Archives for posts with tag: mindfulness for beginners

The barking began at dawn. It continues even now. It’s not unusual; I have a neighbor with a dog that barks any time it is left outside, which is… often. It is frustrating and annoying, and incessant. The neighbor has received many complaints about the dog and the barking, and the reply is generally the same, “Well, I’ve tried to teach him to stop barking, but it doesn’t work. Dogs bark.” I gave that some thought, at the time, and even during the six months that I was home every day, I don’t recall ever seeing that neighbor working with their dog, at all. I wondered then, and this morning, what exactly my neighbor “tried”. I don’t see anything going on that looks like practice or training.

Dogs can indeed be trained not to bark (at the moon, at shadows, at strangers, because they are lonely…), it requires practice. Do the thing. Do it again. And again another time, and again after that. Then repeat all the practicing. Begin again, again. There are verbs involved, and a practice is not a noun, however much it may seem to be based on its function in a sentence. It requires consideration. Awareness. Intention. Will. Did I mention the practicing?

I’m sure my neighbor would be irked with me to hear me suggest that she isn’t actually making any particular effort to train her dog not to bark every hour of the day it is left outside. No doubt she believes her internal narrative that she “tried everything” and “nothing worked”. Haven’t we all said as much to ourselves – and our friends and loved ones – about something? Is it really the true literal truth in fact? Have I indeed “tried everything”? Have I truly practiced the needed practices with the necessary constancy? Have I tried, failed, and begun again sufficiently often? Or… did I try, fail, and then tell myself that I tried and failed and therefore “it didn’t work”? I see a difference there. Once I noticed that difference, it became more difficult to allow a negative experience to be who I am; we become what we practice.

Yes, there are verbs involved. No, change doesn’t happen solely because I’ve accepted that change would have value, or even because I am desperate to experience change. One evening in the yard training my chronically barking dog isn’t going to change that dog’s behavior long-term (or maybe at all) – practice is an ongoing thing.  So it also is with anxiety, with depression, with anger, with emotional volatility, with disorder, with sloth, with overeating, with nail biting… Hell, any number of troubling or challenging human experiences can be eased with one practice or another – if change is actually practiced. Fail. Begin again. Practice. We become what we practice. (Not one word of that implies “easy” or suggests effort would not be required.)

It works in a subtle way; even practicing ignoring that barking dog has an outcome rooted in incremental change over time.

Is your dog barking? What will you do about it? Endure it? Change it? There are verbs involved, and the choices are yours. So is the requirement to practice.

About that barking...? (photo by Emma Harris, used with permission)

About that barking…? (photo by Emma Harris, used with permission)

A very long time ago, I “tried meditation” and “it didn’t work for me”. I went forward in life for many years (decades) quite convinced by that experience that “meditation doesn’t work”, and gave it no further thought. My PTSD symptoms worsened over time, rather than improving. After all, dogs bark. We become what we practice. I didn’t understand why I wasn’t getting any better… hadn’t I “tried everything”?

In 2012, I stopped trying. I wasn’t sure what I would do instead, hell, I wasn’t sure I even wanted to live any more. I mention it because that seems a long time ago now, although it has been only 4 years since February 2013, when I started actually practicing meditation (and some other things) – and I do mean really practicing. Daily. Reliably. Even when I “don’t have time”. Even when “it isn’t convenient”. Even though I “wasn’t sure I was doing it right”. Even though I “wasn’t sure it would work”. Even when I found myself certain “it isn’t working”. Even when I thought “my life was falling completely to pieces”. Even when I thought “love might be lost” over my chaos and damage. Even when I wasn’t sure I wanted to live at all. I kept practicing, and failing, and beginning again.

We become what we practice. By practicing calm, I have become calmer. By practicing perspective and sufficiency, I have gained perspective, and learned what is “enough” for me. By practicing non-violence, I have become more peaceful. By practicing feeling content, I have become more able (and likely) to experience contentment. By practicing being awake and aware in this moment, I have become more present in my life, and in my relationships. By practicing listening, I become more likely to hear what is being shared. By practicing kindness, I have become kinder.

Today is a good day to practice being the human being I most want to be. Isn’t every day? 😉

Strange morning. I feel my Traveling Partner’s absence like a weight; he is traveling, truly, and far away. I wake and start my day in the usual solitary way, but somehow I still feel his absence from my larger sense of space. My own version of separation anxiety, I suppose. 🙂 Still, in the same sense that he is away, he also tends to be “with me”, even though we are not often in shared space lately, so although I miss him, I still feel loved, still celebrate loving.

I sip my coffee, distracted and vaguely… bored? Weird. It is an uncommon thing in my experience, and I find myself poking at the feeling with a certain curiosity and wonder. The boredom dissipates as I realize it isn’t that at all. I’m just tired. My sleep tracker notes that this makes the second night on less than ideal quantity and quality of sleep. No wonder I feel a tad “out of it”. I correct my posture. Take some deep cleansing breaths. Relax. I hear the horn of the commuter train approaching the platform. I feel the chill in the room. I take a moment to just be, without fussing. It feels comfortable and self-supporting to acknowledge the fatigue, to accept myself in this moment, and to be okay with it.

One more work day and another weekend. Oh, my yes! I can sleep in tomorrow, attend the baby shower of a friend, and quite likely see my Traveling Partner in the evening. Sounds like a lovely weekend. It sounds like enough.

Today will be a good day to take care of the woman in the mirror, to be kind, and to show kindness, to take the day a moment at a time, and to enjoy this life as much as I am able (which is a lot, and mostly). Change the world? I’ll add that to my “to do list”. 🙂

What an odd night. I woke once during the night unsure of where – or when – I was. It took some minutes walking through quiet rooms, a disoriented groggy stranger in my own experience, to remember myself. I returned to sleep easily and without stress. I woke again later, some noise or another, and again returned to sleep. Having taken a day off of work for an appointment, I thoughtfully reset my alarm sometime when I woke during the night, and got an extra hour of sleep. I woke feeling rested and content, sometime between when I ordinarily wake, and the time I for which I had reset the alarm.

The morning has not been the slightest bit routine. Usually it is pretty fixed: meds, yoga, meditation, shower, dress, coffee, write, tidying up, then off to work. This morning I dilly-dally over my coffee, in my yoga pants, having not yet yoga-ed at all (What the hell is the past tense for that verb?? …Then I remember that it is a noun, and that I am an abuser of good grammar.) I sipped coffee on the patio, though, feeling the pre-dawn chill of a mild winter morning, and listening to the geese on the marsh, and the horn of the distant commuter train. I rely on habit and routine to ensure, day-to-day, that my self-care needs are met, and recognizing that stepping away from those routines and habits could come at a cost (if I fail to follow through on practices that I know benefit me greatly) my alarm is set at intervals to remind me before the clock runs out on the morning.

Easy enough to shrug it all off and say “what does one day matter if I don’t…?”, but I actually know that in some cases, for me, it really does “matter”. There are differences. No yoga? By day’s end I will be less mobile, less flexible, and in more pain. No meditation? By midday, I’d likely be edgy, irritable, and at risk of losing my shit over something small or inconsequential. No shower? Well, come on now, does this have to be explained? If nothing else, the lack of basic hygiene would hint at disordered thinking when my Traveling Partner turns up later, and that would be a source of concern for him, not to mention that basic hygiene is… well… basic. (One of my own first alert “symptoms” that my mental or emotional health is slipping is that I begin to find it “hard to drag myself into the shower”, versus enjoying the sensuous pleasure of warm water on bare skin.) No getting dressed? For me that’s also no going out. lol I have stuff to do. Getting dressed is definitely happening, preceded by showering, and yoga will definitely be a thing, and while I’m at it, I’ll meditate somewhere between yoga and heading out for my appointment – and probably a time or two later on, also.

I notice the time. My perspective shifts and I feel the day as “busy” although it is far less so than usual. The clock ticks on. I have less time to do “all the things”. I feel a surge in anxiety, briefly, and recognizing it is merely my moment of time-related awareness, I let that go. There is no rush. There is only this moment here, writing, sipping coffee, enjoying the morning. I have an alarm set to remind me of the time, and that timing is based on still not having to rush. Since it hasn’t gone off yet, I am most definitely not in any hurry to be anywhere else. 😀

I swallow the last of my now-cold coffee. I check my spelling ever so carefully (fully knowing that both the spellcheck and I will miss something.) It’s time to move on with the morning, and with the day.

It's not really "made of gold", it's more a matter of perspective.

It’s not really “made of gold”, it’s more a matter of perspective.

Today is a good day to go and do and be. Today is a good day for love. Today is a good day for a moment of sunshine, a smile, or a friendly word. Today is a good day to be the woman I most want to be. I think I’ll go do that. It’s enough. 🙂

I’ve no good title today. No subject in mind. No moment that seems noteworthy with which to approach my writing, today. Still… There is this moment to write. I sit with it quietly for some extra moments, waiting for it to “speak to me”. I swallow the last bit of cold coffee from the cup I made for myself around 2 pm, forgetful that it was 2 pm, well after I generally stop drinking coffee for the day. I eat an orange, enjoying the scent of it, the sweetness, and that messy moment grinning like a little kid, when I realize I didn’t think to also grab a napkin or paper towel, or something. There is juice on my fingers and on my face, sticky and sweet. I am in pain. The cold weather, windy, icy rain, sleet, and just winter, wraps my apartment in whatever it takes to remind my body that I have arthritis. Still.  Nothing new there. I endure. I breathe, and relax. At least in this moment, my pain is not calling the shots for me.

The work day is behind me. It started early, because it needed to, and I am done for the day – and for the week. The weekend stretches ahead of me, mostly unconsidered. I have no plans beyond what I am planning not to do. I’m planning not to do Facebook. I’m not doing the news. I’m not doing outrage. I’m not doing angry. I’m planning to gently take care of me, nurture my heart, rest my mind, enjoy some quality time with the woman in the mirror – and maybe I will see my Traveling Partner at some point. It won’t be tonight. The icy weather is foreboding to travelers. That’s okay. It’s a good day to take care of the woman in the mirror, instead. I am already eyeing my yoga mat with some enthusiasm, and thinking wistfully of my meditation cushion. I am looking forward to the gentle evening ahead.

It was an icy morning. My visitors seemed pleased to hang out a while.

It was an icy morning. My visitors seemed pleased to hang out a while.

I sit quietly in this still place. I haven’t put any music on yet today. There is a lovely fire crackling away in the fireplace, and the wind, the wind chime, the birds, and the geese have filled the day with another sort of music. I think about dinner… but… I continue to just be, here, in this moment. Quietly. Still. Content. I think to myself how very much I must have been needing this saturating moment of stillness, to dive into it with such abandon. Perhaps I shall sit quietly all evening? Content to gaze through the patio door into the winter beyond, feeling the warm of the fire… It would be time well-spent. It would be enough.

An entire flock of Canada geese stopped by.

An entire flock of Canada geese stopped by.

I smile, and feel strangely perplexed and muddled for a moment – when did I become this person? When did I develop “a softer side”? When did I learn to really care, and to really love? When did things – material things – stop seeming so important, and when did I stop “keeping score” in the rat race? At some point, I know that I did all of those things. I made changes. Why is it that I don’t remember those changes as specific moments? Slow progress is funny that way – I don’t find it easy to see through the eyes of the woman I once was.

My patience pays off.

My patience pays off.

I breathe. Find myself enjoying this moment, here, just exactly as it is. It’s enough.

When did you last spend an entire day caring for yourself, body, mind, and soul? The works. Like… a spa day for your whole being? Healthy, while also indulgent. Uninterrupted. Focused, and also relaxed. Purposeful, but not hurried. No pressure – your undivided attention on supporting the person in the mirror. I took a day for me, yesterday. It was strangely not at all as I planned it, but… wow. I needed that time. A day of relaxed self-care that was not also pock-marked with fretting about work in the background. A day of small favorite luxuries without any self-consciousness or doubt. A day of meditation, quiet, calm… and wow was it lovely, and soul-soothing, and magical. Well… not actually “magical”. There were verbs involved, and I did those, for me. 🙂

I had intended to enjoy the day at leisure, and this much I most definitely did do. I made a wee cherry clafoutis for my brunch, a delightful treat. I happily enjoyed more coffee than I generally allow myself, content that a late night could be followed by sleeping in. I queued up a good playlist (that I mostly didn’t listen to), and had my sketching supplies, a book I am reading, and a journal at hand. I ended up spending most of the afternoon and evening quietly meditating – not at all the plan, but as it turned out, precisely what I needed to care for me best.

It was late into the evening when the last coals of the fire in the fireplace dwindled away to nothing, and the room began to take on the night chill from a draft somewhere. That was when I realized I had passed something like 10 hours just chilling. No TV. Music only rarely. Not bothering to pick up my book. Writing a note about this or that now and then. Just relaxing with the woman in the mirror, feeling the feelings, letting the cognitive landscape shift and change, accepting the emotional weather – which changed often, and more rapidly than the icy landscape on the other side of the windows. I watched the birds. They watched me back. I sat warming my feet by the fire, and smiling, feeling content that for the moment, all is well (for me, here, right now). It was lovely. I soaked in it. Bathed in it. Wrapped myself in these all-to-brief sweet moments of calm. Savoring them for later recollections, on more difficult days.

Evening from my meditation cushion.

Evening from my meditation cushion.

I don’t remember going to bed. I know I did; I woke in my bed from a deep sound sleep, feeling well-rested, and well-cared-for. That’s a thing I didn’t understand years ago; our very human feelings of neglect, inattention, shabby treatment, and even having been dealt with cruelly or abusively, can be soothed greatly by how we treat ourselves. It doesn’t stop some other person who treats us badly from being who they are, or make circumstances different than they have been, but it has tended to allow me to heal more, faster, and more completely, and to bounce back from challenges more efficiently. Totally worth taking the time to invest in skilled self-care. I’m no expert (clearly). I’ll keep practicing. 🙂