Archives for posts with tag: mindful love

Today is an odd sort of day. It feels like one of those filled with moments filled with waiting. I’ll wait another day to see my traveling partner. I also wait to begin work. With a background check in progress, I suppose I also wait for that outcome, in the background. 🙂

This morning I wait for the hour to be late enough to do laundry without disturbing neighbors who must share a wall with the laundry room. I wait for the next opportunity to hang out with a new friend. I wait for friends nearer at hand to wake for the day, or find a moment to drop by. I wait for water to boil for my second cup of coffee. I wait for the sun to rise a little higher so I can open the blinds and see across the meadow without going blind from the sun in my eyes. None of this is new, or a big deal; waiting is a thing we do. I do it most often when I am not here, now, fully present in this moment. I do it when I am focused on some future moment that is not now. Waiting is expensive, in terms of time and time management; it is generally not productive time, if left to be solely what it is.

I smile into my empty cup of coffee, having already forgotten I am waiting for water to boil, or that I was on my way to make a second cup of coffee. I am engaged in this moment, here, and these words. I’ve already moved on, in fact, from the thought of waiting to writing about waiting – and am no longer waiting, at all. Waiting is not only not productive, it isn’t particularly engaging, really. It’s the thing I’m waiting for that holds my attention, I suggest to myself, but I’m not sure that’s really true – haven’t I often fussed over the waiting, itself? Anticipation feels different from waiting.

I sit up straighter, thinking for a moment about my commitment to better health and fitness; no waiting required, just verbs. I breathe deeply, and relax, feeling my shoulders return to their natural place. Definitely no waiting needed for breathing deeply, or for relaxing. This moment, here, in the present – in whatever form it takes in this moment, now – isn’t at all about waiting. Time well-spent is rarely spent waiting, and far more often spent being.

Each time for the first time, each moment the only moment.  ~Jon Kabat-Zinn

Each time for the first time, each moment the only moment.    ~Jon Kabat-Zinn

This morning there is no time to wait. Today is a good day to be here, in this moment, engaged, present, available, connected… and not ‘device connected’, either – connected heart to heart, connected through eye contact, through shared conversation, through hugs, touches, kisses. Connected through mindful awareness. Connected through consideration. Connected now, because we’re all in this together. Today is a good day for a shared experience. There are verbs involved (and people). Your results may vary. 🙂

I woke this morning, before 5 am. The world is still dark. I make coffee, do some yoga, have a shower… still dark. The season is changing. I sip my coffee standing in the open patio doorway, feeling the chill breeze coming across marsh and meadow, peering into the darkness as if to see something known, but invisible. Something present, but not yet revealed. I enjoy the moment-as-metaphor quietly.

I sit down to write, and when I log on I receive an end of day message from my traveling partner, unnecessary, welcome, and heart-warming. He lets me know he is safe for the night, and settled in somewhere to sleep. He tells me he loves me. I read the words some minutes ago, and I am still smiling.

Today is a busy one. I woke early, and on some other day might have chosen to go back to sleep, if I could. Today, I could have, but choose instead to get up, get the day going, and be ready for the day ahead. Choices. Turns out to be a lovely morning to take note of how much later the sun is rising these days, as summer slowly turns to autumn.

Signs of autumn approaching, on my walk yesterday.

Signs of autumn approaching, on my walk yesterday.

I find myself caught up in my thoughts, this morning, disinclined to write them down, share them, or dissect them for greater clarity. I let them drift through my awareness unhindered: thoughts of love, thoughts of work, thoughts of grocery shopping, all equal in the moment that they command my attention, none so urgent that action is required. I sip my coffee, and listen to the distant sounds of construction crews nearby, starting the day. I hear the commuter train, further on, and the sounds of garbage trucks. Monday mornings are noisy, apparently, though I hadn’t specifically noticed before. (That I recall.)

My thoughts return to the weekend that is just behind me, landing rather gently on occasional moments of unsatisfied, unresolved, rather inconsequential ire that I had brushed aside, rather than deal with it frankly. What to do about those now? Actually… nothing. It’s incredibly poor form, hurtful, and not productive, to resurrect “old business” during new discussions, most particularly if unrelated. Even when the circumstance is definitely related or part of a series of things, I find it both rude and unhelpful, to have old business brought up as some sort of confirmation of a pattern of behavior – whether there is a pattern of behavior to discuss or not. Why? Well, mostly because it tends to fuel argument, discontent, and hurt, and seems to make it much more difficult, rather than less, to resolve conflict. It often leads to the sorts of “always/never” discussions that leave reason behind, but also don’t allow emotion to be felt, experienced, accepted, embraced, and understood – together. Old business tends to increase the likelihood that participants will cling to “being right”, rather than finding harmonious accord and simply loving one another. “Being right” is not especially important to love. I’d rather love well and deeply than be right.

I think this over more, recognizing that “feeling heard” is something I need. How often has the urgent desire to feel heard, to feel recognized, to feel understood, pushed me towards detailed documentation of a specific “issue” (for me) that put me at a disadvantage, or hurt me emotionally, such that I was then less able to actually talk about it, because I was so focused on proving it? It was a huge milestone to come to the understanding that emotions are 100% subjective experiences, based on our own individual perspective, and are not subject to argument or persuasion (or “proof”) at all! “You don’t feel that way” is not a thing that a person can say and be truthful about; we are each having our own experience. I know my own heart – and, if I’m honest with myself, only my own heart. All else is conjecture, assumption, supposition, guesswork, rumor, or second-hand information. (Calling our lover a liar when they share their feelings is… yeah, not very loving. 😉 )

I often find that discussion of emotion gets very complicated when a lover reflects emotions back at me, like a fun-house mirror. It’s not uncommon. I say something hurts me, my lover says it back – and sometimes as though they experienced it (or said it) first. There have been times when that has felt deceptive or manipulative to me (and times that it has been). There have been times when it has been a revelation that we share such a similar experience of each other. That, too, is subjective. I’m quite certain I’ve taken a turn on the very same behavior, myself, at some points. “The way out is through.” I only know one resolution: deep listening, compassion, non-judgmental acceptance – of self, and of each other. Arguing most definitely does not “work” – unless by “work”, we agree to mean “causes hostility, confrontation, undermines our affection for one another, and builds lasting resentment” – in which case it works very well. (I dislike arguing, myself, and find no value in it.) “Giving up” and “letting the other person win” is also ineffective; love is not a competition, and if the struggle is to be right, we’ve already lost. Love is not about being right.

So… I lose if I give up, and I lose if I strive to “win” or secure the accolades of “being right”… So, what then? Deep listening. (Oh, and stop trying to “win“!) Really listening, without waiting to talk, without holding on to mental notes about how that other person is wrong, without grudging them the chance to talk about how they feel, without resenting them for the feelings they have, and without taking their experience personally – really listening, to their words, and doing my best to understand what they seek to communicate, without criticism of how they choose to attempt to do so. Loving kindness helps, too. It’s worthwhile to at least go into an emotional discussion accepting that my lover is “with me”, not against me, and that their intention is something other than causing me pain, or creating conflict. It’s not always easy. Previous relationships that have failed on the rocky shores of emotional abuse or manipulation still have some power to affect my ease with love, or color my assumptions. Here too, there are verbs involved, and I slowly learn to choose differently.

I smile, sipping my coffee. My thoughts drift from the challenges to the things that feel so easy. The sky begins to lighten on the horizon. Commuter traffic becomes a background hum that is more continuous. I think about love’s delights, and also distractedly wonder if I would be more comfortable if I put on a sweater… My thoughts shift to the subtleties of comforting and being comforted, and what matters most to love. I think about my “Big 5” relationship values, and test my assumptions, again: Respect, Reciprocity, Consideration, Compassion, and Openness. There’s always benefit to more practice. I’m very human. I consider my relationship with my traveling partner; he’s very human, too. I smile, thinking of his smile. I finish my coffee.

Today is a good day to listen deeply, and to love without reservations. Today is a good day to test assumptions, and respect Wheaton’s Law.

Begin again. Seriously, whatever it is that’s just not working out well, take the morning as a starting point, and begin again. Do over! Be the person you most want to be – today. Now. The very next conversation. It may go very well, it may go very poorly – it may take practice to be who you most want to be, as a human being. The distance between one human being and her goals varies by human being. We are each having our own experience.

Begin again.

It may go well, it may go poorly – you can even begin again tomorrow. Again. Don’t like who you are, when you think about the person in the mirror? Make different choices. Use different words. Begin yet again. Do you. No one else can be the person that you are, yourself. There is so much more to being and becoming than school-job-car-career-marriage-house-children-retirement-death, isn’t there?

What about that story you want to tell?

What about that place you yearn to go?

What about that idea you have?

What about that skill you want to develop?

A novel doesn’t write itself when I am not looking at the keyboard. The beautiful poem in my  head doesn’t make it to the page without assistance. The walk toward the distance on which I might see many things isn’t going to unfold ahead of me without my also taking the steps. The painting I can see in my thoughts won’t hang on my wall – on any wall – unless I paint it.

This is my life. There are verbs involved. Every day, every moment, every choice, becomes an opportunity to be and to become more the woman I most want to be. I may never be a well-known author; I write nonetheless, and it is part of who I am. I am unlikely to be a famous artist; I paint, a lot, and the joy in it is the painting, itself. Over time I have come to accept as a given that it is the journey itself in which the value lies; destinations being so finite and limiting, are of far less importance. When I become focused on an outcome, committed to a result more than an experience, I lose my way, mired in bullshit, drama, and tedious details – and forgetting this is my life, worth living.

Is love a journey or a destination? Or... is love a verb?

Is love a journey or a destination? Or… is love a verb?

I spent last evening wrapped in love. I’m still so soaked, so saturated, so imbued with sacred sentiment it’s harder than usual to use practical language, clear simple words, sentences with proper grammar and form; my heart soars, and my thoughts are poetry. I love. I am loved. It’s so much more than enough…

…I am not so easily able to love like this, fully, reciprocally, tenderly, openly, and with great consideration, without loving the woman in the mirror, first – and with a very similar enthusiasm and passion as what I might show a lover. Of course, there’s always more to learn. I reach for “How to Love” for today’s studious reading, and “More Than Two“, also. Today seems a good day to study love, to give it the serious support and earnest dedication to learning that one might give to a college course needed to graduate. What could be more important to study than love, and loving? It’s certain that I could be better at it, however good at it I may be in some one relationship, or some one moment.

Today is a good day for love, for loving, for being the woman I most want to be. There are verbs involved. My results may vary. That’s all okay, too; love is enough. 🙂

I am thinking over the week to come. I won’t see my traveling partner again for a week, and sometime Thursday we’ll lose touch altogether while he’s away, and I won’t hear from him until sometime late Monday or early Tuesday. In all other respects, the next 7 days to come seems entirely ordinary in every way. It’s strange that the presence of one human being, the specific characteristics of one voice, one touch, one human being’s… way, can be so completely woven into so many other elements of my experience, isn’t it? I won’t actually be “without” him… not entirely; I am reminded of him everywhere I turn.

Love is everywhere - well, everywhere we make it.

Love is everywhere – well, everywhere we make it.

It’s a gray morning. Traffic in the distance sounds muffled. There is no obvious sunrise, just the day lightening from twilight to definite day time as I sip my coffee. I sit quietly. Writing isn’t so easy today. Some days the words queue up in my consciousness, sentences forming faster than I can type, ideas spilling messily onto the page. This morning? Thought. Consideration. The slow gathering of recalcitrant words. Sentences… sort of. My mind wanders to the lawn beyond the window, the caw of crows on the far side of the park, the morning itself. I am slow to wake fully. I continue to sip my coffee and consider the morning, and to wonder “what life is made of” other than details, choices, consequences and time? It’s not really fair to the topic to describe life with such brevity.

I ache from physical therapy, yesterday. The gray day hinting of rain ensures I don’t overlook my arthritis, either. No headache – that’s something.

A few words exchanged over instant message with my traveling partner makes my morning feel more “real”, more complete, and it’s something I will miss while he is away. This week we don’t travel through life together. We are each having our own experience. Sharing those details will come later. His absence feels more real this morning, having spent last evening together and knowing it’ll be one week from today before we can be in each other’s arms again. I keep coming back to it. Fussy and fretful in some moments, relaxed and content in others. How very human! 🙂

I don’t feel much like writing this morning. That’s come up a few times recently, since being emotionally attacked by someone I thought was a friend, on Facebook (a connection to my recent disinclination to write that I hadn’t previously made). It’s a feeling of subtle over-exposure, an awareness that, yes, people who don’t like me, don’t support my views, disagree with me wholly, find me without value – or worse – may also read my writing. It is, as they say, a free country. I am discomfited by that. It is a strange emotion to acknowledge, and one of the very few emotional experiences that has ever left me feeling reluctant to write. I am struck by the detailed awareness of something that has the potential to silence me as a human being. I don’t like thinking about the feeling; it is as unpleasant as feeling it.

IMAG8161

“What is life made of?” seems a good question to ask, and the answers I contemplate have their own value. “What silences me?” seems a terrifying question that I don’t want to ask, and have even less interest in answering – and I resent that. So. Perhaps I will spend this peculiar and rare solo week asking myself that question, and listening to the answers. Life’s curriculum reaches me in many forms.

Today is a good day to face the woman in the mirror quite fearlessly; we’ve been through a lot together, and I know she’s got my back. 🙂

 

This morning I woke with a Barry White song in my head, and thoughts full of love. 🙂 It’s a nice way to begin the day. I slept in, too, hours later than I typically do. I woke slowly. Yoga…meditation…walk…coffee… it’s a beautiful morning. I smile at myself cruising along powered by love, a seemingly limitless fuel from the perspective of this moment, right here. 🙂

Love matters most.

Love matters most.

I put on my favorite ‘sexy romantic’ playlist of love songs. It feels like that sort of day. I’ll see my traveling partner again tonight – I never tire of his warmth, his touch, his smile, his words. On my worst days, he can be such a calming presence. On my best days, he is pure joy. Sure, still human – aren’t we all? Our relationship is emotionally reciprocal on a level I find hard to describe. Is it enough to say that I return the favor – the love, the appreciation, the calming support – at every opportunity? (Depending on specifics, with greater or less skill – my results vary. Don’t yours?)

Love is reciprocal.

Love is reciprocal.

I sing love songs while I get laundry started. I realize with surprise that I’d wandered away from my writing without any particular awareness of being distracted by something else. I’m still smiling. Love tends to be somewhat distracting. lol

Love doesn't watch the clock.

Love doesn’t watch the clock.

I write today with new awareness of a pleasant bit of change; I feel love and I feel loved, and these feelings are not specifically dependent on today’s circumstances. They’re feelings. I have them. Some days I have them with similar intensity and a comfortably warm, merry glow, in spite of the circumstances of the day itself being fairly stressful or crappy in some way. Some days I feel love and I feel loved, even though I haven’t seen my partner, haven’t felt human touch, or interacted intimately with another human being, in days; today this seems very significant, if not understanding the experience then at least being aware of it, and valuing it. Today another puzzle piece drops into place, and I feel freed from some other bit of baggage – that bit that suggests love and being loved are dependent on circumstance, or the whims and moods of another. This morning it doesn’t feel that way at all; I am love, and my love is right here – to be accepted, to be returned or returned to, to be enjoyed, to be shared, to be savored, but it can’t be taken from me, or regulated, managed, parceled out, bought or sold, limited, or even destroyed. It’s mine.

Getting here was a journey - it is a journey to sustain love, too; there are verbs involved.

Getting here was a journey – it is a journey to sustain love, too; there are verbs involved.

The love songs have got me, this morning. I celebrate love. I want to shout “I get it now!” in some dramatic moment of hollywood-styled scripted enlightenment. I laugh tenderly and with genuine amusement at the woman in the mirror, recognizing that one element of my experience with my TBI is how completely unreliable my recognition of novelty is – maybe I’ve had this moment of recognition before? I’m okay even with that – how wonderful to recognize the mechanics of love, even for a moment?

Love is in the small things - strange for such a big deal.

Love is in the small things – strange for such a big deal.

I chuckle when I look back on what I’ve written so far this morning, and wonder if I am able to make any real sense on such an emotional topic when I’m immersed in it? I sip my coffee contentedly and note that the laundry will be finished soon…my ‘to do list’ this morning is a short one, and most of the day will be spent on study and meditation, until my partner returns to my doorstep, later. 🙂 Today is a good day to be love.

Love.

Love.