Archives for posts with tag: it’s a verb

Well…here we all are. Here I am, anyway. There are opportunities to wonder about the rest of it. It’s been a year, to the day, since I started this blog. I was somewhere very different as a person one year ago. My understanding of myself was – and remains – incomplete, but certainly I am in as different a place with that as a journey of 365 days could possibly make, for me. Very different, indeed. Change, as comical as it looks on the page, is a constant.

People do change, therefore they can change.  It is not a given that they will change. That last is rather dependent on their own desire to change, for their own reasons, succeeding based on their will and actions.  These seem obvious enough observations, but I did not have that understanding a year ago.

We are each having our own experience. That, too, seems damned obvious to me in 2014, but I have an understanding of myself that recognizes and acknowledges that this was not ‘always’ my understanding of things.  It’s difficult to be certain quite when I became really sold on that understanding – that we are each all having our own experience. It feels like I ‘always’ understood this – but I can prove in my own journals and past writing that I did not, and also that the lack of this understanding in prior years was something that really had an effect on my ability to learn compassion, to build intimacy, to provide emotional support – even impeded my ability to listen well to others and respect or value their perspective.

Every step I take illuminates another step to be taken – like walking with a flashlight in the dark. I can recall, at some past points, saying something casual or flippant about ‘being a work in progress’, generally to minimize some mishap, or the consequence of some poor decision. This past year I’ve spent a lot of time learning what a very active thing progress actually tends to be – there is so much more to it than being aware it needs to happen, or reading up on some process for getting it done.  ‘Work in progress’ is an incredibly active thing, with a lot of verbs involved, and a hearty helping of will and action, and practice doesn’t lead to mastery, it leads to good habits and improvements over time.  I do not always feel up to the task, and I am surprised and even satisfied with myself for how far I’ve come in a year.

I feel powerfully committed to myself (that’s very new), and to building a good life, good relationships, a good heart, a compassionate nature, and to leave when my time is up able to say the world is, in some small way, the better for having endured my humble efforts. This is the most concise statement I know how to make about ‘who I am’ at the end of this one year.  I doubt I’d have made such a statement in any earlier time in my life.

Words like ‘mindfulness’ and ‘compassion’ have become everyday parts of my vocabulary over the past year.  I am learning new things; listening, caring, understanding, empathizing, sharing – no strings, less baggage.  It still seems strange to me that so much of what I’ve needed all along has come from within… and that ‘taking care of me’ isn’t about being ‘selfish’, defensive, territorial, or confrontational, but is very much about living a contented life, and enjoying a sense of well-being, by ensuring I see to my own basic needs with as much commitment and skill as I do the needs of others.

I am spending time today contemplating this one year journey because, as journey’s go, it’s been it’s been one of the most meaningful I’ve ever taken, and one that I understand more clearly now to be both ongoing, and worthy of more active participation. It’s my life, after all.  Sure, had I understood some things more clearly earlier in life, I’d have made some different choices perhaps, or had some very different conversations, but there is still so much ahead – many more moments, opportunities to choose, to talk, to act – to change. My will is truly my own – when I use it.

So are my words. This year I’ve used this blog to explore my world of words in a more honest way, with greater vulnerability, learning to share my experience without using emotional weaponry, and with consideration of possible outcomes beyond words on a page. Using my words to understand my experience more clearly, myself, without endless rumination or becoming mired in some momentary drama, and without over-burdening the emotional resources of my loved ones has been eye-opening regarding the limitations of words and language, and how it can direct my experience – and how I can learn to use those words to direct my experience,  myself, from within.  (Thanks for helping with all that, by the way, I appreciate you, and the time you’ve taken to share this journey with me in some small way.)

Soft jazz in the background, a latte gone cold on the side table, a soft gray morning sky on the other side of the window, the household sleeping… just one year? The distance between where I was a year ago, and where I am this morning can’t really be measured in time or distance.  The journey isn’t even completed – there is so much more to learn, to do, to experience, to share, to understand, to contemplate, to enjoy… This is just one moment of many. 

There is a lot to enjoy. This has definitely been a year to explore how very true that is.  There is a lot to enjoy.  Enjoying life is also a choice.

Here's to free will and good choices!

Here’s to free will and good choices!

Today I…

Or, for that matter, what it isn’t.  These are subjects for another day – soon.

Today I am focusing on openness and intimacy, fearlessly approaching and being approachable. Eye contact. Observation. Being in the moment, because the moment is what I have. Making room to feel, to be involved in my own experience. Breathing, and finding that still calm place.  Taking practices of mindful self-acceptance, compassion, and gratitude, and applying them to my relationships with others.

Today I find balance, because I choose balance, and compassion because I choose compassion. Today I will change the world.

Every moment holds all the potential that exists to choose well.

Every moment holds all the potential that exists to choose well.

The time is...now.

The time is…now.

I figured I’d share this bit with you. This particular moment feels wrapped in quiet. The house is dim. Only the light overhead remains, dimmed low for a notion of ambience at some other point in time. It is the last hour completing 50 years of life. I don’t have any particular reason to give for why this particular birthday feels so significant to me. Is it ‘where I am’ in my life? Is it the progress I am making…in life, in love, in work, in…damn, is there any facet of me that I’m not taking a hard look at these days? My experience is that I’m enjoying ‘my experience’ more, generally, and sleeping a lot better  – I feel pretty balanced most of the time, and even the hormonal ups and downs are no longer calling the shots.  It all seems so mundane in text.

How is it that it feels so significant to face this moment, this place, this…now? 50…in minutes. Oh, I know, I know – just as with ‘end time’ prophesies, or the Y2K scare, tomorrow will be tomorrow. A day. Each moment a new now. I will be who I am. My lovers will be who they are. Love and life will continue in whatever way they will, based on circumstances and choices.  I will be 50. So will a lot of other people. Hell, Johnny Depp is 50, or so I read a day or two ago. He seems timeless to me, but I guess someone, somewhere, is probably keeping track of that detail. lol. 50, though, how important is it really? It isn’t. Time is pretty arbitrary, I think. Doesn’t it matter more what we do with it, than that it is?

I had considered something long, and detailed, and nostalgic for this post. Today has been my last day before I am 50. I’ve had a certain sense that I am ‘closing out the first half’…but it’s entirely internal.  Based on events and conversations, it’s clear that this is not an experience everyone shares…or perhaps it is difficult to identify with [or care about! lol] from some other vantage point in time? I don’t think I’d have been able to connect with such a thing at 21. Maybe not even at 30. Will I care about 50 when I am 70? It seems unlikely. So…I took some time to be alone with this last hour…just me and…me. Well, and you. Thanks for sharing the moment with me. 🙂

‘Now’ has gotten to be a pretty big deal for me, lately. I’ve learned some things about my values, too, and who I am…and who I am becoming. 50 years is a lot of ‘past’. Some of it will likely live on, isolated within my memory, for as long as the wreckage in my head and in my heart lasts, but what then? Is success forgetting? Is healing really something within reach for me? Who am I when I am whole? What does the world look like through those glasses? Do nightmares really go away? Then what?

This is getting long, and without any particular point. I’ll be 50 tomorrow. That’s when the second half starts, and instead of spending a long while writing, perhaps weeping, and wading through a lifetime of emotions I have already felt, about events I have already experienced, I want to come back to now. This right here. Not quite 50, almost done with 49…timeless in a dark room, the quiet tap of my fingers on the keyboard, the hush of the air purifier, and the house sounds creating this quiet made of sounds that seems more dense and solitary than quiet is intended to be. Now. I will set this aside, finished (do we need more words between us now, in this stillness together?) and end the first half in thought, cradled in a very nice ‘now’ indeed, and eager to wake and celebrate how far I’ve come, and how worth it the journey is proving to be.

Tomorrow…well, it’ll be ‘now’, then, won’t it? lol

Blackberries - summer comes.

Blackberries – summer comes.

So many metaphors...hard to choose just one.   (detail from "Anxiety" 2011)

So many metaphors…hard to choose just one. (detail from “Anxiety” 2011)

I’m saying good-bye to an old friend.

A steady rain falls this morning, like a lifetime of tears falling in a day; the sort of respectable rainfall that farmers count on, and that quickly turns a pleasant walk into a test of endurance. I like rain. I especially like rain from a warm, dry vantage point with a hot cup of coffee. I’ve got my coffee, the rain, and if I want to reach into my heart and touch something that hurts, I have my share of tears, too. I also have a headache. The headache is part of this particular good-bye.

You see, after more than a decade, I am finally saying good-bye to prescription anxiety medication. Aside from this headache, and a few somewhat surreal days, it hasn’t been too difficult. I was most concerned about some potential that I’d suddenly be taken over by the level of anxiety that was my everyday experience before I embraced Big Pharm’s tempting sales pitch. A decade is a long time to take a drug, and I’m not surprised that the experience of withdrawing from it is more profound than the assurances and platitudes the literature provides; nearly all the research I’ve been able to access is based on clinical trials of short-term use (6-8 weeks), and none of it is based on a decade or more of continuous use.  Actions have consequences. A decade is a long time to take a drug.  There is too much information available, and a lot of recent reporting, regarding how business interests have resulted in a substantial amount of medical research being suppressed, or actually manipulated for a desired outcome, and similar sorts of things that frankly scare the hell out of me every time I look in my medicine cabinet. I’m painfully aware, too, that doctors are people, not gods, and just as prone to fraud, deceit, greed, error and simple incompetence as anyone else. I am serious about embracing a genuine experience of who I am – of being myself. Really being myself. So, the time had come to back up my recent progress with real trust that my experience is improved, and that I am more whole than I had been, and am capable of continuing to grow and improve my experience, and heal my ancient hurts. I decided to take care of me in a different way. Big Pharm didn’t fix my issues, and couldn’t – they had 10 years to make it happen. lol. My turn. For real. I’m learning, healing, growing…and I am happy to see 50 without having to take mind-altering drugs to endure my experience, pacify my fears, or ‘make me presentable’ for the rest of the world. The headache today is worth it.

...not going to dwell on it... (detail of 'Broken' 2012)

…not going to dwell on it… (detail of ‘Broken’ 2012)

I’m still human. I still feel anxiety. I still have things to work on, to work out, to understand more clearly. I have more to learn. I still have PTSD, and I’m still learning new skills for managing that experience more effectively. I still have a TBI, and I’m finally learning things that address that part of my experience directly, and that matters more than I ever know how to describe.

There’s always another lesson in life’s curriculum, isn’t there? My morning thoughts and contemplation are interrupted. I am finding that my concentration is limited for now, as I say good-bye to this ‘old friend’. I’m not sorry to see it go. But it is a complicated good-bye.

...each having our own experience.  (detail of "Emic" 2012)

…each having our own experience. (detail of “Emic” 2012)

It is sometime later, now. The serenity of the  morning didn’t last, and while that is disappointing, I’m finding that I am ok, myself.  Anxiety is what it is, and I’m ok. My own experience, right now, right here, is one of relative calm; concerned, aware, and finding significant perspective in the beauty of a rainy day, and the many shades of green I see. Some experiences have more value than others, and for the moment a rainy day trumps anxiety and ‘what if’ scenarios.

Respect…consideration…compassion…reciprocity…openness…my ‘Big 5’ only look easy on paper. I’m finding that getting there is still a destination, and the journey requires an everyday commitment to mindful choices, and awareness. I want it to be easy. I accept that both effort and will are required; this is not about easy.

I’m tired and my head aches. That’s worth it, too. I’m giving myself my self for my 50th birthday.

"Who am I? Wait...I had something for this..."  (detail of 'Kronos' 2002)

“Who am I? Wait…I had something for this…” (detail of ‘Kronos’ 2002)