Archives for posts with tag: mindful loving

It’s been the sort of day that just keeps dropping precious moments and opportunities to delight in one or another favorite thing or favorite place or favorite activity…so much so that, just at the moment, I’m not sure if any one of the day’s wonders are really ‘a favorite’ or if it is just the feel of the day.

Paperweights and Porcelain

Paperweights and Porcelain…

…A quiet morning, a great latte, a good conversation with an old old friend, a trip to a local farmer’s market, biscuits and gravy for breakfast, crisp fall apples, learning things from artisans, reading a moving story, enjoying my aquarium, a brisk walk on a fall day, gentle service to home and family – these are a few of my favorite things.

Enjoying the weekend. Another favorite thing.

I woke this morning after a night short on hours, long on dreams, and restless, very restless.  I woke a number of times during the night, returning to sleep with little effort.  My dreamscape was lively, surreal, and oddly persuasive on a number of random details that now seem to rate further thought by daylight.  I woke very groggy, to the strident beeping of my infernal alarm clock – it is rare to be asleep when it goes off, and it isn’t my preferred way to wake up.   I dragged my sluggish body down the hall and dumped myself in a cooler than usual shower hoping to find a legitimate state of waking consciousness I could count on for the start of the work week, and afterward made what can only be called the worst mocha ever made, which I steadfastly consumed without (until now) complaint.

I settled down to meditate, and didn’t get far with that; one of my loves joined me for morning coffee and conversation. We don’t overlap much with our schedules, he and I, and any time we have together is precious.  Email can wait, chores can wait, writing can wait; I cherish those brief quiet times together, so this morning even meditation took a back seat to love.  I’m okay with that. The time we had to share was so very brief.  Again and again my thoughts return to the morning, and a feeling of mild regret that I wasn’t more awake.  My thoughts ricochet around in my broken brain and I think of “Time Enough for Love” by Robert A. Heinlein. No reason beyond the title, I suspect, but it is an amazing tale of adventure, of love, of living a life wide open to endless possibilities, and above all – of being human.  If Heinlein hadn’t written anything more than the title, he’d have said enough.  I wish I’d known the value of love much sooner in my life.

Foggy morning

Foggy morning

The work day got under way in a most ordinary fashion.  Eventually it will end and I will head home.  If the weather is pleasant, I may repeat my 5k walk of last Sunday, to experience it in nice weather on dry pavement, and to confirm my suspicion that I’m actually sufficiently fit at this point that I could do it easily every week and gain a little more ground toward my fitness goals.  I’m so tired, though… will taking care of me mean getting to bed earlier, tonight, or will I choose, again, in favor of time with my dear ones? (One short night isn’t a big deal.  If I make a habit of it, the cognitive and emotional consequences become obvious pretty quickly!)

I’m still feeling a bit foggy.  Sleep would be good… but it is hours away,  In the meantime, work, and later chores, and assorted tasks on a lengthy ‘to do’ list, compete with any hope of an early bed time. lol. Welcome to adulthood.

It is a lovely sunny day, now.  I’m still thinking about sleep, and love, and romance, and how to bring new tools and skills forward into my every day experience.

…Oops…I’ve run out of words. lol. I’ll be back with more soon… In the meantime, I plan to go forth and live well and with compassion.  How about you?

I am awake before dawn, on a morning I had hoped to ‘sleep in’.  The rain is pounding insistently on the skylight, lest I overlook that it is raining. I enjoy rain, and the sound of it is slowly soothing my raw nerves. I woke face to face with my PTSD, in the form of profound anxiety, fear, a pounding heart, and a distinct awareness that ‘something’s wrong’.

It was quickly clear what woke me, when a firm click of a door elsewhere communicated what it could; frustration, hurt, anger, a limit reached, a moment passed… doors do not communicate with specificity, and it isn’t really possible to ask a door a clarifying question.  I dislike communication via door, whether it is a slammed door, or a firmly shut door, or simply a closed door that blocks communication in a non-verbal-message-sending way.  Doors lack precision for communication. So do drawers, windows, dishwashers, refrigerators, and all manner of household tasks and processes. These are not the tools of clear explicit compassionate communication, any more than yelling is.  We each have so much potential to communicate more clearly than via door – but I too have slammed a door, more than once.  😦

I am working on taking the approach that there is something to be learned here, or progress to be made – for me.  Maybe a chance to learn not to let doors talk to me in the first place? A door clicks closed; I hear the hurt feelings and rejection. Another click, firm and solid and no-nonsense; I may hear resolve and anger. Another click, a different room, a different hand perhaps; I could hear the sorrow, regret, and stress. The doors click closed. They open.  Occasional voices, and I put some space between my consciousness and the words; privacy matters, and it is a matter of respect and consideration.  We all have rough moments, bad times, things to work through. How do I take care of me when private matters between others impinge on my consciousness and drive my symptoms? Well, this morning, I meditated, then got up – sleep clearly wasn’t going to be possible at this level of wariness and anxiety – a latte just the way I like it [vanilla syrup, 4 shots of espresso, whole milk], and some quiet moments contemplating the falling rain.

This morning is an improvement over similar past mornings; I am calm.  I have a pretty serious aversion to angry confrontations, just in general.  Right now I am pleased to find that I am able to have my own experience, without becoming mired in unpleasantness borrowed from someone else’s experience.  A clear (and highly valued) improvement, for me, although I have to admit I don’t necessarily ‘understand’ this change on a level that would allow me to break it down by steps to see what exactly I am doing for this result.

I am able to have my own experience… this morning that has includes some moments of anger at being awakened on one of the rare days I could sleep in.  My experience includes feeling a bit uncomfortable about being able to overhear moments of private conversation, and regret that valued privacy isn’t ‘a given’ (pretty easy to hear through these walls).  My experience also includes feeling cheated out of a lovely morning with my loves, and some irritation about that, and recognition that the morning is far from over. Even sympathy, compassion, and sadness make an appearance this morning.  My feelings don’t seem unreasonable – and this morning they have not dominated my experience, or overwhelmed me. I felt them. I heard myself, and understand what my feelings say about my needs, and my now. Making room in my heart for my own feelings didn’t seem much of a challenge this morning… another improvement.

A rainy autumn sky.

A rainy autumn sky.

It’s later now.  It’s been about 2 hours since I woke to the sound of a door clicking closed. I’ve almost finished my latte. Daybreak has come, and the gray pre-dawn sky has shifted just a bit toward blue, still sullen, gray, and stormy. The trees beyond the window do a slow hula in the wind.  The house is snug and warm, and quiet.  I didn’t get to sleep in, but these quiet hours are precious to me,  and this morning they will not be interrupted by the realization that it is already time to go to work. That may be worth the unpleasant wake-up call.  The trees outside are whipped back and forth for a moment, as if nodding in agreement.  A difficult start to the morning, but it is no predictor of the day to come, and my ‘now’ is actually quite pleasant and serene.

There are only so many days, hours, minutes, ahead of us… and so much to yearn for, to learn, to do… today is Saturday, so for me it will be about mostly practical matters at home: laundry, gardening, a water change for the aquarium, getting ready for a new week and having a quick tidy ’round, in general.  These quite hours before the more organized hustle of task completion, and checking things off a ‘to do’ list, are precious, indeed. I enjoy taking some time for me.  🙂

I woke this morning filled with profound love; thoughts still ringing from love songs in my dreams.  The dawn came later than I expected, heavy with gray clouds and subdued by morning mist.  Quiet time with my thoughts of love and romance, and an excellent latte, preceded a lovely walk to the office.  I found myself wondering as I walked ‘is this what ‘whole’ and ‘well’ feel like?’

I am enjoying my experience.  It isn’t ‘perfect’ – whatever that may mean.  For now, ‘perfect’ doesn’t matter, because it isn’t real.  My arthritis is kicking my ass this week; I am in serious pain.  My headaches have been unusually severe, and frequent.  I am discontent, professionally, and often struggling much harder with my personal demons from day-to-day than I hope to in the future.  None of that stops today, right now, from being really quite nice.  (I re-read that sentence, and wonder how long I could have been simply enjoying my life in spite of the chaos and damage, had I understood the possibility existed?)

So… on with the day.  Love songs and delightful moments still lingering in my thoughts, and since they are really too personal to share I will share some of this morning’s pictures, instead.

No matter how small our world may appear to someone else, it is everything we know, ourselves.

No matter how small our world may appear to someone else, it is everything we know, ourselves.

The autumn garden has its own needs, and its own beauty.

The autumn garden has its own needs, and its own beauty.

This morning, the work and the tools, take a back seat to experiencing now.

This morning, the work and the tools, take a back seat to experiencing now.

 

 

What defines something as ‘right’? What makes something ‘enough’? Before we go too far down a philosopher’s rabbit hole, let me clarify – my questions are less about the semantics or meanings of those words relative to other words or ideas, and more about how does an individual determine that some one event, action, outcome, or experience fits the description? I keep bumping my nose on what seems to be an answer – and I admit that I’m not much of a fan of ‘answers’ lately; the questions convey more, for me, most of the time. Still, an answer to one question sometimes forms the basis of other questions just as worthy of consideration… and in this case, the ‘answer’ is kind of a big deal. Perspective. Yep, I am still meditating on perspective. The painting is unfinished, and the contemplation of the work as metaphor, as studious reflection and examination of experience, and as its own creative experience, keep me coming back again and again to life lessons about perspective.  There are those that required perspective to complete, and those that resulted in greater perspective once completed – and depending on my perspective in contemplation, a whole lot of life experiences open themselves up to being viewed as instructive on perspective.  Perspective is a big deal.  It is becoming an iceberg in my studies; so many things turn out to be relevant to matters of perspective.

I started the weekend focused on some pretty specific needs and desires.  I went into it with limited known resources, and an understanding that circumstances and the free will of others would predictably bring a few unknowns to confound any planning.  I try not to notice how little of the weekend remains… It’s been a lovely one.  Perspective has been a big deal for enjoying it.  If I had remained fixed on expectations, or investing heavily in my needs at the expense of a more connected experience, I could have been sitting here unhappily wallowing in discontent. I know, because I’ve done it in the past.

I’ve allowed myself a different experience today by identifying the successes as they happen, and appreciating those, and enjoying them, instead of zeroing in on some specific one thing or experience that I wanted and didn’t get.  I’m still learning a lot about relationships and happiness and intimacy and sharing life and love.  Learning to ‘take care of me’ sometimes feels like a mandate to make demands or insist that my needs must be met.  My own experience with meeting the needs of my loved ones is that I’m not always up to it, or able to with available resources, or may be unwilling to for some reason that seems appropriate or necessary to me in-the-moment; I can safely infer that is also their experience with meeting my needs. lol.  Knowing we are each having our own experience, and each have our own needs to be met, it actually seems pretty inevitable that sometimes some needs are unmet.  That’s how it was this weekend – some needs were met, others were not. Funny thing, it really seems now that the needs that got met were more urgent or more important… or more… worthy… than what I thought I needed to start with. lol.  A lesson in perspective, and also a lesson in ‘going with it’ instead of fussing and trying to force the flow of events.

It’s been a lovely weekend, and incredibly intimate. It wasn’t the intimacy I expected. It was, however, very much the intimacy I needed. 😀