Archives for posts with tag: mindfulness matters

I woke at 2:46 am. I didn’t plan on making that a thing, but an hour later of quiet rest without returning to sleep makes the decision; I am awake. I woke wary and vigilant, and inclined toward anxiety. No point taking that personally, I remind myself, and shift gears. Yoga. Meditation. A cup of coffee. Morning.

Sitting at the table, sipping my coffee, I relax – and begin to feel sleepy. I could try to take advantage of it…but it’s already after 4 am and basically my usual waking time (although the alarm is set for 5), it isn’t likely I’d actually sleep, and if I did, the short nap would likely result in being groggy. The excuse-making is enough to assure me, I’m up.

The darkness before dawn.

The darkness before dawn.

The morning feels ordinary enough, although this place feels less safe than it did. I put a painting in the location the TV had occupied. I make a point to bring my work laptop home with me, andΒ I don’t have to write using only my phone each morning. I am more acutely aware of the sounds of movement or conversation outside my apartment, and less easily able to ignore them. My experiences shape who I am – but so do my choices. I’ve been through much worse than coming home from work to find my house had been broken into. Seriously. A lot worse. …And those much worse things are behind me, I survived even those, and here I sit too early on a Friday morning, feeling just fine, and sipping my coffee. I’m okay right now. I smile. That’s kind of a big deal for a much younger version of me from a long time ago – I wish I could let her know. πŸ™‚

I spend a few quiet minutes over my coffee. My mind wanders. I don’t stop it, and let my thoughts drift contentedly without directing them. There is so little reason to hurry the morning. There will be ample time to be purposeful later. I make a second cup of coffee.

Taking time, making room for this moment, now.

Taking time, making room for this moment, now.

Today is a good day to take the time to enjoy the moment, fully present, awake, aware; there’s no knowing how many or how few there will be.

There is so much we get to decide for ourselves, so many options on life’s menu to choose from moment to moment, day to day, over the course of a life, lived. We choose a lot of stuff. We make a lot of choices. Many decisions are in our hands. There is something we don’t get to decide; we don’t get to decide if we’ve hurt someone else. They get to decide that, as the person who feels hurt. Period. End of discussion. Non-negotiable. We only know our own intention, and we’ll lie to ourselves about that, if it suits us. (Yes, you too. Yes, me too.) We tend to make ourselves the protagonist in our own narrative – and “the good guy” as well.

Yesterday I hurt my traveling partner’s feelings. I wasn’t sure how initially; I was feeling pretty fucking hurt myself, as it happened. He’d managed to hurt my feelings, too. He brought his hurt feelings to my attention immediately. I felt crappy for hurting him, angry that he’d hurt me, and resentful that he “got to it first”, resulting in also feeling that I had no legitimate opportunity to speak up about my own hurt feelings with him directly, without undermining the sincerity of my apology for hurting him. It was a less than ideal situation for good communication, or affectionate support. Still… I muddled through, and stayed true to one understanding of emotions I have learned I can count on; when we feel hurt, whatever the circumstances, we want the person we perceived has hurt us to acknowledge our suffering, and the part they played in it, and if possible we want them to make it right (or at least to apologize sincerely without making excuses). It’s an important part of treating others well to be able to apologize wholly, to mean it, and to handle that quite separately from our own hurts. That’s hard sometimes.

It's hard to unsay the words.

It’s hard to unsay the words.

I don’t always recognize that I’ve hurt someone. I don’t always understand why they are hurting. If they are hurting, and they tell me they are hurting, I accept that the hurt they are experiencing is truly their experience; it isn’t up to me to decide for them what hurts. No amount of comparison to my own experience, or other experiences, can serve to define, clarify, or place limits on the experience of someone saying they are hurt; it’s their experience, no one knows like they do. Let’s put another period right there, while we’re at it – this is also a non-negotiable on life’s journey; we don’t get to tell someone else how they feel. Just stop doing that shit. (I still catch myself, sometimes, and it usually begins innocently enough as an attempt to connect, to understand, to empathize… doesn’t matter much how it begins, if it ends with me telling you how you feel, I am in error for doing so, regardless whether I am coincidentally correct about your emotional state.)

Search all the books that matter most to you, there are still verbs involved. :-)

Search all the books that matter most to you, there are still verbs involved. πŸ™‚

I’ve gotten decently skilled at some of the emotional intelligence stuff… It hasn’t necessarily eased the journey in any noteworthy way. lol I am quite human, and struggle most with emotions within the context of my most passionate intimate relationships like pretty nearly everyone else. I’m okay with that, it is a process and there is no lack of love. I felt sad to have hurt my traveling partner’s feelings. Keeping my sadness to the side, without disrespecting my own emotional needs, I made myself commit to listening deeply, however much his words hurt me (there was nothing abusive about them, just painfully frank, and striking directly at where I also hurt most, myself, in that moment). In listening with great care, and great compassion, I stayed open to accepting that I had hurt him, regardless of my intent. I apologized. He lashed out, hurt and angry, and I apologized again for hurting him, while I wept private tears. My morning felt pretty blown. My head ached. I felt heartsick.

Perspective matters. I often find it here. ;-)

Perspective matters. I often find it here. πŸ˜‰

I took the space I needed to care for my own heart. That was a mixed effort for some time. It got easier after my traveling partner had time to give consideration to the morning, himself, with a clear head, and unencumbered by his own hurts. He apologized to me. We mutually acknowledged the misunderstandings, the miscommunications, mistakes resulting from the order in which text messages were received or read, the way key words and phrases evoke emotional reactions, we reinforced our value to each other, and took time to say soothing, caring things. We moved on.

Be love. It's a choice. Love is a verb.

Be love. It’s a choice. Love is a verb.

Did I hurt my traveling partner’s feelings deliberately? No. I wouldn’t. It’s not my way and I find no value in willfully treating people poorly. Did I hurt his feelings at all? He said I did, therefore that is his experience; my own, in that moment, is not relevant to his experience – even if I am also hurting. (Those are quite separate experiences.) It’s hard not to respond to my lover’s pain with my own pain – but it’s not productive, generally, to do so.

Our own pain easily manages to feel like the worst pain we’ve ever known (and generally without regard to whether we’ve ever hurt worse in the past, in other circumstances). Our approach to the pain of others is differentΒ – we want to fix it, to help, and we most certainly don’t want them hurting, we try to make it go away, or try to ignore it. As silly as it seems to read it in print, we behave as though we can use our words to re-craft our experience omitting their pain. It just doesn’t work that way. Sometimes people hurt. Sometimes we are the reason why they are hurting. The result, too often, is that we put our own pain ahead of the pain of others and end up imagining our pain hurts worse, when we cannot possibly know that, and can’t validate that assumption even by asking. The kinder choice is simply to be compassionate about pain, and to apologize when we’ve hurt someone. In mutually supportive relationships among equals, this is a reciprocal practice.

It’s still super hard though; if I feel hurt I want that attended to, and letting it go long enough to care for the pain of another is one of the more difficult practices I practice. Sometimes the result, as with yesterday, is that after that hurt person is cared for, they return that care and soothe my hurt in return. Sometimes that is not the case, and I must care for myself. The thing about that… it’s okay. I’m getting pretty good at caring for myself, and when I must, I can count on me to do so pretty skillfully. The most important thing is to refrain from treating myself badly while supporting someone else. Yesterday I managed it through a haze of tears over text communication… I don’t know that I could have done it with as much success in person. I’m still very much a student. I need more practice.

I keep practicing.

I keep practicing.

My traveling partner and I enjoyed a splendid fun evening, later on, and not “as if nothing had happened” – that’s a place I don’t personally want to get trapped. Instead, we enjoyed the deeper intimacy of two human beings, fully human, loving each other humanity and all, awake and aware, present with each other. When we greet each other our embrace wrapped us both in warmth and affection, and the shared understanding that we’re really there for each other – even when we’re the ones bringing the pain. Those sincere reciprocal apologies built on respect, consideration, compassion, and openness, delivered with awareness, and accepted with heartfelt relief make a huge difference. We go forward stronger. Love wants a good apology without reservations, and without excuses. It’s okay to save reasons for another moment, a different conversation, some other time.

This morning I sip my coffee, content and calm. No lingering tears, no “emotional hangover”. It’s nice. It’s been a long journey to get here. There is further to go. Today is a good day for housekeeping, and becoming the woman I most want to be. Today is a good day to practice loving well.

Right. I’m awake. It’s a new day. I sip my coffee and take a moment to breathe. I adjusted my plans for the day to give myself a little more time to take care of myself at a very high priority.

One day ends.

One day ends.

Yesterday was hard, and after a day of carefully maintaining perspective, and sharing moments of compassion and support with similarly stressed out colleagues, it was clear I’d need a bit more of my own time for me. My traveling partner is understanding about it. There was no point adding to his stress by sharing that I’d barely cross the threshold when I crumbled and wept for 15 minutes or so, before I could even pull myself together enough to reach out to him. There’s no shame in tears, and the catharsis was a needed moment of its own.

The hardest part about yesterday, for me, wasn’t work, or what I heard and saw out in the world. It was Facebook. It was family. It was the gloating of people I expect to count on affectionately – because they are on my Facebook friends list – and found myself treated dismissively, or callously. Some people were so invested in celebrating their victory, they were not able to understand that many of the folks suffering over it were not even (at all) going on about losing a fucking race – they are frightened or angry about much larger things, and have the perspective that those situations or issues just got potentially a whole lot worse (the, um, flip side of celebrating because you think life just got better with the candidate of your choice in office). Scary shit to find myself being honest about why I’m anxious and faced with an astonished “is this post real?” sort of reaction – as if it’s just not even believable that there is suffering in the world. Β It hurt, a lot, to be implicitly told, yet again, by a chorus of men who will never face the issues women face that those issues don’t exist, or are an exaggeration, or hey, grow a thicker skin! By the end of the evening I was shopping for firearms, figuring “why should I have to be out in the world surrounded by people who think my consent is irrelevant without the means to quickly and firmly ensure they understand my boundaries are very real?” Β Fear and a lifetime of subtle repression (and some not-so-subtle) and harassment roiled together and boiled over as the minutes ticked by.

I shut down the internet. I wept awhile. I meditated longer, finally actually finding sleep somewhat later than I ordinarily would. No nightmares, and I woke ahead of the alarm, with enough time for a leisurely shower and a short walk in the pre-dawn gloom of a chilly and damp autumn morning. The mist wrapped me in my thoughts. I returned home with a smile and made coffee. I am okay, within myself. I feel some trepidation about the future. Angry people elected #45… I find myself wondering if that’s a teachable moment? For me, personally, I mean… I work so hard to find balance, to redirect and defuse anger with intellectual curiosity, compassion, and mindfulness… I’ve allowed myself to be silenced a million times rather than be a source of conflict. Have I created the world in which women’s voices are silenced by implicit rule without consequence? No, of course, not – but I’ve supported it, fed it, kept it going. Could I make better use of my anger? It’s something to think about further in days to come.

There are verbs involved if we want the world to change. Talk is sure a verb, but… it’s not a solid driver of change. It’s more like the scenic route. Slow steady culture change does build on conversations, on dialogue, on words and writing and skilled oratory… but… yeah. Slow. Really slow. I mean… how quickly would women have gotten the vote if women had only talked about it? It’s possible, based on angry choruses of taking away our votes, in 2016 (yeah, that happened). “Well, that’s just election year rhetoric! You can’t take that seriously after the election is over.” Um… yeah, I can. It was actually said, and with real conviction, by people who meant it when they said it. I can totally take that seriously – and I do. So, this morning, I find myself asking – like a lot of people probably are – what do I do about “all of this”?

I begin again. My values are what they are with good reason. The election doesn’t change who I am, or what I value. #45 is my president, too, whether I like it or not – and conversely, whether he likes it or not, either. Verbs, eh? I smile, and recall a great video (very much on point, election-wise) about truth, and the things we think are “true”. I commit to sitting down with myself, verb-wise, and laying out in very simple (about a 4th grade reading level) phrases for what I want from my government and my president. Really simple. “Fund Planned Parenthood” “No Electoral College” “Protect Social Security” – that kind of simple. I will get my thoughts really clear, and I will begin writing postcards (exposing the words and phrasing to everyone that handles them) and I will begin mailing them to representatives, to #45, and beyond. I’ll include them in my signature block (on a rotation). I’ll say them aloud. I’ll leave hand-inked art cards around here and there, with these simple phrases, and I’ll just keep at it. Again. Again. Again. Everywhere I go. Repetition is learning. We tend to think what we’ve heard a lot is true. That’s usable practical science right there.

You probably have ideas of your own. Do those things. Raise your voice! If you weren’t heard – say it again. Were you shouted down? Put it in writing. Memes are powerful, too; this election saw a clear demonstration of that principle in action. Add a repeatable slogan to an engaging image and it spreads like a virus and people begin to repeat the words with conviction, as though they are “truth”, and often without fact-checking. Are you more of a meet & greet sort? Get out there and say words to real people! Throw parties – and make conversation meaningful, powerful, and memorable! Live the change you want to see in the world. Offended by racism? Call it out when you see it, and be a strong ally for a diverse group of friends and associates. Offended by religious intolerance and faux-patriotism? Point it out when you see it, and just keep at it. It’s the persistence that has so much power. Carry that torch every mile you can.

Your words matter. Your actions matter. Your voice matters. You matter.

A new day begins.

A new day begins.

It’s time to begin again. ❀

Let’s not talk about the election. Please just be your best self today, when you go to the polls to make your choice (if you happen to be a voting citizen in the United States). We’ll see what comes of it tomorrow.

This morning I am not dealing with petty bullshit or drama, and that feels good. It can be a difficult choice to make, and reinforcing boundaries about something so commonplace as “drama” can be met with a lot of resistance if friends and loved ones are used to hijacking other lives with their poison. We’re each having our own experience. My idea of drama may be the circumstances you are mired in, needing emotional support. My lack of interest in drama is not expressed as “no one has time for your feelings”, day-to-day, it’s more about making a point not to continuously rehash the same moment of conversation or pain, past any point of gaining understanding or perspective. There comes a time to let it go, or make a choice to handle things quite differently. Turmoil sucks.

I recently had to set boundaries with a friend who made a point of angrily slamming my door during a stressful moment with her partner; that’s the drama I’m not having. Don’t slam my damned door. Non-negotiable. Door-slamming and yelling stress me out, and have no practical value whatsoever. Use your words. Setting the boundary was easy, facing her defensiveness and resistance to hearing that she’s violated a personal boundary of mine was unpleasant nonetheless. I expected an apology, and got an angry resentful reply instead. Rather than allow that to escalate, I let it go. I will continue to reinforce that boundary. If the undesirable behavior continues, I may choose not to have that friend back into my space. I like it to be quite calm and safe-feeling here.

I enjoyed a fun evening with my traveling partner last night, although somewhat unexpectedly. Only somewhat; the quantity of drama in his everyday experience in another relationship is so ludicrous, from my own perspective it hardly seems endurableΒ – I know to expect the unexpected in my own experience, as a consequence. Last night we let all that go, evenΒ the stress and doubt and hurt feelings and anger, we let it all go and just enjoyed each other. The evenings are short. It’s a far better choice than becoming swamped in negative emotion, chaos, and bullshit during the limited precious time we have together. We talked about the future. We enjoyed the present. We got some sleep.

Embrace a peaceful moment. Breathe. Repeat.

Embrace a peaceful moment. Breathe. Repeat.

It’s a new day. Today is a good one to begin again. Today is a good day to right our wrongs. Today is a good day to consider what we are doing (about, with, and to each other) with more care than we did yesterday. Today is a good day to have a serene heart and to choose love. Today is a good day for choices that change the world.

This morning I woke groggy, very groggy, to the sound of a train, or perhaps two passing each other, blasting the horn(s) for what seemed a rather long time. It went on and on, from some distance before the stretch of track nearest where I live, and for some distance farther along. I’m not sure what required such aggressive use of the horn in the wee hours (3:22 am). I was not able to go back to sleep.

Up early… and nothing to say. My brain still isn’t fully awake, more than an hour later. The day after daylight savings time begins or ends – and a day or two more – are hard. The timing on my medications is all wrong, and my sleep/wake cycle is now not even close to when my clock says it should be. Twice a year the pointless disruption aggravates me. I’m not bitching, just making the observation.

I sip my coffee. Think my thoughts. This morning seems a good one to meditate, and to chill. Tomorrow… yeah. It seems fairly foolish to also put the end of daylight savings time so close to an emotionally volatile (for so many people) election. We often put ourselves (and each other) at a disadvantage when it comes to our emotional experience by behaving as though emotions can be simply disregarded in our planning and our actions. Our choices might be different as individuals (and as a culture) if we placed value on emotional intelligence, and sought balance between emotion and reason as a necessary thing. Still not bitching – it’s an observation.

A basic morning.

A basic morning.

Today is a good morning to sip my coffee and be kind to myself; it may be hours before I feel awake. Today is a good morning to be aware of the stress the upcoming election is causing so many people, and to let go of that stress, myself. Today is good one to walk my own path, find my own way, and make the choices that best support my needs over time. Today is a good day, too, for a second cup of coffee. πŸ˜€