Archives for posts with tag: meditation

Like any other, this day begins with a sunrise. Most are quite lovely, when I take time to notice them. Has anyone ever paused to notice the sunrise and said ‘damn, that’s just not attractive at all!’? I somehow doubt it very much. Sunrises, as things go, are pretty reliably lovely. I find myself wondering if that is in any part due to the simple relief and gratitude of waking up for one more day of living?

One of many sunrises.

One of many sunrises.

I slept poorly, and I am unsurprised; a significant change in my routine often disrupts both my sleep and my emotional balance, whether the change itself is a positive or negative thing. I am learning to refrain from defining a given change, or experience, as ‘good’ or ‘bad’. Someone else has an excellent parable about that.  I like parables in general, and along with metaphors, and allegories, find them both illuminating and efficient at communicating subtleties in ideas.  There are some good ones here.  I sometimes consider their value as ‘children’s stories’ over the more favored (and severely idealistic) ‘fairy tales’ with reliable happy endings, where everyone gets to be a princess. Would I be different than I am if my childhood had been filled with wise parables that taught perspective, compassion, and consideration, rather than filled with fairy tales where the princess always wins – even if she didn’t really do much to earn it?

I’m not being fair to fairy tales, though, or to the volumes of reading I did as a child. I read all the fairy books…and mythology, and legendary tales of mystery and fantastical wonder, anything I could find in a language I could read, actually.  I still somehow missed some very important messaging somewhere along the way, or failed to carry it forward in life with me.  Like so many people I ended up thinking seeking ‘my fortune’ and seeking ‘happily ever after’ were goals worthy of my time and attention, without understanding that these things are of so much less value than the foundation stones required to support them: contentment, compassion, consideration, gratitude, self-acceptance, and finding that inner stillness with which to contemplate and enjoy the wonders of life.

I’ve somehow gone off on a tangent. I’m okay with that, this morning. It is a lovely morning, and soon enough I will be in mindful service to home and hearth, finding new balance in a new routine.

This morning looks like a good day to avoid assumptions, to be compassionate and patient with others – and myself, to cherish the warmth of life, love, and family. Today is a good day not to take other people’s stress as my own. Today I will practice new tools, and take care of me. Today I will change the world. 😀

Remember that one Thanksgiving, the hard one, the one with the moods and the tantrums, the stress, the hard work, the tense conversations and everyone trying so hard? Me, too. We probably all do – or something very like it.

Happy Thanksgiving.

I’m thankful to see another one come and go. I’m thankful that generally speaking I don’t have a lingering recollection of the challenges of the holidays, only the fun, the recipes, the wonder.  Yesterday will be one of those Thanksgivings.  Long after all reminders of the difficult moments have faded, I’ll still be remembering the delicious turkey, the flavorful potatoes,  the exceptional cranberry sauce, and the look in a toddler’s eyes trying that flavor for the very first time – wide-eyed wonder and awe, and delight.  Years from now I will still remember with fond gratitude how my partner happily took on serving the pie I made earlier in the day, because I was just too tired to handle that one more task.  I’ll remember how my other partner seemed always at the ready with that extra pair of hands someone needed in the moment.  I’ll remember the quiet beauty of the classical music in the background, and the delicious sweetness of the Ipsus we served with dessert. I’ll remember the tasty pork loin brought over for the meal by a dear friend of many years, and his excellent biscuits. I’ll remember how good everything tasted, and how happy I was with the pie crust I hadn’t planned to make from scratch, but did.  I’ll remember how lovely the table looked, how gracious my partners were, how well-behaved the baby was. I’ll remember the affection and the warmth of the holiday meal.

Happily, and in no small part due to my TBI, I’m probably going to forget about my mood swings, hot flashes, headache, aching knee, arthritis pain, the incredible workload, the pace of the day, and the rather extraordinarily ugly tantrum I had in the morning when my PTSD met me in the corridors of hormone hell after I got an unexpected email from an ex.  (Yep. Still very very human. I checked. O_0 )

Unfortunately, my partners probably won’t have the luxury of forgetting the difficult bits. I’m thankful to be so well loved in spite of that.

This morning I woke feeling sad. Feeling angry. Feeling discontent and dissatisfied.  I woke seething. I woke on the edge of tears. I woke early and without any recollection of the content of my dreams.

My slowly waking consciousness flailed in the darkness for some event or offense to hang on to, to point toward and say ‘this, this is the thing that hurts me now’.  One or two likely items were obviously on the menu… and as new tools and skills kicked in, I recognized that making assumptions about my emotional state was likely to cause me further pain and unhappiness, and result in struggling with myself for hours. I took a few moments to observe the darkness around me, and within me. I took some deep breaths and found that my body was tense beyond explanation, and my heartsick feelings were side by side with significant physical pain – and a stuffy nose.  Another deep breath as I admitted silently in the darkness that pain and a stuffy nose, and unremembered bad dreams could easily result in waking with a feeling of discontent and sorrow. (It isn’t as if I am lacking a history of troubled sleep. )

It’s nice to sit here now, more contented, calmed, enjoying a morning coffee without tears and without festering rage waiting to explode unexpectedly in the face of any attempt to interact with me. I am choosing new practices, and building new skills. I am taking an active role in becoming.

In general, life feels much better than it did a year ago. I feel calmer, so often that it is tempting to say ‘always’ or affix some measure of awesomeness to the improvements. I’ve also learned that sometimes those measurements can lead to a desire to pursue accolades, recognition, and validation rather than simply enjoying growth and change. Sometimes defining progress and growth in a firm way even stalls further progress and growth by creating expectations or a sense of entitlement or a ‘deserved’ outcome.

Meditation this morning was an interestingly deep experience. Making room for the hurting, the sadness, the anger, and without insisting on explaining, or justifying them in my experience in the moment, feels strangely comforting and nurturing. The feelings dissipated and quiet compassionate tears slid down my face without shame or embarrassment.  I let go of feeling the lack of things so strongly, and found myself open to feeling the strength of what I’ve got now.  I felt the grief and sadness of what-is-no-more, and honored the memories of wonders and joys and loves of the past without resenting the absence of any one moment or experience that has gone before.  Having given myself the respect of honoring my experience, and feeling my feelings, the warmth of wonders and joys and loves in my now began to fill my awareness. It was a lovely and moving moment.

What woke me? I do wonder, then I let it go.

Yoga. Pain. More yoga – because it isn’t the yoga that hurts. It’s not that sort of pain. It’s just the pain of my arthritis. The headache of my TBI. These are long-time companions that accompany me so many days that for years I didn’t bother to tell people I was hurting. What was the point of bitching about something that was so everyday? The yoga does help.  Eventually I feel less stiff. I hurt some less, certainly enough to begin the day. Even the headache recedes a bit, although that is likely more about putting some distance between my difficult waking moment, and my right-now.

Thanksgiving tomorrow… a festive dinner with friends, baking, cooking, eating, talking… I look forward to it every year.  For me it isn’t even a little bit about Pilgrims and Indians. Why would it be? Hell, it isn’t even about turkeys, or childhood holiday crafts. It is a harvest feast, a celebratory moment shared with friends and family, a tradition of gratitude in a world that doesn’t appreciate very much, or very often. It is the start, for me, of ‘the winter holiday season’. Thanksgiving,  birthdays,  Hanukkah [the official WordPress spelling], the Winter Solstice, Yule, more birthdays, New Year’s, and sprinkled throughout there are parties and dinners, and occasions for merriment of all sorts*.  I love ‘the holiday season’.  I love celebrations! Something more significant than a party, something that supports a value larger than one person’s joy – these are some of what is best about who we are. We gather and share joy, memory, humanity, culture.. and cookies. 😀

This year I am baking cookies. lol. I didn’t last year, we were in the middle of moving, and the kitchen was not really in a reliably ‘baking-ready’ state. I spent some time last night tracking down my own personal favorite holiday cookie recipes, and finding traditional family favorites I remember from childhood.  I haven’t yet brought mindfulness to cookies…

Face to face with a piece of the past.

Face to face with a piece of the past.

Hunting down those cookie recipes brought me face to face with my past in the form of recipe cards of a series called My Greatest Recipes.  It was a mail order subscription, and not a great idea for someone on a tight budget; a cookbook would have been cheaper. I still love these recipe cards, though, and they were one of the few things I did ‘just for me’ at that tender age, long ago, when I was in my 20s. Texas? No, earlier. Virginia. I’ve long ago lost the clear plastic box they came with, and the cards follow me through life nestled in a plastic food storage container without a lid. They don’t fit in it well. lol. Some of the cards are stained, or the edges frayed. Some are written on in ball point pen, in most cases notes about favorite modifications, in one case a phone number. Most are recipes I’ve never tried. Some are recipes for dishes I prefer to prepare differently, and have a favorite recipe safely stored elsewhere, and then there are the recipes I love…those worn cards, those stained cards, cards I can hold in my hand and be reminded.  🙂

Funny that these recipes cards seem to be some sort of collectible now. lol. They were at one point a rather troubling experience for me, arriving faster and more frequently over time, billing me unexpectedly when I was short of funds already.  I still wanted to have them ‘all’, but like episodes of InuYasha, they seemed limitless and infinite in number.  I ended my subscription before I ever got close to having a complete set (and where the hell would I have stored a complete set?).  Probably a good thing, it was getting really expensive. lol.

There will be cookies this year, and recipes, and holidays, and celebrations, and perhaps more good days than difficult ones. This holiday season holds a lot more mystery than usual – new tools, new skills, new practices. For now it is enough to quietly contemplate whether my Russian Tea Balls will be preferred to my Cardamom Cookies, or if it is worth making the fairly everyday (but tasty) Broken Cookies instead of the more festive and elaborate Butter Horns that I first made in 2010 with a dear love by my side, using his Mother’s recipe. (What a precious memory.) I don’t yet know what cookies I’ll be baking, this year, but I do know there will be cookies. 🙂

Yes, there will be cookies. :-)

Yes, there will be cookies. 🙂

Today is a lovely day to consider recipes, and memories, and to celebrate what has been, and what may be.  Happy Thanksgiving.

 

 

*My list of holidays is not, and is not intended to be, inclusive of all possible winter holidays. It merely reflects the holidays I am most likely to be involved in celebrating, myself, at this time in my life, based on lifestyle, personal beliefs, the beliefs of loved ones, and calendared events I have accepted.  If I were to be invited to celebrate Kwanzaa, Diwali, or Ramadan (when it falls in winter), I would include them. 😉

It’s early on a Sunday morning. The house is quiet. My usual vanilla latte is exceptional this morning. My heart is calm. My loves are safely here at home, and from this limited perspective of a quiet peaceful morning, all seems well with the world and the most important event thus far is seeing that the new plecostomus, still in quarantine, is out and about busily going about the business of being the fish that he is.

My morning meditation concluded with a strange sense that I was somehow ‘unstuck in time’. My consciousness was feeling very open to the future, aware of the past and vaguely disconnected from both, poised comfortably between them in this pleasant ‘now’. I soon found myself thinking about work, aware there are only 11 working days left- counting today. Left of what? Well, left of now, certainly, where work is concerned. There may be others in the future. There’s that word again. ‘Future’.

The thought of fortune-telling crones, and hucksters, of psychics, and favorite aunts with a gift for guess work, filtered through my thoughts alongside thoughts of my work (meaning employment). I’m an analyst by trade, and have been for most of my adult life. I make my living ‘telling the future’ in a sense, although I do so using math and trending and spreadsheets, rather than tea leaves, Tarot cards, stones, runes, or the stars in the heavens.  The interesting thing about that, though, is that I’ve come away from a number of jobs wondering if the people who make use of analysts actually have a real understanding that it is something different than guesswork, tea leaves, or shamanism.  It starts to cause me a moment of bitterness and frustration, then I left it fall away with a deep breath and a smile. Because it isn’t actually relevant to my own experience what someone else thinks about the work I do, beyond providing me with data to make a wise decision about whether or not to do such work for them. lol.

Yep. Getting to this place was that easy. Nice one, brain, happy to have you on board with the new processes. 😀

This morning, what is real and important is that I love, and I am loved in return – first and foremost by my own self, invested in me, and supporting my experience.  The safety and comfort of my family, and by extension our more distant family members, our metamours, our friends – those are important, too. Even that wee fish in quarantine is more important than most of the things the world would have me attend to, using media slight of hand, and verbal trickery. That wee fish, living his life, figuring out his new world, discovering that he is safe and well fed, and finding whatever fishy contentment he may – even he is more important than most things, because he lives.

Ideologies do not live. Industries do not live. Governments do not live. Laws do not live. Societies do not live as entities independent of their individual members. What is more important about us, as individuals, than this precious life force, this simple existence, this presence to be felt, to experience, to share? All the rest is myth, lies, ‘color’, ‘spin’ – and distraction…or so it seems this quiet morning as I weight what matters most to me now. Where I to face the end of my life tomorrow, wouldn’t it be vastly more important as a measure of my humanity how I treat my friends, my family, my lovers, even a simple fish, than any task I ever completed for any employer? Life is quite specifically not about the paycheck.

So… on to more important things, then. 🙂  The wee fish is quite shy.  Knowing he could be expected to be shy caused me to watch him ever so closely, and in just a day or two it was clear that the under gravel heater in the quarantine tank wasn’t keeping the water quite as warm as my community tank – nor as warm as the new guy would like it. I was also finding it irksome to keep referring to him as ‘the new guy’.  He’s pretty fancy, as fish go, and really rather deserved a proper name all his own.  Science doesn’t serve me well there, personally, and I found his taxonomic name rather cumbersome (Hypancistrus zebra). I purchased a better heater, and one of my partners – who understands how much I value the whimsy of words and of naming  – helped me out with an exceptional name suggestion.  This morning, I delighted in watching ‘Wyatt’ (his whole name is Zoot Suit Wyatt. lol) explore his world; the temperature change definitely improved his experience.

Mindfully living. Mindfully loving. Mindfully tending my underwater garden and the life it supports. It’s a lovely Sunday for compassion, for affection, for kindness – and it is a wonderful day to change the world.

Zoot Suit Wyatt - the new guy makes himself at home.

Zoot Suit Wyatt – the new guy makes himself at home.

I woke crying, at 3:00 am. Not loud frightened sobbing, as from a nightmare, just fat wet tears rolling hot and plentifully down my cheeks. My thoughts were empty, my emotions breaking against the stony silence as I considered them. A year ago, a wake up call like that one would have doomed the day, without question. I’d have fought myself for hours, before turning my emotional weapons of mass destruction on any hapless lover who wandered past with a good morning on their lips.

This morning it felt very natural to reach for new tools as I might reach for a tissue, calmly, practically, and without second guessing their utility. A few good deep breaths, a couple of yoga postures I know calm me pretty easily. I ‘made room’ for my emotions; understanding they are part of my experience, I experienced them.  When anger and resentment began to surge from beneath the sad tears, I made room for them, too.  Without delivering the additional blow to my heart of harsh self-criticism, or icy refusal to be compassionate toward myself, my strong emotions didn’t linger. As they began to dissipate, a clearer sense of discontent developed.  I observed my wiley – and highly skilled – brain attempt to position the feelings as being somehow indicative of something more significant than the moment. It felt okay to say to myself “well, maybe, but it’s 4:00 am, and I’m barely awake – why would I act on a feeling like that now?”

In the night I had somehow managed to travel from calm optimism about today, to a sense of resentment, anger, disappointment, foreboding… and as I observed each emotion develop, break against the calm shore of my observation, and fade, I became aware that some of the emotions didn’t seem the slightest bit connected to any ‘real’ factual experience or circumstance at all, while others did. I was feeling feelings – and feeling feelings about the feelings I was feeling, as well as feeling feelings about feeling feelings about the feelings I was feeling.  I almost laughed out loud in the shower. The moment of bewilderment and humor gave me a precious gift – perspective.

A brief good morning in passing with a dear one was a needed moment of connection with a consciousness not my own. “You’re up early.” “Yeah, since 3. Just woke up, couldn’t go back to sleep.” It was enough. “I’ve had a restless night, too.” He sympathized.  A human moment. A connection. A shared experience.  He went back to bed. I put on earrings. As I looked at my reflection in the mirror I recognized more than my own face – I recognized that for whatever reason, I had awakened feeling lonely. Even that simple shared moment in passing was enough to restore my feeling of connection.  I made a coffee, took time to meditate from a more wholesome place, and sitting down to write the morning finds me calm.  (No, at 3:00 am I did not know this would be the outcome.)

It’s relevant to what I observed last night about my experience. Changes. I am in less of a state of emotional disarray, generally speaking.  I guess that makes 2013 a huge ‘life success’. Funny to wake up in tears and in less than 3 hours be feeling not just calm, but actually pleased to be where I am with myself. lol.  What a nice place to be.

Looking forward to the dawn.

Looking forward to the dawn.