particularly “spontaneous”, and I like a good plan. Circumstances and change will have their way with our planning. LOL
What do you want out of life? What do you want for yourself? What do you see as representative of your individual success – and what are you doing to get to that place? It’s just something I’m thinking about this morning, because although I thought I “knew what I wanted” 10 years ago, I for sure was not “headed that direction” and between holding myself back out of doubt, and just not making forward progress (often due to clinging to my chaos and damage, or refusing to set down some bit of baggage and move on). Somehow, I am now in a very different place… I’m not as certain day-to-day “what I want” in a clear and “execute the plan” sort of way, but I am managing to progress toward my goals rather quickly. I chuckle thinking about how hard I made things for myself years ago, with thinking errors, and poor decision-making.
…I’m not even being particularly harsh or critical with myself. This is not a “woe is me” moment; I’ve learned a lot along the way, and every moment has been precious for some characteristic all its own.
…But… what do you want? Why do you want that? Is it really what you want – or did you adopt it from someone else’s dreams? I think these are important questions. I ask them. Answer them. Act on what I learn about myself.
Do you really want a Lamborghini? Those Louboutin shoes? The designer bag? The custom kitchen? The big house? The 7-figure dream salary? Are you sure about it? I mean, if those are the things in life you’re after, they are probably within reach… given the time, the appropriate decision-making, and the required follow-through. I don’t say it’ll be easy, but most of that looks approximately achievable for a lot of people – if they choose to do what that honestly takes. Most folks don’t want to put in the required work – or make the necessary decisions. What if it’s your partnership holding you back? Your family? Friends? Would you choose? (Some people definitely do.)
Gnothi Seauton. Know yourself.
What do you really want?
What stops you from doing what it takes to achieve your dream?
How funny that this one got saved as a draft, and never published…? Strange. Here’s a peak back at 2015.
It’s been a lovely weekend, so far. There’s a bit more to it, yet, and I am smiling, and feeling unhurried. I spent yesterday enjoying me, and completing some practical tasks with a hint of the artistic to them, like hanging a few more paintings, and beginning re-organizing all the shelved books into some arrangement that is both visually appealing and allows any one book to be located…ever.
When I moved in, I simply shelved all the books to get them out of boxes (because boxes take up precious space) – in general I have no idea what books are where. Yesterday I carefully went through all the books and identified a handful that I don’t find worth keeping at this point in my life. The minimal square footage requires that I be frugal about possessions, keeping only what actually has meaning, value, or utility. Today I will begin the more complex process of sorting them by author or by topic, and re-shelving them in a more logical way that permits research, and of course simplifies grabbing a particular book before bed, if I choose. 🙂 Truthfully, sorting tasks are a favorite of mine; I find them calming, pleasant, and likely to promote clear creative thinking. I have spent the weekend sorting things…books…small parts and fasteners…canvases…thoughts. It has been a singularly self-nurturing weekend without stress or urgency.
I enjoyed the morning with my traveling partner, and he indulged my longstanding fondness for breakfast (or brunch) by taking me to a favorite local breakfast spot. Now that we don’t live together 24/7, each moment we do spend together is something I willfully and mindfully cherish. At some point during his visit, hanging out at my place and talking about books, paintings, and when to wall mount the big monitor, he made the observation (rather astutely) that I had ‘tolerated’ (or was it ‘endured’?) living with him because I adore him so, but that it has become obvious that my clear preference for myself is to live alone. It’s true. My traveling partner is quite literally the only person I’ve ever really enjoyed living with…and even so, would prefer, generally, to live alone. Living with other people has been some degree of mostly miserable, for as long as I can remember – even as a kid. Some of the broken bits, and chaos and damage, just don’t make cohabitation easy for me, and having to share day-to-day space with other people just doesn’t feel good – or easy. I end up spending a lot of time with my teeth clenched, feeling tense, angry, irritable, trying to find some space for myself in which I will not be intruded upon – and it’s not because other human primates are any more fundamentally flawed than I am, myself. I don’t know that I have a solidly rational explanation, and making the attempt holds plenty of risk of hurting feelings, or creating imagined sorrows. It is enough, I think, to say that I prefer to live alone, and that I am comfortable with solitude day-to-day.
This has been a fantastic weekend. I have spent most of it quite alone, not even venturing forth except to do a little gardening yesterday evening, and breakfast out this morning, followed by the briefest possible trip to the market for coffee beans, and dishwasher detergent. I am understanding something differently about myself, as a result of this lovely [and much-needed] solitary weekend; loneliness is not about solitude at all, at least not for me. Ah, but my traveling partner is so right about the things phrased in the negative – knowing what loneliness is not about is far less useful than understanding what it is about. Perhaps I will learn that some other day? I won’t be learning much about loneliness this weekend – I am enjoying the solitude. 🙂
Contemplating patience, incremental change over time, and the tender ongoing exploration of self that my move as supported got me thinking about the idea of ‘pacing myself’ – taking my time with things in a mindful way makes so much sense. I tend to rush. I am enjoying the outcome of slowing things down in both life and love, and investing in quality of life through careful choices, mindful actions, and a willingness to practice being present in each moment without sham efficiencies masquerading as ‘multi-tasking’. I am ‘pacing myself’. I am living my life thoroughly, and enjoying how naturally my home seems to have become a ‘no stress zone’.
Today is a good day to slow down and enjoy each task, and each moment. Today is a good day to love. Today is a good day for stillness, for solitude, and for contentment. Today is a good day to create the world I prefer to live in. [Your results may vary.]
That was quite a long time ago, I suppose. Have things changed? Sure. I live in a home in a small town. I’ve got a mortgage instead of rent. My Traveling Partner lives with me and is my fond and adored companion on life’s journey, every day. My garden is a little bigger. My job has changed (and changed again). Have I learned to slow down and pace myself? Well… a bit more than I once knew how, yes. My results still vary.
Heat wave. Already hot this morning. Slept well, woke refreshed. Felt… content. Balanced. Merry…
…Whole.
Off to a good start on a hot day. Things slide sideways, slipping gently, somehow inevitably tilting toward irritation in spite of a great starting point. Best efforts. Humans being human.
I put aside my coffee and go for a walk before the heat of the day might stop me, or just make the experience miserable.
A favorite park has finally re-opened after all the damage during that last winter storm.
Muggy warm air filled with the sound of mowers, small aircraft taking off from the nearby municipal airport, and swarming insects seemed to cling to me as I walked across the parking lot to the start of the one open trail. It doesn’t really go far enough to satisfy the need, but it has been a long while and I have missed this place. I walk the trail twice. I take note of the wild roses in bloom – there look to be three distinct species growing in this wooded area. I spot ripe thimbleberries, but none within reach – too fragile for commercial agriculture, they are a rare special treat, tiny, soft, and mild. The birds will get most of them. Piles of cut up trees give some insight into how much damage the storm caused. Every few feet, there’s a pile of logs and branches on either side of the trail. The forest is full of huckleberry bushes, but I don’t see flowers or berries, yet. On my way back down, before my second walk of the trail, I realize I haven’t stopped at a favorite bench… I never saw it! Weird… I begin to really look for that thing, that expected thing, as I head back up the trail. My focus results in missing other details. Something more to think about.
Oh. Reality is what it is. Expectations are shit we made up, and cling to.
It was a lovely morning for walking, in spite of the heat. In spite of the changes all around me. In spite of a less than picture-perfect lovely summer morning. Expectations and assumptions can so quickly undermine a potentially lovely experience. I mean… I even know that. It still trips me up more often than I care to count.
I put on some music. Sip my rather delicious iced coffee – I’ve been planning this iced coffee on a hot summer morning for days. Really looking forward to this moment. I made coffee ice cubes to go in it. I sip it thoughtfully, savoring the moment that is, instead of yearning for another. It may not be what I expected, but it’s quite pleasant, and that’s enough. Maybe I’ll finish it on the deck…
My Traveling Partner and I both hurt today. Pain sucks. Aging is a mixed bag of qualities, and pain is just one of many experiences… We both try to avoid taking it personally, or lashing out at each other in a short-tempered moment of our frustration with the limitations of these very human forms. He says “maybe you should just avoid me today” – right about when I was thinking of saying gently that I’d give him some space because I’m hurting that much today. lol It’s generally an exceptional partnership, even when one or both of us is in pain, or just generally not being our best selves, together.
I sip my coffee and reflect. I think about the walk, the summer morning, recalling the sights and scents, and the feel of the air around me.
Just because there’s sunshine where I’m sitting doesn’t mean I’ll find illumination.
I walked, reflected, observed, and gave myself that time I need to spend with the woman in the mirror. It’s good to get perspective. I mean… I find it so, myself. 🙂 I don’t always do a good job of making time for me, and for what I need from and for myself. I could do better there. More practice? Obviously. I know where I’ll start, too; a familiar place.
I am rereading the Four Agreements; a worthy starting point on any journey of self.
Funny thing about The Four Agreements? It was my Traveling Partner who first recommended it to me. Good basic practices to practice that tend to heal a lot of hurts and limit a lot of negative self-talk. That seems so long ago now.
Treating each other well has reliably tended to start with treating myself well, and as it turns out that has nothing whatsoever to do with buying things, and everything to do with reflection, perspective, and practices that build resilience and emotional wellness. Boundary-setting. Testing assumptions. Confirming expectations. Being flexible and adaptable in the face of change. Being there for myself. Being kind, and treating the world as gently as I am able to. Good self-care. Getting enough rest. It’s a lot to juggle, and I suspect that I half-ass a lot of it, just trying to do all of it… but…getting things ‘half right’ or ‘half finished’ is still a more useful result than never making an attempt to be my best self at all. Incremental change over time. I get better at something each time I attempt it… eventually. Learning is a process. Change is often a verb. I keep at it. Incremental change over time requires both time, and increments.
Feeling frustrated and challenged can sometimes mislead me into thinking I haven’t improved – a lot – on a lot of little things that had been far more problematic before this journey began. That’s a shame; it robs me of my chance to celebrate small wins. I think on that while I sip my coffee, gazing into the sunshine beyond the window.
I hear the A/C come on. Then I feel it. I recall the heat of the morning as I walked the wooded trail, and think about the apartment in which my partner and I first began sharing our lives… and that roasting, horribly hot all-drama-all-the-time summer some 11 years ago; no A/C. I feel grateful for the A/C, definitely… but the love matters most. We brought that with us, to this place, across years of shared challenges, growth, change, loving moments, and petty arguments – it’s a very human experience, and it’s hard to imagine spending life differently and still enjoying it as much. I sip my coffee thinking about my partner (my lover, my best friend), and the pain he’s in today. Maybe I’ll bake oatmeal cookies? Would that help? (I don’t know why it would, it just occurred to me to wonder – sometimes I have a mind like a child. LOL)
There’s enough of this coffee left to enjoy a few moments of summer morning on the deck before it gets to hot to enjoy… seems like a good time to begin again. 🙂
Evening Light 