Archives for posts with tag: just saying

Too hot… Tooooo hot… My coffee’s too hot, Lady… 😉

Seriously, though? My coffee is too hot. lol …And it’s okay to be amused, to be silly, to be whimsical, to make jokes, to be merry, even in the morning, yes and all day, too. Lighten up when  you can, enjoy the moments that don’t weigh you down, and savor those, too. Even if – especially if – your heart is heavy with grief, pain, or trauma; those lighter moments can help us through some really dark times.

For clarity, because I assume by this point you are somewhat familiar with my whimsy (and word play, and over-use of metaphors), I’ll explicitly point out that this morning is merry and quite delightful, thus far. Neither the song I linked, nor the context of my experience right now, is weighed down by pain, or grief, or trauma – I’m just saying letting your heart be light when it will is a healthy thing. 🙂

Yesterday was as easy as the day before was difficult. It was a lovely day, summery, fun, fulfilling, exciting… did I mention the fun? And the fulfillment? A good day.

If you’ve made the whole thing about the job, you may be missing the point. 🙂

…Good days also end. They come around again. However dark times feel in one moment, it’s only one moment. There’ll be another. We can make choices, change choices, put verbs in motion, adjust our perspective, and even walk away from what doesn’t work. We have so much power over our own lives, often more than we use, certainly more than we recognize, when we feel hurt, trapped, or held back. How often is it our own choices allowing us to be hurt, trapped, and held back? (Sometimes it isn’t, let’s be real about that, and the harshness of our circumstances can be imposed upon us by bad lawmaking, by human nastiness, and by the choices of others, just as it can be by anything we’ve done, ourselves – also a thing, and yeah, even there, our decision-making can alter our experience of our circumstances to a greater or lesser degree, and we still have tremendous power to change the future.)

“This too shall pass,” applies even to the best of times. The best, sunniest days, eventually see the sun set. It’ll rise again. The wheel turns. There’s a new beginning just over the horizon. With this being the case, then it is also a given that it’s true of our darkest times. I mean, generally… there’s also death to contend with, eventually, no argument there. I don’t have much to say about that, and existential angst can get out of hand pretty quickly if we’re overly concerned about that.

Oh, nice… my coffee is cool enough to drink. I smile merrily. In this moment, that matters. That’s okay. I think all I’m getting at this morning is… be sure to have a good time, too. Enjoy living life. Enjoy the sunshine, and the rain. Enjoy this human being that you are – even while you work to become the person you most want to be. There is only practice, there is no “perfect” – enjoy the journey (you may not ever reach the destination).

The clock keeps ticking. It’s a new day, a new beginning, a new chance to be the woman I most want to be. It feels like summer.

…It feels like time to begin again. 😀

Morning comes. I’ve not experience one morning yet that hasn’t arrived precisely on time. Each new day is exactly that, new. We can begin again – every morning, if we need to.

One new day, approximately infinite possibilities.

One new day, approximately infinite possibilities.

The smallest of my choices still matter, if not to the outcome of my circumstances, then at least telling of who I am. I think that over for a moment; even if the choice I make, action I take, or words I express don’t actually appear to change what’s going on around me, they are a reflection of who I am. I take time to consider who I want most to be, what my values truly are, and how I can best express them.

What matters most?

What matters most?

Last night as I opened the patio door to cool evening air, and closed the screen door, I noticed a young praying mantis hanging from the inside of the screen, about to be trapped inside. I gently coaxed her onto my hand and slowly carried her outside. I did my best to be quite gentle and move slowly to avoid stressing her out more than necessary. Initially, she sought escape, then held very still, watching me from my hand. I placed her with great care in the taller roses in the patio garden – plenty to eat, and seeming relatively safe, I took her picture while she continued to watch me. I looked for her this morning, but she had gone, or had hidden herself too well for my pre-coffee eyes.

It doesn’t matter much at all what I say about how I feel about life. (You either) Words are words. It is our actions that reflect our values. Our rhetoric is meaningless next to our vote. Our keywords are  not relevant to our choices. The books we read are not the human beings we are. We become what we practice. There are verbs involved.

Every day, I can begin again. 🙂

It’s a lovely quiet morning. Yoga, meditation, coffee, an article linked by a friend, some reading on a very perspective-altering web site, some handful of very still moments – no music, no typing, no conversation; it is a seriously quiet morning, punctuated periodically by the nearby wail of the train passing by. The day is alike an unopened box, contents unknown. What will I find when I open the box?

What's in the box? What of the unknown?

What’s in the box? What of the unknown?

My evening last night ended gently, after hanging out with my traveling partner for some lovely chill hours. My night ended with love, and my traveling partner observing that he loves what I’m doing in the studio. (I do, too, and I love that he appreciates me as an artist.)

My morning and my day are as an unopened box. I’ve no idea what it holds, and the possibilities are numerous. I meditate on boxes, packages, packaging and contemplate how the unexpected can be so consequential – or so irrelevant. I think about ‘baggage’, and consider the box as a metaphor, and recall some number of boxes I have recently opened in life: boxes with needed household supplies, boxes shipped to me out-of-useful-sequence, boxes containing more than I expected or something that surprised me, boxes that were mostly filled with air, boxes that were too heavy to lift without help, all varying in size, most a pretty plain squarish rectangle-y sort of shape – what other shape do boxes come in? Isn’t that funny about a plain brown box? How similar they all seem to be on the outside? I rarely consider the box itself when a package comes; I tear through the tape, jerk open the flaps and get at the mysterious contents with haste, generally. Why so much force to overcome a humble box? Why the rush?

I am likely noodling around contemplating boxes-as-a-metaphor trying to understand something very different indeed… I stay on my path, practicing good practices, and gently sorting out how to most easily and comfortably do so, while also enjoying my traveling partner’s time here. I feel encouraged noticing that I’m managing that pretty neatly, so far, for now. I find myself wondering what his experience is, and making a mental note to be attentive for the things he says that tell me – like his observation that he likes what I am doing in my studio, his enjoyment of my cooking, his consideration for my time, space, and practicing, and his day-to-day tenderness. I smile, and remind myself to also just ask. 🙂

Meditation is a favorite practice; it's like opening a box.

Meditation is a favorite practice; it’s like opening a box.

Today I’ll ‘unpack this box’ with as much appreciation for what the box is, as for what goes into it. Today I will practice being awake, aware, and considerate. It’s a good day for good practices.

My first couple weeks living alone I struggled with what felt, physically and emotionally, very much like… withdrawals. It was puzzling, and I rode it out confident that all such things pass with time. I practiced good practices, treated myself with compassion, and sort of … kept an eye on it, from the perspective of a lifetime living in this fragile vessel, and a certain wonder… somewhere between “omfg – what’s wrong now??’ and ‘huh, this is sort of odd’. It did pass, and my heart settled down with settling into new routines. Yesterday, I realized more fully what was driving those sensations, that experience of ‘withdrawal’, and had to admit with some amusement that it was an experience only the digital age could produce…loss of near-continuous communication through digital media of a variety of sorts. Living in my own space now, there is simply less back and forth delivery of words…words about packages, about picking up things from the store, about arrival times here or there, about delays in this or that, expectation setting words in a household of multiple adults… it initially created a feeling of isolation and sometimes of loneliness to lose all that. That, too, passed.

Yesterday, I was enjoying the day on this entirely other level, something I haven’t felt in a very long time. A decade or more, maybe – certainly something that precedes all existing/recent romantic or sexual relationships, until yesterday. The feeling got my attention – I had missed it, I know, because I felt that thought pretty early in the day. “I’ve missed this!” as I smiled through my morning. “I’ve missed this!” as I walked to work. It nagged at me; I didn’t have the words for what I was feeling. Something like happy, something like eager… something with a connection…something with power and delight… present, aware, self-assured, confident… and less about an event or experience I have already had – more about something I might experience soon. I felt it in my skin, in my smile, in the colors of the day…

Sometimes the path is not obvious.

Sometimes the path is not obvious.

I’m not sure I have all the right words for it, even now. I have some words, though. I got my “juice” back. I know, I know… how helpful is that? Not very. Still, it’s a start. I even ‘get it’ – technology took my juice when it put real-time communication in my hands, during a relationship with someone willing to use it nearly continuously. Habits develop over time, and whatever we practice becomes part of who we are. Over the years I got used to constant check-ins, updates, and expectation-setting real-time, even developing skill at and preference for deeply emotional conversations via email…and lost my ‘juice’. I lost the delight and intensity of anticipation. I lost the utter confidence in someone else’s affection. I began to rely on continuous reassurance and trickling information on tap. It became a character flaw.

Enjoying a busy work day wedged between a delightful evening with a wanderer, and a delightful evening with my traveling partner, and not hearing from either during the day, I realized I didn’t need any additional communication – I was enjoying the anticipation of our next meeting, our future time together, other days, other nights, other dinners, other dips in the pool, other laughter… and I was reminded how much I once thrived with the yearning and anticipation that filled my days before email, before instant messaging, and before smart phones. Oh, I’m not setting aside my pocket brain – I rely on my smart phone quite a lot, and the technology delights me, too – but I am suddenly free of the attachment to the faux connection of continuous near-real-time communication. In letting it go…I got my ‘juice’ back. Fueled by anticipation, by desire, by joy – the very real joy of real connections, with conversation, eye contact, and touch, and the very real desire to feel those things again, without the methadone of less satisfying digital connections, I created the very real excitement of anticipation, and the mammalian urgency to connect, to touch, to talk. There’s power in real. I enjoyed a fantastic day.

I love digital media for connecting across miles, and years. I wouldn’t give up Facebook unless something came along that connects me with faraway friends more efficiently – but the here and now of love and lust are damaged by continuous pinging, and the badminton of trivial words. I get it. As much as anything, this is a thank you note to the wanderer and my traveling partner. I am free! 🙂 I am also laughing – it’s perhaps just a bit silly to celebrate something so small as such a big deal…only…this is a wonderful state of being, and I do love it. The excitement of yearning, of anticipating, of daydreaming…without the insecurity of ‘hasn’t gotten back to me yet’ is really quite deliciously lovely.

Thanks guys, I’ll be pinging on you a lot less. I get it, now. Thanks for the run way lights. I landed safely on the tiny private island of my own ‘now’, in my own experience. ❤



Before we get a lot farther, I’ll say first that I am not holding any significant credentials in linguistics, semantics, or language.  All views expressed are those of… me. Just me. My thoughts. My observations. My judgement. My bias. My baggage.  All filtered through my own experiences, my perspective on life, love and the world, my history as a human being, my education – and lack of education, the reading I have done, the consideration I have given all these things, and finally assembled as neatly as possible as a string of words in a row, hoping to capture what I think I mean to say, to share with you.  Ready? 😀

There is more to a sunny day than meets the eye; what we see is rarely all there is.

There is more to a sunny day than meets the eye; what we see is rarely all there is.

I say a lot about words. I do so using the words themselves. I share my thoughts using words. I share most of my emotional experience using words; the portions of that shared wordlessly, through non verbal expression of feelings, is not very precise and easily misunderstood or taken personally by others. I recall things that happened before now using words. Words are the building blocks of my poetry, my captions, my titles, and my jokes. Words are what I use to write love notes, and consumer feedback, to express my delight and my outrage. Words deliver hurts and words nurture my soul. Words define experiences, things, and people and they describe places, events, and experiences. Words tell profound truths, and also terrible lies. Words expose what is real, and are also used to attempt to hide what is real, or alter a shared understanding of reality. Words are used to threaten, to coerce, to convince, to persuade, to celebrate, to mourn, to immortalize, to laud and to punish. Words  are powerful. Powerful like Science. Powerful like magic. We are words as much as we are stardust; even Carl Sagan used words to communicate what he understood about life, the world, and the heavens.

I giggle to myself, at least once or twice, when I read books about words. There’s just something about it that tickles me.

A former partner, years ago, once firmly advised me in a moment of strife, that it ‘didn’t count’ if I had to be told what he wanted to hear; that soothing words, comforting words, romantic words, supportive and nurturing words only count if the speaker comes up with it on their own, from their heart, with no help from the person who needs to hear the words. An interesting thought that relies heavily on the assumption that love allows us to read minds. lol I didn’t find it to be an accurate statement, myself, but I admit it was entirely true of my then-partner, who would reliably refuse any comfort or positive outcome from any words he’d been party to suggesting might be good ones to use in that moment. (It seems unnecessary to point out the choice being made there.)

Another partner once merrily chuckled playfully (in a moment of domestic-not-quite-bliss, having provided a clear specific suggestion of the words he most needed to hear in that  moment, and having heard them repeated back by his loving partner, in  sincere and heartfelt way, honest in intent, although lacking in originality), “Knows answer when told…” and as though taking notes or scoring a test, made a check mark in the air, over an imaginary clipboard. We cracked up together; it’s a moment and phrase that still sticks with me, and not solely because of shared military experience (from whence that quote comes, actually being used in military scoring of certain task testing). He makes different choices, and he felt cared for because he used his words – and so did his partner.

I’m just saying; words matter. They matter when we listen, and they matter when we speak.

The words themselves are less about originality than the order in which they are used (there are only so many to choose from, and some are favored above all others; obviously, originality is not the issue), and whether we feel heard when we use them, or how we are spoken to when we hear them (which is a very subjective thing that I suspect we entirely make up in our heads as we go).  There are books about words, about how to use them, what they mean, and when they are most effective for what purposes. There are books that simply list words other people have said, in the order spoken, and saved on record as being peculiarly useful, effective, amusing, or historically noteworthy. There are letters and love notes of such awesome craftsmanship that their emotive power is preserved in them, and they are referenced and shared down through the years as culturally significant.

I’m just saying; words really matter – enough that it is worthwhile to put some thought into the words we choose.

Nearly every moment of wonder, of love, of delight in my own experience has been framed up in words, if not in the moment, sometime soon after when I share it with someone else.  The profound love I share with my partners is expressed to me wordlessly, often, sure – but as often, my recollection of expressions of love is in words. The eager goals of our future are shared in words. The challenges we face together, or with each other, are discussed in words. My own growth and progress with myself as a being is shared with my loved ones – and in my blog – with words. My annual review at work is in words. All the words – each of them – bring a shade of meaning to my experience I might have lacked, or understood differently, without the words, themselves. I can tell someone I love them without using words…but I can’t tell them why, or how much, or explain the nuances of what they mean to me, without the words. I can cry out in pain or anguish without words, but I can’t tell someone what is wrong, or ask for help, without the words to do so.

So…yeah. Words matter…but…they’re also totally made up. Seriously. We created each one, and someone (generally the person who thought up the word, at least initially) also made up what the word will be used to convey. What words mean changes over time, with usage. Some people are very precise with their use of language. Some people are sloppy and careless to the point of being difficult to understand, or communicating something more about their education, or character, through their choices with words. There are so many words, and still there are ideas for which no word yet exists; new ones come into being all the time. We communicate and we miscommunicate using words. Words we made up. Words we defined. Words we choose to use. We create our own experience, and color it, with words we choose ourselves, and call our ‘thoughts’; we behave as though they are real, and follow them with our actions and moods until they are.

Yes. Words matter, and I’m just saying; use your words. Use them wisely. Use them with care. Use them, don’t let them just tumble out of your face hole randomly. Use them with awareness that they are easily ‘weaponized’ and awareness that you have the power to hurt someone with words in ways that are not easily healed. We accept that actions have consequences fairly easily; words, too, have consequences.

Another perspective on a sunny day.

Another perspective on a sunny day.

Today is a good day to use kind words. Today is a good day to express myself with great clarity. Today is a good day to hear what is said, and to take a moment to understand the words. Today is a good day to consider my words, and their merit, and to use them with great care. Today is a good day to build truth, and to use honest words. Today is a good day to love, and to say so with loving words. Today is a good day for praise and encouraging words. Today is a good day to contemplate words that convey beauty and words that communicate a better understanding. Today is a good day to change the words.