Archives for posts with tag: mindfulness

No rain today. It’s not a holiday. Today is simply a weekend day wedged between one holiday and another. I am not working, and it isn’t raining; I walk a few miles. It’s a good day to walk (from my own perspective most of them are). After considering many trails within easy reach on such a day, I decide in favor of the closest paved trails through forest and meadow (only recently passable on foot) and head out with my camera and my thoughts, and commit to walking farther on foot, versus traveling farther to walk fewer miles in the same time.

Some of it is about what is in the distance, on the horizon, possible or probable; there will be verbs involved.

Some of it is about what is in the distance, on the horizon, possible or probable; there will be verbs involved.

It’s the end of one year, the beginning of another, and consistent with my tendency towards organized hierarchical thinking (as a human primate – it’s a thing we favor) the ‘new year’, as arbitrary as it really is, seems a fine time to wrap things up that no longer have value, or have reached a natural end, to reach out to initiate new things, shore up works in progress that need a boost or re-commitment of will, or to take a deep breath and re-calibrate this whole experience in some way through reflection, consideration, or discussion. In short, it’s a time of year I often spend on self-reflection.

(I re-read that last paragraph and I am reminded of my traveling partner’s observation that there is room for brevity in life, in poetry, in text messaging – and surely in my own use of language as well? Fair enough, Dear One, you are quite correct. I’ll reflect on that, too; it’s a lovely moment to reach out for healthy changes, and to refresh my thinking on all manner of things – even language.)

Today I just walked. Footsteps over miles. Miles of mud. Miles of pavement. Miles under clouds. Miles alongside small local waterways. Miles of trees, squirrels, crows, ducks, geese, and the sound of nearby traffic and all of the busy-ness mankind has created to occupy time. Miles of musing about things I have seen, things I have heard, and things that I wonder. I wander. Miles. Miles of tiny mushrooms in a variety of shapes and sizes and habits of growth. Miles of opportunities to pause. Miles measured in moments, one after the other, each so very precious – each now only a memory. I reflect on the miles, and I reflect on the moments. I reflect on what is behind me, and how far I’ve yet to go.

Sometimes it is a matter of details, perspective, and a willingness to be aware, without judgment or interpretation.

Some of it is a matter of details, perspective, and a willingness to be aware, without judgment or interpretation.

Today is a good day for reflection.

It’s late. I made a choice to finish the evening gently, investing in small joys I associate with the holidays: the music, the twinkle lights, the scents, and the flavors. By choice, I finish the evening with a smile floating on the current that is the things that are going well, rather than becoming snagged, weighed-down, by something going less well. (It would be a rare thing in life for absolutely 100% of everything to be entirely ideal.) I’m comfortable with contentment, and I have enough for that. I take time for me, and treat myself gently, and well.

Glow

Relaxing in the glow, I begin again.

I meditate a while and set aside enough of my concern for my traveling partner to rest easily and trust his good decision-making. Losing sleep over the circumstances benefits no one. Feeling comforted from within and able to ‘be there’ if called upon, I chill awhile longer in the glow of the Giftmas tree, grateful to love and be loved, and grateful to have enough.

 

Thanksgiving is a favorite holiday for me, although I don’t celebrate much ‘pilgrim vs indigenous people’ stuff.  For me, this is a holiday about feasting, gratitude, hospitality, welcoming, and acceptance. Today I’ll cook a fairly lavish meal compared to the day-to-day, as is traditional for so many. It’s a rare year that I don’t have a handful of others invited to join me for the holiday meal, and today the celebration is not dependent on a guest list at all. It’s still a holiday, still about gratitude, and still about being welcoming and thankful – and I care share all those things with the woman in the mirror, too. There have been far too many times I didn’t appreciate her, or even welcome her in her own experience. This is a year to celebrate how much I value the part I play, myself, in my experience, in my choices, and in my opportunities. It’s a year to be thankful, appreciative, and welcoming – of myself.

I begin the holiday season reflecting on gratitude, and good fortune.

I begin the holiday season reflecting on gratitude, and good fortune.

I am sipping my coffee, enjoying the slow encroachment of sunshine on carpet near the patio door, and planning the day’s cooking; small kitchen, small spaces, one oven, no microwave… I’ve had it far worse. Here all the burners work, I have a functioning dishwasher, and every surface is sparkling clean and available for food prep. I am grateful for my tiny kitchen, and all of its convenience – including the pantry almost as large as the kitchen itself, and having everything I’ll need within easy reach. I will happily spend the next hour or two making final recipe choices, smiling over the memories that surface with each recipe card, cookbook, or saved article from some ancient newspaper or magazine, handed down woman to woman over generations. I am grateful for the recollection of so many wonderful home-cooked meals over the years. I am grateful for this smile.

Planning the day has become organizing the cooking, and soon all the planning and organizing will become action – there will be verbs involved, and practices practiced. Safety with knives. Food-safe preparation, and clean-as-I-go practices. Proper food storage practices. Kindness and compassion will be practiced today, too. There’s not likely to be any drama on this holiday – but I could make choices that leave me feeling run down, blue, and angst-y later in the day. Being kind to myself, and compassionate with myself as a human being worthy of consideration and love will make just as much as much sense for me, solo, as it would for me entertaining a crowd. I will take time to treat myself well. I will pace myself, today, and remember that enjoying the day, the meal, and the moment, is the point – not the success of any one dish or the timing with which the meal is served. There’s nothing to be stressed about; this is a holiday about appreciation, sufficiency, and thanks – it’s not a competition, and there are no winners besides the people who put down their stress and agita and simply enjoy the day, present in the moment, and grateful for all that they have.

Facing the approach of winter, I feel fortunate in my cozy home.

Facing the approach of winter, I feel fortunate in my cozy home.

Today I take time to give thanks – I have more than enough.

I am waiting for water to boil, and contemplating the peculiar puzzle of refugees, suffering, and fear. I don’t find myself at all concerned about refugees aside from the obvious; they are human and need homes, safe places to sleep, nutritious food, a sense of place, and a source of fulfillment and productivity. Don’t we all, regardless where we live, or where we came from? People.  The concern and stress for me come from the unavoidable awareness of how badly people treat themselves every day, right here at home; what else could be the source of so many having so little compassion?

When the path seems most clear, sometimes the footing is treacherous.

When the path seems most clear, sometimes the footing is treacherous.

Personal experience tells me it is actually incredibly easy to be without compassion if I am unable or unwilling to show myself compassion as a starting point…if that’s true of others also, it suggests that a great many people treat themselves so poorly they have nothing left of compassion, trust, or kindness for others. That’s worth being concerned about – it’s very sad.  Who am I to criticize? Well… I’m human, too, and feeling the sting of associations that lack compassion isn’t foreign to me, and it sucks. So – I think I can safely say more people more easily able to experience compassion (toward themselves, too) has value. So…okay. Now what? How can I really help? What about you? How can you help, too? I don’t really have answers to all those questions, but I have a thought… Isn’t demonstrating compassion a great start? Showing ourselves compassion, too? Modeling the behaviors that feel so right to me at this point in my life, bringing them to life in the world – isn’t that a good starting point? Treating others with compassion sets a tone – and sets an example. So does treating myself with compassion. There are still verbs involved, and sometimes it is worthwhile to pause and really consider myself in the moment; is my reaction in the moment to what is foreign or new really appropriate to the actual known circumstances? Am I living in fear – or in love?

There is so little need to struggle. It may not seem so in some moments, but I have found it is generally vastly easier, and more productive, to give myself a break, show myself some compassion, and to be generous with kindness than to put that same energy into struggling. The world is colored in a very different way if I face the struggles I see with questions, instead of assumptions. How about this one, “How can I help you right now?”

I can look back on a younger me who was a very different person than the woman I am today. Her world was very black and white, clearly defined, with obvious good guys and bad guys, and fairly strict rules of conduct suitable for breaking regularly. She didn’t have much compassion, and wasn’t at all aware of that lack. She treated people fairly callously, and treated herself far worse. She expected the world would treat her well, because all the fairy tales said so, and when the world didn’t follow the plot closely, she felt cheated, betrayed, and wounded. I sound disappointed with her, perhaps, but we’ve come a long way together, and although I can’t quite bring myself to call her well-meaning from this vantage point, I can see her potential shine so brightly across the years. She struggled more than necessary, but didn’t know better, and she had a lot to endure, and to overcome. Did she do her best? Well – I’m sure she thought so then, whatever I think now and it isn’t fair to judge her harshly from the vastly improved perspective I have on a quiet Tuesday at 52; I’ve tidied up a lot of the chaos and damage that she waded through every day.

I’m not sure where I’m going with this – this, too, is a journey. I think I’m just saying… people are  human. Each of us. All of us. Any of us. The cost – and value – of human life can’t be measured on a scale we can really understand. Don’t turn humanity away. Don’t turn your own humanity away. Make yourself welcome in your own experience, at least, and having done so with a sincere, genuine, and compassionate heart… can you still look at your neighbor, or your fellow human being from afar, and say ‘they are not worthy of my help’? Whoever ‘they’ are, they are also human, also worthy.

Anyway. There’s already a single word for this entire post.  “Namaste”

It's your path... you choose your direction.

It’s your path… you choose your direction.

What a special day this is turning out to be! It has been easy and relaxed since I woke (later than usual). I feel content, and connected – and very much as though I’ve spent the day in the company of a dear friend, someone close, of long-standing history and shared experience…only… it’s just been me, hanging out on my own. Still, I feel more connected, generally, and more comfortable with myself and with other people.

A bit of gardening and a lovely walk.

A bit of gardening and a lovely walk.

There’s been nothing extraordinary about the things I am doing today. I spent quite a long time on yoga this morning, and enjoyed a light bite of brunch a bit later. I enjoyed a long autumn walk in the sunshine, the air was chilly and still, carrying the scent of pine and marsh, and distant hearths. I saw a beaver up close – it was the first time I’ve seen one so close. The dam he is building is quite large. I found myself wondering if he has feelings about it, as a home, or as the outcome of his effort, and wondering, too, what is the nature of the thoughts of animals. I mused for a long while about the nature of consciousness as I walked.

A dam is a complicated feat. I find myself wondering if a beaver's life's work has meaning for the beaver.

A dam is a complicated feat. I find myself wondering if a beaver’s life’s work has meaning for the beaver.

There were berries, and roses hips of many colors, and drifts of autumn leaves along the way. There were flooded paths, birds of prey, children, dogs, and squirrels at play. I walked farther than I planned; I kept changing my destination to something just a bit further down the path as I walked. I decided to turn back when the sunny sky took a gray turn, hinting at an evening that I knew would come earlier than it did yesterday.

Colorful berries and vines remain after all the leaves have fallen.

Colorful berries and vines remain after all the leaves have fallen.

I arrived home feeling very connected to the world I live in, and sit here even now feeling differently about life in some subtle way…as though I had an incredibly eye-opening and insightful conversation with someone I trust completely, and learned something deeply meaningful. I don’t think this particular feeling has any more or less value than other feelings. It is very pleasant and moving in a positive way. I am content to enjoy this moment for as long as it lasts. Enjoying it utterly, and savoring the experience of it is a practice worth practicing. 🙂