Archives for posts with tag: mental-health

I sat down at a table with my coffee. The muzak in the background is unintrusive. I open my text editor to write and let my thoughts go. At some point I notice I’m not writing. I am gently grooving to a track I don’t think I’d heard before. The bassline grabbed the important part of my attention without any concern for the rest of me, and there I was, immersed in a moment, lost in a bit of music. Sweet moment. The playlist moved on from Dope Lemon to A Tribe Called Quest. Yes, for sure, I can kick it, just like this, for a little while; there’s no reason to hurry through this moment.

Work is work. Life is life. Love is love. This path isn’t smoothly paved every step of the way, and it isn’t always clear where it leads. One woman, many choices. I’m fortunate to be where I am at this place in my life. Is life ideal? No. There isn’t much potential for any one of us to live an “ideal” life. Can you even define what you think that might be, aside from some fantastical daydreams about things you might like to acquire, or places you’d like to see, or experiences you’ve missed or want to have? We complicate our journey with wishful thinking and yearning for what we don’t have now. It’s a very human thing. Finding the perspective on our lives that allows us to embrace sufficiency, and practice contentment and non-attachment without regretful yearning is its own journey – we don’t all share that goal. I enjoy peace and contentment and quiet joy and feeling unbothered in my life. It’s hard enough to get there without adding the weight of greed and material lust and pointlessly competing with people of vastly greater means than I have myself. I’m not suggesting being resigned to having little (or nothing), I’m only saying it has improved my experience of living my life to embrace joy, practice contentment, and to appreciate the good in my life as it is – while I work toward better (without self-harm or some ridiculous grind that tears me down while it builds my bank account).

…This is the wrong blog to be reading if what you are looking for are practical tips for “getting rich quickly” or amassing great wealth. That’s not my area of interest, personally. What I want most for myself is to feel whole and well and generally joyful, and to be capable, approachable, and kind. I’m here looking for the best version of myself, and to help that woman live her best life with the opportunities and resources she has, now. Maybe I should have said so sooner…

(I did).

This morning, I’m sipping coffee, and enjoying the music. It’s enough.

The music changes. I don’t care for the music playing now. This moment reminds me that change is. We walk the path ahead of us, we choose the route, and we walk our own hard mile – we don’t design the scenery along the way, we just choose what to look at. Every path has obstacles and pitfalls. Change doesn’t change that. We’ve each got to do our own verbs – and we’re each having our own experience. I grin to myself, and pause to let the aphorisms that are piling up in my thoughts finish themselves and dissipate. There’s no reason to try to jot them all down right now, on this page, in this moment. There is time. Other moments. Sure, the clock is always ticking and energy, time, and money are all finite resources – but I can begin again, any time, now or later on. I breathe, exhale, and relax. Someone else probably really likes the song that is playing now. It’s not my thing, but it will pass, and there’s no reason to insist that it be changed. There is variety in life, and in spite of how much I prefer a “steady routine”, I’m also aware how much value there is in new experiences. I sip my coffee and let the music play. I even listen for a little while.

It’s a gentle rainy morning that barely feels like winter. I almost went walking, but it’s chilly enough that walking in the rain would quickly aggravate my osteoarthritis, and I’m in enough (manageable) pain now that I don’t really want to choose more. Work from home? My Traveling Partner suggested it (again), and I’m considering it. It’s early; there is time to make that decision, and no reason to rush. Circumstances can change quickly. What seems like a great idea in one moment, feels like a serious misstep in some other. Funny human primates with all their drama and dumb rules. I chuckle to myself; we work so hard to be unhappy sometimes – and we could choose differently.

Choose wisely. The menu is vast.

I sigh to myself, and sink into this pleasant moment. I allow myself to really enjoy the awareness of how pleasant this moment is. Comfortable. Quiet. Uncomplicated. Unbothered. Low stress. No drama. Like a compacted dirt path on a pleasant afternoon; easy. This too will pass. No kidding. Impermanence means moments are moments; they come and go. Life is not a static image, carefully staged to be just so, and remain thus. Life is lived, changing, variable, and filled with seeking, and being, and doing. Sometimes it feels “too busy” and too chaotic and just… much. This is not that. It’s a very pleasant moment that feels undefined and eternal – and that too is entirely subjective and impermanent. Just an experience. A moment. A perspective. It just happens to be so very pleasant that I find it remarkable. (Here I am remarking on it.)

There’s a busy day ahead. I sip my coffee and think about that, too. It is already time to begin again.

It’s easy to focus on the negative, isn’t it? Whatever is amiss right now, whether here or far away, is often so compelling we dive headlong into that mess, and give up on all the good things going on, too. We get mired in some bit of unpleasantness, large or small, or let conflict live in our heads, and forget to live our lives through any other lens. Yesterday was hard. I had a nasty headache that persisted through the day, I was cross from the moment I woke until I finally called it a night. It’s rare for me to be stuck in a bad mood for so long. I’m glad I woke without it.

Look, I’m not saying don’t protest injustice (please be safe, and please protest peacefully), nor am I discouraging you from speaking up about how you feel or what you are going through. (Use your words! Speak truth to power.) I am pointing out that the picture is nearly always bigger than the moment any one of us is in right now, and there are opportunities to get to a more positive outlook, and a better state of being. In some cases, it may take a night of good sleep, in others maybe a moment of perspective is all that is needed? You results may vary – I know mine do. lol Adulting is hard sometimes. I’m grateful that with expectation setting and taking care with my words throughout the day, the consequences of yesterday’s crappy headspace ended up being generally good; a deeper connection with my Traveling Partner, and no one having to go to bed mad or with hurt feelings (as far as I could tell). Win. Small wins matter; sometimes small wins are all you get.

Sometimes it’s a good idea to take a minute, and sort things out.

This morning, I’m thinking about “what’s good?” – because I spent too much time yesterday focused on the things that were off, or going wrong, or just seem crappy and unfair. My Traveling Partner was correct all those years ago, when he pointed out to me that my negativity was doing me real harm (in addition to being unpleasant to be around, generally). “Toxic positivity” is not the solution; this is not “fake it until you make it” territory, though speaking in terms of practices may suggest that it somehow is. It is more to do with perspective, and balance, and self-awareness, and consideration, and compassion – and the very real likelihood that most of the time, in most circumstances, things are not as bad as they may seem in the moment. Emotions like sorrow and anger and frustration are still valid useful emotions that tell us something about our experience. The way out is through – squashing our emotions does not resolve them. Forbidding ourselves to experience our feelings in order to more carefully craft a feigned pleasant exterior and a smile suited only to commercial purposes is not emotionally healthy. There is another path. Savor the small pleasures and simple joys. Enjoy each fleeting moment of delight unreservedly. Share kindness. Assume positive intent. Don’t take things personally. When hard times hit, the resilience you’ve built over time will sustain you. We become what we practice. (Practice calm, we become calmer over time. Practice freaking out over small things or losing your temper over small mishaps, we become less able to manage our emotions in a healthy way, and unable to maintain our perspective on events. Seems like we’ve got some choices.) I sip my coffee and think about it awhile longer. Am I satisfied with how I handled my crappy day yesterday? Mostly. Could I have done better? Probably. I have today ahead of me to do that; it’s a whole new experience, filled with new moments.

It is an ordinary enough Tuesday. I may even work from home. My Traveling Partner suggested it. I woke way too early for that, though, and I did not want my wakefulness to wake everyone else. I dressed and slipped away into the darkness – hopefully without waking everyone.

What’s good? This cup of coffee, actually. It’s pleasant, mellow, and no bitterness detected – characteristics I’d like very much to develop and deepen, as a person. I think most days I get pretty close. Progress. I think about the work on-site annual strategy meeting that I am not attending in person this week, afterall. Sure, I could get all wound up in whether not being there in person may “hold me back” professionally… or… I could focus on what’s good; I’m home, available to care for my Traveling Partner when he needs me, and not faced with the inconvenience, cost, fatigue, or risk of illness that inevitably comes with professional travel. What I choose to focus on may set the tone for many moments ahead of me. It’s not a new lesson for me – I knew it yesterday when I was mired in my bleak mood. I struggled to make an effective change, not because I did not know I could choose otherwise, but because making that choice in the first place was so fucking difficult in that moment. (Moments pass.) I’m not inclined to understate how difficult it can be to choose change, to go another direction, or to soothe an angry heart. Sometimes it is hard, and my results vary. I keep practicing because I keep improving through practice. It gets better. It gets easier. It gets more reliable – until at some point, on some detail of behavior, thinking, or character, I will find that I have changed.

Walking my own path, one step at a time.

What’s good? Right now the warmth and cameraderie of this chain cafe! It’s a silly thing, but heart-warming; the baristas here have gotten to know me by name, and are familiar with my early morning coming and going on these work days. I write quietly in the corner, people-watching a bit now and then, sipping coffee and reflecting on life. If I don’t come by, they notice. If I am wearing a frown for no obvious reason, they ask if I’m okay. It’s a very human experience of community. It’s good. I enjoy it, even when I’m headache-y and cross. Yesterday it was one of the highpoints of my morning – just that moment of recognition that I was not at my best and clearly having a difficult morning. “How’s the morning?” backed up with a concerned look, and authentic interest in the answer hits differently. I reflect on authenticity and sincerity. A much younger me might have sneered dismissively at the suggestion that these are character qualities with real value. That younger me was wrong about a lot of other shit, too. I chuckle with fond affection and a smile with a little sorrow at the corners; we don’t know what we don’t know, and we think we know a lot more than we actually ever could.

What’s good? Simple pleasures, like a hot shower, or a good cup of coffee. Unexpected delights, like a gift on a non-birthday, or a letter (or email) from a faraway friend. A pleasant moment over a cup of tea at the edge of my garden in Spring? Definitely good. An unexpected compliment is also good. I sip my coffee and think of as many little things that feel good to me as I can, and I turn those around “in the other direction” – so many are things I can easily do and deliver that moment of joy and delight to someone else. I smile thinking about it. Maybe this evening is a good one to write letters (or emails) to far away friends? Perhaps it is a good one to enjoy a shower with my Traveling Partner – or share a good cup of coffee together in the evening (I could pick up some decaf for me)? Is there some little thing I could give to a friend to demonstrate my affection? Perhaps I could invite my pleasant neighbor over for a cup of tea? The joy we give others is returned to us multiplied. There are verbs involved. Choices to make. Actions to follow-through on. Living life is not a passive process.

Seems to be very effective so far… probably doesn’t hurt that the path is mine, and that I choose it myself.

I sip my coffee. I think to message my Traveling Partner to let him know I will return home later, after he wakes, to work from home. Useful expectation-setting that I don’t expect him to see until he wakes later. Minutes later, he replies; he hasn’t slept as well as I had hoped, apparently, but lets me know he’s going back to sleep. I hope he does and that his rest is deep and satisfying. I know how rare that it is, and how much he needs it.

My coffee has begun to cool. There is a bossa nova playing in the background, reminding me of my grandparents and summers at their house; the favored radio station playing there was some sort of smooth jazz, and often featured samba and bossa nova music. It’s not music that I greatly enjoy, neither do I dislike it – it definitely fills me with nostalgia, and memories of a different time and place.

Meditation over coffee… like a sunrise in my thoughts.

What’s good with you? Take a moment to think it over (no need to get back to me, though I’d certainly make time to enjoy your comment and to reply, it’s really for you more than for me), especially if the here and now of your experience is difficult. Give yourself a moment to appreciate the things that are good. Let it lift you up and color your perspective. Go ahead and begin again. 😀

I slept poorly. Well, that’s not entirely accurate. I slept well and deeply until sometime after 02:00. My Traveling Partner was awake, in the other room, coughing. The coughing woke me. I went back to sleep, but from that point my sleep was shallow and interrupted, and I didn’t get much rest. I’m not even bitching, I’m just mentioning it as I sip my morning coffee and try to sort my thoughts into some kind of coherent bit of consciousness. I’m not “groggy”, exactly, just…disconnected and stupid. I’m feeling cross and out of sorts, and the morning is off to a somewhat poor start, but only because of the state of being in which I find myself. In the most practical ways, it is an ordinary Monday morning.

The font and type size look weird to me in the visual editor this morning, and I fuss with trying to figure out if they are actually different somehow, or if I “never noticed before”. There seems to be a lot of that kind of misleading bullshit going on these days; changes being made without notice to users on all sorts of apps and platforms. Updates pushing new integrated AI in a coercive involuntary way. Updates that impair user freedom and control over purchased hardware and software. Other similar shenanigans seeking to harvest just a bit more data (or money) from users. Having the cognitive quirks that I do, I definitely do notice. I dislike that I find myself trying to talk myself out of seeing what I think I’m seeing. That irritates me. I let it go altogether, because in this instance it does not matter at all that the font looks like a different one, and the type size appears smaller and more compact.

I sigh to myself. I’m vexed by pain this morning, on top of fatigue (they are ultimate related; I am less able to manage my pain when I am fatigued, and likely to feel it more intensely). I sit more upright, hoping that good posture will give me some relief.

…G’damn I’m in a shitty mood this morning…

I have The Clash “Know Your Rights” stuck in my head. In spite of making committed efforts to stay away from “the news”, I can’t help knowing that the masked government thugs besieging Minnesota have murdered another citizen, an American, a patriot, a legal-to-carry gun owner with his “paperwork in order”. His apparent crime? Well, apparently that’s not a requirement anymore, at all. The assault on our rights grows, and if it weren’t so incredibly terrifying (and depressing) I might find some measure of humor in the fact that this shit is coming from a Republican administration. It’s not about Republican and Democrat, it never has been, it is about power and greed on both sides of the aisle. Sometimes the scales tip briefly in favor of “the people”. Don’t expect it to last when it happens.

…Oh, yeah, really dreadful mood…

I cue up my playlist for trying times. I add a couple more tracks to it. I definitely don’t want to listen to pop songs or muzak this morning. My heart aches for fallen heroes, and those among us willing to speak truth to power – and pay the price. Dark days, America. Get your shit together before you lose everything.

My phone rings. Unexpected at 05:30. I answer it reflexively; I have been caregiving for a couple of years, and any time I step away from the house, I feel uneasy and alert for some need that may arise that requires me to hasten home. The voice is familiar, but I don’t place it immediately. An old friend from my years on active duty, calling to let me know he’s reached a breaking point, himself, an just… can’t. My heart pounds. (G’damn, surely he’s not calling me to tell me he’s going to end his life? I don’t think I could bear it.) No, it’s not that bad, but it’s a big enough deal that he wanted to tell someone, and somehow that someone is me. He’s moving to New Zealand. “As far as I could go away from here, before someone burns it all down,” he says. He asks me if I think he’s overreacting? I don’t think he’s overreacting at all. I might do something similar if my circumstances permitted it, and just yesterday my Traveling Partner and I were talking about maybe selling our lovely cozy home and going…somewhere else. Quieter? Fewer neighbors? More space? All of that, and a few other things besides. Maybe we will… I find myself wondering how many citizens have emigrated out of the United States since the first Trump presidency, and whether that has accelerated since he was re-elected?

My work trip to San Francisco unraveled, doesn’t much matter why, and I’m not alone in it. The winter storms have thrown transportation into chaos. Can we agree that a late January travel date for a work event was predictably short-sighted? lol

I’m realizing it is likely to be the sort of day on which I am prone to discontent and finding fault. That’s not going to be a particularly pleasant experience. I sigh to myself and ask the question “are you going to stew in it, or are you going to make a change?” It’s an important question and wants an answer. I feel myself set my jaw, full of resistance and irritation, like a kid asked to clean their room on a beautiful day. I don’t want to have to be bothered with being accountable for where I am with my experience, right now. I’d rather be peeved and pick at my grievances as if they are wounds. Ridiculous. Now I am both the woman in a bad mood, and the woman irritated by a woman choosing to be in a bad mood. lol Layers of irritability. It’s pretty silly, but acknowledging that isn’t getting me off the hook for the work involved in changing it – or the choices or practices required to do so. My black mood feels justifiable and vindicated…but it’s honestly just a bad mood. I’m in pain and I didn’t sleep well. It doesn’t need to be anything more than that.

Another sigh. Another sip of coffee. I ask myself where would I be and what might I be doing if I had the means to go anywhere at all and do anything I cared to do? Moments fill my recollection; morning coffee on the shore, or near a beach, or out among the trees in some silent ancient forest, or a quiet cafe in the 1st arrondissement in Paris… I like to enjoy my coffee with a bit of a view and some solitude in the morning. In that sense, generally speaking, I’m pretty much already doing that thing, eh? I sip my coffee grateful for the moment of perspective, even feeling a tiny bit less cross. I guess that’s progress.

When what we’re doing doesn’t work, doing something different just might. I think about that, and enjoy my coffee before the work day. Soon enough, I’ll begin again. It’s not world-changing stuff, but if I can improve this experience in some small way, that’s still an improvement.

I was surprised to see a a shooting star streak across the sky, from behind me as I drove up the highway towards the trail I would be walking. It wasn’t yet daylight, still early, quite dark, and there it was, as if leading me onward. I always wish on a shooting star. My wishes silently tumbled into one another, as I listed them in my head hurriedly, hoping to finish before the star had fallen and faded away…

…I wish I had more wisdom that I seem to, and better judgement…

…I wish people would be kinder to each other, more open to each other’s differences, more compassionate…

…I wish there were no yelling, no raised voices, no gunfire, no killings, no violence…

…I wish I’d do a better job at hurrying up and becoming the woman I most want to be – that I know I can be (with practice)…

…I wish I would listen more deeply, with greater patience, and more resilience in the face of strong emotion…

…I wish life felt simple and easy more of the time…

…I wish there more time…

…In the instant between when I spotted a shooting star passing overhead as I drove up the highway and finishing a hurried list of wishes, the star streaked forward, and began to fall, before it sort of seemed to burst like fireworks ever so briefly, like a punctuation mark at the end of a sentence, and it was gone. A fleeting moment of hope, and a wish (or two) for more, or better, or… other than what is. A futile child’s game, I know. Wishing doesn’t change reality at all. It takes much more work than that.

My walk was lovely. Nice morning for it, although it was quite cold. It’s later now. Eventually my arthritis pain caught up with my headache. Strange day. It began well. I felt quite loved, cherished, and appreciated…until suddenly I didn’t. Humans being human. It’s hard sometimes. People say unkind things they don’t mean to people very dear to them, or deliver very ordinary things in terribly unpleasant tones of voice, and all the love in the world doesn’t change that. Hurt feelings… hurt. I remind myself to “let small shit stay small” and not to take things personally. It still stings when someone dear says something hurtful. Resilience is helpful, sure, but g’damn I’d really like it to matter less. I’d like to hear the words, reflect on the message, and not have it fired at me as an emotional weapon. Or… I’d like not to feel it in that way. That’s the not taking it personally piece, and it’s a difficult practice. Human primates take so much shit so very personally.

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

Human primates are emotional creatures. We feel. Our feelings matter. The complicated bit, for me, is often simply to avoid fusing with the emotional experience of my dear one (whoever that may be in the moment) – to maintain my separate self, my own perspective, my own values and awareness and agency. Getting it right means being fully accountable for my words and my actions – if I’ve royally fucked up (or if I haven’t), and even if the person I’m talking to just doesn’t see it from the same perspective at all. How does that work? I definitely need more practice.

I could bitch more. I could go on and on about it awhile. I could remain stuck here, angry, frustrated, vexed, hurt, wishing for more or different, or for someone to fix something. That’s not how change actually works. Just sitting around wishing doesn’t change anything at all. There are verbs involved. Boundaries to be set. Limitations to be expressed. Hurt feelings to be soothed. Amends to be made. Reality gets real, sometimes, and crying about it isn’t supremely helpful (it’s just a bit of stress relief). It’s important to use my words, to speak gently, to listen deeply… sooo many verbs. Choices. Actions. I need more practice.

I’m tired and my head hurts. I remind myself this is one moment of many, and that it has been a lovely day but for one moment. I breathe, exhale, and relax, and try to keep things in perspective. The way out is through. The lessons aren’t “easy” – or there’d be nothing to learn. I give myself a moment, and then I begin again.

My sleep was poor last night. Frequently interrupted by one noise or another, but also sometimes just because I simply woke up for no obvious reason. It’s fine. I’ve had a problematic relationship with sleep all my life. I finally woke at a time sufficiently close to the time I generally get up that I went ahead and got up. Would it be coffee or walking? The forecast suggests coffee – another freezing morning. I dress and head out, hoping that I avoided waking anyone, and grateful that in spite of my restless night I’m not feeling groggy.

Each time I woke during the night, I’d turn over or shift the covers or fluff my pillow seeking new comfort, eventually returning to sleep (once waking from a deep sleep surprised to find myself waking; I had been dreaming I was awake, laying there in the darkness lol). I wasn’t stressed or anxious over being wakeful, it happens. Insomnia lost a lot of its power over me when I stopped being anxious about the insomnia itself, or the lost hours of sleep. (Now and then, if wakefulness overtakes me more thoroughly, I just get up, read or write or paint or meditate for awhile, but last night wasn’t that kind of night.) I woke often, returned to sleep eventually, and repeated that experience several times during the night, about every 90 minutes or so. I’m okay for most values of okay, in spite of that. I couldn’t get by on this kind of shitty sleep indefinitely (although I have in years past). I may be tired to the point of being fairly dull or actually stupid later today; I remind myself to get important cognitively dense tasks and work requiring focus knocked out early in the day.

Perspective is a big deal; the spiders in life are not actually as big as they sometimes look.

The restless night causes me less concern that this feeling lately that I “just don’t want to be part of any of this”, and a latent yearning to “walk away” from “all of it”. I know myself pretty well. There’s nothing specifically “wrong” such that resolving that would clear up this feeling, it’s more to do with just not being easily able to get a particular need met well in a way that satisfies it (a need for solitude and a break from emotional labor). I struggle to escape awareness of all the madness going on in the world, and every day there’s some new bit of unbelievable petty unfathomable craziness from the demented elder cohort leading the nation (the cruelty of this adminstration is astonishing and revolting). It stresses me out even to the minmal degree news reaches me at all. (I’m really trying to avoid it for my own sanity.) I’m still – to an extent – in a caregiving role, and present circumstances being what they are (economically, financially, socially…) I can’t just drop everything and check-in to a beachfront hotel, turn my notifications off for a a long weekend, and just paint, and write, and be alone. (In 2023, I could get an off-season room on the coast for $40-$50 per night, right on the beach. Now even off-season rooms are $200 per night at old rundown motels on the other side of the highway, with no view or beach access.) It’s definitely too cold (for me) for camping, too. The time is not now. I’m tied to this experience by the requirements of work and life, the limitations of my circumstances, and I’m reluctant to tell people I care about to fuck off (for awhile) and just leave me alone. I want very much to meet my need for solitude without causing anyone pain or suffering or hurt feelings (creating chaos and drama while seeking to escape chaos and drama defeats the purpose entirely). Anyway, I’m painfully aware that regardless, I’d be dragging my baggage with me, and it is in fact something within myself that I’m seeking to evade, escape, or “fix”. Reliably. I sigh at the inner recognition and acknowledgement. So… what to do about it, though? I sip my coffee and reflect on that awhile.

As with any choice, there are verbs involved.

I find myself feeling sympathetic towards the Anxious Adventurer – this “self-awareness”, and “self-reflection” stuff isn’t without its challenges, and this human journey that is so much about self-discovery and growth is not an easy one. We are each having our own experience on a journey without a map.

Walk your own path, choose your own verbs, and build your own practices.

It is Friday. The weekend is ahead. I breathe, exhale, and relax. A week of working from my employer’s San Francisco office follows the weekend (I fly down Tuesday, return home Friday night). I smile at myself for the tempting thought that I might get some solitary time, if only in the very early morning and in the evenings after work, while I am in San Francisco, but it didn’t work out that way last time at all. The opportunity to collaborate with colleagues in a shared space resulted in longer work hours, and no time alone of note. The company puts us up in a comfortable clean hotel, and I’m grateful for that. I will probably sleep well, but I don’t expect much solitary time, or leisure unless I make a point to carve out time for myself and set very firm boundaries. I smirk at myself knowingly; it’s a coin toss. That’s why I keep practicing; I clearly need the practice. lol

Perspective is sometimes about the view from a singular moment. If I stand somewhere else, doesn’t my perspective change? 🙂

I sigh to myself. I’m okay for most values of “okay”. Life is pretty good, most of the time. Hell, I may not have slept well, but the morning is not as cold as forecast, my headache isn’t bad, my arthritis pain is well-managed – I feel okay. Things could be worse. A lot worse. I’m bitching that I don’t have everything, and can’t satisfy every need I have or soothe every emotion I feel. Shit, we’ve all got problems, right? This journey isn’t effortless or infinitely pleasant, and our “second dart suffering” is the larger share of our suffering for much of our mortal life – and we can make choices that reduce that a lot. I breathe, exhale, and relax, and make a point to let go from clinging to my suffering. In this moment, here, now, things are pretty much fine. Good coffee. Warm cafe. Pleasant music in the background. A weekend just a few hours away. Less than usual physical pain. What is there to suffer over, really? I mean, right here, right now? I’m among the very fortunate; I have a paying job, a cozy home, medical care, potable drinking water, and there are not bombs dropping here, nor am I at high risk of being assaulted or kidnapped by the government thugs roaming our communities in masked packs. Viewed that way, it’s more than a little annoying and self-indulgent to sit here with my hot coffee on a cold day bitching about not being able to get away (from my pleasant life)! I chuckle softly to myself; I am a human being, being quite human.

My coffee has gone cold. Tepid, at least. I don’t really care; I notice and move on. The clock keeps ticking. The music plays on. Daybreak will soon touch the horizon. The pings on my consciousness of various notifications start piling up. Seems like a good moment to begin again. I wonder where this path leads?

Once we choose our path, we’ve still got to walk it. The journey is the destination. 🙂