I’m sipping my coffee in the office, thinking about things that have nothing whatsoever to do with work. I’ve got surgery tomorrow (minor), and a day off for recovering after that. The weekend is ahead, but I’ll likely be at least somewhat impaired (due to the specifics of the surgery). Doesn’t really matter, I’m just letting my mind wander, thoughts drifting by like clouds on a summer day. “Nothing to see here.” I’m just enjoying my coffee and a few minutes before the day begins in earnest.
…Clear liquids only for the next 24 hours (I say that like it really matters, but I don’t guess it does)…
I breathe, exhale, and relax. The steady wush of the ventiliation in the background does not blot out the whine of my tinnitus. I notice it, but I let that go – it’s not “important” or relevant to the moment (or to most moments), it’s just an irritant (if I focus on it for too long). Pleasant enough beginning to the day, I guess. There’s nothing wrong here. The sky is gray with heavy summer storm clouds – no colorful sunrise. My back aches. I put that out of my mind, too, as much as I am able. There’s nothing much to be done about it.
I sit with those thoughts that linger, making room for gratitude and thoughts of my garden. I feel fortunate to have gotten to see “Golden Opportunity” bloom (for the first time since she was planted in 2021!), before the deer ate those flowers and every bit of tender new growth from that rose bush. Oh, sure, I fuss about it and it’s aggravating, but like many of life’s most useful lessons, if I make room in my experience to understand a bigger picture, and develop a more nuanced perspective, I could learn something that has lasting value. I sit thinking about what drives the deer to my garden each Spring and early summer, and what they don’t eat. I contemplate what I could potentially do to discourage them from eating my roses and tender salad greens without wrecking the aesthetic of the garden with a lot of ugly fencing. I look at pictures of my roses. The specific thoughts I think in this quiet time are less important than that I do take this time for myself, to “hear myself think”, each day. It is a means of building resilience, and also of ensuring that I feel appreciated and heard by the one person who has to listen to all of my chatter (and internal dialogue) – the woman in the mirror. Self-care matters. This is part of that.
I sigh to myself when I glance at the clock and notice the time. Of course. It’s time to begin again.
We must always take sides. Neutrality helps the oppressor, never the victim.
Eli Weisel, on the occasion of the award of the Nobel Peace Prize in Oslo, December 10, 1986
There’s not a lot else to say about that, is there? There are definitely some topics, events, and circumstances that don’t leave room for “being neutral” or “staying out of it”, aren’t there? Genocide comes to mind as a good example. How can a rational, emotionally mature human being be for genocide, ever? Trying to rationalize heinous acts by redefining them doesn’t change the reality on the ground, does it? I’m sipping my coffee thinking about war, and genocide, and violence generally, yes and even the bullshit pettiness and poorly managed individual anger that can lead so many individual human beings to commit some of the most terrible acts imaginable against other human beings. We put so much effort into teaching children to read, to write, to do basic math – and so little into teaching critical thinking or emotional intelligence. There’s no requirement for human beings to be so cruel, greedy, cowardly, or dishonest – we work pretty fucking hard to develop those characteristics in our children, and to reinforce them in each other. I find that whole idea pretty grotesque, honestly. We could do better.
Are we standing on the precipice of WW3? Who decides whether global conflict has risen to that level? Who decides whether any particular conflict in the world in which one nation seems to be taking bold steps to completely wipe out the population of the other is clearly definable as a “genocide”? Why the hell would we ever try to rationalize, justify, or excuse such horrible acts? “They’re our ally, so what they’re doing is not genocide” is not a sound logical argument. I sigh to myself and sip my coffee. I keep expecting humanity to grow the fuck up and stop using conflict as a tool, if only because it is wasteful, costly, and lacks any really good return on investment. It’s unfortunate (even tragic) that human primates are such greedy fuckwits.
…I’m cranky over this shit, but there’s nothing much I can do about it beyond not being that, myself…
I’m back to the routine of work. It’s a Monday, and the day begins well in this corner of the world. Ordinary. But… I’m not oblivious to the goings on elsewhere. The pointless violent bullshit mayhem and nonsense going on elsewhere taints my pleasant morning and seeps into my awareness. I sigh again. My headache is manageable. My back pain isn’t noteworthy. The day is neither too hot nor too chilly. It’s not raining. There are no bombs dropping, here. Still, I’m cross about this shit, and I feel my chaos and damage loitering in the background. I was once a soldier on a battlefield. Another sigh. I don’t feel free to cry over it; I’ve got a week of work ahead of me, and only three days to do it. Busy life. Errands. Housekeeping. Making meals to feed my family. Tending my garden in spite of the fucking deer eating my damned roses (again). Putting away laundry. Catching up on work email. Staying on top of my task list and doing my damnedest not to forgot some important thing or another. It’s much. Right now it feels like “too much” and I am on the edge of fury – not because there’s anything wrong here, I just feel the weight of the world and my concerns about global conflict keep trying to spin up, causing my anxiety to flare up as latent anger.
I breathe, exhale, and relax – let all that go by an act of pure will, and try to begin again. I repeat this several times. It’s seems clear I’ll be having to work at managing this for awhile, since the asshats in Washington DC can’t seem to behave as rational adults. Fucking hell. War? Still? Really? I keep thinking we have what it takes to be better than this, then I remember the assorted bullies, grifters, and morons we’ve elected (time and again, honestly) – we have a long way to go. Stupid is just every-fucking-where. I’m so over it.
…But… I’m angry about it, not sad, not demoralized, not in a state of despair. I feel bitter. Cynical. Disappointed in humanity. Annoyed by greedy billionaires and politicians. Frustrated by our Dunning-Krueger government. And? It’s not something I can “fix” through some specific individual act. Hell, I can’t even prevent other seemingly intelligent people from supporting this craptacular boatload of bullshit. It’s all very irritating – and I am irritable as a result.
Breathe.
Exhale.
Relax.
Begin again. Don’t take anything personally. Do your own best. Practice non-attachment. Results may vary. We become what we practice. There are verbs involved.
I sip my coffee and let it go. Again. The clock is ticking. We could do better. I can at least do better myself through my own actions and choices. That’s going to have to be enough to get by on, maybe for awhile. I’m not telling you what to do or how to think, or even making suggestions. I’m just sitting with my thoughts on a Monday morning, annoyed with what a shit show the world happens to be presently, and practicing some self-soothing, as much as I reasonably can, and hoping that maybe it helps me get over my irritable mood. There’s really nothing going on right here, now, that would lead me to be so fucking cranky. I can do better.
So, I do. Again. Breathe, exhale, relax. Let it go. Repeat as needed.
The sun rose red on this new day. I don’t know that it means anything, but it was quite a spectacular sight as I drove in to the office. It’s a new day. A new opportunity to be the person I most want to be. I’ll have to keep practicing.
I’m sipping my coffee in that pleasant space between finishing the budgeting for this pay period and digging into the work of the day. There’s a cloudy sky beyond the window of the office, and the morning termperatures are cooler than they have been – of course; I’ve got a camping trip planned, so obviously the weather will turn chilly and possibly rainy. LOL
A moment of celebration, love, and delight; delicious, and worth savoring.
I smile every time I think about my birthday. What a lovely day, and in every regard thoroughly satisfying. Oh sure, more money/youthful energy/time perhaps it could have been more elaborate in some way, or involved other activities, but frankly the day’s simplicity and very high “chill factor” made for a completely delightful experience that met my needs. I feel loved and appreciated and celebrated. It’s a pleasant feeling, and I sit with the recollections, savoring them and sipping my coffee. 62, eh? So far, so good. I certainly feel more prepared to handle adult life and challenges than I did at 21. Or… 30, 40, 45, 50… I am, as they say, “a work in progress”. The profound value of incremental change over time is that it is a reliable path forward toward other (better?) things. I am more the woman I most want to be than I was in any prior year, and I keep making progress as a human being, learning and growing – and practicing.
I’ve learned some things over time, and I’ll share them (though I suspect we’ve all got to learn things our own way, and walk our own hard mile, regardless how much wisdom or knowledge may be available at our fingertips). I’ve learned that:
there is no rational justification for genocide, ever.
governments wage war because war is profitable.
human beings will persist in confusing anecdotes with data and can be easily mislead.
some people prefer to bitch about crap they could easily change rather than do the work to change it.
it is possible to find joy amidst chaos and tragedy.
change is, and although it can’t be prevented or avoided, it can be embraced and guided.
terrible hateful people walk among us, and they look like everyone else.
it’s very hard to be angry and grateful at the same time.
we can each choose our own path.
there’s always more work to do, and it is important to take breaks, and rest.
no one “makes it” on their own.
we can choose what we fill our thoughts with.
character and ethics matter, a lot.
if your only argument is name-calling or personal attacks, you have lost that argument (whether you accept that or not).
when “choosing sides” it is important to be clear about what the side you choose actually stands for.
critical thinking takes more work than most people are willing to do.
most of the things in life we stress out over aren’t actually worth that amount of emotional energy.
sometimes the “easiest” path requires the most work.
we become what we practice.
It’s not much. Certainly I’ve learned more, other, things – or – maybe I haven’t? Sometimes some lesson I thought I’d learned comes back to bite me because I had not truly put what I thought I learned into practice, reliably. Words are easy. Deeds…? That gets more complicated, doesn’t it? I feel my smile take a somewhat cynical twist, and sip my coffee. Life is a strange journey without a map, toward a destination we don’t necessarily choose with our eyes open (or recognize when we approach it). It’s a bit like seeing a funhouse mirror suddenly snap into a very clear focused reflection when I find myself very clear on some detail that had previously eluded me. My results often vary, and there are so many verbs involved…
The site I reserved for my upcoming camping trip, from the perspective of a moment in time 10 years ago.
It hits me in a moment what I really want out of my camping trip next week; time with my thoughts. I don’t really feel inspired to paint (yet), or even to take photographs (though I know I will). I want quiet solitary time with my thoughts, and a pen and some paper. lol Very low-tech, no fancy techniques, tools, or apps required; I want to walk trails, and watch clouds, and meditate. I want to breathe the Spring-becoming-Summer air, and take a closer look at the moss, the lichen, and the wildflowers. I want to sit quietly watching a braver than average small creature approaching me slowly with curiosity. I want to feel the weight of the world lifted from my shoulders because for a little while it will have nothing whatsoever to do with me. I want to “give my soul a rest” from the chaos of the world. I want to miss my Traveling Partner, because through missing him I discover again how deeply immersed in this love I really am. I want to unplug from the rest of the world and reconnect with my own deepest inner self. I sip my coffee and laugh to myself – seems clear enough. Now I’ve just got to do the verbs. lol
The clock ticks on. 62 now, and for the next 364 days to come. I hope I make good use of my time. I hope I live well and wisely, and love deeply. It’s time to get started on another year of living. It’s time to begin again.
I drove to the office this morning, watching the sun rise, and happily singing a fairly dreadful rendition of Three Dog Night “One is the Loneliest Number“, not for any particular reason, it was just in my head. I felt merry and at ease, and traffic was light. Lovely morning for a drive. Mt Hood was a soft mauve silhouetted against the pastel peaches and pinks of the dawn sky as the sun peaked over the horizon, a vivid firey orange. It feels like another hot day, and the forecast agrees.
Yesterday was lovely. I didn’t do much in the way of activities or chores or errand running, I just relaxed at home, watched a couple videos, and read the new cookbook my beloved Traveling Partner had given me as an early birthday gift some days ago. My Traveling Partner is correct when he observes that I rarely manage to sit through and enjoy an entire video I’ve selected, due to hopping up to help him out or handle some needful detail immediately when mentioned (otherwise I may forget all about it), and it is sometimes an impediment to really getting to relax and recharge. Yesterday, I even indulged a favorite personal preference in the world of online video content; a real-time walk someone took video of, through a place I’ll likely never visit. It was a walk through a famous buddhist site in Japan – no music, no chatter, no ads, just the walk through a beautiful space. Restful and inspiring, it was a relaxed and peaceful interlude to spend with myself (and for a little while, until he got bored with it, shared with my Traveling Partner; he definitely prefers a somewhat faster “pace” to life, and wandered off to do his own thing before the (long) walk ended). I enjoyed it enough for the time to be memorable.
Yesterday was “enough”. Most days are, actually. That nagging sense of striving and seeking and trying and struggling and working to reach some seemingly unreachable goal for some vaguely defined purpose that seems so unrelenting and commonplace is largely self-imposed. Meaning to say it’s something we willfully put ourselves through. I can let that go. (So can you.) Just because I don’t have something, or haven’t lived some particular experience, or achieved some point of success envied by others doesn’t mean I need that for myself. Like… not at all. I may not even want that thing for me, myself, if I take a moment to think it over. Sure, a new car might be nice… but I don’t actually need one. A bigger house on more land? Sure, there’d be more room to spread out, more room for storage, more room for this or that feature in life, more room for shop space, maybe more land for gardening, and even for chickens… that all sounds delightful, and I certainly would not mind. Hell, I’d embrace it (it would be ever so much less effort than managing things in this smaller space). It would be nice. But… It’s not necessary for most values of necessary. New clothes? Nice to have, but not necessary. Another rose bush? Another raised garden bed? Luxuries. Quiet days solo on the coast in some lovely beachfront hotel? We’re definitely talking pleasantly unnecessary now, aren’t we? It’s sometimes hard to discern the difference between “nice to have” and “necessary”. (Sometimes it’s pretty easy given adequate honest self-reflection.) How hard are you willing to drive yourself for the things you think you have to have in life? How much easier could life be if you only put that much pressure on yourself for things that are truly earnestly urgently actually necessary for your healthy survival, and leaving the rest mostly to chance, reliant on your wise decision-making generally, and skillful use of personal resources day-to-day and good planning?
What does “enough” look like?
I’m just saying, I guess, greed isn’t a good look, and it’s not a healthy character quality. I work a lot to let that shit go, and to cultivate a sense of sufficiency and contentment in my life. (Not past tense, I actively work on it.) I have what I need, generally. There are things I’d like to have or achieve, but when I’m being very honest with myself, they’re nearly all lavish extras that I don’t actually require to live a good life. It’s human to want more, better, and extra. It’s human to want to go and do and be. Ambition and aspiration are part of what we are, as human primates and thinking reasoning beings. On the other hand, discontent and dissatisfaction and greed are also part of our very human struggle to be and become, and these tend to foster a lot of unpleasantness, anxiety, frustration, sorrow, and struggle. I try to balance any yearnings for things I don’t have or have not achieved with frank reflection on (and gratitude for) those things I do have, that I have achieved, and that I am fortunate to enjoy day-to-day. The result of this practice is that I’m generally contented much of the time now, and comfortably able to enjoy my life as it is, and appreciate how good it does tend to be. It’s human to want, it’s human to struggle – it’s a better experience to find a sense of sufficiency to rest in. It’s a practice, and there are verbs involved. (And no one can do this work for you; you’ve got to walk your own path.) No overnight results, but it has been very much worth the effort. I’m able to say I’m happier for it.
…It’d still be nice to have a bigger house, with a larger bit of land under it (I do truly love my little house and I am happy here)…
I enjoy the roses blooming in my garden – there are still weeds to pull and work to be done, no getting around it.
I sip my coffee and smile quietly to myself. I am grateful to be in such a good place in life that seeking and cultivating a sense of sufficiency is something I have time for; this too is a bit of a luxury. (When we’re mired in struggle perspective can feel quite out of reach and seeking it may feel like a drain on our resources we can’t easily afford.) What is “enough”? Is it different for everyone? Is there some definition of sufficiency that is reliably true for every individual everywhere? What would that look like? Would it be a reasonable practical goal to ensure every human being has that minimum quality of life? What would that look like? Would I be content with the same “enough” that everyone else around me has, or would I find myself yearning for more? What about you? Do you “have enough” in life? What necessities are missing? If you do have “everything you need”, what are you still yearning for? Are you on the path that takes you there? Are you even willing to walk that path? Just thoughts I’m thinking over my morning coffee as the golden summer sun shines through the trees beyond the window of this office.
…If I were to change jobs, the view would change – would my thoughts on sufficiency change with my point of view, or my income?
Time spent in the garden isn’t always about labor.
I smile and think about my garden. I got way less done than I’d hoped to this past weekend. Turned out I needed something different in the way of self-care. I needed relaxed lazy time reading books and napping, and laughing with my partner. I needed healthy rest and easy-going companionship. I needed icy delicious strawberry granita made on a whim. I needed take out on a hot night instead of cooking in a hot kitchen. I needed to put my feet up, even though I also needed to get laundry done. I mostly did just those tasks that were required, and the rest of my time I spent on comfort and leisure, a rare treat in a busy life. I’m grateful I have that choice.
Life’s Strange Diner has a big menu, but it isn’t really possible to sample everything on it, however rich or fortunate any one person happens to be. We’re human, and live finite human lives. The clock is ticking, and there are choices and verbs involved. We can only do or carry so much. We can begin again, if we find we’ve fallen, or feel we’re on the wrong path, but we’ve got to do that work for ourselves, and each one of us has our own limits and limitations to deal with. It is an interestingly varied experience, this human journey. I imagine the menu in any diner, on any summer morning, and wonder what I might choose differently in this moment, given time to reflect on where this path leads, and what I really need in life? We can’t choose differently then, but we can choose differently now – what gets us “there”? Where does this path lead? The clock is ticking. What will I choose? Isn’t it time to begin again?
I’m sipping my coffee after a short suburban walk around the neighborhood where the office is located. In one direction, it’s all residential streets and quite cul de sacs, filled with pretty landscaping and flowers in bloom, and it makes a nice walk in the cool of the morning. It’ll be hot later on, and it’s clear that summer is approaching. I dislike taking my walks in the heat of the day, in summertime, so this early morning habit becomes quite a practical thing this time of year.
“Sweet Chariot” blooming.
I enjoyed the garden yesterday, and new roses intended for the bare slope beneath the back retaining wall finally arrived. They’re waiting for their moment for planting, which looks to be Monday since I’ll need help with that, and in the meantime they sit on the deck in partial shade, getting used to the climate and being watched and watered until Monday comes. R. eglanteria is a favorite species rose (for me), and I love the apple scent of the foliage and flowers. In the conditions here, it should root firmly, spread nicely without becoming “invasive”, and do an excellent job of preventing erosion where they are planted. I’m hoping that perhaps as they grow they’ll also be sufficiently interesting to the deer to distract them from my garden. lol (“Good luck with that, Lady, the deer are probably still going to eat your damned roses.”)
“Rainbow Happy Trails” blooming, each blossom like a tiny sunrise.
I think about other garden projects while I sip my coffee, and think ahead even to the autumn gardening plan. It’s not really time to bother with that, but it’s good to have a plan in mind. I giggle to myself when I realize I’m thinking about where to put still another rose or two, as if I haven’t already wedged in a ridiculous number of them for the space I’ve got. Most of the roses in my garden are smaller varieties (some are miniatures), which make good use of the limited space, and are uncompromisingly beautiful. In this case, size does not matter at all. I’m more interested in the health of the foliage, the beauty of the blooms, and the quantity and fragrance of those flowers. I love stepping out the front door and being immediately surrounded by an invisible cloud of sweet rose fragrances, which tend to “pool” in the entry way.
“Nozomi” thriving, in full bloom; she’s so thorny it is very difficult to weed her as much as she does need it.
I enjoy the sanctuary of my garden when I’m a bit stressed out. I love the moments I spend there daydreaming and reflecting on life when I’m feeling a bit stalled. I enjoy the practical metaphor for living that my garden represents, too. My garden teaches me, nurtures my spirit, and produces yummy vegetables, leafy greens, and moments of rest in a too busy world. I still have to work at it. We become what we practice. We harvest what we plant. There are verbs involved in life and gardening.
A tiny bug on my romaine.
I breathe, exhale, and relax. It’ll be late in the afternoon when I am next in my garden, watering, maybe weeding, planning the weekend project for better protecting the vegetable bed. I’m already thinking about it, which isn’t at all “being present in the moment”, because right now I’m in the office, beginning the work day. lol There are other things to do. Other places to focus my attention. Human primates are hilarious. I smile at my flights of fancy and eagerness to be in the garden; I don’t actually prefer to do the amount of work it takes to keep the garden beautiful, but it is work that must be done if I wish to enjoy a beautiful garden. There it is – the secret sauce to living well; do the work.
There’s also a certain amount of luck and happenstance involved…
I smile at the thought that “all it takes is hard work” – it’s a very “Republican perspective” on success, and it is misleading. Yes, it’s important to “do the needful” to succeed in life (or work, or love, or gardening), but also – there’s the matter of luck, good fortune, and circumstances being in favor of whatever thing I’m attempting to do. No one truly finds success alone, and while there are surely verbs involved, and yes the work we put in does have a lot to do with the success we find, there’s also no getting around the idea that we are each also very dependent on luck, and often the help of others. Maybe things just don’t go our way? Maybe the deer eat everything in our garden down to the ground and we’ve got to start completely from new seeds or plants and do it all over again? Maybe our crops become blighted, or consumed by some tiny creature? Maybe we become injured and simply can’t do the work required? I feel fortunate; although the deer ate my bean plants, those plants are recovering, putting out flowers, and seem likely to grow some actual beans before the summer is over. The tomatoes are also recovering. That’s a win, although it’s still possible the deer will have another go at my damned vegetables before I have a harvest. lol (It’s a helpful metaphor.) I’m fortunate that I also have help when I need it – I need only ask.
I sigh to myself and sip my coffee. It’s a lovely morning to be in the garden. I’m in the office. There are things to do here, too, and at least for now my time is not my own. I glance at the clock and admit to myself that the work day has begun. I look over my calendar, and my email. It’s time to begin again.
Evening Light 