Archives for posts with tag: life

“What the hell? They’re demanding workers return to the office, but they’re closing offices? That doesn’t make any damned sense…” No, no it doesn’t make sense.

“No one has ever heard of Lesotho”, said the President of the United States (an individual who claims to have a college education). He wants to close the Department of Education. None of that makes any sense.

“We’re going to cut 15% of the VA workforce.” Um… the VA is known to be chronically understaffed, to the point of putting veteran healthcare at risk. This doesn’t make any sense.

These are just samples from today’s news. I’m sorry – I am going somewhere with this, so I wanted to get started with some “crazy world” samples. If you need an intellectual “palate cleanser”, I recommend this outstanding opposition rebuttal speech by Elissa Slotkin, from the night of the (absolutely batshit crazy, error-riddled) President’s address to Congress. (Senator Slotkin’s speech is definitely worth a read – it gives me hope.) I don’t prefer to go on about politics; we each have our own opinions, some well-informed, some less so, all based on what we each understand about the world, and our own personal values. I’m not here to argue those points with you, I just want to take a minute to address the stress, and the feeling that the world has gone crazy around us, and maybe offer up some practices for maintaining our own individual sanity in the face of it. So, let’s do that, eh?

One practice I’m pretty committed to, that does help me manage my background stress is to avoid “doomscrolling” the news media – any source, any platform, any talking head (favored or not). It gets ridiculously repetitive, and is often explicitly intentionally crafted to drive our emotions – to get clicks and views. “Engagement” is the point. Profit. This is how news organizations make money; by grabbing and holding on to our attention. That doesn’t happen to be good for us, though, so… I avoid it. Just skip it. I get enough news filtered through work conversations, and “did you hear…?” remarks from acquaintances, family members, and friends. About twice a week I skim the headlines, once over quickly – and I find that generally this is enough to give me the factual points. I don’t read articles that use “clickbait” headlines at all; I have to assume what they have to say (and their reason for saying it) is either dishonest, or not factual, or they would just say it. I haven’t noticed that this strategy deprives me of any timely awareness of current events, and it definitely reduces my stress, generally.

I am, however, quite human, and sometimes I still get “sucked into the crazy bullshit”…

Roses don’t mind the rain.

So, another practice I use to manage my stress in this crazy world is to spend time really present and engaged with real life events and circumstances right here at home, with real people who matter to me, and that are nothing at all to do with whatever nonsense is going on in Washington, D.C. right now. The world could begin to burn down around me, but I enjoy a quiet ordinary life in a quiet ordinary suburb in a quiet ordinary small town tucked between agriculture and industry. I have a garden to tend. There’s housekeeping to keep caught up. The weather has been quite mild. My Traveling Partner “has my back” and loves me deeply (and I feel the same about him). There’s dinner later to consider. There’s blue sky beyond the windows of the office, today. Life. My life. You have this powerful advantage too; the opportunity to anchor your emotional stability and your sanity to the humdrum ordinary details of the life you live and the choices you make for yourself. That’s more powerful than we tend to realize, when we’re faced with the craziness of the world beyond our own life and the moments in it. Getting mired in the stress and fear and worry of craziness beyond our lives that we can neither contain nor control is a shortcut to madness – I know this first hand. My PTSD griefs me with it, when I fail to provide myself with adequate self-care, or fall short of maintaining healthy practices for managing my own chaos and damage. That’s just real.

Once we choose our path, we’ve still got to walk it. The journey is the destination. 🙂

We’re so human. This shit is hard, because crazy is scary. We know some of what we’re seeing go on in the world if fucking wrong and terrible – and yet it is going on. What can we do about it? Sometimes… nothing. Sometimes the most important and powerful things we can do about it are to walk our own path, provide ourselves with good self-care, speak truth to power fearlessly (and call the ridiculous shit out for being as ridiculous as it is), and be kind to the people around us who are hurting. The will to action withers when we don’t take care of ourselves and maintain our individual good emotional health. It’s hard to have the energy (or feel like it matters) to write the President directly by snail mail an actual letter that says “what the fuck??” and “this is what I expect and want from my government” – but if 100% of each and every citizen did so, it would be an avalanche of civil action, of protest, of involvement, and might actually change something. I think about that often. Taking action needs me to maintain my own sanity, though, doesn’t it?

I’ve gotten distracted by the crazy, once again, it’s out there lurking, waiting to sneak up on the unwary. Breathe, exhale, relax – bring the focus to here, to now, to this moment that you’re in. Whatever it is, it matters more to you right now than the actions of a distant madman and his cohort of corrupt billionaires. Just saying – finding what matters most to you, right now, has real value. For me? Right now? It happens to be this bit of writing. This cup of coffee. This quiet moment for myself carved out of a busy day. It’s enough. I’m worth a moment of my own time. (You’re worth a moment of my time, too, and thank you for being here with me.)

I look up from my laptop, across the quiet co-work space (so orderly, so calm, so empty). It’s still just me, and it’s quite early in the morning. I breathe, exhale, and relax. It’s a good time for a few minutes of meditation – another useful practice. I have a favorite spot for it, here, that is reliably comfortable and quiet. I have it on my calendar so I can be sure not to miss the opportunity. Even something as small as 10 minutes of meditation does a lot to build and maintain my emotional resilience. There are verbs involved; it’s quite necessary to do it, not just observe that it is a good practice. lol That’s the way of practices, generally – doing them is the key to success. “Practice” is a verb. It’s also an ongoing thing – a step on path, on a journey that does not end. The journey is the destination.

And that brings me to another approach to maintaining sanity when the world is going crazy; perspective. Observation, and experience, and the awareness that however bad it seems, this too will pass. I’m not saying that complacence is a wise approach (it is not), just that we can pretty reliably be certain of one thing – change is. The madman in power now is as mortal as anyone else. Change will come. Be part of the change you wish to see – and doing so by living your truth, your values, and staying on your own path. Be the person you most want to be. By doing so, and maintaining a sense of perspective, the contrast between you and the crazy in the world becomes clearer. You stand within your moment less affected by the crazy in the world, and more able to sustain yourself through to the next season of change.

It’s hard to go wrong with good basics…

It’s not perfect as strategies go, I know. I’d love to have a real cure, a solution, a reliable durable fix to what our world is going through right now. I only have this; my certainty that I’m okay right now, for most values of “okay”, and that it is (mostly) enough. If I can maintain my own sanity, I can be part of what is sane. Should work for you too, with practice. It’s something. It may not change the world, but it can be a small part of making things right in little ways. That’s definitely something. I’ll gladly take something over nothing – wouldn’t you?

I sigh quietly, and finish my coffee. It’s time to begin. Again.

Nothing in life is free. Seriously. You want the thing? You pay the price. You want to embark on that adventure? It comes at a cost. You’re going to take that chance, jump at that opportunity, walk down that path over there? You’ll pay for it, one way or another. This isn’t a threat, nor is it a warning, I’m just saying there’s a price to be paid for our choices, and it isn’t always in cash, or stated clearly up front.

Last Wednesday, the Anxious Adventurer and I finished off the storage move. (Yay!) There was a feeling of accomplishment, but it was also a lot of work. Friday, I took the day off work and spent about 7 hours walking on beaches, with breaks in between to write a few words, or go from “here” to “there” – about 11 total miles of walking, based on my tracker. Saturday began with a 3 mile walk on a favorite trail, and ended with housekeeping, chores, and gardening. Sunday was more of the same. Today? Yeah, today “the bill came due” and I’m paying for all of it; I feel like I’ve been in a serious fight (and lost). My muscles ache from the least of efforts. It was difficult just getting out of bed and getting dressed this morning. My back, legs, shoulders, and neck all ache ferociously, and I’m stiff. So stiff. Today I’m walking with a cane just getting from the car to my desk to the coffee in the office kitchenette, and I’m “wearing my years”. I’m not complaining, just saying this is where I am, and why. I take a moment to consider the sensations of my body. This fragile vessel needs care, and while that’s true every day, right now I’m really feeling it. Funny thing is, most of these things I did so much of were themselves forms of self-care. Hilarious (for some forms of humor). (I guess you had to be there. lol)

I breathe, exhale, and “relax” – best I can, hurting the way I do right now. It’ll pass. I remind myself that there’s always a price to be paid for the things we do, or want, or achieve, even if only the time consumed of our limited mortal years. Was the price too high? No, not at all, and I’m paying it without objection, resentment, or resistence. It is what it is. (Which is, mostly, painful at present.) The moment will pass. The pain will ease. I’ll go on to be stronger for the effort I’ve made, and I’m pleased with the outcome (particularly in the garden). Hell, there’s more yet to do. Life doesn’t pause for a breather just because a task has been completed. There’s always that next step. Another project. Another moment.

…Life being lived; there are verbs involved…

Garden books & seed packets; the plan is not the experience.

I sip my coffee (g’damn I am so sore this morning, even sipping coffee manages to hurt), pleased that it is so good today. I smile thinking about the work in the garden, progress made toward Spring, and seeds yet to be planted. The metaphor of a garden is one of my personal favorites, and I consider what I am planting – in the garden, and in life – and how best to tend my garden for a bountiful harvest. There’s work involved, and it helps to plan, and to proceed with intention, but the path ahead isn’t predetermined, and the way is not always clear. I sigh contentedly in spite of my physical discomfort. I’m fortunate, and I sit with my gratitude for a moment. We become what we practice, for sure, and our choices and actions make a difference in the life we lead – but where our journey begins, and what obstacles befall us along the way, matters too – and we have less control over that. I reflect awhile on my good fortune in life, generally. I’m not saying it’s been “an easy life”, and I’ve surely had what sometimes seems like more than my “fair share” of trauma over the years, but… considering things from the perspective of this one human experience of a lifetime of growth and change and circumstance? I’m fortunate, indeed. (It’s rarely helpful to become mired in pain, or to wallow in the chaos and damage.) I’ve much to be grateful for…

I sip my coffee, think my thoughts, and prepare to begin again.

Are you “one of the good guys”, or are you just an asshole? (Are you familiar with Wheaton’s Law, and it’s history? There’s even a rap song celebrating Wheaton’s Law.) These are trying times, you’ve got choices. You can choose to be “one of the good guys” in some legitimate and authentic way, beyond whatever half-assed self-serving measures you may be inclined to rationalize, or you can truly make a difference in the world around you. It’s something to think about. I’m not telling you what to do – hell, maybe you are already one of the good guys, already doing your best every single day to make the world just a little better…? If so, I thank you for that. It can’t easy.

…I know I definitely don’t find it “easy”; there are verbs involved…

On Saturday, apparently, national park rangers at Yosemite flew the American flag upside down from El Capitan. For real. Wow. Freakin’ park rangers engaging in visible protest in a relatively bold act of civil disobedience. I feel a certain amount of civic pride as an American to see that. I wish them well.

…Park rangers and librarians, the superheroes of the 21st century…

These are emotionally trying times for people. It’s important to avoid rationalizing terrible behavior by those in power. It’s important to check every fact. It’s important to call out liars for their lies. It’s important to hold on to our kindness, compassion, and wisdom. It’s important to remember that every human being hurt by terrible policy and bad acts are indeed human beings, worthy of dignity, of care, and of being treated equitably and respectfully. People ahead of policy. The goal should not be set based on “acceptable collateral damage” when we’re talking in terms of human lives, human quality of life, and human rights. Figuring out how to treat people sufficiently well may be a question to be answered, but there is no question whether to treat people well. That seems, to me, like minimum basic human decency. Just saying. Do better.

Also? Stop electing assholes into important public offices. (This should probably go without saying.)

I sigh and sip my coffee, and think about a far away friend dealing with his own shit, figuring out his own path. No map. So many choices. It’s easy to become distracted by the chaos and bullshit going on in the world and overlook the little things (the simple joys, the solvable problems), but there’s so much less any one of us can do about the chaos of the world – besides vote with care, and speak truth to power, and do our own humble best to avoid being a major asshole ourselves – and losing focus on the things within our own control ultimately adds to the sorrows of the entire fucking world. It’s a weird puzzle, isn’t it?

Simple pleasures can be so satisfying.

The weekend passed gently, and I spent it mostly focused on hearth and home. Time well-spent. Simple joys like home-cooked meals, and a tidy house can really add up. It was worthwhile to invest my time and emotional energy in the activities of my own life, and I spent very little time on matters outside my own home, family, or community. (Enough to be distressed by what absolute raging assholes some people can be, and saddened by how easily so many otherwise well-intentioned people can be bamboozled by powerful or wealthy jerkwads. Yes, I’m being intentionally crass and disrespectful of such individuals – they do not deserve better. They have earned my disrespect and my loathing. It upsets me too much, and there is so little I can do about it in any obvious way, I have to be careful to avoid letting it overwhelm me.)

I did notice something while I was out and about on errands, though, and it’s not the first time. A particular petty bit of fraud (maybe “dishonesty” is more accurate?) that I find distasteful; “student driver” bumper stickers on cars used and owned by, being driven by, people who are definitely and obviously not “student drivers”. It was awhile before I caught on to this particularly petty fraud. Why would someone do this? It is dishonest. It is a lie. (I mean, unless you’re actually a student driver, obviously.) What is the point? These sorts of “little” cheats undermine a person’s entire ethical foundation. Why do that? (Go ahead, I’ll wait…) How does a person justify this particular lie? Every time I see it, I wonder. Every time I see it, I know I am seeing someone I can’t trust to be honest and true. I wonder if the people who use this “strategy” understand that they’ve sold out their integrity? I think about it awhile and sip my coffee. Humans being human, it’s likely that such people have found some way to rationalize their behavior. Just as people who vote a monster or a fraud or a rapist or a dictator into office likely find some way to rationalize their terrible choice, even as the consequences of their choice become clear to them in painful ways they did not (or refused to) see coming.

I think my point is that we’re all making choices, and the choices we make do say something about who we each are. The outcome matters. My question is, are you “one of the good guys”? Are you even trying? Are you thinking critically about your own decision-making? Do you consider the potential consequences of your actions, not just for you, yourself, but also for the people around you – and the other human beings in the world who may be affected by what you may choose? Could you do better than you did yesterday? Better than you’re doing right now?

It’s time to begin again.

It’s a Friday. The headlines in my news feed are pretty horrible; more human cruelty, more corruption and greed, more vain human stupidity. I sigh and move on; I don’t have time for that bullshit. I have things to get done, a life to live, and an opportunity to do better, myself, than all of that nonsense. I decide to focus on what I can do as an individual to make life better for my family and my colleagues, and stay present here, now, and attentive to what I can do something about, personally. It feels more productive, and emotionally healthier.

…I have a list of things to do…

First things first, I take care of myself. Coffee. Meditation. A moment for reflection. Then thoughtful time spent on the household budget for the new pay period. I smile to myself, thinking of my Traveling Partner and how helpful he was when we got together, sharing his (much better) approach to such things. I’ve come a long way since then. During the time I lived alone, although we were still together, he wisely “kicked off the training wheels” and insisted I handle my own affairs financially, feeling that I was ready for that (and wanting to feel certain I could take care of myself in this way, come what may). Having a brain injury had long presented significant challenges for me in that area; managing money was hard for as long as I could remember, when I met my Traveling Partner. Making and following a budget was hard. Understanding when and how to flex on a plan was complicated. I didn’t make much money and it always seemed like I needed to stretch it further than it could go. I’d been disadvantaged by relationships with individuals willing to exploit my inexperience or my brain damage for their own benefit. I didn’t understand my worth. I am grateful to my beloved Traveling Partner whenever I sit down on a payday Friday to look over the numbers, make a plan, and prepare for another cycle of bills, expenses, and living life. Paydays used to be terrifying and filled with anxiety – now they’re just days that begin with a spreadsheet, some thoughtful choices, and some notes to share with my partner, and the chance to get his thoughts on the plan and make changes based on those. He has good ideas and we’re a team. I smile, feeling fortunate and loved.

I look over the things I need to get done over the next couple of weeks, and over the coming weekend. Pick up new glasses. Get the oil changed in my car. Grocery shop. Finish the storage move. Prepare the garden for the coming of Spring. I sigh to myself; I failed to properly winterize the garden last autumn, busy with other things that seemed a higher priority at the time. I’ll pay for that now. The Spring prep tasks will be a bit more complicated, a bit more laborious, a bit more tedious. Choices. I laugh softly to myself and sip my coffee. We make our choices and pay the price when we choose poorly. That’s just real.

…I’m excited about having new glasses, my prescription has changed and it’ll be good to see clearly again…

I sip my coffee and do a quick “personal inventory”. My tinnitus is loud in my ears this morning, but I’m not in much pain. I’m feeling the chill of morning, but I’m not especially uncomfortable. I feel relaxed and ready for the day. My chronic headache is only a 2 on a 1-10 scale, which is almost pleasant, all things considered. It’s a good start to the day. I feel rested and calm. It was probably a good choice to avoid the news feed – nothing good comes of added unnecessary stress over terrible shit I can’t change to my sense of self first thing in the morning. Being “present”, and having a sense of “where I’m at” at the start of the day is a useful practice, for me. I’m less likely to unexpectedly find myself mired in chaos and damage, or having some problematic tantrum over bullshit. I can take better care of myself when I know what I need. (That probably all seems pretty obvious…)

Daybreak comes, then dawn, and I see the suggestion of a sunrise behind dense gray clouds. A new day. Looks like a good one, so long as I don’t think about things to do with governments, politicians, billionaires, corporate greed, exploitation of vulnerable populations, or climate change. I sigh to myself and get ready to begin again.

I have a lot of pictures. Too many. Some of them are no longer meaningful. Some of them are reminders of times and people perhaps best forgotten or allowed to fade into the seldom recalled past. It’s strange that most of these pictures only reach back into the relatively recent past, around 2004 or so, and most are since 2010, when I got my first smartphone. Technology allowed me to accumulate clutter in the form of images. My hard drives and cloud storage are further cluttered by copies of backups, trying to preserve something meaningful of a life lived. I spent a lot of years struggling to account for the risk my poor memory represents, and admittedly overreacted quite commonly by saving yet another backup of something I’d forgotten I’d already backed up.

…More than 50k unique images, in 2800+ folders, across multiple drives, a cloud storage service, and a NAS on our home network, amounting to about 2TB of stored images, and a few gigs of written work, and I’d lose it all if humanity lost the power grid upon which we are so reliant….

Like a paved trail on a sunny day, some of this may seem obvious; it doesn’t hurt to check the map once in awhile, anyway.

… What is it all good for? What will become of it when I am gone? Will any of it matter at all? Who even gives a fuck about a random photograph from a walk along a trail on a sunny summer day, or yet another picture of a rose?

Roses on a sunny day. Impermanent. Like moments.

The pictures are not the experience (or even the memory). The map is not the world. Moments are unavoidably fleeting, and each is unique like a step on a trail, or a rose. Trying to capture them all in pictures so that I “don’t lose my memories” is (rather sadly) a wasted effort. I catch myself surprised again and again when I look over old pictures. Where was that? Who is that in this picture? Where did I live then? What was I doing at that time? Oh! I remember that – I’d forgotten all about that. The details are lost, in spite of having the picture. The pictures, then, would likely benefit from somewhat stricter curation, perhaps? I have too many pictures of some given moment, and too many that I’ve kept in spite of being poorly shot, out of focus or composed badly. In some cases, the backups of backups are (hilariously) nested within each other, pointlessly taking up digital space. Very few exist in any printed format at all. Once I’m gone, more than likely, someone at some point will simply “hit delete”, and it will all be gone.

I thought about this a lot over the weekend. I spent time cleaning up my archive of art images specifically, and while I was at it, I deleted several redundant backups (after checking carefully that they were truly copies of the one valued, useful backup). I looked at pictures of moments I’d forgotten, and enjoyed the refreshed recollection. I found moments for which I’d taken far too many nearly identical pictures, and kept the one I liked the best and deleted the rest. I found pictures of times long past I’d just as soon forget about, and deleted those without concern or trauma. I found entire folders of pictures that weren’t actually my own; I’d held on to them for some other person no longer part of my life, and happily deleted those too. No rumination, tears, or heartache, it was simply time to let a bunch of this garbage go. Digital hoarding is just as objectionable and problematic as any other sort; evidence of chaos and damage. I let a lot of stuff go, and it felt good.

The strangest ones were moments captured that lacked any sort of context at all. Why had I taken that picture of that moment? It wasn’t always clear what the point was, or what was going on. A picture of a lovely flower is reliably a beautiful thing of its own, and needs no explanation, but… a picture of a thing, place, or person that isn’t well-composed or interesting or beautiful on its own? What then? What was that about? What have I forgotten – and does it even matter now?

What was I hoping to remember?

Creating order from chaos is nearly always time well-spent. It provided helpful perspective to be reminded that there will always be things forgotten, and that not everything is worth preserving. Moments are fleeting – and it is a common characteristic of a moment. Fighting it doesn’t change that. Living the moment creates the memory. Being present is what matters, I think. I smile over my coffee, remembering the peculiar feeling of satisfaction and sanity that came of tidying up my digital archives. There’s more work to do there; there are so many pictures. I take fewer, these days, and I think about that too. I’m more likely to select a well-considered few on a particular theme, and create a wee photo book for someone (or for myself) to keep or share the memories that matter most, and provide them with some amount of context along the way. One day, perhaps when I’m quite old, those photo books will be a lasting thing I can hold in my hands and enjoy, and the digital images may be long gone and forgotten. There’s something to learn from that.

As the calendar turned toward 2023, I took a moment to let my paper journals of many years go. It was a process of “putting down baggage” and letting go of past moments and trauma, and beginning again. It was a way of reducing the clutter in my life and in my mind. It was about giving up a body of written work that had become “content without context”. As with the photographs, those journals had lived beyond their value to me. It was a strange moment to reach, and I’ve rarely regretted the choice at all. This process of sorting through old images and doing some digital “tidying up” feels quite similar, with fewer tears being shed, and less hesitation or uncertainty.

We become what we practice. If we practice clinging to images and words (or objects) without context or value, we become… hoarders. That’s not healthy. Isn’t sufficiency enough? Creating order from chaos, and keeping only what is useful and what matters most seems a much healthier practice. I sip my coffee and think my thoughts. Useful perspective.

Time to begin again. Again.