Archives for posts with tag: mindfulness for beginners

It’s evening, and rather late. A strange time for me to be writing. I’m okay with that. There’s a warm fire crackling in the fireplace. I’m home, safe, warm, and contented. It’s definitely enough… It’s strange that I’m here, now, tonight.

I went to bed last night with a plan for the work day. I’d be up very early, with the intention of getting into the office by 6:00 am, fully expecting to commit to 12 hours to catch up what had gotten pushed to the side while I worked from home on these recent snowy days. It was a good plan, realistic and carefully considered. I set my alarm. I checked it again, as I got into bed. I had a back up alarm set on my phone. I made sure my alarms were not muted, even though my phone was on Do Not Disturb. Sleep came easily.

…There may have been a moment during the wee hours when I opened my eyes briefly, and only enough to see the time on my fitness tracker, assuring myself it was not yet morning, and returning to sleep, I don’t really know for sure whether the vague recollection is actually from last night…

I woke at 6:19 am. It was much later than I planned to be up. Later than the alarm was set for. Later than I commonly sleep even when I don’t turn on an alarm. Waking was difficult. I was groggy, struggling to understand the beeping. I turned off the alarm. It didn’t go off. I shook it, as though that would do anything. I got up, aware that I was late, and began to dress hurriedly, still not awake, clumsy, awkward, stiff, stupid. I picked up my phone – the alarm was still chiming. I shut it off. I opened my work laptop and typed words intending to communicate I was on my way. Irked at myself. Shit! How could I be late, today?? I had that crazed “everything relies on right now!” angry surging roaring panic running through my bloodstream, filling my thoughts. I slowed myself down, again and again, facing the panic, facing the inwardly-turned fury. I admitted to myself that I felt disappointed in myself. Angry that maybe – just maybe – it could be self-sabotaging behavior. I stopped for breath. I inhaled deeply. Gave myself time to accept my own humanity. Gave myself a moment of compassion, sympathy, understanding – how human am I? Very. Always have been – and it’s totally okay. I got my things together, and left for work. Feeling humble. Feeling human.

Some journeys are easier than others.

Some journeys are easier than others.

I was waiting for the bus (not my original plan, either), when my Traveling Partner messaged me a good morning, and his supportive reminder that I am enough. It’s just a moment. A small thing. All totally true, and I slowly continued the commute, eventually making it in to the office at about the same time I always do.

Wait, or walk? Today I wait.

Wait, or walk? Today I wait.

The day passed quickly and wasn’t at all what I expected. I’m glad I hadn’t built those expectations up in my head, instead choosing to let go and let the day unfold, doing my best in each moment. The day came and went quickly, and ended more or less the time it generally does. Generally speaking, a good work day. I returned home feeling mostly pretty good.

Now, I’m just relaxing here, in this quiet place, wrapped in comfort, a fire crackling away merrily, and a tasty glass of sherry that I’ve mostly overlooked, just sipping on it now and then, as the hours pass. If I’d stopped to write in that moment this morning, I would not have been able to look ahead to this delicious heady calm.

Right now, right here, it doesn’t matter at all which of the many practices I practice got me from where I was years ago, to where I am now. Yep. It’s taken years. Literal years, many practices, and a lot of verbs, and the journey stretches farther on, and beyond anything I can imagine. Years of practicing. Years of beginning again. So many verbs. Incremental change over time – it happens in increments. It takes time. I’ll keep practicing.

It started snowing moments ago. I wasn’t certain I was seeing actual snowflakes, since these were scooting past my window sideways, and there weren’t many flakes. There is clear sky overhead, gaps in heavy thunder-storm-y clouds. Flakes. Then no flakes. Well, damn it – is it snowing or isn’t it? Just as I decide that yes, it is snowing… it stops. The weather continues to toy with me, as I sip my coffee, and gaze out into the morning sky.

There are circumstances in which our choices make a great deal of immediate obvious difference, and others in which it’s not clear what difference any choice of ours might make, at all. On this strange winter morning, I smile recognizing that no amount of fussing over whether or not it is showing makes any difference whatever to the weather, itself. Really… no choice of mine ever does. I mean… we’re talking about the weather, here. Oh. Wait. Climate change. Maybe choices of mine do affect the weather… only… not immediately, and not in an obvious way…?  Right. Choices do matter. The snow stops and starts a couple more times as I consider the impact of my human behavior on the weather, over time, and the questions of “what counts as change?” and “what counts as being affected by me?” I chuckle quietly over the way scale can sometimes change a question, an answer, or the apparent circumstances. (One person spitting on my patio does not count as a rainstorm… on the other hand… dozens of people spitting on my patio may not be a rainstorm, but the gross mess they’ve made is certainly still going to seem significant in one or more ways. lol)

The snow stops. The snow starts. As snow storms go, it’s not particularly impressive. Just tiny flakes of sky dancing quickly past my window, never pausing to land anywhere.

If all goes according to plan, I’ll see my Traveling Partner today. It’s my last day of holiday time away from the office. Tomorrow… a new year, and a return to the office. I am more eager than hesitant, which says good things about the job, and confirms I’ve gotten the restful break from it that I needed. I pause, thinking about plans and planning. Today will be a good one for checking the calendar for the year-to-come and ensuring that I plan out sufficient out of office time to maintain wellness, and momentum. I make a note on my “to do list” so I don’t forget.

A new day, suitable for beginning again.

A new day, suitable for beginning again.

The snow stops. The few clouds still overhead are edged in gold as the sun rises. The snow starts again. Just scattered flakes on the wind, of no real consequence. I wonder how the weather is on my partner’s side of town? Yesterday the mild weather I was out in didn’t extend to his side of town at all; roads over there were frozen, driveways icy, and travel ideally avoided. My thoughts continue toward wondering if he’ll really make it over today… It’s a nice moment, I feel fond awareness that his safety matters, and that I would not struggle with painful disappointment if he should change his plans, today. Disappointment, sure, but not of that painful sort over which drama erupts, just garden variety minor “ah, well, another time then” disappointment, after which one simply moves on with the day quite contentedly, still smiling and feeling safely secure in the awareness that the change in circumstances and plan do not in any way change the amount of affection or high regard we have for each other. There are other days.

A mostly blue sky is revealed overhead as I finish off the final sips of my morning coffee, and no snow flakes. Birds of prey coast on air currents high above the tree tops. A small flock of doves is gathered under the bird feeder. They seem content with the morning, so far. So am I.

Sometimes "enough" doesn't require much.

Sometimes “enough” doesn’t require much.

I woke to a drizzly rainy winter day of the sort that characterizes our winters here; wet. Gray, chilly, and wet. If I were to cross the meadow on foot, walking on apparently firm ground covered in grass, it would squish under my feet, yielding, soggy, unsteady, the entire length and breadth of the park. Bare branches reaching for the sky loom uncertainly over expanses of green meadow grass, interrupted by swaths of taller growth that has fallen to winter, now brown, and beaten down by passing showers. Everywhere little birds perch, sharing their observations with one another. The feeders are full, and the nearest pine has a large-ish red-wing blackbird letting his buddies know breakfast is on. So far no surprises; it is a rather ordinary winter day.

My night was restless. I woke often. I returned to sleep with relative ease each time. I was up past midnight, waiting for the change of the calendar (for no reason other than to see 2016 end in a clear way, and see the calendar “begin again” before calling it a night). Sleeping in wasn’t really about getting more sleep – just the usual more-or-less-enough quantity. When I did get up, I was acutely aware of how groggy I was, and dithered briefly over whether to return to sleep yet again… coffee won that round. 🙂

My coffee is hot and bitter on my tongue this morning, a rather amusing state of things (most particularly since my sense of taste isn’t particularly sensitive to “bitter” in the first place); I like coffee. I ignore the bitterness. There’s a metaphor in there, somewhere…

It is a new year…one of those grand sorts of moments on which to begin something that makes it a very appealing starting point for some things… which tends also to result in a higher than usual rate of “fuck it” reactions to things begun, and failed, rather than the more productive “begin again” that I so generally favor. I smile to myself as I consider that puzzle. Are new beginnings best unstated, without a firm noteworthy, calendar worthy, starting point? Or is that an illusion? Does it matter at all, or is the question itself a distraction from actually beginning… anything?

I sit quietly, sipping my coffee, listening to the rain tap on the eaves, and watching the birds come and go from the feeder. All over the world, today, and rather impressively, a huge quantity of human beings are beginning things. New diets are being started. New exercise and fitness routines are commencing. New skills are being learned. Old habits are being abandoned in favor of new ones. Promises and commitments are being made, full of hope and enthusiasm. Relationships are being strengthened. Boundaries are being set. Daydreams are becoming plans. Plans are becoming actions. Today, a huge quantity of human beings, across many nations and cultures, are reaching out for their future, grabbing the edge of it, and pulling it closer. For a few days, the full might of human will can be seen in the magnitude of humanities dreams, goals, and desires… Powerful.

Resolutions don’t work for you? They don’t “work” for me, either. It’s a lifelong habituation associating the word “resolution” with slow failure, with giving up, with a lack of change, I suspect – more to do with the word, than with my will. It’s almost a given; if I label my intent with the heading of “resolution” at the start of the new year, I am most likely going to give up on it fairly quickly, lacking any clear idea why the endeavor failed. Silly primate – choose another word, then choose some damned verbs. 🙂 There is effort involved in bringing our will to life as an outcome. Verbs. Practice. Beginning again. So… I don’t do “new year’s resolutions” at all. I begin again nearly every day – on something. I’ll begin some things today, too. No “resolutions”.

I’ll recommit to things that matter, and with which I struggle to make progress.

I’ll embrace positive changes, with careful consideration, choosing different verbs, and practicing often.

I’ll let go of some old baggage – as much as I can figure out how to set down.

I’ll give thought to my daydreams, and look for opportunities to shift from dreaming to planning.

I’ll make a point to seek out events and activities that I’ll enjoy (alone or in good company) and set calendar reminders to get tickets, and make adjustments to my budget that account for the things I want to enjoy.

I’ll continue to practice the practices that improve my quality of life – and my ability to recognize how good it generally is.

There are quite a few verbs involved in becoming the woman I most want to be, in nurturing my best qualities, and the best qualities of the human beings around me, and in reaching whatever goals I set for myself. I’ll probably fall short of my own expectations now and then, or simply fail to succeed at some task or another. I’ll continue to be quite human all through the coming year.

I’ll begin again, as often as necessary. No “resolutions” required. 🙂 2017? We’ve got this! 😉

How do you know who you are, specifically? Is it a question you easily ask and answer, or does the “who are you, really?” question mess with your head? I suppose I revisit this question rather frequently, and with little stress, these days, and sometimes with some surprise (as in “Is this who I am?”). I’ve changed a lot as a human being over a lifetime. (You’ve probably changed some, too – haven’t you?)

When I think about who I am, who I have been, and the journey between those points (and, frankly, extending well beyond my current understanding of self, into the murky unknown of the future), I prefer to rest comfortably on what I know of myself, personally, understood in the context of my own values, my own experience, and my own understanding of the world. There is value in hearing the perspective of others, and honest self-reflection on the words and impressions of others can be an eye-opener worthy of deep listening and consideration…but… at the end of the day (any day), the greater value is in self-knowledge, self-awareness, and an internal dialogue that is frank without cruelty, I find. It is a literal truth that no one knows me like I know myself.

How do I know if my internal dialogue is sufficiently honest? I guess only by being honest with myself about that, too. There are choices involved. Awareness is a good starting point on any journey.

Why does this matter today? Well, I guess because (to me) it matters every day…but… tomorrow is New Year’s Eve, and New Year’s Day will (if all goes well) follow it fairly closely. 🙂 I celebrate New Year’s as a simple enough turning of a calendar page, and I celebrate it as the end of the winter holiday season, and also as another opportunity to begin again. No “resolutions” – change doesn’t work for me quite that way. I’ll sit down with myself, reflect on the year that has ended, consider the year to come, and look at the journey I’ve made in life so far. I’ll look ahead to destinations I hope to reach, successes I hope to achieve (larger or small, it’s not really about scale, more about trajectory), and changes I hope to make for myself to improve my quality of life, or to be more the woman I most want to be. I’ll consider the things I didn’t reach along last year’s journey, without diminishing myself or treating myself poorly. I’ll give myself the opportunity to learn and grow from both my successes and my failures. No shortcuts. No self-deception. No looking away from the harder moments, or less pleasant truths, and also willfully and eagerly embracing the lovely moments, the delights, the wonders, and the joys.

I use an assortment of tools, tasks, and practices to consider and reconsider the year behind me, the year to come, and the woman in the mirror poised between them. I spend time writing. I update my “Life in Weeks” calendar and reflect on how I have spent my time, and what I can do differently to better meet my long-term needs in life. I meditate. I meditate on questions I may not previously have thought to ask… sometimes it helps to have a tool for that. I take a walk along one path or another, sometimes new, sometimes more familiar. More than anything else, though, it is a matter of taking the time for constructive self-reflection, and placing enough value on that time to fully respect it, to set boundaries, and to take care of the woman in the mirror. Once a year? I definitely have time for me once a year. 🙂 Over time it has proven to be a worthy investment in self, and so I continue the tradition year after year.

Today I will get the housekeeping out of the way for the weekend, run errands, do chores. I’ll treat myself exceptionally well by preparing in advance for deeply satisfying celebratory self-reflection and leisure to come. No discomfort, no guilt, no reluctance; I enjoy this time I spend with myself each year, and invest some effort in making it a moment worth savoring. Other people, other celebrations, this is me, doing New Year’s my way. I’m okay with that; it’s enough. 2017? Bring it!

I could write hundreds of words today about how banal and commonplace it has become to spout actual lies and defend them as opinions. There are uncountable examples of it, and it’s easy enough to demonstrate that undermining people’s sense of reality in such a fashion is beyond odious; it’s harmful. This morning, I don’t much feel like deep-diving that grotesque practice of distorting reality.

I could write hundreds of words about Aleppo. About war. About conflict. About lost lives and lost children. Would I even be heard? Would my handful of words “matter”? Verbs, actions, matter more…

This morning I have other things on my mind, closer to home, more personal… A friend, a dear friend, someone I greatly love, has checked himself into a mental health care facility. I feel… concerned. Depression is an ass kicker. Mental illness is still so completely misunderstood by such a great many people. The feelings of isolation, despair, of distance, of agonizing doubt can be actually quite crippling, however illusory. Clawing ones way from that pit of gray fatiguing encompassing bleakness isn’t even a given, however much it seems, from the outside, that it would just be a matter of choosing… something… differently. 😦 I want to fix this. I can’t fix this. It isn’t a matter of words. My actions are not the actions needed here. I struggle. I don’t have to; this one isn’t mine, and I can let it go. Only… fuck. I want to fix this.

I shift gears and chat with my Traveling Partner about modifying equipment. I refrain from making lewd jokes about his “equipment” – however amusing now and then, the chronic, continuous, often completely inappropriate for the circumstances, lewd jokes and innuendos are symptomatic of my injury as much as they are a hallmark of my characteristic behavior… each time I am aware in the moment enough to willfully choose not to make one, I experience a sensation of positive change and growth. There really are times when such things are not welcome; I am learning to recognize that, and to also be able to act on it. Incremental change over time. I think about the handful of friends who might protest that this amusing quirk of mine is something they cherish, and enjoy being entertained by – to which my response could be “so, hey, while you’re being entertained, I’m struggling to keep jobs, relationships, and have comfortable conversations with strangers… so… yeah, I’m working on this”. We each walk our own mile.

Today is a good day to begin again. Every day is. Choose one. Grab a verb. Get walking. You are your most powerful instrument of change. ❤