Archives for posts with tag: mindfulness matters
« Older Entries
Newer Entries »

A Slower Start

June 10, 2014 //
0

I woke only a handful of minutes ahead of the alarm, feeling rested and content. I took advantage of the time to allow myself to wake slowly, gently, unfolding my awareness like a magic folding box until I was really quite wide awake. Meditation is very gentle on my consciousness first thing upon waking, and it is a favorite approach to returning to waking awareness. Meditation evolved and became yoga as my feet hit the floor and I unfolded my body, too, through a short series of easy poses. A shower. A coffee.

Over my coffee I read a blog post or two; other writer’s voices, other words of encouragement and growth, other perspectives. (I do what I can to avoid reading much ‘news’ these days, though some finds its way into my eye holes as a byproduct of work and life and interacting with others, most days.) This morning I treat myself well, almost tenderly, letting the potential ease of the day develop without being crowded by ‘have to’.

My mind wanders before I finish this post. I am distracted by the serenity of the morning as the minutes tick away and find myself still and calm, and contemplating recent favorite pictures from here and there; moments of delight frozen in time between other moments, memories in two dimensions, instant metaphors.

The loveliness of individuality.

The loveliness of individuality…

...and of shared experience...

…and of shared experience…

...the details...

…the details…

...the generalities...

…the generalities…

...and how different things can look, depending on where we stand...

…and how different things can look, depending on where we stand…

...perspective matters.

…perspective matters.

This morning life and love hit my bliss point; I am content, existing with a sense of sufficiency, and enjoying my current perspective. This ‘now’ is quite okay with me. Today is a good day to enjoy the moment.

Tags , , , , , , , , , ,
Categories Brain Injury, Free Will, Healthy Living, Logic & Reason, Love, Menopause, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Relationships, The Big 5, women, Words

Words Are Like Bullets

June 2, 2014 //
0

Sometimes life is easy, sometimes it’s hard. Tonight, I sit sweat-soaked, tired, worried, strained, tearful, confused, and honestly – just not happy to be away from home.  Hotel rooms, many of them, have a certain… ‘quality’. Let’s be honest, more a ‘characteristic’ than a quality, perhaps? It is easy to become immersed in the dreary, the grim, the fatiguing, the sad, the low… I wonder how often someone has sat, morose and alone, in a hotel room and written great tragic poetry, gritty urban thrillers, or words of disconnection, loneliness, and pain? Probably a lot.

What it is, what it isn't.

What it is, what it isn’t.

I’d rather not succumb to the dingy yellows and ochres of the decor, and hoping to provide some relief from the strangeness of the air, the windows are thrown open to breezes and the sounds of traffic. I am, nonetheless, very much alone.  The sweat that poured off me so freely in the afternoon heat as I made my way to the hotel is now chilling me through the dampness of my shirt. My head aches.  I was as efficient as I could will myself to be in the moment, purposeful, gentle, wasteful of neither time nor movement; there were other needs to meet than my own. Still, efficiency is only as useful as it is skillful, and my ankle throbs quietly reminding me that my ankle brace is still in my pack, from yesterday’s hike, forgotten in the joy of achievement and fun, and overlooked in my purposeful rush to pack and make a timely check-in to this solitary, rather cramped room peeking at the street below, through fluttering leaves.  I like the view much more than the room.

The world waits outside this room, and the world has no stress over any concerns of mine at the moment. I’m hungry. The evening is pleasant. There is no need to succumb to sorrow and pain by an effort of will, and I realize that I’m hungry.  The bottled water in the room is ‘courteously’ provided at a ludicrous mark up. There is a grocery store down the street, and in the frenzy of human beings handling human affairs I may find, too, a moment of kind contact, a brief connection, a reminder of all the good that is…

Do I take the red pill – or the blue pill? [cue Matrix theme, cut to clip of sexy people in shiny black clothes doing stuff in slow motion]

I will watch South Park tonight, and I’ll laugh – and in laughing is perspective, and healing, and a reminder that we’re all in this together, each having our own experience, each doing the best we know to do, mostly, when we can, generally, or at least…we’re probably trying, and god damn – all most of us want is to be heard, to feel visible, to know that the people who matter to us find that we matter as well.

Today is a good day to wonder ‘what can I learn from this’.  Today is a good day to consider this woman I am, and who I want to be. Today is a good day to be the change I want to see in the world.

 

Tags , , , , , , , , ,
Categories Anxiety, Brain Injury, Free Will, grief, Love, Menopause, Metaphors, Mindfulness, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Relationships, Sleepless Nights, Summer, women, Words

Mountains and Molehills

June 2, 2014 //
0

I was not up to taking my new backpack for a test hike yesterday, when I started my day. I was also not really up to it a bit later in the morning, after yoga, and when I walked – without my pack – to the neighborhood farmer’s market, either.  Afternoon came around, and a partner asked me what I thought of the hike at Cooper Mountain, and handed me a map.  I looked it over pretty fearlessly; I wasn’t even considering it as a ‘right now’ option, just looking at a map. Could I do the distances involved? It looked like it. Could I handle the terrain? That looked okay, too, with the possible exception of some steeper bits, that I felt sure I could work  up to pretty quickly…

Oh - hello right now!

Oh – hello right now!

In moments we were off, headed down the road toward adventure.  According to the hiking app I installed on my smart device, by day’s end we’d managed more than 3 miles of varied terrain (3.4 for me, 3.8 for my partners who took on one more loop of trail than I did). It was good fun, and my pack fit well, felt comfortable, and delivered on the utterly necessary hydration piece I was concerned about.  I felt far more capable in practice than I had convinced myself I was.  It felt extraordinary to knock down that damaging notion and replace it with a sense of strength and capability.  Old skills and knowledge were at the ready, and I found being open to learning new technologies far less stress-inducing than hanging on to ideas that are now out-of-date (good-bye cotton, hello modern wicking fabrics!). It was fantastically fun and I am already eagerly exploring maps of the area for hikes that are easily within reach. It felt fantastic to be outside, with my partners, walking through the lovely countryside.

The wild roses were in bloom, pretty much everywhere.

The wild roses were in bloom, pretty much everywhere.

There were endless vistas...

There were endless vistas…

...paths to points beyond...

…paths to points beyond…

...cool forests...

…cool forests…

...sun-dappled trails...

…sun-dappled trails…

...and lovely expanses of meadow filled with every possible wildflower.

…and lovely expanses of meadow filled with every possible wildflower.

It was an afternoon well-spent, savored, and enjoyed in good company.

It was an afternoon well-spent, savored, and enjoyed in good company.

I wasn’t sad to head for home when we reached our vehicle; I was beat! The drive home was punctuated with laughing comments about sleeping well that night. It was a lovely experience.

Strangely… I did not sleep well. Okay, to be fair, I slept well enough, but not for very long, and the remaining many hours of night were spent split between meditation, and wondering why meditation wasn’t resulting in sleepiness. Ever. lol. For now I am awake, alert, content, and facing the work week feeling good.  Perhaps I’d simply had enough rest? I guess it is possible, although 4 hours is rarely sufficient for me; I may notice the lack by day’s end.

Until then, though, and even after… today is a very good day. It’s a very good day just as it is, and that’s a nice way to begin it.

Tags , , , , , , , , ,
Categories Brain Injury, Healthy Living, Love, Menopause, Mindfulness, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Relationships, Roses, Summer, The Big 5, women, Words

What It Is. What It Isn’t.

May 28, 2014 //
0

I woke this morning with a headache, aching knees, aching ankles, aching back… funny, the thing that is on my mind is not the everyday pain of aging, or paying for youthful mistakes. I am thinking about love. Love is precious and peculiar, and for all the years I daydreamed about love, while dismissing it as fanciful bullshit for children, I had no understanding of what it might actually be, if I had it, practiced it, or experienced it. Love is a verb and a noun. Love demands much of us as beings, and the penalties for poor decision-making are very high. Totally  worth it, though, totally worth it.

Love is not what we think it is; love is what it is.

Love is not what we think it is; love is what it is.

So sure, I woke in a lot of pain this morning. That seems irrelevant every time I glance down at the orange knotted-cord bracelet one of my loves fashioned for me as we sat talking, while he packed his hiking kit.  Love isn’t a diamond tennis bracelet. Hell, love isn’t even this bright bracelet of sturdy nylon cord. Isn’t love the movement toward giving, the inspiration, the desire to take someone’s needs, interest, fancy, and delight and make them important to one’s own experience, and then taking action?

How is this orange knotted cord bracelet not the most precious of ornaments, simply because it is love?

This token of love doesn’t go with anything I wear regularly. It stands out boldly from my flesh. I don’t generally wear bracelets at all; I feel it as I move through my morning.  I am moved by, and aware of love with every small motion that brings the orange back into my view, or shifts the cord against my skin.  I feel a little silly, a little giddy, no different from feelings I might have were I 16… love excites me.

This morning, the pain vanishes from my awareness most of the time; because I am reminded so simply, so frequently, of how much I am loved. Love, and loving, are a pretty nice distraction to deal with on a Wednesday morning. I’m sure not complaining about it.

How often do we mess with the goodness in our experience at one moment or another because it isn’t what we expect, or what we dream of? How many tender joys are lost because they were one thing, and not another? Would you turn down orange knotted cord because it isn’t something fancier that you dreamt of longer? Are you truly open to love? To being loved?  I have to admit, to be fair to love itself, all those bitter years of certainty that love was a lie, a pretty illusion, a pointless treasure hunt – I wasn’t open to love, or being loved.  I had defined ‘what love is’ and because it wasn’t presenting itself to me in the form I demanded, I couldn’t see it when it did turn up. That is one of the saddest things about being lonely; it’s often a choice.

So, this morning I am aware of my pain, and in spite of that, I’m choosing love.  Taking a moment to feel the connection to a love nurtured, shared, grown over time; connected by a simple orange knotted cord, on a very early Wednesday morning.

Today is a good day to love.

Tags , , , , , , , , , , , , ,
Categories Brain Injury, Free Will, Healthy Living, Love, Metaphors, Mindfulness, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Relationships, The Big 5, women, Words

Love Potions & Miracles

May 27, 2014 //
0

Are we all secretly counting on miracles to make things right? Are we all after some sort of patent nostrum, magic potion, or a pill to make everything better? It’d be damned convenient, wouldn’t it? I mean, compared to having to build skills, habits, work through baggage, be accountable, and make good choices… a pill seems much simpler.

I’ve tried the pills; they don’t work. Well, they work, if by ‘working’ we agree to mean ‘have an effect of some kind’ for ‘some people’. Sometimes the effect they have fits the loose definition of ‘working’. Pharmaceuticals didn’t work out for me, personally. They tended to be too much, or too little, or had other more pronounced effects that were uncomfortable, unacceptable, or needed medication of their own. Over time I ended up taking a lot of pills, and for a net effect in improvement so slight that I was little more than a poster child for giving the medical community ‘a chance’.  I still struggled. I still suffered. I still hurt. I had a level of emotional volatility that wasn’t comfortable for anyone who had to live with me, and threw tantrums rivaling the most highly irritable three-year old, and did so with a ferocity and frequency that raw honesty requires me to admit was abusive to live with. I wasn’t okay.

This past weekend was a walk down memory lane, and serves to highlight how generally good the past year has been. Practicing mindfulness, meditating regularly, and learning different skills to identify and communicate my emotional experience in an appropriate way has done far more than any pharmaceuticals ever did. Still. This is a journey – and I’m far from reaching my destination.

So… pills don’t work. How about those miracles? Well, frankly, after this morning, I’m wondering if I should sign on to the miracle side of the argument… I woke early, damned early, crying in my sleep. The hot flashes the last couple weeks have been… extraordinary.  Over and over again, I find myself drenched in sweat, and right on the edge of freaking out because I’m overcome by feeling ‘too hot’.  Beyond being socially a bit awkward to be dealing with it so openly, it’s just seriously uncomfortable.  Take something for it! Sure! Except that medical science lags so far behind the hopes, dreams, and needs of women that it is little more than comedic at this point (are scientists even trying?). I mean, seriously? ED drugs are widely available, but in spite of the pure misery of billions of women dealing with their hormones and the effect that has on their relationships, there’s not shit of any real effectiveness available to deal with symptoms of menopause. Nope, we can all collectively go fuck ourselves, science is content with ‘bitches are crazy’ and leave it at that. Sorry. I’m feeling a tad bitter about the state of medicine and womanhood just at the moment.

I got distracted… by hot flashes. Go figure. The hormone thing is pretty attention consuming, honestly.

So. How about those miracles? Yep. Sitting here this morning, finding a moment of comfort staring at my monitor in the dim light of early morning, just sitting.  Taking a few minutes to calm myself and shush the infernal demons that woke me ahead of schedule. Feeling very alone. Feeling incredibly insecure about the future. Feeling pretty sad and overwhelmed. Wondering what the hell I could possibly ever do to make it up to people who love me, then feeling mired in suppressed rage that being female should feel like something I need to make up for… it was a rough start to the morning.  There was a quiet scratching at the door; at 5 am we’re all pretty cautious about keeping things quiet; everyone in the household has their own sleep challenges, and we all know how much it matters to get the sleep we can.  A wakeful partner checking in, a quiet ‘how did you sleep’ and a follow-up ‘are you up?’ from me.  Ordinary love, aside from Love never being at all ordinary… he headed back to bed, hoping for more rest. I resigned myself to continuing to face my challenges until the time came to leave for work.  I was settling in to breathing, being, meditating… and he quietly returned, crossed the room, and just stood near enough to touch, his tenderness palpable.  He said “I feel so helpless to do anything to help you with the menopause thing.” Honest. True. Loving. He headed to bed, and now I am writing about miracles.

It was a simple enough miracle of love; I felt lonely, my love connected with me, intimately, gently, honestly.  I need that, more than a cure, and feeling it matters so much this morning.  My demons have no real defense against love.

Today is a good day to love.

What time is love?

What time is love?

Tags , , , , , , , , ,
Categories Anxiety, Brain Injury, Logic & Reason, Love, Menopause, Mindfulness, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Relationships, Sleepless Nights, The Big 5, women, Words
« Older Entries
Newer Entries »