Archives for posts with tag: love

Giftmas is approaching quickly. I am feeling merry and cheerily invested in what is as likely to be a solitary holiday as not; there is no certainty in my planning these days, and I am learning to be okay with that. It is in the planning that my own comfort lies, and in clear communication and expectation-setting when plans begin to shift, or go sideways unexpectedly. Each of life’s disappointments, hardships, and changes open my eyes to some new perspective or opportunity, a little like a holiday advent calendar.

Let it snow? Sure, why not? Or don't - that's okay, too.

Let it snow? Sure, why not? Or don’t – that’s okay, too.

Last night was wonderfully merry, and definitely my idea of a festive holiday season. My early Giftmas present arrived on my doorstep, and when I got home one of my neighbors brought it over; he’d taken it in knowing I was not home. I had no time to open the box before a small posse of my former colleagues from another company (and dear friends) stopped by for some holiday cheer and catching up on things.  We enjoyed a (rare treat for me) glass of sherry together, and hung out sharing anecdotes, and generally enjoying a couple precious hours together. I miss those guys; seeing them every day was the best part of that particular job. It’s always been the people that matter most, though I didn’t always understand that. 🙂

Eventually, alone again in my quiet sanctuary on the edge of a marshy meadow, fire reduced to glowing embers, I opened the box. I cried happy tears that couldn’t be held back. I ran my fingers along the glossy black enameled lines of the new mixer. Some feminist, right? Standing in my kitchen in fuzzy spa socks, caressing a kitchen appliance, crying happy tears. I laughed out loud, still weeping with joy. Down to the tiniest detail, that man loves me. Fuck, I hope I am truly worthy of such profound emotion.

This mixer is black… it replaces a beige one, a color that was, at the time, a compromise; I had wanted a white one, then. My traveling partner ordered this new mixer, standing in my kitchen while we talked of other things. He chose one that matches my current appliances, understanding my aesthetic. He may even have understood that there is significance in how very “opposite” the glossy black is in my eyes – a gift given truly from a place of love, utterly the opposite in every way to the off-white mixer, which was given out of obligation and delivered into a relationship characterized by violence, violation, and destruction. (Although I loved the old mixer for its exquisite functionality and utility and purpose, every time I used it old damage and pain would surface to fill my consciousness again…over decades.) This morning, I stood in the kitchen making my coffee, smiling at the beautiful black mixer on the counter, alluring, promising good times in the kitchen, and reminding me only of love.

This morning the apartment is filled with music. There’s housekeeping to be done; my Traveling Partner is planning to be over tonight. The mixer stands ready for adventures in baking, and I have a stack of cookbooks next to me that I began flipping through last night. I look at them, and smile, and somewhere in a dark corner one of my demons lays down and dies, as happy tears slide past my smile. “I’m free!!” something inside me shouts with joy. I’m not sure quite what, or quite why.  I’m okay with feeling this good in this moment.

Today is a good day to be merry. Giftmas is almost here. Today is a good day for giving, and a good day for loving. Baking holiday treats may not change the world, but they’ll sure make the house smell wonderful!  😀

I’m sitting here just smiling. I’ve been smiling since before I went to bed last night. Life doesn’t feel like this every day, and I’m enjoying the moment. I feel “lit up from within”.

Moments that feel rich and warm and well-crafted of the stuff of daydreams aren’t an everyday thing. That used to be a problem for me; I was chasing the Happily Ever After of childhood fairy tales. No map. Happy not being the thing I think I thought it was. Slow going – and I wasn’t getting there. Sitting here this morning, smiling, sipping my coffee – I am happy. This is nice.

what

What makes you glow?

I got home after work, my Traveling Partner and a friend had arrived ahead of me, and they were next door enjoying the company of our friends there. Some visiting, then it was just the two of us, at my place, relaxing and talking and connecting – intimacy, contentment, that contented longing of lovers who want each other even after years together, and… Giftmas. 😀 I do love the holidays. “Your place is festive”, he had observed. It is. The conversation got around to holiday baking, at some point, and he made a funny face at me, when he notices the store-bought cookie dough in the fridge waiting its turn. He knows I bake. What the hell, right? 😀 No mixer. I am so not up to creaming endless pounds of butter and sugar together by hand! The conversation moves on. At some point I notice he is distracted on his phone, and he notices me noticing; the secret is revealed. He is holiday shopping. It’s Giftmas time!! He teases me with revealing the surprise, then admits he plans to have it to me right away; he is replacing my Kitchenaid mixer. It’s an unexpected delight, and an emotional moment for me; hundreds of times I have not chosen to replace it – and I can’t rationally explain why. The money? They’re not cheap… but it wasn’t that.  I make a puzzled face and let the wondering go for some other day. He saw my happy tears, he understands that as silly as it is, sometimes things also have meaning beyond what they are.

Saturday I’ll have a mixer… I can make my grandmothers’ cookie recipes, or my Traveling Partner’s mother’s, or my Dad’s, or my own. I can make fruitcake. I can make macarons – or at least learn how. It’s a mixer, just a kitchen appliance in most practical regards – a very useful tool. This morning, and last night, it also amounts to a moment of genuine happiness, not about a mixer (or I’d have replaced it myself), but more about a moment of healing, of love, and of being understood and cared for. This morning I feel wrapped in love. I think it is moments like this one that leave us so often feeling like materials things matter… because I could easily confuse these feelings for being to do with the mixer itself, rather than the circumstances of life, and loss, that were tangled up with the old one it replaces. It’s the moment that is the source of great joy, and the moment is less tangible, and less easily discussed, than the mixer itself… which isn’t even here yet. 🙂

…He chose one that matches my other appliances. I smile.

…He thought to make sure it reached me in time for some holiday baking. I smile.

…He recognized the lingering sense of conflict and loss over giving up the old one. I smile.

…I am well-loved, and am fortunate to be able to love in return, and this moment, here, is quite precious. I smile.

Love matters most.

Love matters most.

This too shall pass. Still smiling I allow myself the awareness that such a powerful deep moment of joy not only won’t last, it isn’t meant to; without the ups and downs, and the complicated complexity of all of it, how would I experience this as a moment of joy? Also knowing suffering provides the comparison needed to recognize it. Without the hurting over the loss of the old mixer, and the complicated baggage around its meaning in my experience (a wedding gift from my violent troubled first marriage, that I carted around for decades of baking – a lifetime, really – the value of the tool out-weighing the painful memories that surfaced every time I used it), I would not experience this new one as a moment of joy at all… it would just be a mixer. 🙂

Today is a good day for a moment, awake, aware, and willing to embrace the whole of my experience to be also able to experience this particular moment, here. Now.

He’s gone, now. Like a dust-devil on the open desert; approaching from a distance, I had an idea my traveling partner would likely head my way at some point, and probably need to stop by for this or that, but no clear expectation of timing. While that’s not my own preference for managing details, I am content to enjoy him when I can. He suggests, by phone, at some point yesterday, he’d be by right about… whenever he’s here, really, and that’s what I heard, regardless of what it was he said, which I no longer recall.  I only knew he’d come, at some point, and I’d feel his arms around me for a moment, before – just as with that allegorical dust-devil – he’s quite gone again. I find myself smiling this morning, grateful for love’s moments, unconcerned over love’s lack of commitment to efficient scheduling. 🙂

the twilight of dawn

Letting go of attachment takes practice. I’m still practicing.

His planning shifted with the day. He would be here… He might not make it… He definitely wouldn’t make it that day, but would make time the next… Then, quite late… “I’m on my way. I’ll be there in about 8 minutes.” No argument from me, and no stress. Oh, sure, this level spontaneity isn’t so much my thing, but being bitchy about it tends to degrade the general quality of our experience together in the moment, and he is aware that I like a bit of planning, some structure, all that – if he could offer it in that moment, he would have, because when he can, he does.

develops

Embracing impermanence requires practice. I’m still practicing. 

Life is not a freight train on rails following a set, fixed, known path, with a clear schedule to which it adheres, not even “generally”. Why would love be constrained by a timetable when life herself can’t get her shit together enough to make and follow a workable plan, day-to-day?! LOL Planning and having a fairly clear idea of the day and week ahead, those are my wants, needs,  and inclinations, and it absolutely makes sense to me that I tend to organize my time in a fairly firm way. Other people find less value in the routine and predictable, and seek greater spontaneity in their adventures. I’m learning to let go and avoid suffering in life when plans fall through, or reality refuses to comply with my expectations, which are very often upended by life, by love, by circumstance, by whim, by opportunity, by choice, by chance… Life is far more important than the schedule with which someone tries to regulate and manage it. 😀

the sun rises

I begin again. A lot. 

Damn, I do miss him, though, already. That’s okay, too. The whirlwind moments of his brief visit were shared in the company of friends, dear to us both. He was here! His gear was quickly, rather sloppily assembled (also not my preference, and it had been planned differently lol). Conversation happening, his gear still ends up packed, somehow. Much fun was had in those brief moments together. Laughter. Hugs. Friendship. Warmth. Love. Tenderness. Kindness. Adulting. I’m still lingering on those precious moments, because I have learned they are by far more important and more worthy of savoring than the poignant quiet moment at the end of the day, alone in the darkness. Here I sit, with my coffee and my quiet smile, content and wrapped in love. 🙂

Mmmm... Life is good.

Mmmm… Life is good.

We become what we practice. There are verbs involved. 🙂

I woke this morning, before 5 am. The world is still dark. I make coffee, do some yoga, have a shower… still dark. The season is changing. I sip my coffee standing in the open patio doorway, feeling the chill breeze coming across marsh and meadow, peering into the darkness as if to see something known, but invisible. Something present, but not yet revealed. I enjoy the moment-as-metaphor quietly.

I sit down to write, and when I log on I receive an end of day message from my traveling partner, unnecessary, welcome, and heart-warming. He lets me know he is safe for the night, and settled in somewhere to sleep. He tells me he loves me. I read the words some minutes ago, and I am still smiling.

Today is a busy one. I woke early, and on some other day might have chosen to go back to sleep, if I could. Today, I could have, but choose instead to get up, get the day going, and be ready for the day ahead. Choices. Turns out to be a lovely morning to take note of how much later the sun is rising these days, as summer slowly turns to autumn.

Signs of autumn approaching, on my walk yesterday.

Signs of autumn approaching, on my walk yesterday.

I find myself caught up in my thoughts, this morning, disinclined to write them down, share them, or dissect them for greater clarity. I let them drift through my awareness unhindered: thoughts of love, thoughts of work, thoughts of grocery shopping, all equal in the moment that they command my attention, none so urgent that action is required. I sip my coffee, and listen to the distant sounds of construction crews nearby, starting the day. I hear the commuter train, further on, and the sounds of garbage trucks. Monday mornings are noisy, apparently, though I hadn’t specifically noticed before. (That I recall.)

My thoughts return to the weekend that is just behind me, landing rather gently on occasional moments of unsatisfied, unresolved, rather inconsequential ire that I had brushed aside, rather than deal with it frankly. What to do about those now? Actually… nothing. It’s incredibly poor form, hurtful, and not productive, to resurrect “old business” during new discussions, most particularly if unrelated. Even when the circumstance is definitely related or part of a series of things, I find it both rude and unhelpful, to have old business brought up as some sort of confirmation of a pattern of behavior – whether there is a pattern of behavior to discuss or not. Why? Well, mostly because it tends to fuel argument, discontent, and hurt, and seems to make it much more difficult, rather than less, to resolve conflict. It often leads to the sorts of “always/never” discussions that leave reason behind, but also don’t allow emotion to be felt, experienced, accepted, embraced, and understood – together. Old business tends to increase the likelihood that participants will cling to “being right”, rather than finding harmonious accord and simply loving one another. “Being right” is not especially important to love. I’d rather love well and deeply than be right.

I think this over more, recognizing that “feeling heard” is something I need. How often has the urgent desire to feel heard, to feel recognized, to feel understood, pushed me towards detailed documentation of a specific “issue” (for me) that put me at a disadvantage, or hurt me emotionally, such that I was then less able to actually talk about it, because I was so focused on proving it? It was a huge milestone to come to the understanding that emotions are 100% subjective experiences, based on our own individual perspective, and are not subject to argument or persuasion (or “proof”) at all! “You don’t feel that way” is not a thing that a person can say and be truthful about; we are each having our own experience. I know my own heart – and, if I’m honest with myself, only my own heart. All else is conjecture, assumption, supposition, guesswork, rumor, or second-hand information. (Calling our lover a liar when they share their feelings is… yeah, not very loving. 😉 )

I often find that discussion of emotion gets very complicated when a lover reflects emotions back at me, like a fun-house mirror. It’s not uncommon. I say something hurts me, my lover says it back – and sometimes as though they experienced it (or said it) first. There have been times when that has felt deceptive or manipulative to me (and times that it has been). There have been times when it has been a revelation that we share such a similar experience of each other. That, too, is subjective. I’m quite certain I’ve taken a turn on the very same behavior, myself, at some points. “The way out is through.” I only know one resolution: deep listening, compassion, non-judgmental acceptance – of self, and of each other. Arguing most definitely does not “work” – unless by “work”, we agree to mean “causes hostility, confrontation, undermines our affection for one another, and builds lasting resentment” – in which case it works very well. (I dislike arguing, myself, and find no value in it.) “Giving up” and “letting the other person win” is also ineffective; love is not a competition, and if the struggle is to be right, we’ve already lost. Love is not about being right.

So… I lose if I give up, and I lose if I strive to “win” or secure the accolades of “being right”… So, what then? Deep listening. (Oh, and stop trying to “win“!) Really listening, without waiting to talk, without holding on to mental notes about how that other person is wrong, without grudging them the chance to talk about how they feel, without resenting them for the feelings they have, and without taking their experience personally – really listening, to their words, and doing my best to understand what they seek to communicate, without criticism of how they choose to attempt to do so. Loving kindness helps, too. It’s worthwhile to at least go into an emotional discussion accepting that my lover is “with me”, not against me, and that their intention is something other than causing me pain, or creating conflict. It’s not always easy. Previous relationships that have failed on the rocky shores of emotional abuse or manipulation still have some power to affect my ease with love, or color my assumptions. Here too, there are verbs involved, and I slowly learn to choose differently.

I smile, sipping my coffee. My thoughts drift from the challenges to the things that feel so easy. The sky begins to lighten on the horizon. Commuter traffic becomes a background hum that is more continuous. I think about love’s delights, and also distractedly wonder if I would be more comfortable if I put on a sweater… My thoughts shift to the subtleties of comforting and being comforted, and what matters most to love. I think about my “Big 5” relationship values, and test my assumptions, again: Respect, Reciprocity, Consideration, Compassion, and Openness. There’s always benefit to more practice. I’m very human. I consider my relationship with my traveling partner; he’s very human, too. I smile, thinking of his smile. I finish my coffee.

Today is a good day to listen deeply, and to love without reservations. Today is a good day to test assumptions, and respect Wheaton’s Law.

Yesterday was difficult. My black mood continued through the day without diminishing in spite of exceptional self-care. There wasn’t anything “wrong”, it was a day, and I was in a shitty mood. I often am after a migraine, and I knew to take care of myself, and treat myself (and the world) with great care. Still. It sort of sucked. (Only sort of, because as I said, there wasn’t anything wrong besides my mood.)

Hanging on, waiting for some other moment? Impermanence is a real thing; this too shall pass.

Hanging on, waiting for some other moment? Impermanence is a real thing; this too shall pass.

It was at the end of the day that things finally “cleared up” with regard to my mood. I woke feeling splendidly this morning.

I'll begin again...

I’ll begin again…

This morning is a lovely one. The apartment is quickly cooling off,  the dawn breeze pushing the cool air across the meadow, and into the open windows. My appointment yesterday, as it turned out, is actually my appointment today… and it’s “date night”! A good cup of coffee gets the morning going, after enjoying unmeasured time meditating. (One of the hardest things about yesterday was the challenge I was having finding stillness; I seemed unable to meditate.)

This morning there is an easy smile on my face, as if lingering from very pleasant dreams. I have music playing, and yesterday’s sound sensitivity is no part of this fine morning, here, now. It’s a pleasant beginning to the day.

Once upon a time, a day like yesterday would likely have been a week of it, and burdened further by feeling obligated to “preserve appearances” or otherwise re-craft my apparent experience by way of behaviors intended to “fake happy”. Not only does that not actually work [for me], it limits my ability to actually take care of myself by turning my attention away from my own needs in order to create the illusion that there is nothing out of the ordinary – making my misery both ordinary, and hidden. Yuck. It was not an effective approach.  You know what else didn’t work for me? Lashing out at the world like an enraged toddler out of frustration and speechless rage. Learning to use my words, and to “speak gently”, while also learning to listen deeply and develop authentic compassion has been the win… I’ve a long way to go on both of those. More practice seems wise. 🙂

Incremental change over time? It seems so. If nothing else, today is a good day to practice the practices that matter so much for me, and work so well: keeping a committed meditation practice, speaking gently, listening deeply, maintaining emotional self-sufficiency, and living authentically. It’s a good start on an extraordinary journey – and today is a good day to begin again. 🙂