Archives for posts with tag: meditation

How long can you sit on hold before you feel angry? Once that point comes, when the person on the other end finally gets to your conversation, how do you feel? How do you behave? What is that experience like for you? Okay… and what is that experience like for them?

…It is a Wednesday afternoon, and a busy work day. I’m on hold as I write this…

…I’m scheduling – or trying to – an important appointment for my Traveling Partner. I’ve been on hold for awhile now (22+ minutes), following our initial exploration of available dates/times. When the Scheduler returns to the call, she’s identified an available care provider in a good timeslot, on a day we can make work. I’m grateful. Is it aggravating to wait on hold for 23 minutes to complete this task? I guess, sure, (especially considering the dreadful hold music). On the other hand, not being a dick about it and just doing the needful in a pleasant (and accepting) way resulted in a better outcome – the appointment is made, and it fits in with other scheduled plans, and isn’t at some ridiculously inconvenient time, and the person on the phone was happily willing to help me (likely in part because I wasn’t penalizing that person for the circumstances). That’s as nearly ideal as scheduling an appointment can get, is it not? Why bother being angry over it? The time it took? The fact that it was necessary at all? That seems both ridiculous and petty. (Things take the time they take.)

…Patience is sometimes easier said than done, I know…

So many healthcare providers are trying to meet too much need with too few resources. Raising patient costs doesn’t close the gap created by too few doctors, nurses, technicians, specialists, or administrative and domestic staff needed to meet the need for care in a community. Anywhere. Lashing out at someone whose job is to be helpful is not the shortest path to the desired outcome, for sure. So, I generally try to do better than that when I have to be on the phone with someone (in spite of my dislike of being on the phone, generally).

…Or in slow checkout lines…

…Or queued for some event…

…Or trying to find parking in a busy area…

…Or when I’m frustrated by something but having to also deal with another human being about something else altogether unrelated…

…Or when I’m feeling anxious and other unrelated shit seems to be going wrong “for no reason”…

I guess I’m saying that when we make room to feel our feelings, then also make a committed (mindful)(self-aware)(disciplined) effort to also behave in accordance with our understanding of our “best self”, and treat others with kindness and patience, and take steps to manage the potential volatility of our emotional experience of the moment, everything that flows from that skillfully managed moment turns out better than it would have if we’d lashed out angrily, gone to pieces, or punished the people around us for the experience we are having. Long sentence, but it is what I was hoping to communicate as a single idea. It takes practice. I know my own results vary – so I am assuming yours likely will as well. Still, we do become what we practice.

…When I practice patience, I become more patient, in a broader variety of interactions…

I took those notes while I waited on hold. I made the appointment, and moved on with my day with very little aggravation. Turned out to be a pleasant afternoon. I woke up this morning, a little early, head kind of stuffy, but generally merry and feeling okay. It’s a new day. A new opportunity to practice the practices that create a good life and healthy interactions with the people in my life. A new cup of coffee.

Ah, but how to “practice” such things could be a question, eh? I’ve got good and bad news – and it’s the same news – the “how to” is “easy”, inasmuch as it is not complicated, but it is also quite “hard”, because there is a measure of trial and error, repetition, studious self-reflection, and failures that precede new attempts, involved in practicing such things. The tl;dr is that I’ve simply got to do the thing I wish to practice in the fashion I’d like to see myself handle such things – and if I fall short, I’ve got to recognize that, acknowledge it, accept it (and any consequences), understand that failure, and keep working on it – through all the unsuccessful well-meaning attempts, and the likely lack of consistant positive reinforcement from others (because, of course, they are having their own experience). Doing better than my current best is reliably always a “work in progress”, and it’s a process of incremental change over time, which can be somewhat unsatisfying. If you change what you practice though, change itself is inevitable.

We have so many opportunities to do better. We also have a bunch of opportunities to do worse – to escalate interactions that start going wrong, to inflame emotions beyond what is appropriate, to create conflict where none existed, to hurt each other when we could be lifting each other up. We have choices. Making an effort to choose wisely in each interaction, each day, is itself a choice. What are you really going for? Where does your path lead? How do you want to be remembered?

Sometimes it’s hard to wait in line (or, to wait at all) – but the payoff is the thing we’re waiting for, the wait time itself is largely irrelevant. Sometimes it’s hard to be patient in the face of silly questions or constant interruptions when we’re trying to get something done – but the quality of those interactions are often far more important in our lives that the thing we’re focused on doing. Sometimes it’s hard to listen considerately while someone is talking – even though we asked the question being answered, and wanted the information. These are all moments that could use our best self (and more practice). I sip my coffee and think about the many times I’ve made shit so much worse than it had to be. Being entirely human, I’m likely to do that again in the future at some point – but that isn’t going to stop me from doing my best each day to be the best version of the woman in the mirror I can imagine, with what I know now. I’ll simply keep practicing. We become what we practice.

Stick with the basics – it’s a great place to start.

Make it as difficult as you want, I guess. Complicate things as much as you think you must. Telling yourself it “wasn’t your fault” or that you “couldn’t help it” when things go awry doesn’t change the fact that you had (and made) choices. I personally think it is generally a poor choice to willfully make shit worse than it has to be. It’s worthwhile to practice doing better than that. I think back to the abrupt and very final end of my second long-term relationship (and one that felt, at that time, truly committed and “forever”) – it was over circumstances that spiraled around “making things worse”, until the last thread of my affection was stretched to a breaking point, and suddenly snapped. In mere hours I went from needing to “take a minute” to calm myself, to wanting to have “a couple days alone” to think things over, to “we’re done, I’m out of here”. It probably didn’t have to go like that, but it definitely did – and it was a choice. I sit reflecting on that for some minutes, and comparing that to the way my Traveling Partner and I typically work things out together (it’s very different, and I am grateful for the effort we both put into talking and listening).

“Emotion and Reason” 18″ x 24″ acrylic w/ceramic and glow details, 2012

Choosing not to make things worse is both a choice and also a practice (if you make it one). I look out into the cloudy sky and think about emotional storms, and emotional choices, and how significant emotion is in this human experience. We are creatures of both emotion and reason, and we tend to lead with emotion, and respond to emotion before reason ever joins the conversation. That’s not a character flaw, it’s what we are. Our emotional intelligence is probably pretty critical to our success (and survival), overall (depending on how you define success, sure; my definition includes a reliable feeling of well-being and contentment).

…When I practice calm, I become a calmer person across a broader variety of experiences…

Developing one’s emotional intelligence is not as easy as saying it is an important detail. I get it. We don’t typically include such things in K-12 education (when it is most needed) in a structured informative way. Few of us grow up in families with even one emotionally intelligent adult in the household, based on my limited experience and casual observation. We don’t put much time (and probably no funding) into developing tools that can be shared with people who are seeking to do this work themselves. Like a lot of things, it’s complicated by various hidden agendas and resource limitations. When I began down this path, myself, the help I needed was sometimes not easy to find. I was fortunate to find a good therapist whose expertise was a good fit for my needs (and fortunate to be able to afford it at the time I needed it most). My reading list has some items specific to emotional intelligence (although we don’t all learn through reading). It is unfortunate that some of the best work on the topic is sometimes a bit of a slog to get through, requiring what feels like “real work”. (If I were pressed to make specific recommendations, I’d probably point to Buddha’s Brain, and Emotional Intimacy for the studious, and The Four Agreements for those looking for a quick introduction with illuminating allegories.)

…You’ll have to walk your own path, and do your own work, this is not a negotiable detail…

It’s a journey with a lot of stairs to climb…

I sit with my coffee and my thoughts awhile longer. How did I even get to this place, this morning? Oh, right, reflecting on the importance of being patient (and pleasant) while on hold trying to make an appointment for my beloved. I chuckle to myself, aware how valuable those skills are in so many day-to-day interactions. My results vary. I keep practicing. I glance at the time – it’s already time to begin again.

I woke early, confused about what day it is, remnants of troubled dreams clinging to my waking consciousness. I wasn’t even certain whether it was a work day, and if it were, where I’d intended to be working. I slowly sorted things out as I dressed, and headed to the trail in the predawn darkness. I took (and used) my headlamp for the first time in many weeks. The season is changing. The clock is ticking. The wheel is turning.

Another day, another mile.

The dawn came while I walked, hazy, pearly pink, and mild. The forecast says cooler today, although it is summer and still expected to be hot. The arthritis in my spine tells me (by way of the amount of pain I’m in) that cooler days and probably some rain are imminent. In spite of the pain, I’m looking forward to the rain.

I stop frequently, just leaning on my cane today. “Walk!” I snarl at myself silently. I walk on. Pain pulls me down, emotionally, and tends to make everything a bit of a struggle. Be kind to the people you know who endure chronic pain – trust me they don’t need more bullshit or drama. lol Those frail elders slowly making their way, maybe “slowing you down”? That’ll be you one day, so maybe don’t be an impatient dick about it, okay? (I used to be so frustrated by slower elders out and about doing their own thing, now I admire their endurance and see that as something to aspire to.)

Another step on the path, another breath, I walk on, watching the sunrise reach distant hills on the horizon.

My thoughts are still filled with remnants of unsolved questions and concerns of the past, all tangled up with existential dread, stale grief, and memories of other times. Occasional tears fill my eyes, but I’m not really sure why I am feeling so… What even is this feeling? Blue? Displaced? Some peculiar blend of sorrows, regret, and nostalgia that resists my attempt to name it. I’m annoyed by that more than I am troubled by the emotion. I sigh quietly, still walking.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I think of my Traveling Partner at home, probably still sleeping. I’m grateful for his love and steady presence in my life. I think about the life we share. I’m grateful for that too, and feel fortunate to be where we are. My anxiety suddenly flares up, and I am momentarily overwhelmed by “what if” scenarios and self-doubt. Another breath, and I exhale, letting that go. It’s not a good practice to be consumed with worries about things that are not happening. I keep walking, until I get back to the car.

I sigh to myself as I change back from boots to soft shoes, and toss my cane into the passenger seat. My mind is still full of chaos, and I feel like I’m dragging around a lot of baggage and slowed down by ancient pain… but it’s a new day, and a new chance to begin again. Time to get started on that…

My last day out here in the trees. The night was chilly, and my sleep was restless. Noisy families. Noisy late arrivals. Distant sirens. Humanity is noisy. We’re not very good at quiet.

The nearby hydroelectric dam that creates Estacada Lake is one more source of noise, in the background.

We’re also not good at “leaving no trace”. Yesterday, I spotted pop cans, coffee cups, and bits of assorted trash in the brush along the edges of every trail I walked. Not a lot, but that isn’t the point – any is too much. Disappointing. This morning I took a trash bag with me on my mid-morning (after breakfast) (and second coffee) hike. (Might have been easier to say “my second hike” this morning.) I returned to camp with the bag half full, and feeling I’d done at least a little something to make the world just a little bit better in some small way. I’m not feeling smug about it, more that I’m grateful to have had it in me to lug that bag along the whole distance. Some days I just don’t.

Where does this path lead?

… G’damn my feet ache. 😆 I’m not bitching, just noticing…

I’ve put a few miles on my boots and seen a few things.

I settle into my camp chair and put my feet up on the seat of the picnic table. I drink water. I sit with my thoughts, a little bit distracted by adjacent campers breaking down their camps for departure. I’m thinking about it, myself; there’s a strong forecast of rain beginning in the wee hours and not expected to end until quite late in the day, tomorrow. I dislike tearing down camp in the rain. Wet gear doesn’t pack easily, and reliably needs to be unpacked to dry out and repacked all over again before going back into storage until next time. I don’t like the extra work involved. I don’t like getting wet while I’m breaking down my camp.

…If you don’t like the circumstances, choose differently…

I know my Traveling Partner misses me, and that I’ll be welcomed home. I still reach out and check that I won’t be inconveniencing him with a change of plans – that’s basic courtesy. I respect his time and plans the way he respects mine. So… Stay? Go? I’m leaning towards heading home this afternoon, late enough to enjoy this beautiful sunny day, early enough to be home for dinner. I do a mental walk through of the repacking. I consider small changes to what I’ve got packed where, with my next trip in mind.

Sooo many chipmunks!

I breathe, exhale, and relax, and let all that go in favor of “now”. Begin again? It can wait for some later moment. I sit watching the chipmunks playing in the sunshine (so many chipmunks!). Maybe another coffee…?

Not “brand placement”, not “sponsored content”, just a woman thinking about another cup of coffee. 😂

And bunnies…

… one of many.

So… I’m sitting here enjoying the breeze and the sounds of the birds and squirrels and chipmunks, and letting the idea of it being my last day become more real and settled. I’ll have another coffee, maybe another short hike and a bite of lunch… Then I’ll pack up the gear and begin again. This trip into the trees has served its purpose, and that’s enough (it was never about the plan).

I am relaxing at camp, drinking coffee, and listening to the sound of little girls playing. It’s hard to be annoyed by their obvious joy and merriment as they play some version of make-believe.

My night passed in relative comfort, for some values of comfort, I suppose. It could have been worse, and I’m not ill, so there’s that. My guts were a mess and I definitely would have liked a camp site closer to the restrooms, but I got by without too much bother (trust me, you don’t want the details 😂) and eventually slept soundly and restfully.

One of my “neighbors”.

I sit with my coffee and my thoughts, watching the wildlife carefully exploring the edges of my camp. Birds. Bunnies. Squirrels. Chipmunks. Sooo many chipmunks! I got the solitude and quiet that I was looking for out on the trail. Camp is calm and relaxed but, at least for now, not especially quiet – but as I said, it’s hard to be annoyed by “a joyful noise”.

Another friendly visitor to my camp.

I hiked on aching legs, at a gentle pace, and got a couple miles in, early. I strolled down to the lake after my first coffee, and sat for a little while watching the reflections on the water. No drama. No fuss over this or that. No errands to run. No chores to do. Just me watching the minutes slip by like ripples, feeling the breeze and listening to the sounds of birdsong. Quite a lovely morning.

Reflections on the lake, a calm cloudy summer morning.

Now back at camp, I’m doing more or less the same thing; sitting quietly, listening to the sound of the forest around me, and sipping a cup of coffee that is much better than the first. 😆 While I am grateful for this good cup of coffee, I have no explanation for the variance in quality – and I don’t bother looking for it. There’s no need. It’s enough to enjoy the moment and to appreciate the good cup of coffee. This is often true of circumstances. It may be enough to be present, to be grateful, to enjoy the moment, without seeking to explain it, define it, or troubleshoot some detail. So… I just go with it. It’s enough as it is.

There are so many paths to choose from…

I watch the chipmunks creeping closer. There’s a particularly bold one who definitely wants to check out the top of the picnic table, but hasn’t decided whether I’m a threat. I sit quietly, waiting, watching. Camp is getting noisier; campers are preparing to leave. I look over my trail map, and consider which trail to attempt next. The choice is mine – and eventually it’ll be time to begin again. For now there’s no hurry, just chipmunks, and this moment. 😁

The days are definitely getting shorter. I see it in the mornings when I arrive at the trailhead. I’m no longer missing the sunrise. This morning’s sky is a pale pastel blue hue, streaked with a delicate pink. Lovely.

I walk down the trail, listening to the sound of my footsteps crunching along the gravel trail. It is a useful distraction from my tinnitus, which is quite loud, a piercing shrill whine in the background of, well, of everything, every moment.

Voices at a favorite stopping point; I walk on.

I’ve got a bit of shopping this morning, and it’s time to stop by the storage unit to grab my camping gear and load it in the car, for tomorrow’s departure. Doesn’t really feel like work at all, though there is effort involved. The camp fridge is already plugged in at the house, getting cold. I’m looking forward to this camping trip. The shorter days are not discouraging me, and the cot I picked up on sale before the last trip proved its worth. I expect to sleep pretty comfortably.

I finally get to a pleasant spot to stop that feels solitary, though I suspect it is an illusion to do with timing, more than anything else. There were quite a few cars parked at the trailhead this morning.

…We are rarely ever truly alone, and “privacy” is a concept quickly being lost in our “always on” digital age. I find this vexing; I enjoy solitude…

I sigh quietly to myself and let all that go. I sit with my thoughts awhile, enjoying the sunrise, though it’s nothing fancy or super colorful this morning, I’m simply grateful to see another one. Definitely something I find worthy of appreciation, life itself. It hasn’t been reliably kind to me over the course of this one mortal lifetime, and I sometimes think I’m very lucky indeed to have made it this far, at all. I’m glad I stuck it out and worked through a lot of my bullshit and baggage, instead of checking out in some moment of despair. It’s been a worthwhile journey, and I’ve got much to be grateful for.

I sit listening to the faint sound of traffic on the highway adjacent to the meadow on the other side of the trees that surround me. I watch a curious chipmunk creeping closer to me, one little darting step at a time. I’m disappointed that I have no seeds or nuts with me, though I know it’s a bad practice to feed wild creatures, I am always tempted. The chipmunk comes all the way to the edge of my boot. We make eye contact, and she darts away quickly in a single jump followed by scurrying steps, and disappears into the weeds.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I’ve got a list of chores to get done before I leave for a few days of luxurious solitude in the trees. Mostly routine stuff I’d be doing on any weekend, just compressed into one day, with some add-ons intended to provide for my Traveling Partner’s comfort while I am away. I smile, taking note of how much less work that is; he’s come a long way since his surgery.

Well hell, this walk isn’t going to finish itself, and I’ve got this list. The clock is ticking onward (always). I guess it’s time to begin again.