Archives for posts with tag: meditation

Soft Gray Morning

March 26, 2017 //

The busy-ness of life finally caught up with me. Cold symptoms that I woke with yesterday morning seem no worse today, nor are they diminished. Fatigue yesterday resulted in hours of napping, and an early bed time. I didn’t sleep particularly deeply, but my sleep was satisfying and uninterrupted. I managed a few minutes more than 8 hours and woke feeling deeply rested, in minimal pain. Skillful self-care today should result in being fully rested and prepared for another week of work. It’s not fancy, but it is sustainable. I sip my coffee contentedly and begin to plan my day.

I take a break from writing (and day planning) to meditate, and sip coffee watching the soft gray dawn slowly becoming a lighter shade of rainy gray morning. I return to my writing unmeasured minutes later, but the lush green of the lawn and the dark green-black of the pine silhouetted against the gray morning sky continue to pull my eye from my writing to the window, and the world beyond this quiet space. I continue to sip my coffee contentedly. This moment, right here, is a very nice one, and I am enjoying it fully, and without criticism, judgement, or negative self-talk.

Just beyond the window, the soft gray dawn.

Yesterday I shared a visit to the nearby Farmer’s Market with a friend. She was having a tough time with her emotions and reached out for support. We took time for coffee, conversation, and strolling the market together. She talked about life, love, frustrations, and yearning for… something. I listened. She asked questions, I offered perspective – mine (it’s all I have). We deepened our friendship and our connection as we walked and talked and shared the morning. It feels good to count her as a friend. She is in a very young place in life (no surprise; she’s not yet 21) and feels adrift in a sea of choices and misinformation. No rule book on this playground. No map on this journey. We are each having our own experience. She is as wholesome as any 21st century girl-next-door can be, and filled with the turmoil and power of reactivity, passion, and emotion. She’s very human. We both are. It was time well-spent, and part of life’s curriculum for me as much as it may be for her; I sometimes struggle to build healthy friendships with other women (the chaos and damage being what it is).

The rest of the day unfolded quietly as a series of naps, and interludes of wakefulness that were relaxed and easy. It was a good day for it. I’m in less pain today, more rested, and don’t feel sicker. I’m satisfied that my choices met my needs. This morning will probably lead a similarly quiet easy day of housekeeping, meditating, and reading, as the gray spring sky spatters the windows with raindrops, and the last cold breezes lingering from winter toss the trees and the wind chime. No doubt later I will see geese and ducks, jays and crows, and my squirrel neighbors visiting the feeders as I sip coffee; it is still too early, now, for any of that besides me sipping coffee. 🙂

For now, I linger over my morning coffee unready to begin any daytime activities that require more of me. It’s that quiet time between waking and doing. The rain begins to fall more heavily, and I find myself regretting that I’ve no firewood, although it is not actually cold enough for that to make sense… It would be pretty. 🙂 I watch the rain fall beyond the window. It’s pretty out there too, just… wet. I laugh out loud in the quiet stillness of my studio; I am fearless about rain. I enjoy the rain. It’s a good morning to hike the level paved trail of the park beyond my window, and I settle on a hike as a lovely start to the day. The welcome-home embrace of a warm shower afterward will feel luxurious and sensuous. The morning begins to take shape in my thoughts.

Today is a good day to hike in the rain, to laugh with a friend, and to take care of this fragile vessel. Today is a good day for self-care, and for living in this moment right here. Today is a good day to practice being the person I most want to be. While I can’t be certain these small things will change the world, they seem a good place to begin again. It’s enough. 🙂

Tags are you going my way?, be here now, be the change, begin again, being and becoming, emotional self sufficiency, experience, good self-care, I am my own cartographer, listening deeply, love, meditation, mindful living, mindfulness, mindfulness for beginners, perspective, practicing the practices, ptsd, relationships, sufficiency, taking care of me, TBI, The Art of Being, The Big 5, the girl next door, the map is not the world, there are verbs involved, walking my own path, what matters most?

Categories Brain Injury, Free Will, Healthy Living, Love, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Relationships, solo hiking, Spring, The Art of Being, The Big 5, Uncategorized, women, Words

There Was This One Time…

March 25, 2017 //

I fell asleep composing coherent sentences, assembled from thoughts and words, suitable for this morning’s writing. It was, as I recall, a good idea for a blog post. Unsurprisingly, it was lost among my dreams, during the night. I woke rested, clear-headed, content – and utterly without a thought that seemed worth writing about.

I hoped the blinds in the studio to let the sunrise illuminate the room. I watched the geese on the lawn, sipped my coffee, and listened to the peculiar suburban hum of existing humanity that seems so nearly inescapable, generally. I notice that my throat is a little sore, and shuffle my weekend plans around to reduce stress, labor, and exposing others to potential contagion, in case I am sick. If I’m not actually ill, the sore throat remains a sign that I likely need more rest than I have been getting. I decide to take care of this fragile vessel this weekend. Life is more a thru-hike along a breath-taking wilderness trail than a paved loop through a state park; it’s important to take care, and pace myself. 🙂

I hear my Traveling Partner stirring in the other room, making coffee. I smile, content and wrapped in love. Last evening was weird, infused with drama. OPD. Not my drama. I am supportive throughout, although I struggle a bit with resenting that a human being I have made a point to cut out of my life completely can still push so much toxic waste into my experience. The resentment quickly fades to sorrow that my Traveling Partner has this bullshit to deal with in another (any other) relationship. I know a lot of people who do. Myself, I tend to fairly quickly find my way to “troll blocking” and “unfriending” these days, even in real life; I have no liking of, or time for, destructive games or drama, and very specifically define “love” and “affection” as exclusive of those sorts of things. Yep. I said it. If you treat someone badly on the regular, it is not understandable (to me) that you “love” them. From my own perspective, you do not. That’s not love. There’s no room for argument, it’s merely my opinion, and how my own map of the world looks.

No drama today, I hope. I sip my coffee and smile. My Traveling Partner puts his head in the studio to tell me that there is a new season of Samurai Jack. Finally! Season 5. We share a fondness for it. I can’t tell if my moment of delight has anything to do with Samurai Jack at all, it’s all mixed up with my delight that my Traveling Partner is here this morning. I have no idea what the day holds. It is unplanned. Unscripted. I wonder what moment will define it.

Today is a good day for patience, and a good day for contentment. Today is a good day to love, and to live gently. Today is a good day for laughter, kindness, and gratitude. Today is a good day to enjoy small things, and to build a drama free zone. Today is a good day to make the choices that change the world.

Tags are you going my way?, be here now, be love, building a drama free zone, don't feel the troll, drama free zone, emotional self sufficiency, good self-care, listening deeply, love and lovers, love me do, meditation, mindful love, my home my rules my way, no drama, OPD, p.s. I love you, perspective, practicing the practices, ptsd, relationships, sufficiency, taking care of me, TBI, The Art of Being, The Big 5, there are verbs involved, walking my own path, you have no power over me

Categories Brain Injury, Free Will, Healthy Living, Love, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Relationships, solo hiking, The Art of Being, The Big 5, women, Words

Morning?

March 21, 2017 //

The sleep I got last night was good, but not enough to be “rested”. This makes two days on less than 5 hours of sleep. I saw my physician in the morning, yesterday. I see another on Thursday. I worked. I saw a house, then home for dinner. The excitement of the day being what it was, I found myself lost in the vastness of it all, crying. Just crying. It wasn’t “personal”, and there was nothing to do about it but let the tears fall. I still couldn’t sleep, so went next door and hung out with friends for a few minutes. I had reached out unsuccessfully to my Traveling Partner; we’d been chatting through the late afternoon, already, and not reaching him didn’t trouble me. I figured he was in the studio. (I was just the tiniest bit jealous to find out later he was sleeping. lol)

I woke with effort this morning. I feel okay, I guess. Scratchy eyes. Headache. Sluggish. Thinking is still an effort even after some yoga, meditation, and a lovely shower. My headspace feels as if filled with some immovable goo or epoxy; it is a less than ideal state of consciousness, generally. I pause and pull myself more fully upright, correcting posture that would otherwise make me quite uncomfortable in a very short time. I notice my left hand sort of curled in on itself, resting on my lap in that moment; I am fatigued to the point that some of the indicators of my brain injury are more pronounced than usual. I stand up and stretch, feeling joints crack and pop and shift. I frown for a moment, thinking about work as a massive unscripted undertaking in which enormous quantities of random busy-ness (lol) must be processed under the watchful eye of a ticking clock. I remind myself this is a new week, a new experience, and that last week’s intensity is behind me. My perspective shifts and shifts again as I wake more fully.

I take a deep breath and another. I sip my coffee and wait for my brain to catch up with my insistence on starting the day. I should be good for one or two more of these short nights before spelling errors and temper tantrums catch up with me…

Today I begin again feeling pretty reliant on good practices, reliable habits, planned tasks, and routine. I’m okay right now, just tired. Today is a good day to take care of the woman in the mirror – and to extend similar consideration to all the other working zombies out there, wrung out and over-extended by the demands of adulting for another day. We are each having our own experience. We are all in this together. If we’re kind to each other, we can change the world… even on less than 5 hours of sleep. 😀

Tags begin again, breathe, emotional self sufficiency, getting the rest I need, good self-care, meditation, perspective, practicing the practices, ptsd, sleepless nights, taking care of me, TBI, The Big 5, there are verbs involved, to sleep perchance to dream

Categories Anxiety, Brain Injury, Free Will, health, Healthy Living, Love, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Sleepless Nights, The Big 5

Between Nightfall and Daybreak

March 20, 2017 //

I went to bed walking on clouds, wrapped in love, and feeling sure of “my place in the universe”. In my next moment of awareness I am mired in doubt. Restless. Insecure. Uncertain. Questioning even those things that seemed so certain the night before. Questioning love. Questioning the value of taking care of this fragile vessel. More questions than answers, and not the solid sort of question that just by being asked becomes a sign post on life’s journey. No, these were the questions that torment, more like the flea bite on my wrist – aggravating and not worth obsessing over, but I’m still scratching it. As with that metaphorical flea bite, digging at it long enough could do actual damage, rather pointlessly. Knowing that does not stop it itching.

I started to reassure myself, and stumble on thoughts intended to soothe and encourage. I notice, at some point, that I am actually quite awake. 3:37 am. I am awake in the wee hours asking myself existential questions about life, house hunting, relationships, the future… It’s a poor time of day for that sort of reflection. My brain attacks me in the darkness. I finally just get up, feeling some weird complex emotional stew of sadness, insecurity, fear and learned helplessness. Why the ever-loving hell am I putting myself through all of this? (Particularly after such a pleasant weekend.)

Is it going to be that kind of day? I find myself struggling to balance concerns about my health with eagerness about the house hunting. So human. Struggling to balance powerful feeling of being loved and valued by my partner that comes of having his confidence and trust as I house hunt for a more permanent place of my own with the sudden fear that this could mean he is indifferent to the outcome, and that I mean less to him than I thought I did. Struggling to balance my own confidence in myself with the lingering chaos and damage that begins whispering “how dare you?” in the background. Struggling, out of nowhere, with self-doubt about my painting, my writing – my existence itself. Instead of “who am I”, this morning my brain sucker punches me with “why am I?” and I question my worthiness as a human creature. Manufactured internal drama.

When the tears come, I am not surprised. I sip my coffee and snarl back at myself “fuck your tears and your moody bullshit!” In the quiet room my voice sounds stern, and harsher than I mean it to. I haven’t had enough sleep. I’m somewhat stressed about my health. It’s a very poor time to rethink every-damned-thing I’ve worked on while I was well-rested and clear-headed. Certainly, I have no cause to doubt my partner, or the worthiness of life itself. It’s scary to make a decision on something as huge as a house. 30 years of debt. Fuck. That sounds… yeah. Scary. I breathe through that moment and give myself a chance to accept that it does feel pretty nerve-wracking. Reasonably so. The fear is tempered somewhat by my partner’s confidence in my decision-making, but also boosted by that same experience; what if I choose badly? Doubt found its foothold right there. It percolated through my sleeping consciousness. I wake here; mired in doubt, wrestling with personal demons before the alarm clock goes off.

Damn it. I’m also wrestling with my keyboard. I spilled coffee on it yesterday, cleaned it up, let it dry, and hoping for the best, took no further immediate action. I need to clean it properly. It becomes a metaphor in this moment for taking better care, for listening deeply, for following through on tasks, and for patience with circumstances; the “insert” function is stuck in the on position. When I attempt to make a correction, hilarity ensues. I am okay right now. (I am most particularly okay once I notice that my “insert” key isn’t stuck at all; I’ve been tapping at the wrong key, quite ineffectively. Yeah. Getting enough rest does matter. I smile at the journey this small living metaphor has taken me on this morning. I’m definitely okay right now, for most values of okay. 🙂 )

The thing with insecurity and doubt are that they are no more “real” than any other emotion of the moment (and no less so). They have no decision-making power that I don’t choose to grant them. I find I’m still annoyed with waking myself up over moody bullshit, and the less-than-subtle moment of irritation is returned to me as a silent reminder to treat myself well, to show myself kindness, to consider myself…

…I’m taken back to the conversation about house-hunting I had with my Traveling Partner last night. “I really want you to meet your needs with this,” he’d said “don’t be focused on what I might want.” And “I’m excited about this for you.” Is that what set off my doubt and insecurity? Is it that fucking hard, even now, to be really okay with taking care of me? I find myself smiling in spite of how annoyed I am to have disrupted my own sleep, undermining needed rest, to waste time feeling uncertain about whether I know what I want and need for myself, or feeling fearful of committing to it. It’s very human, and a reminder that there is still work to do on this solo hike through life, becoming the person I most want to be. I pause to recall the lovely observations made by my Traveling Partner last night, about how he sees me, how that feels for him, and about this love we share, and the strength we find in our shared journey.

The little house I’ll see today isn’t the biggest one I’ve seen in my price range (it’s also not the smallest). It doesn’t have everything on my wish list (but it has a lot of things). There are no obvious ‘deal breakers’ in the described details or photographs, but experience has already taught me that people will take very careful pictures to avoid showing those off. I’ll just have to see it. Is it enough? For some values of “enough” it obviously is. I set the whole matter aside; there’s nothing more to be done, or felt, or decided, until I see it. The alarm goes off in the other room. It’s time to get up. lol

Today I’ll treat myself well, and with great consideration. The day will begin, and it will end, and tomorrow I’ll begin again. Somewhere in between, I’ll see a doctor, see a house, and see to getting the day’s work done. From the vantage point of “now”, it’s enough.

Tags a journey paved in choices, Barbie's dream house, be here now, be the change, begin again, breathe, choose wisely, emotional self sufficiency, good self-care, house hunting won't get you home sooner, house-hunting, I am my own cartographer, listening deeply, love and lovers, meditation, mindfulness matters, p.s. I love you, perspective, practicing the practices, ptsd, taking care of me, TBI, The Art of Being, The Big 5, the map is not the world, there are verbs involved, walking my own path, what matters most?, wishful thinking versus decision-making

Categories Anxiety, Brain Injury, Free Will, Love, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Relationships, Sleepless Nights, Spring, The Big 5, Words

Ain’t We Funkin’ Now?

March 18, 2017 //

Well… ain’t we? Er… are we? I am. It’s Saturday morning and I really don’t need to sit very still all day stressed out about health concerns neither confirmed nor crossed off some secret list of shit that goes wrong with aging. lol Cue music! Better to funk hard, enjoy life for every breath I breathe, than to wait quietly to die. 😉 So, no shit, I’m jammin’ the old school funk tracks that sparked my love of bass, and bass guitar, and have followed me through life to the newest, strangest, bass-est digital music of the current age. Why not? It’s after 6 am on a Saturday… I’m sure the neighbors won’t mind my embracing life through music at this hour… right…? (I’m not actually that inconsiderate, and I’m grateful for headphones.)

Are you still funkin’ with me? Do you know the funk legend behind that bass line? Human. Just like me. Just like you. Just like Neil deGrasse Tyson. Just like your grandma. Just like Grandma Funk. What I think I’m getting at is… don’t wait to be a legend. Just be. Enjoy you. Maybe you level up to Legend at some point, but as with “happy”, chasing it comes at a cost – and that cost is often the goal itself. Each so human, so precious, so wonderfully quirky and weird and unique… do you.

This morning I let the irresistible nature of the funk distract me from pain, from worry, from an uncertain future (all futures are uncertain, are they not?), and I let go and let… myself enjoy the fucking funk, for as long as I can. Will you miss me if I were to drop dead in some now moment unexpectedly, without the courtesy of a heads up that I am mortal? Would my words outlast this fragile vessel or die with me, losing relevance over time without a connection to a living consciousness? All men are mortal… women, too, I hear. lol I sip my coffee and contemplate the unknowns still ahead of me in life – and at its end.

I think about the house hunting ahead this morning. I think about love. I savor my humanity. I appreciate yours. The morning feels easy on my consciousness and my heart, in spite of… worries. Don’t we all have at least one or two? Isn’t it totally the most basic of human challenges to learn to balance our experience in the moment with our concerns of moments not yet now? Who will you turn to for comfort? Your friends? (Good choice.) Your lover(s)? (Another good choice, although I am assuming you choose lovers who are down for providing you comfort in tough times… perhaps that’s not what you choose of the assorted humans dear to you?) Will you choose the talking heads on the idiot box? The comment section of a favorite forum? Facebook associates? (That’s all the rage in the 21st century, and there’s a fairly impressive selection of social media alternatives.) Your professional associates? (That gets harder, sometimes, doesn’t it?) Your parents, elders, children, or siblings? (That can be a mixed bag where comfort it concerned, right? lol) This morning, I am turning to The Brothers Johnson, Whiz Khalifa, Snoop Dogg, Skrillex, Daft Punk… sure, I know exactly what they’ll be telling me, because I’ve heard it a million times, but… I also know what they’ll be telling me, because I’ve heard it a million times. 🙂 It’s what I need to hear; we continue. There is now. Always now… And yet, somehow, we continue; if in no other way, we continue as a presence and a recollection in the consciousness of all those we have touched – good and bad and indifferent. Valar Morghulis.

I can’t escape my mortality – at least not with current medical science or technology (will I live to see that change?). I could sure get mired in waiting around to die, if I chose to do that instead of living. There are verbs involved, regardless. Today, I tell mortality – or at least the fear of it – to funk right off. It’s Saturday – there is a living world just beyond this monitor, and this keyboard, and my coffee is finished. 🙂

It’s totally understandable that death might stop me in my tracks – it is less understandable to wait around for it to do so. lol. Today is a good day to live, awake, aware, and present in this moment, now. It’s enough. 🙂

Tags Ain't we funkin now?, all human beings are mortal, be love, begin again, breathe, dance away the heartache, don't just wait to die, emotional self sufficiency, I am my own cartographer, life is a banquet, live live live!, meditation, perspective, practicing the practices, ptsd, sufficiency, taking care of me, TBI, The Art of Being, the map is not the world, there are verbs involved, Valar Morghulis, walking my own path, what matters most?

Categories Anxiety, Brain Injury, Free Will, Healthy Living, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Spring, The Art of Being, The Big 5

Soft Gray Morning

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There Was This One Time…

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Morning?

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Between Nightfall and Daybreak

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Ain’t We Funkin’ Now?

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