Archives for posts with tag: love and lovers

This morning I woke too early. I say “too early” because I definitely haven’t had enough sleep. The heat made sleeping difficult last night, and although I stayed the course with evening routines intended to coax sleep from the most energetic monkey mind, nonetheless I was still wakeful well past my usual time for sleep. I don’t mean to complain, I’m just observing that my short night was the result of challenges at both ends. This morning I woke, shortly after 3:30 am. I thought I might go back to sleep… I didn’t.

The evening ended on a high note, great conversation and a full moon rising beyond the trees.

The evening ended on a high note. The heat of the day was irrelevant.

My restless mind wasn’t even certain of coffee, and I suppose considering the early hour, that’s more reasonable than not. I held on to the chance I might return to sleep for some time, before yielding to the imminent dawn and making that first cup of coffee. I have my coffee, too hot to drink. I’ve done yoga. Taken time for meditation. Medicated quite sufficiently to address any anxiety or pain. Now… I wait for the dawn. I don’t mean to be waiting for it, but I find myself checking and re-checking the sliver of light appearing at the edge of the skyline, watching hints of pink, peach, and gold begin to crowd out shades of blue, gray, and purple as the night retreats. I feel a bit as if I am ‘waiting for the sun’. I’d rather be sleeping.

...I could go for my morning walk early...

…I could go for my morning walk early…

I test my coffee with a cautious sip. Still too hot to drink. Like the night, mocking my sleep last night with the lingering heat of summer, my coffee mocks me this morning… I’d very much like to drink my coffee now. It’s very much still too hot. The morning temperature in the apartment feels cool… well, cooler. Mostly cool. The thermometer tells me it is still 70 degrees (F), much warmer than this hour of the morning generally is (more typically between 53-59 degrees F this time of year).

Yesterday's pictures seem mostly of sunshine.

Yesterday’s pictures seem mostly of sunshine.

I pause to wonder why the hell the United States is still using degrees Fahrenheit for temperature, instead of Celsius? (Our resistance to using the metric system says a lot about us as a nation… and what it says about us is troubling.)

The summer garden is filled with things going to seed.

The summer garden is filled with things going to seed.

I’m still fussing about the heat, even though the morning air is comfortable and pleasant. It’s a distraction, nothing more. It’s not as if I have much to complain about, really. It’s quite a lot hotter in many other places. There are other things to contemplate, to plan, to do, today; a house guest (and dear friend) will arrive later, and my traveling partner will be traveling – after himself having a very short night, due to some commonplace planning/logistical sorts of challenges, yesterday. We enjoyed a lovely evening together, and very much a celebration of sorts. The connected, pleasantly social, time together precedes a week apart. Another. 🙂 (He does much of his traveling during the summer, and “this too shall pass”.)

I find myself again and again distracting myself from needless worry about my traveling partner by fussing about the heat. A mostly fairly harmless exchange of stressors, but the risk is that the thing that matters most (my partner’s well-being) is diminished or disregarded by this dodge, and too much weight is put on something relatively unimportant (the weather).  I pause. Sip my coffee. Breathe. Allow myself to fully recognize my desire for my partner to always feel his best, to be generally content and merry, to enjoy his experience moment to moment – and I allow myself to experience my subtle concern about the effect his short night may have on his long day ahead. I breathe. I accept my feelings. I smile, reminded how generally competent my partner is, and how skillfully he typically takes care of himself. I breathe. I wish him well from afar, and let my heart move on.

Hours after waking... still waiting for the sun.

Hours after waking… still waiting for the sun.

The sky is already a clear steady cerulean blue, although the sun has not yet appeared above the horizon. Another hot day in the forecast, and I expect real life will comply.  One win about these hot dry summer days… much less pain. Keeping the apartment as cool as I can, and preparing for the weekend in the company of a good friend I haven’t actually seen in… well… years, is how I’ll spend the day. The short night will, hopefully, become a longish nap, later. 🙂 (Taking care of myself is a very high priority, and failing to get enough sleep becomes a problem quite quickly.)

I sip my coffee, and frown at the word count. Too many words. About very little of any substance. Have I really spent 700 words bitching about the damned weather? Heat! In the summer! Seriously? It’s a new day. The sun is not yet up. I can already begin again… 🙂

 

Begin again. Seriously, whatever it is that’s just not working out well, take the morning as a starting point, and begin again. Do over! Be the person you most want to be – today. Now. The very next conversation. It may go very well, it may go very poorly – it may take practice to be who you most want to be, as a human being. The distance between one human being and her goals varies by human being. We are each having our own experience.

Begin again.

It may go well, it may go poorly – you can even begin again tomorrow. Again. Don’t like who you are, when you think about the person in the mirror? Make different choices. Use different words. Begin yet again. Do you. No one else can be the person that you are, yourself. There is so much more to being and becoming than school-job-car-career-marriage-house-children-retirement-death, isn’t there?

What about that story you want to tell?

What about that place you yearn to go?

What about that idea you have?

What about that skill you want to develop?

A novel doesn’t write itself when I am not looking at the keyboard. The beautiful poem in my  head doesn’t make it to the page without assistance. The walk toward the distance on which I might see many things isn’t going to unfold ahead of me without my also taking the steps. The painting I can see in my thoughts won’t hang on my wall – on any wall – unless I paint it.

This is my life. There are verbs involved. Every day, every moment, every choice, becomes an opportunity to be and to become more the woman I most want to be. I may never be a well-known author; I write nonetheless, and it is part of who I am. I am unlikely to be a famous artist; I paint, a lot, and the joy in it is the painting, itself. Over time I have come to accept as a given that it is the journey itself in which the value lies; destinations being so finite and limiting, are of far less importance. When I become focused on an outcome, committed to a result more than an experience, I lose my way, mired in bullshit, drama, and tedious details – and forgetting this is my life, worth living.

Is love a journey or a destination? Or... is love a verb?

Is love a journey or a destination? Or… is love a verb?

I spent last evening wrapped in love. I’m still so soaked, so saturated, so imbued with sacred sentiment it’s harder than usual to use practical language, clear simple words, sentences with proper grammar and form; my heart soars, and my thoughts are poetry. I love. I am loved. It’s so much more than enough…

…I am not so easily able to love like this, fully, reciprocally, tenderly, openly, and with great consideration, without loving the woman in the mirror, first – and with a very similar enthusiasm and passion as what I might show a lover. Of course, there’s always more to learn. I reach for “How to Love” for today’s studious reading, and “More Than Two“, also. Today seems a good day to study love, to give it the serious support and earnest dedication to learning that one might give to a college course needed to graduate. What could be more important to study than love, and loving? It’s certain that I could be better at it, however good at it I may be in some one relationship, or some one moment.

Today is a good day for love, for loving, for being the woman I most want to be. There are verbs involved. My results may vary. That’s all okay, too; love is enough. 🙂

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. 🙂

My view of the meadow, covered by morning mist rising from the marsh, is obscured by condensation on the window, left open during the night. My view is obscured by my perspective. Something to think about, generally.

Low mist on the meadow before sunrise.

Sometimes I have to change my perspective to enjoy the view…

Today my traveling partner [figuratively, metaphorically] becomes my literal traveling partner, headed to a favorite festival. I smile every time I think about him enjoying himself there. I come back to the thought frequently; I enjoy his joy. 🙂

I caught myself getting caught up in the news… the usual horror and tedium, frankly, and fairly dismal. Getting mired in it does no one any good, and doesn’t change things. I can change only those things that are precisely and specifically changeable by me. It’s entirely a worthwhile endeavor to be the best human being I can, without bothering with the day-to-day stress and drama of comparison, or competition. Yeah, life?  It’s so not a competition. What a lie I’d been sold there! When I allow myself to be distracted by how well you are doing, or how well that famous person over there is doing, or how well a motivational speaker suggests I could be doing, or any number of other frankly revenue-generating (for someone) bits of bamboozlement, I lose precious time on my own authentic journey. Sometimes the journey is difficult. It’s mine. Sometimes the journey is a disastrous maze of detours. It’s mine. Sometimes the journey is fraught with confusion, sorrow, or anger. It’s mine. Sometimes the journey is delightful, joyful, and fun. It’s mine. My journey to make on my own terms; I am my own cartographer, having my own experience. Sure – we’re all in this together, and that matters, too. Still my journey, on my terms, in my own time – and similarly, yours belongs to you. We don’t gain much when we try to use someone else’s map… and we lose a lot when we’re sold on someone else’s destination. Just saying. Do you.

The mist begins to lift, the sky to lighten. I hear crows discussing their plan for the morning. I see the earliest hints of autumn in the trees on the far side of the park; shades of yellow and orange beginning to show in the summer green foliage.

Today is a good day to wish the world well, and my traveling partner too; each of us having our own experience. Each of us on our own journey. Today is a good day to be authentic, genuine, and also the very best of who I am able to be. (Each of us doing so would change the world.) 🙂

I am thinking over the week to come. I won’t see my traveling partner again for a week, and sometime Thursday we’ll lose touch altogether while he’s away, and I won’t hear from him until sometime late Monday or early Tuesday. In all other respects, the next 7 days to come seems entirely ordinary in every way. It’s strange that the presence of one human being, the specific characteristics of one voice, one touch, one human being’s… way, can be so completely woven into so many other elements of my experience, isn’t it? I won’t actually be “without” him… not entirely; I am reminded of him everywhere I turn.

Love is everywhere - well, everywhere we make it.

Love is everywhere – well, everywhere we make it.

It’s a gray morning. Traffic in the distance sounds muffled. There is no obvious sunrise, just the day lightening from twilight to definite day time as I sip my coffee. I sit quietly. Writing isn’t so easy today. Some days the words queue up in my consciousness, sentences forming faster than I can type, ideas spilling messily onto the page. This morning? Thought. Consideration. The slow gathering of recalcitrant words. Sentences… sort of. My mind wanders to the lawn beyond the window, the caw of crows on the far side of the park, the morning itself. I am slow to wake fully. I continue to sip my coffee and consider the morning, and to wonder “what life is made of” other than details, choices, consequences and time? It’s not really fair to the topic to describe life with such brevity.

I ache from physical therapy, yesterday. The gray day hinting of rain ensures I don’t overlook my arthritis, either. No headache – that’s something.

A few words exchanged over instant message with my traveling partner makes my morning feel more “real”, more complete, and it’s something I will miss while he is away. This week we don’t travel through life together. We are each having our own experience. Sharing those details will come later. His absence feels more real this morning, having spent last evening together and knowing it’ll be one week from today before we can be in each other’s arms again. I keep coming back to it. Fussy and fretful in some moments, relaxed and content in others. How very human! 🙂

I don’t feel much like writing this morning. That’s come up a few times recently, since being emotionally attacked by someone I thought was a friend, on Facebook (a connection to my recent disinclination to write that I hadn’t previously made). It’s a feeling of subtle over-exposure, an awareness that, yes, people who don’t like me, don’t support my views, disagree with me wholly, find me without value – or worse – may also read my writing. It is, as they say, a free country. I am discomfited by that. It is a strange emotion to acknowledge, and one of the very few emotional experiences that has ever left me feeling reluctant to write. I am struck by the detailed awareness of something that has the potential to silence me as a human being. I don’t like thinking about the feeling; it is as unpleasant as feeling it.

IMAG8161

“What is life made of?” seems a good question to ask, and the answers I contemplate have their own value. “What silences me?” seems a terrifying question that I don’t want to ask, and have even less interest in answering – and I resent that. So. Perhaps I will spend this peculiar and rare solo week asking myself that question, and listening to the answers. Life’s curriculum reaches me in many forms.

Today is a good day to face the woman in the mirror quite fearlessly; we’ve been through a lot together, and I know she’s got my back. 🙂