Archives for posts with tag: know your rights

First and Second

January 26, 2026 //
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I slept poorly. Well, that’s not entirely accurate. I slept well and deeply until sometime after 02:00. My Traveling Partner was awake, in the other room, coughing. The coughing woke me. I went back to sleep, but from that point my sleep was shallow and interrupted, and I didn’t get much rest. I’m not even bitching, I’m just mentioning it as I sip my morning coffee and try to sort my thoughts into some kind of coherent bit of consciousness. I’m not “groggy”, exactly, just…disconnected and stupid. I’m feeling cross and out of sorts, and the morning is off to a somewhat poor start, but only because of the state of being in which I find myself. In the most practical ways, it is an ordinary Monday morning.

The font and type size look weird to me in the visual editor this morning, and I fuss with trying to figure out if they are actually different somehow, or if I “never noticed before”. There seems to be a lot of that kind of misleading bullshit going on these days; changes being made without notice to users on all sorts of apps and platforms. Updates pushing new integrated AI in a coercive involuntary way. Updates that impair user freedom and control over purchased hardware and software. Other similar shenanigans seeking to harvest just a bit more data (or money) from users. Having the cognitive quirks that I do, I definitely do notice. I dislike that I find myself trying to talk myself out of seeing what I think I’m seeing. That irritates me. I let it go altogether, because in this instance it does not matter at all that the font looks like a different one, and the type size appears smaller and more compact.

I sigh to myself. I’m vexed by pain this morning, on top of fatigue (they are ultimate related; I am less able to manage my pain when I am fatigued, and likely to feel it more intensely). I sit more upright, hoping that good posture will give me some relief.

…G’damn I’m in a shitty mood this morning…

I have The Clash “Know Your Rights” stuck in my head. In spite of making committed efforts to stay away from “the news”, I can’t help knowing that the masked government thugs besieging Minnesota have murdered another citizen, an American, a patriot, a legal-to-carry gun owner with his “paperwork in order”. His apparent crime? Well, apparently that’s not a requirement anymore, at all. The assault on our rights grows, and if it weren’t so incredibly terrifying (and depressing) I might find some measure of humor in the fact that this shit is coming from a Republican administration. It’s not about Republican and Democrat, it never has been, it is about power and greed on both sides of the aisle. Sometimes the scales tip briefly in favor of “the people”. Don’t expect it to last when it happens.

…Oh, yeah, really dreadful mood…

I cue up my playlist for trying times. I add a couple more tracks to it. I definitely don’t want to listen to pop songs or muzak this morning. My heart aches for fallen heroes, and those among us willing to speak truth to power – and pay the price. Dark days, America. Get your shit together before you lose everything.

My phone rings. Unexpected at 05:30. I answer it reflexively; I have been caregiving for a couple of years, and any time I step away from the house, I feel uneasy and alert for some need that may arise that requires me to hasten home. The voice is familiar, but I don’t place it immediately. An old friend from my years on active duty, calling to let me know he’s reached a breaking point, himself, an just… can’t. My heart pounds. (G’damn, surely he’s not calling me to tell me he’s going to end his life? I don’t think I could bear it.) No, it’s not that bad, but it’s a big enough deal that he wanted to tell someone, and somehow that someone is me. He’s moving to New Zealand. “As far as I could go away from here, before someone burns it all down,” he says. He asks me if I think he’s overreacting? I don’t think he’s overreacting at all. I might do something similar if my circumstances permitted it, and just yesterday my Traveling Partner and I were talking about maybe selling our lovely cozy home and going…somewhere else. Quieter? Fewer neighbors? More space? All of that, and a few other things besides. Maybe we will… I find myself wondering how many citizens have emigrated out of the United States since the first Trump presidency, and whether that has accelerated since he was re-elected?

My work trip to San Francisco unraveled, doesn’t much matter why, and I’m not alone in it. The winter storms have thrown transportation into chaos. Can we agree that a late January travel date for a work event was predictably short-sighted? lol

I’m realizing it is likely to be the sort of day on which I am prone to discontent and finding fault. That’s not going to be a particularly pleasant experience. I sigh to myself and ask the question “are you going to stew in it, or are you going to make a change?” It’s an important question and wants an answer. I feel myself set my jaw, full of resistance and irritation, like a kid asked to clean their room on a beautiful day. I don’t want to have to be bothered with being accountable for where I am with my experience, right now. I’d rather be peeved and pick at my grievances as if they are wounds. Ridiculous. Now I am both the woman in a bad mood, and the woman irritated by a woman choosing to be in a bad mood. lol Layers of irritability. It’s pretty silly, but acknowledging that isn’t getting me off the hook for the work involved in changing it – or the choices or practices required to do so. My black mood feels justifiable and vindicated…but it’s honestly just a bad mood. I’m in pain and I didn’t sleep well. It doesn’t need to be anything more than that.

Another sigh. Another sip of coffee. I ask myself where would I be and what might I be doing if I had the means to go anywhere at all and do anything I cared to do? Moments fill my recollection; morning coffee on the shore, or near a beach, or out among the trees in some silent ancient forest, or a quiet cafe in the 1st arrondissement in Paris… I like to enjoy my coffee with a bit of a view and some solitude in the morning. In that sense, generally speaking, I’m pretty much already doing that thing, eh? I sip my coffee grateful for the moment of perspective, even feeling a tiny bit less cross. I guess that’s progress.

When what we’re doing doesn’t work, doing something different just might. I think about that, and enjoy my coffee before the work day. Soon enough, I’ll begin again. It’s not world-changing stuff, but if I can improve this experience in some small way, that’s still an improvement.

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Categories 2024 Election, Allegories, anger, breathe, Despair, Free Will, Frustration, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Sleepless Nights, The Art of Being, War and News of War, winter, Words

Device Detox Recipe

February 2, 2017 //

I’m thinking this weekend I’ll “take a cleanse” – an emotional cleanse. A heartfelt, welcome moment to detox from the poison filling my day-to-day consciousness (because it is also filling my internet bubble, rather unavoidably, because – like so many people – I care about stuff) seems a bit overdue. I won’t care less. I’ll just set aside the news cycles, set aside Facebook (note to self; this requires actually logging out of it, and also just go ahead and temporarily uninstall it from your handheld, it’s just easier that way), log out of social media accounts, update my home pages so that I get only my blog, and a search tab. That’s step one.

Step two in any good cleanse isn’t just about what I’m not putting into my face holes, it’s also about what I am putting in my face holes. It’ll be a grand opportunity to hike, weather permitting, or read actual books, paint, bird watch, chat with friends… It’s not as if there is some shortage of activities to indulge my senses in real life. I’ll make a point of getting good rest, good nutrition, and getting plenty of exercise. I’ll exercise my brain with content that really challenges my thinking in new ways. I’ll learn. I’ll grow. I’ll heal.

It isn’t that I don’t care. I’m sure not less involved, or taking less action. It’s necessary to really care for the woman in the mirror, or I won’t hold up for the long haul, and may become, over time, progressively more reactive, less rational, more emotional, less reasoned – and there is a balance to be struck. We become what we practice.

It's a good day for practicing effective practices.

It’s a good day for practicing effective practices.

What are you doing to take care of you? What are you practicing? Today is a good day to make each choice count, and to become the person you most want to be. 🙂

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Categories Anxiety, Brain Injury, Free Will, Healthy Living, Logic & Reason, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, solo hiking, The Art of Being, The Big 5, winter

These Are Your Choices?

July 8, 2016 //
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I woke up this morning to see, reflected in my Facebook feed, more news of more killings. It saddens me. Black lives do matter. All lives do matter. It’s a statistical given that not all cops are the bad guys. It’s apparent that black lives and white lives are treated differently under the law; the statistical, factual data regarding outcome, analyzed by racial characteristics, make that quite clear. Human beings have great potential – and great potential for violence. Doesn’t seem to matter whether those human beings work in law enforcement or not. Our culture is sick, and as so often happens when an organism is ill, the culture itself has no idea how vile the sickness is, how at risk of collapse this sickness puts us, the true nature of the illness, or how to cure it. It’s beyond sad, it’s indescribably depressing, when one additional detail is added, and it’s a very true thing; we’re choosing this.

Choose something different. I don’t know what else to say about it. Don’t kill people. Are you a cop? Don’t kill that person – yes, there are other choices. Are you a citizen just minding your own business? Don’t kill anyone. Even if you think, in some strange moment, that it seems ‘the only choice’, choose differently anyway. Angry that someone broke your heart? Don’t kill them. Angry that you’ve lost your job? Don’t kill anyone. Angry that life seems to favor some group of people you are not part of, at your expense? Don’t kill them. Seriously. Damn. When was the last time you – yes you, right there – read a news article in which someone was killed and thought to yourself, “well, that makes sense, that was just, and rational, clearly the only choice, and that human being – that dead one – their life had no actual value to them, or anyone else, as it was and killing them was entirely necessary for the remainder of humanity to survive and thrive”? I’m betting… oh hey, never! It has to stop. Doesn’t it? Why are we choosing this, of all things?

I’m frustrated, and I’m frightened. The world doesn’t feel very safe. I still don’t think taking up arms and going around killing people is the solution to that problem. Today let’s not kill people. Let’s choose differently. Let’s change the world.

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Categories Anxiety, Free Will, Healthy Living, Logic & Reason, Love, Mindfulness, more than a little bit of bitching, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, The Art of Being, War and News of War, Words

Do You Know, Or…

March 18, 2014 //
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…Do you wonder?

This morning I’m musing about ‘certainty’ and ‘being right’ and ‘knowing’. I can remember a time when the lynch-pin holding my understanding of the world together was a sense of certainty, a willingness to ascribe immutability to some characteristic or another, or render some past event ‘precise’ or ‘exact’ with a level of reliability that I no longer think I can accept as a given. I needed, then, to be utterly able to ‘defend my point’ and sway others to ‘my side’. It gave me a powerful boost to ‘win’ arguments. I’m not so sure of things now.  I’m wrong too much. lol I let go of ‘being right. Doing so is a comfortable fit for where I am in life, and since I feel pretty good most of the time, and pretty calm, I’m willing to have it be what it seems now, and let it go there. Uncertainty is okay with me. Relativity seems alright, too. Perspective has a tendency to clear things up in time, with consideration, and a sense of wonder, and doesn’t piss as many people off, or distance them.

I don’t need to be ‘right’.

Interestingly, that ‘need’ to ‘be right’ has been a big driver of lifelong discontent, dissatisfaction, resentment, anger, hostility, and frustration, as well as a whole host of associated unpleasant behavior that wasn’t any less unpleasant, or any more tolerable or acceptable, because I didn’t actually understand how unacceptable or unpleasant those behaviors were. What we understand, as individuals, doesn’t change the world around us, doesn’t change ‘the facts’ of reality itself. What we understand colors our own experience, changes what we recognize our choices to be, gives us context in which to define our behavior, words with which to describe our experience, but does not change the reality of it. What we understand changes what we think about who we are, but it doesn’t change the experience others have with us.  The whole notion of ‘being right’ is a sort of ‘us vs. them’ scenario we play out in our heads, generally to regain control or enforce boundaries, set limits, or force another person to conform to our understanding of things, for our own security or personal gain.

I gave up on being right awhile ago. It’s not that I’m ‘always wrong’, or that errors in thinking or decision-making plague me more than others. My perspective on this is more that being right is entirely irrelevant to contentment, joy, love… beautiful experiences to have or to share. An urgent need to ‘be right’ can throw a bucket of icy water on a lot of loving and warm circumstances. I’ve found that where ‘right’ is relevant at all, whether someone else recognizes that I am ‘right’ is utterly irrelevant to my own experience, or ‘the true truth’ or the facts or reality of …whatever. Seriously. I was able to entirely give up on feeding a need to be right – because it frankly doesn’t actually matter even a little bit. I laughed with delight and wide-eyed wonder when I realized it.

Illumination

Illumination

These days, the only time I press even a bit if I sense I am ‘right’ about something and in disagreement with someone else is when I see legitimate potential for bodily harm, or an obvious safety hazard. The rest of the time? Yeah – if you’re sure you’re right, go ahead and enjoy that. I’ve no need to argue the point, and your perspective differing from mine has no effect on me whatsoever. Arguing never made me feel happy, or gave me any pleasure, although it sometimes provided me a connection to another person that was based on emotional content; how sad when we seek and find our emotional connections through confrontation, instead of intimacy.

A trick of the light...

A trick of the light…

It gets sticky here, though… because letting go of being right is something I think I am right about! What a delightful joke on me. But, just as a trick of the light doesn’t actually alter the thing I see, even this bit of paradox doesn’t actually alter my experience; being right has let me down many times. Discovering that it doesn’t actually matter to me whether I am right or not, and that ‘being right’ is one of the least valuable or relevant details of any experience, has been eye-opening, and allowed me to learn/grow more and faster. I guess it makes some basic sense – what we ‘know’ impedes learning what we don’t know, because learning something requires that we accept that we lack knowledge.

Today is a good day to be a student. Today is a good day to change the world.

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Categories Anxiety, Brain Injury, Free Will, Healthy Living, Logic & Reason, Love, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Relationships, Words