Archives for posts with tag: mindfulness

It’s hard to dodge all the news about the ‘upcoming’ US presidential election – next year. I’m fairly bored with the bits that are about the election itself, and like many citizens I already have a good idea who I will vote for when the time comes. All the fuss and bother between now and then is just media foolishness, marketing to undecided voters, and a ludicrous waste of time and money for everyone else. Well – my opinion. I’m sure people who make their living marketing human beings for sale to voters probably feel quite differently about these sorts of things.

The barrage of human interest details, media-marketing of character qualities, and increase in spin (both positive and negative) spilling all over every pundit, issue, or moment that might brush past an ‘issue’ relevant to the upcoming election also tends to highlight some peculiarities of human beings that I do find worthy of study. I study the use of bias to drive cultural opinion. I study the use of social media to manipulate public opinion by charismatic grass-roots personalities, YouTube celebrities, and professional pundits. I study the deliberate use of inflammatory language to shift public opinion such that really horrible treatment of other human beings seems somehow… acceptable. I study the ferocity with which human beings strive to ‘be right’ – or to prove to someone else that they are, over the objections of other thinking and other experiences.

I most particularly study my own reaction when I read something, or interact with someone, and find one human being or another in some way ‘lacking’ humanity – a ‘bad person’. I’m very much aware that some people whose speech or actions I find entirely reprehensible quite likely seem fully justified and justifiable to the person using the words, or taking the action. Cops shooting people, for example – as a human being, I often find the circumstances (as presented by the media, that I’m able to be aware of) objectionable – and therefore, the law enforcement person who committed the act seems ‘in the wrong’ to me, and potentially ‘a bad person’ if they take their action to the ‘court of public opinion’ and try to excuse or justify it. From my outside perspective, I see the dead person as having every bit as much to live for, and every bit as much significance, as that law enforcement person. I don’t understand how people take a life without being affected by that action, myself; it is inconsistent with my experience of the value of human life. That’s an intense example, but there are equally troubling examples that don’t involve life or death in such an immediate way – politicians who push to cut government programs that benefit the working poor don’t focus on the impact those changes would have on people who rely on that help, they focus on the intended benefit to the bottom line. Employers who don’t pay a living wage don’t put their emphasis on any awareness that their employees are having to rely on government programs to make ends  meet, they focus on gross margin, and meeting financial goals. Most people, most of the time, think they are ‘the good guys’. So very very often we are not the good guys at all. It’s worth thinking about.

What is truly the outcome of my words, my choices, my actions – even my opinions and values? Who is being hurt by what I say, and what I do? I’ve given up on making an effort to ‘be right’ – even at work, which has real moments of hilarity; people definitely tend to expect a person to stand firm on some opinion or policy moment-to-moment, and being more invested in a greater understanding, and questions over answers, is unexpected. (I make a distinction between being accurate and ‘being right’; the former is about data, the latter about opinion.) On those rare occasions when I get pulled into a discussion where I feel I may ‘be right’ and inclined to defend that position, I notice pretty quickly; I question why I think I am right, and why I feel moved to defend my opinion – would the stronger position be to ask questions (and listen to the answers), and find a shared answer, an inarguable mutually respected truth, or a new solution? Listening has more value than ‘knowing’. All that worthless certainty generally just adds up to waiting for a turn to talk and not listening (or learning) much at all.

Just for fun, when you are reading articles in your feed, or listening to politicians talk, ask yourself ‘who is this position hurting?’ Just that. Go with the assumption that the more certain someone is, or the more they fight to be recognized as ‘being right’, the more likely their position does have unacknowledged consequences – collateral damage at a minimum – and ask the hard question; who is this hurting? Make a point of acknowledging for yourself the fundamental legitimate humanity of each human being participating in our culture (yes, all of them, even ____ ). Isn’t it easier to talk about cutting social security benefits if we don’t also have to think about elders who count on social security to live on in their final years, and what the practical realities of that scenario really are? Isn’t it easier to talk about ‘constitutionally protected gun ownership’ if we don’t also focus on innocent lives lost to gun violence, to accidents, to misuse? The media knows this is difficult stuff and applies a generous helping of spin – depending on their preferred audience – to ensure our attention is ‘well-placed’ to keep us glued to their channel for their advertisers – it sure isn’t about ‘truth’, or informing us.

Compassion was much harder to develop or to experience when I was firmly focused on being right. Turned out ‘being right’ has a lot less value for me, personally, than compassion has.  I’m sometimes fairly dismayed at how willing human beings are to hurt each other in the name of being right. It’s not a pleasant quality. Being willing to listen more, and being committed to letting go of ‘being right’, it is also hard to allow myself to look at another human being (however ludicrous or evil their opinions seems to me to be) and judge them as ‘a bad person’…but it is appalling to me how many people build their fame (or notoriety) on treating others poorly… and how often we allow, or encourage, it. Maybe it is time to stop rewarding such people with our attention – or our votes? Well… it is for me.

Walking my own path.

Walking my own path.

Thoughts over coffee on a chilly autumn morning. It’s a good day for taking time to listen. It’s a good day to include my own in the voices I listen to myself. It’s a good day to recognize the value of my attention and to be quite selective about what media is allowed past my eye holes into my thoughts; the profit margin of any one business, pundit, or news outlet is no concern of mine (and I am aware that it is their sole concern as a business). It’s a good day to change what I hear about the world by setting boundaries, and asking questions: “just the facts, please”, “who profits from this position/proposal?”, and “who will this hurt – and how badly?”

I’d like this to be a lovely bit of prose, whimsical and poetic, about autumn and about evening. It isn’t at all. I’m not sure what it is yet, other than distracted and interrupted…but it is autumn, it is evening, and I am distracted and interrupted by the noise and conversation of the concrete finishing crew working immediately outside my front door at this very minute, shortly before 6:00 pm.

I dislike how near to the world, exposed, and vulnerable I feel with the workers so incredibly close that I can clearly hear their conversation and see their movement through the front blinds. I feel less safe, and less private. I know that I am adequately safe, and adequately private in my day-to-day experience. I know that when the work is finished this will once again be a quiet home. Right now? Right now this is nothing that can be described as quiet and I am annoyed to have to pay rent – when I feel, fairly often, that the most important thing to be paying for with the rent is the fucking privacy and quiet. Well, if nothing else, I have learned how very much I need my home to be a quiet place – surely the knowledge will stop me from buying a place that isn’t. (I can hope.)

A leisurely shower, dinner in the oven, unhurried yoga, a few minutes writing… it is a thoroughly pleasant evening when I am able to forget, however briefly, about the noisy workmen, or at least refrain from becoming emotionally invested in moments of annoyance or resentment. It’s worth maintaining perspective; the work being done benefits the entire community, and matters to me as well. The workmen are aware of me, and there has been sufficient communication that they are – when they think to be – making efforts to minimize how disrupting this is for me (and for my neighbors). They are quite a polite and considerate construction crew, generally – it’s still work, there are still verbs – and communication – involved. No way around it, some of this shit is disruptive; it’s not a personal attack. 🙂

A lovely autumn evening; little annoyances don't have to matter. I let them fall like leaves.

A lovely autumn evening; little annoyances don’t have to matter. I let them fall like leaves.

So here I am now. Relaxed. Content. Taking time for me, making room in my heart for awareness, perspective, and compassion, and generally enjoying my evening in spite of the noise, in spite of the disruptions, in spite of the shadows just behind the window blinds. It’s a pleasant evening, and there’s really nothing ‘extra’ that I need right now. This is enough. 🙂

 

I am cooking dinner. I will treat myself gently tonight. My appointments with my therapist are not about ‘easy’. Today’s visit was… productive. I’m tired. I have a terrible headache. I am… thought-provoked. (There’s surely a less awkward word for that…) It’s okay; I’ve the quiet in which to relax, thoughtful or fretful, and the time left in the solitary evening to consider what I need from all this, as I sort things out and let other things sink in. Wednesday evenings are good for meditation, for long soaks in hot baths, for favorite music or interesting documentaries, and for taking care of this fragile vessel as well as I can.

It doesn’t really matter much what specifically I am working on just at the moment; very little of it feels ‘easy’, some of it doesn’t even feel worthwhile until long past when it is completely behind me… every bit of it matters, and there are verbs involved. Right now the verb is ‘cooking’. I wonder quietly if there will ever be a time that I don’t rely on reminders, ‘to do’ lists, alarms, and cheat sheets? Quite possibly not. I feel a moment of surprise that this does not distress me, and frustrated that I can’t quite recall with certainty whether it ever did.

It’s a quiet evening, suitable to taking care of me. I’ll have a healthy bite of dinner, a leisurely shower, and relax over a book… perhaps. I find myself rethinking that almost immediately; I need to let my brain rest, too. I consider an evening of music, and feel vaguely irritated. Just stillness, then? Sure. Dinner, a shower – and then chill time, sitting quietly with a cup of tea, probably chamomile, or maybe a hot cider… It’s the stillness itself that matters most.

 

I am enjoying a quiet evening. It isn’t a spectacular evening in any noteworthy way, but it is quiet, and relaxed, and satisfying; I am content with… ‘now’? Something more than that, but I lack concise straightforward language to describe it. Maybe I will stumble upon just the right word that means “I’m okay, by my own will and effort, the nourishment of love, and a future lifetime of healthy practices, and this is a damned fine cup of decaf on a chilly autumn evening and everything is just fine”… that’s the word I am looking for. 🙂

I could just enjoy this lovely moment.

I could just enjoy this lovely moment.

I have been in pain all day. I walked home slowly, more of a stroll, phone put away in my handbag, enjoying the geese and squirrels at play, and the autumn leaves fluttering to the ground. I got home, and did some yoga, and had a light dinner. I enjoyed a long soak in a hot bath, after meditating for some while. It was lovely. I’m still in pain. Doesn’t really matter that much right now.

I don’t find myself moved to poke and prod at my consciousness, or over-explain life’s endlessly mystifying curriculum to myself. This feels like an evening to relax, and to ‘reap what I have sown’ – there has to be room to appreciate progress, to enjoy moments, to be grateful for growth, for beginnings, for love… It’s a nice evening for all of that, and pain seems somewhat irrelevant for the moment.

I am relaxing here, sipping my coffee and listening to jazz. I am in the middle of a number of books – I nearly always am – and this sweet gentle evening is progressing such that it seems very much inevitable that I’ll be reading one of them in some imminent future moment, legs folded beneath me, coffee cup carefully perched on my knee, or cradled in my lap, lost in someone else’s words.

This is quite lovely. Isn’t that enough? I very much think it is. (Your results may vary; there are verbs involved.)

I enjoyed my beach trip yesterday, and arrived home quite late and very tired. I didn’t rush off to bed once I got home. It was a pleasant opportunity to relax and take my time taking care of my basic needs, in spite of the hour. There’s something about not rushing that feels very satisfying and…something. A word for a saturating self-care goodness that is emotionally nourishing, and joyful…is there a word for that?

When I rush through my life I can't really see what's going on around me.

When I rush through my life I can’t really see what’s going on around me.

I took my time all day – and that was part of the whole point of the day I had planned. I sent one last email to my traveling partner on my way, and use my “phone” as a camera for the rest of the day. (I’m not sure why anyone would call them ‘phones’ now, anyway – I rarely use mine for that, at all, and it spends most of its time as a camera.) I relaxed, walked the beach, walked the town and enjoyed the entire day on foot. I split my time between solitary reflection walking on the beach, and interacting with actual live humans. Real ones. Using words. I spent more time listening than actually talking. I made a point of making eye-contact, and asking fairly ordinary social small-talk questions – but slowing myself down enough to let people really just talk. I was definitely ready for the quiet bus ride home, but I finished the day feeling visible, valued, heard, appreciated…a lot of very emotionally nourishing experiences packed into one day. I guess next I work on figuring out how to be sufficiently open to these interactions moment-to-moment to enjoy them more, and more often.

Yesterday's beach trip was more about the horizon than the beach.

Yesterday’s beach trip was more about the horizon than the beach.

The weather on the coast was common enough for autumn; it was misty, cloudy, chilly and hazy. Somehow the photos look backlit from every direction. I don’t mind; if I get even one really good picture I am delighted.

More about a feeling, than a view.

More about a feeling, than a view.

I walked miles and miles up and down the beach. Any time I needed to rest there seemed to be a big driftwood log handy to sit on for a while. At one point I sat awhile meditating. Something got my attention out of the corner of my eye, off to the side. Ankle deep in the ocean was a woman with a friend and a camera…trying to get a yoga picture. I watched her awhile. She was attempting an asana I can’t yet do, and I am curious how people get those awesome yoga pictures. I watched, and it slowly became clear that this particular woman doesn’t actually do yoga; she’s just trying to get a cool yoga picture to turn out. It was more than a little weird, and I found myself thinking words like ‘sham’ and ‘fraud’.  Yoga pictures are pretty cool though… I look at them and think ‘wow, someday…’ It’s easy to understand wanting to be that. There are still verbs involved. It was a strange moment and I found myself uncomfortable with making a judgment about it one way or another, but feeling sad for the woman wanting to have that picture so badly she didn’t want to do the work to get there.

A fisherman, actually fishing.

A fisherman, actually fishing.

I had interesting conversations and a couple of great coffees, and saw art that inspires me as an artist. I watched clouds cross the sky. I slowed things down until I could hear myself think, and then took more time to listen. Listening is a very good practice, even if I am practicing listening to me.

A day spent well, listening to the wind, the waves, and my heart.

A day spent well, listening to the wind, the waves, and my heart.