Archives for posts with tag: metaphors

Impermanence

Like a soap-bubble frozen in glass
deep blue in the sun
sometimes a shimmer or a shadow
a change in perspective
suddenly silver like a child’s drawing of the moon
on white paper
a simple blue glass gazing ball
old-fashioned novelty
garden accent
a fragile blue glass bead big enough
for a grown up.

Is it the way of things
to leave?
to be broken?
to be cast aside no longer valued?
no longer remembered?
The best things in life seem so fragile.

I will not see this blue ball again in my garden.
A replacement for another broken ball.
Tears falling.
Each one a precious something
or other
remembered for a fleeting moment of sorrow
to be replaced by another.
Or forgotten.

Another tear.
Another glass gazing ball.
Another sorrow.
Another “I’m sorry”.
Another moment.
Another celebration.
Another memorial.
Another love.
Another life.
Another garden.
…If only my memory were not also impermanent.

The gazing ball, a gift of love, that was broken today.

The gazing ball, a gift of love, that was broken today.

Sometimes the path is clear.

Sometimes the path is clear.

I had an interesting dream last night.  I found myself before a big ornate door, dark and imposing, and I felt a sense of uncertainty about where I was, and where I was heading.  I knocked on the door and as it opened felt I was standing before ‘the heart of the universe’.  A woman answered the door; a woman of uncommon beauty and serenity, with laugh lines rather than wrinkles, and of an indeterminate age that only seemed ‘not young’. She radiated calm, compassion, and wisdom.  She smiled and sunshine broke through clouds I hadn’t even seen.  She wore my face, but seemed somehow unknown to me in the course of my own experience of life.  I felt her inquire in a questioning way, but wordlessly, and what I thought I heard was more an assurance than a question “I can help you with this.”  I replied simply “Where am I going?” and felt we were truly somehow saying the same thing – as though questions and answers are entirely interchangeable.

I was suddenly in a sunny meadow walking alone, only remembering her, and her words and a big map, with a convenient ‘You Are Here’ arrow. “If your focus is on just one element of the journey, how will you find your way?  Consider the method, the map, and the destination, or be lost aging, not growing.”  She pointed to the map, “You Are Here is where you are, not where you are going.  We don’t choose where we start, we start where we are – and choose our destination.”  I had wanted to ask her again, ‘Where am I going?’, but her compassionate smile stopped me.  She held the door for me then, gesturing to the world on the horizon, “I can’t be you, now, you are not here, yet.  Soon enough, if you follow your path…”   I shaded my eyes from the sun as I stepped into the bright light of day… and woke suddenly, in my dark room to the eager beeping of my alarm clock, and a new day.

It lingers with me even now… “We don’t choose where we start…”

Spring flowers along the way

Spring flowers along the way

I wonder what the journey will be like…who I will become over time… how life will change me… how I will change life around me… now where is that damned map… 😉

A Person comes to a Friend bereft because a Loved One offered poison to drink, and having consumed it, this Person was in terrible pain and agony. The Person and the Friend commiserate at length the nature of the crime, the motive to offer poison, the sort of poison it was and how agonizing the pain. For days they spoke and there was no relief from the agony. The Person and the Friend went to the Law to address this grievance, and the Law spoke at length on the punishment suitable to the crime, depending on the sort of crime it could be determined to be. For days the Law spoke and there was no relief from the agony. The Person went far and wide with the pain and the agony, speaking at length with other persons, looking for agreement that a crime had been committed. The Person railed at and against the Loved One, demanding redress, acknowledgement, change and even vengeance, and shared the anger and pain and terrible agony far and wide with many other Persons.

One day, the Person met a Wiser Person and related the tale and the pain and agony of having been given poison by a Loved One. The Wiser Person listened carefully, and asked “Why did you drink it?”

Hmm…

I read something recently that gave me some clarity around the emotion of anger, but differentiating clearly between the emotional experience (‘the feeling’) of anger, and how it moves us to behave (‘the expression’) being called hostility, instead of also calling that anger. Nice wordsmithing, actually, because that actually gave me a foothold on greater understanding of a complicated piece of my experience.  Anger isn’t pleasant, but the emotional experience is pretty personal, and limited to the individual experiencing it – until they share it with another, in the form of hostility, and it isn’t all that different from offering someone poison… but if I am offered poison, in theory, I don’t have to drink it. 😀

Yesterday I woke in a good mood, but considerably sicker than the day before, and drained, exhausted, and suffering a pretty horrible headache, too. The morning went sideways when my limited emotional reserves met real-life unexpectedly – and it really was as if someone I love had walked right up and handed me a cup saying ‘here’s this poison, I made it myself, have some?’ and sure enough – I drank it right down. lol. Learning compassion and practicing mindfulness haven’t put me beyond the realm of human experience, for sure, and I not only took the whole mess quite personally, I over-reacted more than a little. As sick as I was, my supply of good decision-making was also diminished and I found myself out in the world, walking and crying like a madwoman, and under-dressed for the weather, which was a dumb choice since I was already ill. All too human, right? lol. I sort of ‘forced myself’ to make some better choices; to go home, to have some calories, to rest, to let the small stuff go, and sure enough things sorted themselves out – because it wasn’t my experience that had me wound around the axles in the first place, and I didn’t really have to drink that poison.  I am hoping to learn how to politely say ‘thank you, no’ when I find myself ‘offered poison’ in the form of someone else’s anger being directed into my experience as hostility…

Other ‘cups of poison’ being handed round recently include a variety of news articles about rape and rapists, after the news about the Steubenville rapists being convicted.  Another blogger really ‘gets it’; being sympathetic to the convicted rapists rather than to the victim is more than inappropriate, it is offensive. They said it better than I would have, and it’s definitely a share-worthy message.  I’m glad I’m not reading/watching media news right now – the heinous insensitivity of the talking heads on parade could easily have triggered my PTSD for weeks, and I just don’t need it.

It’s a good Monday, in spite of being sick, and I am eager to be well and able to enjoy spring.

Welcome to Monday. A good one so far, and I’m glad for it. I thought thoughts walking in to work, and some of them may have been profound, possibly share worthy, but by the time I got to work there were really only two things, distilled from almost an hour of walking meditations, that I still wanted to share:

1. It was an overall good weekend – except for the sucker punch my brain delivered to my heart, soul and experience on Sunday morning. Wow. Lethal. I am more thankful than words can express that I have partners with the will and ability to ‘be there for me’ as much as they are, as often as they are, and considering how easily I can, and how often I have, hurt them. I am also extremely appreciative, this morning, that I am alive today – funny thing to say, perhaps, but if you could know the experiences I have already survived across 49 years, it would seem less surprising that I might feel so grateful that existence – mine – continues today. 😀  It is certainly something to cherish, celebrate, and enjoy – even the difficult bits.  So that’s one thing to share.

2. A metaphor… I love music. I started thinking about life and music… and I got this.  There is more than one sort of musician. A skilled studio musician may be a virtuoso with an instrument, or style, well-versed in technique, reading music, bringing ‘a sound’ – and creates music with those tools and skills, but perhaps doesn’t compose or create.  A DJ makes music too – using other people’s music, samples, their own creativity at mixing, bringing elements of varied styles together to create a sound, but perhaps doesn’t have the technical expertise about music theory that might be expected or found more commonly among very technically proficient musicians, or virtuosi.  There are also ‘rock stars’ – gifted performers, composers, musicians – beings of amazing style and ability to capture or drive the zeitgeist, to influence or herald social and cultural change, and I’m sure we’ve all noticed they are not always exceptional or gifted musicians.  In life – which of these am I, I wondered? I realized pretty quickly that although there are qualities of each of these I would very much like to embody, I am probably that guy in his garage with a beat up instrument he got cheap in a pawn shop, who hears music in his head, loves to listen to his favorite tracks and sings along with all his favorite songs… and can’t read a note, and barely picks out a modestly recognizable rendition of the guitar riff from ‘Smoke on the Water’, slowly. That’s not a good or bad thing… but it is sure important to know that about oneself. 🙂  If that guy sticks with it, learns some basics, and figures out what he really wants out of music (life), and applies himself to achieving those goals, he’ll probably get somewhere worth going… on the other hand… if he struts around like a rock star, telling his friends he’s awesome, and showing off what he doesn’t understand… well… I know that guy. You probably know that guy. In life and love, I think I am that guy… and I have a choice to make. I choose to be a humble and honest student of life and love… there’s plenty to learn.   (Thanks, Brain, this one almost makes up for your shenanigans yesterday.)

…and now back to our usual Monday line up… 😉