Archives for posts with tag: mindfulness

This morning I am sitting here in the quiet of dawn, and contemplating this sweet chill moment of satisfaction and contentment; I want for nothing. At least right now, this very specific and limited immediate moment of now, I am not experiencing desire, hunger, craving, yearning, or any urgent sense of need. It’s lovely.

It got me thinking, though, of recent tragedies, and lives lost to the dark side of desire: entitlement, jealousy, possessiveness, attachment, and yes, craving, yearning, wanting, ‘needing’ – those urgent hard-to-resist feelings that say there is something amiss in the world when some object, experience, or person is not available for ownership, possession, or purchase. I doubt it is the desire itself that is the challenge. My own experiences tell me that the difficulties (and horrors) develop when a person is overcome by the conviction that some outcome is their due. Expectation. Demand. Entitlement.

I’ve struggled with it, too. It’s very human to want something or someone so badly that it takes over reason and good sense, destroys compassion and consideration, impedes respect, or seems to justify bad behavior; it isn’t appropriate to take action on those feelings in any way that encroaches on someone else’s will, personal liberty, control of their own body, sense of safety, or freedom to withhold consent.  Rapists are a problem, and the lack of consent is the defining thing, and even in the face of the obviousness of it there manages to be discussion about it, as if there is some permissible amount of non-consensual conduct that is acceptable. (There isn’t.)

It took me a long time to get here. I have been wading through a lot of wreckage, and looking back on me over the years, I owe a number of very good-hearted people apologies of one sort or another; damage doesn’t truly excuse being a shitty human being.  I have struggled with myself, and I still do, figuring out the consent piece, for myself, as I find my way in the world.   I wasn’t exactly brought up to respect my own boundaries, to expect that my consent – or lack of it – would be respected, or even to say no and mean it in clear, explicit terms.  The result? I sometimes didn’t treat other rape survivors well; I treated them as badly as I treated myself. I didn’t understand the nature of consent, or that the word ‘no’ had any power to change events. My own experiences didn’t support that. I didn’t understand it is my right to choose, to say yes or no, and to have those choices be accepted and honored.  I spent years as an unwitting accomplice to rape culture; the survivor-apologist, so busy being ‘accountable for my own actions’ that I was willing to excuse my violation.  Getting past that and building a healthy understanding of the sanctity of my consent has been a complicated battle.

[Are you listening? It isn’t too late to show yourself compassion, to respect your own pain, to stand on your values and say ‘no’. It’s okay, too, to feel shame at the damage you’ve done as a tool in your own destruction – and to choose another path, now. You said it would matter if just one woman, one survivor, would say “I’m sorry I made things worse.” I’m here. I’m one woman. I’m sorry.]

So… here we all are… talking about the issues more openly, more insistently, more frankly. That, in spite of the pain and the circumstances, is an important step forward.

In the midst of pain, there is still beauty.

In the midst of pain, there is still beauty.

Today is a good day to talk about difficult subjects honestly. Today is a good day to be compassionate and concerned. Today is a good day to respect myself, and others. Today is a good day to change the world.

As recently as 5 years ago, my mobility (and joy in life) were incredible limited by my weight.  Over time I had continued to gain weight for a number of reasons, certainly including the very important reason that I really just didn’t do very much.  Between fighting my demons, taking medication to make that less difficult for those around me, and the slow descent into profound apathy toward life, in general, I gained weight at a predictably steady rate. When I started losing that weight, and slowing gaining some sort of motivation regarding life, if not actual joy in it, it was a process of choices and actions; progress was made over time.

I routinely walk between 5 and 8 miles a day, these days. I’m still heavier than I’d ideally like to be. My personal goal and sense of ‘this would be the most beautiful me’ are not particularly tied to cultural norms for beauty, over the years I’ve gotten past that bit of baggage, thankfully. I’d like to be healthy, fit, and able to live a long time.  Still, these knees and ankles don’t make it effortless, even now, and I’m not close enough to my goals to rest easy. There is more work to be done. I like enjoying my life, and for me that means freedom of movement, as much as I can manage. So, I walk. I do yoga. I get fitter. I get stronger. I make small gains in freedom of movement, gait, and comfort.

I still have a journey ahead of me, and with my partners eagerly embracing a new-found interest, or rekindling an old interest, in outdoor fun: hiking, kayaking, camping – I am struggling with a feeling of ‘falling behind’. It’s still a journey. It’s still my journey. The temptations of what I do not yet achieve with ease seem to be dangling in front of me, just out of reach. It’s hard not to be frustrated by that, sometimes. My journey, however, is my own, and it isn’t the same journey as the journey each of my loves, my friends, my associates takes; their journey is their own as well. I don’t grudge them their joys; I am human enough to experience envy and frustration at the tantalizing bits of those journeys I would like to share.

It isn't always obvious why the path is what it is.

It isn’t always obvious why the path is what it is.

So I wake this morning, quietly, hoping not to disturb the sleep of a partner heading into adventure today. I do hope for pictures, although I don’t expect them; life is best lived, full on, attentively, and in-the-moment. I wouldn’t ask him to sacrifice one second of that experience just to grab a photograph. I yearn to go along, sometime, and feel a poignant moment of recognition that I am not ready, yet.

So…more miles, walking, and it’s time to vary the terrain and stray from pavement. I’m shopping for a good daypack, and when I find the best fit, I’ll start walking with that, too. Every step forward, however small, is progress along the journey. It’s been a long time since Nijmegen, and I may never be fit enough for something like that again… but I’d love to be walking up a mountain trail with my loves, with my friends, to a destination in the wilderness, even if it isn’t very wild, or very far away; there’s a lot of beauty in the world, and I’d like to see more.

I spent the morning shopping for gear, feeling hopeful and encouraged, and ready to take another step.

Today is a good day for forward momentum. Today is a good day to experience life with eyes wide open, and an eager curiosity. Today is a good day to change the world.

After numerous flight delays, I finally reached my destination, and a taxi. I was one 40 minute cab ride away from home.

My driver made the trip in a heart-stopping 24 minutes!

My driver made the trip in a heart-stopping 24 minutes!

My homecoming was delightful, warm, loving, supportive. I know we hung out for a little while, I know souvenirs were brought forth, shared, discussed. There may have been an anecdote shared, or two.  I think we ‘got caught up’. I didn’t stay  up late, but I didn’t rush to bed, either; Las Vegas got me used to just going and going and going…ending the evening and going to sleep was challenging, in spite of obvious signs of exhaustion.

Yesterday happened. Most of it involved sleeping. I woke in the morning, too early, had coffee and started an argument. It hadn’t been my intention, and in-the-moment I wouldn’t have described the circumstances that way, but looking back, the step-by-step process of ‘starting shit’ was evident, and well-followed with considerable precision. I was still so incredibly fatigued that I was highly volatile, and that’s a poor moment to attempt conversation about political matters –  important or otherwise. This was not ‘important’. I was just killing time, waiting for an entirely other sort of moment, actually, and my choices were poor.  (Not surprising, really, my decision-making when I am fatigued is often quite peculiarly poor, and I suspect it is due to the specifics of my TBI.) I went back to bed, once it became clear I just wasn’t rested enough yet to be fit to interact with human beings.

Yesterday I slept 16.5 hours, waking 4 times for various reasons, and durations of time. I managed to drink about 128 ounces of water (thank you Hello Kitty water bottle!). I even managed to fit in some meditation, some yoga, and a couple short walks.  Apparently that is what it takes me to recover from 4 days in Las Vegas. lol (I think we could all have done without including a nasty tearful temper tantrum, next time I’ll try that.)

I am excited to be home. I am rested. Life feels very good.

Today is a good day to garden.

Today is a good day to garden.

Today is a good day to notice small delights.

Today is a good day to notice small delights.

Today is a good day to enjoy simple things.

Today is a good day to enjoy simple things.

Today is a good day to love without reservations.

Today is a good day to love without reservations.

Today is a good day to change the world.

Language is funny stuff. I’m sure I’ve commented on that before. Consider the verb ‘to be’. Is. Isn’t. Am. Are. Were. We toss ‘is’ around like we really know something. I find it pretty limiting, because life isn’t often quite so simple as ‘is/is not’. A shift in perspective, a change in the way we’ve defined some term, and the whole world may look entirely new, with a different variety of possibilities spread wide before me. ‘Is’, generally isn’t as much as I’d like it to be, or however convenient it might make the outcome of a choice, or my understanding of the world around me.

I’m learning to question ‘is’. Is it? Is it also something else? lol  It’s not a matter of doubting my sanity, or any uncertainty beyond the necessary basic requirement to be open to possibilities, I’m simply finding – often – that assumptions are not ‘truth’, that perspective is often the key to critical thinking, and that a firm ‘is’ can carry hidden limits, boundaries, and complications that prevent growth.

Being, however, is. Just that. Being. I am.

I rarely find that being, itself, is ‘the problem’. I often find that some use of a form of the verb ‘to be’ features heavily in conflicts both large and small. [I suddenly imagine a missionary, black pants, white button-front shirt, with a book and an earnest look asking “Have you read about E Prime?”]

Expectations, assumptions, and the word ‘is’ are all it takes to get me completely messed up emotionally over nothing at all.  I’m learning other ways. Last night, for example, was a lovely homecoming – it didn’t resemble my notions of that particular homecoming even a little bit. Not at all similar to my expectations – which were unavoidably based on my assumptions. It was lovely, though, and warm, and totally worthy all on its own.  🙂  It felt satisfying to enjoy it, without troubleshooting it, accepting the moments and the emotions and just enjoying my life.

Today is a good day to be open to possibilities. Today is a good day to smile and share a funny story. Today is a good day for a coffee with a friend. Today is a good day to love. Today is a good day to change the world.

Today is.

Today is.

I woke with a pounding headache this morning, and thinking fretfully of subtly out-of-reach goals. My dreams are gone and forgotten, leaving only hints that they were uneasy. I feel well-rested, but there’s this headache.

Do fish get headaches?

Do fish get headaches?

The workday begins.  I feel distracted and disconnected, thinking more of the evening to come, and the homecoming of a partner who has been away for many days and returns with a travelers tales of adventure, misadventure, and love.  Exciting!

There’s little enough to say until after the stories are told, shared, savored, and stored away for another day.  Then next week, I travel, myself.  It is a busy spring.

I have the sense there is more to say, that there was something queued up in my consciousness that needed some time, some consideration, some words… gone now, if it ever really was.  Two oddities of my TBI are the way it affects my sense of ‘novelty’ and ‘completion’.  I sometimes struggle for hours trying to remember “that important thing/idea I was in the middle of before I got interrupted” – it often turns out that it was simply something momentarily engaging like a commercial, or a slogan, or a phrase of poetry in my head that was stuck on a sort of loop, and when I finally do recall whatever it was, it not only isn’t ‘important’ – it isn’t relevant or even slightly interesting.  The novelty thing is different, equally ‘quirky’ and annoying.  I sometimes experience things as novel that I’ve known or been doing for a long while, or used to do a lot and gave up, then returning to it find it feeling completely new.  I get the reverse, too, where I don’t at all recognize something as entirely new, and never-before-experienced. That has some problematic moments, since it can occasionally result in having the perception that I know someone and just don’t remember their name, when actually we’ve never met at all and they are an un-vetted stranger.  Having a brain injury results in some peculiar vulnerabilities.

In the news, I found some amusement – and offense, let’s be honest – in stories about Karl Rove doing old-fashioned bias-based mudslinging, using the potential for having had a brain injury as an insult.  I almost missed the open insensitivity and contempt it indicated for the wide variety of talented people who do live as survivors of brain trauma, I was laughing so hard.  Seriously? How is brain damage – with no other information – even an issue? Will candidates now have to have scans to prove their brain is fully healthy and intact? What will happen to congress then? (You should be able to hear my eyes rolling from where you’re sitting, if you’re quiet. lol) It’s been clear for a very long time that critical thinking, a good education, and the will to serve the people of this country are not common characteristics of politicians, and as with the rest of the population, the intellectual and cognitive gifts of legislators are not evenly distributed. lol

Brain injuries aren’t actually uncommon, according to my reading. Very serious ones are less common, but how many people get through childhood without banging their head badly enough to get a concussion? Turns out that’s a bigger deal than we knew.  Football players – there are a few there – boxers, really any contact sport has the potential – and how many jobs are out there where a blow to the skull is a known potential risk? Soldiers surely come to mind, so many come home with a TBI, that ‘TBI’ is now a pretty commonly known acronym;  it wasn’t before the modern wars in the Middle East.   So, if a TBI isn’t particularly uncommon, in one form or another, how is it okay to use that as an insult?  It isn’t.

“Brain damage” isn’t actually a joke.

A good day for exploring the possibilities.

A good day for exploring the possibilities, and looking at things from a new perspective.

Today is a good day for compassion. Today is a good day to welcome someone home. Today is a good day to accept differences and commonalities. Today is a good day to understand that we are each having our own experience.  Today is a good day to love.