Archives for posts with tag: it only works if you do it

The full moon high over head greeted me as I left the house. It seemed auspicious at the time. I was wrong about that.

[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]

The full moon followed me up the highway. There was no traffic at all. It was peaceful and I traveled up the road to the trailhead feeling secure and unbothered. The day seemed promising from the outset. (It’s looking like I am wrong about that, too.)

Beautiful full moon, though.

I remind myself not to conflate a moment with the day. I breathe, exhale, and relax – well, I do my best with that. It isn’t enough. I keep at it, feeling like I’m walking a slack line over a pit of anxiety and despair – and I can see it seething and roiling beneath me. Falling seems inevitable, but I keep working at being calm, centered, focused on what is, and this moment here, now. I undermine my capacity to support those dear to me, if I yield to the darkness within, but pulling myself from the mire once I’m in it is…hard. Best to avoid going there, if I can.

… But if I can’t, what then, though..?

The moon setting over the marsh.

I walk with my thoughts, after a few minutes of conversation with my beloved. Walking in the moonlight is a beautiful experience with the full moon a luminous pearl in the night sky, sinking toward the horizon. I’m not enjoying it much this morning. It’s not a permanent condition, I’m just human (so is he).

My beloved woke injured, in pain, and feeling alone. I listened (read) while he talked (texted). I don’t have solutions to offer. (And I can’t be his therapist.) All I have to offer is a caring heart and a willingness to listen. (Any attempts to soothe or encourage have seemed actually offensive, so I’ve given up on that; he’ll let me know when he wants that sort of help. He’s made it clear my suggestions are unwelcome right now.) I do my best. It is recognizably inadequate. None of this is “about me”; my beloved is going through some shit. I’m trying to be a good partner.

The moon setting on a foggy morning.

Daybreak comes. It’s foggy, which I didn’t expect. I sit in the fog, quietly. I feel hesitant to turn my attention to myself, my own experience, my own needs… I breathe deeply and exhale slowly. Chilly morning. My breath shows and mingles with the fog. One mortal human primate alone on a foggy marsh at dawn… such a small detail in a much bigger world. I meditate awhile, hoping to regain my cheerfulness and perspective. I have more to offer when I feel okay, myself.

Me? How am I doing? Meh. I’m okay. Any gains I may have made from taking a break for a few days are blown. Between my own physical pain, and the stress of circumstances, and being the vessel into which my Traveling Partner pours his pain and stress and anger, I’m already nearing exhaustion and questioning my existence. It sucks to be so near to the edge of the mire.

… I worry that I’ll crack under the weight of it all…

… Maybe I should take my stress, my anxiety, and my helplessness into the studio and shape the words I can’t find, as color? Maybe the feeling of soft pastels between my fingers will fix my broken bits or soothe my hurts? I sigh to myself. Maybe it would help to work things out in the studio… for me. Won’t do my beloved Traveling Partner any good at all. Fuck. I’m not even certain having me around has real value right now.

… The tears fall slowly, ignored…

My Traveling Partner pings me an apology, and gently encourages me to find something else to do today. At least, that’s how it sounds to me. Okay, well shit, I can accommodate that pretty easily. I’m halfway to nearly everything that interests me locally. I find myself wishing I’d thrown my RC car or my paint boxes in the car as I left the house, but we don’t know what we don’t know. I send a message to the Chaotic Comic – maybe she feels like hanging out, today?

Fuck this aching ankle and this painful knee. Fuck this arthritic back, and this damaged spine. Fuck this headache, and all the other headaches, too. And fuck brain damage, besides. I sigh to myself with little enthusiasm for the day ahead. I’ll figure it out – I’ve got quite a toolbox after so many years of therapy (and living life). I breathe, exhale, and relax. I set down my baggage, and reflect on impermanence, non-attachment, and how difficult it feels to do better today than yesterday, some mornings.

… but what to do with the day, now? It’s a big world, and the menu in the Strange Diner is vast…

…. The path ahead is familiar, the way out is through… and I can begin again. (So can you.)

Butterflies are a beautiful metaphor for change and growth. It is too early for butterflies on the meadow here. They come later. Interestingly, and perhaps in conflict with the whole “growth and change” metaphor in some way, butterflies have no choice. They will go through metamorphosis like it or not. We have a choice whether to learn, grow, and change or…not.

[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]

I am thinking about butterflies because I appreciate them as a metaphor, not because there are (or, as is the case presently, are not) any actually around. We can choose change. Can choose “metamorphosis”, we can choose being and becoming.

The last couple of days I’ve taken time to illuminate a couple pages in my notebook (it’s really not a “journal”) for future writing. The pages delight me. The theme is butterflies, and growth and change. I haven’t written anything on these pages, maybe I won’t, ever. I enjoy the prepared pages, regardless, they are a thing all their own.

Butterflies on a page.

An unexpected yawn interrupts my thoughts. Crazy, I almost feel as if I could just lay down and sleep. It’s fully daylight on a lovely Spring morning, and I’m sitting at a favorite stopping point along the marsh trail, as it turns to meander past the meadow and through a stretch of oak savannah and down to the river, where there is a lovely viewpoint at which I rarely stop (too crowded, very popular).

One version of beginning again.

I had started down the trail from “the low end”, heading west, clockwise if viewed from above. Most people will start from the upper parking area, and take the year-round trail in a counterclockwise direction, getting to all the marked viewpoints quickly, and turning back. A few photographers will venture further, to the blind setup in the meadow looking towards the ponds, or the viewpoint less favored by walkers, which looks out over the meadow at “nothing”. The birdwatching folks like that one a lot. The meadow and grassy places between the oaks is dotted with patches of flowers, yellow or white or some hue of pink. The lupines are done and going to seeds. It is time now for wild mustard, daisies, and dandelions, and wild roses.

The view when I arrived was gray and overcast.

Sunshine comes and goes. I think about change and growth and becoming the person I most want to be. I think about how fortunate and grateful I am to enjoy the partnership I have with my Traveling Partner. It feels good to be so well cared for. Like a friend on a road trip who remembers to bring their GPS, he reliably “knows a great place to stop”, and helps me find my way, if only by joking about the scenery, or encouraging me to continue. Instead of each day being a new moment of dread and anxiety, each day brings a new opportunity to begin again in good company.

… We’re still each having our own experience…

Same view, different moment.

Sunshine breaks through the clouds again.  Self-care matters. We become what we practice. I stretch and squint into the sunshine. The meadow-fresh air smells of flowers and something spicy. The robins eye me between tasty morsels dug up from the leaf litter and soft soil beneath it. They sing bits of song at me, but I don’t speak robin. 😆 Perhaps they are reminding me that there is a whole day ahead? So many moments and opportunities to change! I remind myself I’ve got errands to run once I turn towards home on the other side of this walk.

For now I’ll just enjoy this moment. I can begin again later. Right now it is enough to breathe the Spring air and listen to birdsong, and think about metamorphosis – and practice. We become what we practice.

This morning I woke up with pain. Some sort of weirdness yesterday afternoon with a nasty cramp in my right calf, after a long Solstice walk in the forest, that lingers this morning as unexpected pain associated with some specific movements. It hurts in the background as a dull ache until I do something ‘just the wrong way’ and it reminds me with a moment of acute agony that it doesn’t plan to be so easily dismissed.  Still, I woke in a good mood and I was pleased to find that walking on a flat surface is one of the more comfortable things I can be doing – which made making coffee this morning relatively easy and not particularly painful. So…good mood…good coffee… time for a good morning. Right? Oh. Wait – there’s more!

I had an irksome moment with technology this morning when I sat down with my laptop (note to self – please, PLEASE, do take time to meditate every day before anything else, it does make that much difference!). My mouse wasn’t working. I did the troubleshooting, rebooted the laptop, still no mouse. I replaced the mouse battery, no mouse. Rebooted again – finally, I have a living mouse. But… for some reason using it ‘feels weird’. Sluggish. Like the buttons are not as responsive. I become aggravated, I fight it. I struggle to set aside my frustration – and the background irritability that stems from a loving partner pointing out just last night that I’m due for a better mouse – one that doesn’t shine a laser in his eyes every time I thoughtlessly lift the mouse while pointed in his general direction. At that moment, I was really liking my mouse – it’s a pretty one. Right now I’m just frustrated with it and wanting to smash things… but the wanting to smash things is not solely the fault of the mouse. There’s more.

I use online services. Many people do, these days. Some services require strict authentication and identity verification – like banks – and while I value that they do, and appreciate the good security, I also find that during the holiday season, it can be a huge irritating bit of inconvenient bullshit. Yep. Total bullshit. I managed to ‘lock up’ an account on such a service by starting and then canceling a transaction. Yep. I just wanted to see if there would be a fee – and the fee structure is not easily available to view, making it easier to start the transaction, get to that point to see if there is a fee (and what it is) and then cancel the transaction if it is not worth paying that fee… generally not an issue. Today, it locked up my account and generated a dismally polite email advising me that ‘all’ I have to do is re-verify ‘a few’ ‘simple’ account details – by snail mail.  I call this ‘a service I am unlikely to use again’. The amount of frustration generated, and the resulting emotional volatility and rage are actually just not worth dealing with at all. My immediate reaction is ‘I won’t use this service anymore’. My strategy for getting my morning back on track is ‘take a few deep breaths and meditate’.

I am easily frustrated by dealing with banking, with frustration, with technology failures, with deviations from simple routines – they hit me hard, and momentarily disable me with a sudden increase in emotional volatility and a sudden loss of cognitive skill (or a perception of it). I very much doubt that online businesses, or application developers, spend much time thinking about how changes to their products affect the small number of people who do have challenges with brain injuries or cognitive challenges. Something as simple as changing the authentication process can be frustrating for anyone, but for me that bit of frustration can set off an avalanche of anger, confusion, and emotion that turn the simplest task into something almost unachievable in seconds. It sucks.

I’ll take a pleasant moment for gratitude – it is surprisingly comforting to remember how much worse an experience like this used to feel when I didn’t know why I reacted the way I did, or why it seemed so much more challenging for me than it seemed for ‘other people’. I’m grateful that I found out about my brain injury.  It’s easier now – at least, it is easier to ‘find my way home’ to a place of balance and calm, again. More like a storm, less like climate change. 🙂

It’s actually a pretty good morning, now that the irksome bit is behind me. My coffee is cold, and my leg hurts, but… it’s only pain and cold coffee. Nothing to cry about. Certainly no need to smash things over it. Wow. What a difference mindfulness makes! Yep, still human – but I am human; I use tools.

This guy is mindful, and living in his moment.

This guy is mindful, and living in his moment.