Archives for posts with tag: mindfulness

I got home so brain-tired yesterday that the rainy day commute did not have the power to stress me out; I had no fucks left to give, in the gentlest nicest way. I just could not do anything beside safely gently drive home, park the car, and then… well, just basically nothing at all. lol

The rain continued to fall off and on all evening. I sat quietly enjoying the sound of it. Meditation. Yoga. A mug of hot tasty broth. A small glass of port, sipped slowly while I chatted for a few minutes with my Traveling Partner. Quiet. Merry. It was a lovely evening.

I slept restlessly, waking every two hours or so, checking the clock, returning to sleep. I woke ahead of the alarm, but close enough; I got up early. Yoga. Strength training. A shower. A very tasty almond milk latte that shows I have been practicing; best so far. A gentle morning, in spite of my arthritis pain.

I am eager for the long weekend ahead. No occasion. Well, me. That’s my occasion. It’s the autumnal equinox, and I am taking a long weekend to meditate, and to paint. It’s only blip on the radar this morning, of little consequence, although I have a to do list waiting for me each evening that is intended to see all the housekeeping completed before the work week ends. (How’s that going, so far, then? LOL) I’m contentedly resigned to the high likelihood that I’ll actually spend Thursday afternoon on all of that, simply because the beginnings of this week are so crammed with work-day activities that I am utterly exhausted when I get home in the evenings. It is what it is. I don’t give myself any shit about being human very often anymore.

I am mildly irked about having to go in to the office on Thursday, which jammed up Β my original plan to camp on the coast and meditate on the shore over the long weekend, but the goings on in the office are not just a big deal; this particular bit is about/for the work I specifically do, so… yeah. It’d be hard to delegate that. I don’t even want to. Aaaaaand… inspiration struck me, which matters a great deal, and I need to take the new studio space for a test drive. πŸ˜€ So. Change of plans. A painting stay-cation, and I am eager to get on with it. There’s still the rest of this week, as short as it is, to get through… so.

I finish my coffee, still staring at that to do list. I find myself noticing that several listed tasks are sufficiently “quiet” that I can knock some of this out before work…

…A good opportunity to begin again. πŸ™‚

Yep. Pour me a river of strong black coffee. lol It’s already Monday.

I feel like I spent an eternity in Wonderland. What a fantastical, peculiar, love-drenched, musical magical weekend. πŸ™‚ I’m still smiling. I got to hear DJs I’d been managing to just miss over several previous events – in one case, someone I’ve been truly yearning to hear perform live (my Traveling Partner). I got to hang out fully welcomed by loving family (chosen family, cherished friends, and assorted colorful others). I got to see looks of delight upon being introduced (to a very select few) as “my wife, …” . There were hugs, and tales of adventure, and great music, and pretty lights – it was an experience outside the routine and ordinariness of my day-to-day, and this time I totally understood the draw of such a weekend, and how it might become a lifestyle for some, far more than I ever understood previously. It was lovely. It was fun. I’m still processing it. πŸ˜€

It was a weekend spent fully living each moment as present as I was able to do so. I now also Β understand how it is that my traveling partner rarely has any pictures of the events he attends; I never once thought to pull out my camera. LOL

The drives down and back were fine. Long-ish, but because the specific location was a bit further north, not at long as previous drives down. It had some fun weird surreal moments, too. I went to high school down that way, and upon seeing the gps coordinates of the location plotted on a map, I realized I would be in a (sort of) familiar area. Having the brain injury I do has some strange moments; I got close-ish to my destination, and somehow, found myself insisting (through spontaneous action) upon getting off the highway at an earlier than planned (by gps) exit. “Fuck this, I know where I am now” was how that felt, and I drove efficiently down half-familiar country roads at “local speeds”; the place names and landmarks I passed all seemed very familiar, but if asked I could not have told you were I was, nor described the route I was taking. The part of my brain driving the rest of that trip wasn’t, apparently, the part that does all the talking. LOL The trip back was similarly strange. I used my gps to set up the trip, but it wanted me to drive two hours out of my way becauseit was left set on “no highways”! I ignored it, got in the car, and drove. I figured it would recalculate the route properly once I was on the freeway heading north, at which point I’d be shutting it off anyway, and I knew the route I was taking, already. Fun and weird, and strangely empowering. πŸ˜€

Also mostly irrelevant. It was just a drive. Well, two. Two drives, and very little “traffic” except one bit on the way back, nearer to home but not quite to the exit I thought I was planning to take. I shrugged off any stress about either the pouring rain that was falling, making the roads slick (first rain in quite some time) and reducing visibility, or the traffic. I took the next exit once I hit congestion and hopped on a road that “felt” suspiciously like a good alternate route. I was right. Maybe I should be letting that part of my brain drive all the time? lol Hell, it was the ideal detour; it shortened my drive time by about 7 minutes. The weekend driving also ensured that I had ample exposure to driving and being in traffic after being tail-ended on Friday.

I think back on relating The Tale of Being Rear-Ended to my Traveling Partner, and his gentle and firm insistence that I have the bumper repaired. I have no earnest desire to follow through on that, but he’s right; keeping the car in good repair will keep me mindful of continuing to care for it. It’s a good car. Caring for my things allows them to serve me well, much longer, and reduces waste. But… I’d rather shrug it all off and just… not. This is no doubt why he made the clear – explicitly clear – gently firm reminder to definitely call the insurance and get the repair work done. Safety, too. While the airbag did not deploy, it may be necessary to check that it was not affected, and it may be necessary reset or replace something else that I’m not really thinking about that may have been damaged. It was a solid hit that did leave the impression of a license plate frame in my bumper, after all. I made the uncomfortable child lurking within my adult exterior stand quietly and listen to his reminders to follow through on this. He knows me well; he repeats the request a number of times over the weekend (any time the crash came up in conversation), knowing I will be less likely to overlook it as a result. I know me well, too; I don’t take the reminders at all personally, nor put up any defenses. I repeat the request back to him, further reinforcing it. I get home, and add it to my to do list. πŸ™‚

Wonderland seems so far away now. Like a beautiful dream. It was lovely to come home to a tidy house, and I’m glad to be home, but I miss residents of Wonderland, and the music, and the energy, and the fanciful details that continuously reminded me of all that is strange and lovely and worthy of a break in the routines. I miss my Traveling Partner and his Mad Hatter friends. I miss the rave pixies, and stranger strangers with their own tales to tell. For one brief moment my heart feels torn in two by lives worth living that seem so very separate and hard to reconcile.

Then a smile creeps over my face; the weekend solved a “problem” (more a sort of math-y word problem than a real hardship); what to do about retirement. I feel like now it is just timing and tasks and becoming ready for a moment that now feels selected, and a journey on a path that now seems subtly illuminated. Pretty wonderful, itself, and absolutely an outcome of visiting Wonderland this weekend. It’s true. I have a plan for retirement. πŸ˜€ Nah, I’m not intending to share more detail at present; it is too new for any of that. There’s work to be done, though, and some of that has already begin. πŸ˜€

I look at the time, and realize what is so obvious each morning I care to notice it; it’s time to begin again. πŸ˜€

 

My evening was not ideally productive and this morning I notice that somehow the evenings this week have seemed to slip by with very little getting done, and few of my intentions being realized. It’s those damned verbs piling up like speed bumps along Β my journey, becoming unfinished (or unstarted) tasks, slowing me down. I frown at my hands for no obvious reason, as I contemplate the long list of crap I hope to get done before I get in the car and head south to see my Traveling Partner this weekend.

Damn, I love how much more I see him, now that there is a car parked in my driveway. lol In general, I don’t mind the drive, and find that I don’t lose anything by it. I find it agreeable to have two 4-hour blocks of time spent in solitude, almost in a state of meditation, driving a familiar route, seeking that comfortable state of calm and contentment, “playing by the rules” and keeping a commitment to safety. It is both a game and a journey, and I’ve yet to even turn on music. I just drive, focused on driving well and safely, and eager to see my Traveling Partner, but also not stuck on specific details like departure times, arrival times, or “being there long enough to make the trip worth it”, or any of that. I just go. Love. Return. I do it with as much presence as I am able to maintain, as continuously as I am able to maintain it.

Other drivers are analogous to “other people’s drama” on my physical road trips. I use moments of frustration to practice practices like reframing the experience of the moment based on an alternate possible understanding – changing my assumptions about other drivers can change my experience. Did that guy “cut me off” because “he’s a jerk” and “a shitty driver”? Is there a chance that he legitimately didn’t realize he’d left me so little following distance, and was perhaps, instead, feeling the pressure of that much faster car tailgating him in the fast lane and just trying to get over out of that guy’s way? Did that person who slammed on their brakes in front of me need to brake at the last minute because there was something in front of them, too small for me to see, or did they realize they missed their turn and panic for a moment? Is that person riding the center line an inexperienced driver feeling insecure at high speed?

Distracted drivers – I struggle with compassion for your experience, I admit it. Get off the fucking phone. Put down your device. Stop fucking around with the buttons and knobs you can’t quite see on the console and just… drive your damned car. lol (Yep, still human!) You get my point, though; I play some games with myself to make the narrative I create about what is going on around me less “me vs the world”, less a personal attack and more just humans being human and chaos of circumstances. Instead of those long drives being endlessly tedious, they have become opportunities to practice, to build emotional resilience, to explore what it means to be human, myself, and even to grow a little. πŸ™‚ Weekend well spent. πŸ˜€

Buuuuut… There’s still shit to get done here, before I go, to take care of the woman in the mirror, and to provide myself with the homecoming experience I most enjoy. I like to come home to an orderly home, no dirty dishes, no laundry that hasn’t been put away, no disorder, no “catching up” to do, no loose ends, bed made, carpet vacuumed… as though I care about my quality of life (which, I do). So, this evening, unfortunately, won’t be particularly relaxing, nor will the remainder of the morning; I have shit to do. lol One thing that doesn’t need doing? I don’t need to pack. I’m so glad I updated my bug out bag for regular use; it’s ready to go. I have literally nothing to pack. I’ll dress, grab my handbag, my keys, my bug out bag – and leave. It’s that effortless now. πŸ˜€ (Way to go, Me! Nice job taking care of you. ❀ )

I look over my to do list, sorting things to put stuff I can easily take care of this morning at the top. Run the dishwasher, check the fridge for things that may spoil if left over the weekend, take out the trash, make the bed, clean the toilets… Some stuff just has to wait: it’s too early for the noise of vacuuming, putting away the rest of the laundry has no excuse – I just don’t feel like doing it this morning. lol Looking over my list, thinking through the details, it’s clear that there is less of this irritating day-to-day stuff than it felt like there was, and more “bigger deal” stuff that can comfortably wait for next weekend, like hanging paintings, unboxing the last of the books, installing the new shower head, and other assorted final moving in details. What little stress I may have been feeling dissolves. There’s not even an hour worth of fussy odds and ends of housekeeping to do, really. That’s a nice feeling.

I look at the time. Sip my coffee. There are things to do. I’ve got a list. It appears to be time to begin again. πŸ˜‰

I’m not telling you what to do, just suggesting that if you happen to notice you are being programmed, whether by “the media”, or an advertiser, or an authority figure, or a cultish workplace, or a religion, or a school, or really whatever is pinging on your consciousness with a specific agenda-driven outcome in mind that profits some entity that is not you… Change the channel. Seriously. Walk on. Move out of view, out of reach, out of range. Choose a different activity, a different focal point, another perspective.

I’m not really sure what else to say about this one. My consciousness is my own, right up until that point at which I hand it over to someone else. My will is involved here – so is my awareness. There are verbs involved in de-bunking the bunk, and revealing the many frauds perpetrated on our consciousness each day (often by precisely those agencies purporting to tell us the “truth”).

I try to choose what content I consume with the same care that I choose the food I eat, the water I drink, and the moments I share with others. It’s harder than it looks, sometimes. πŸ™‚

One commonplace example of what I am talking about is Facebook. How many times have you scrolled through the newsfeed multiple times without noticing most of the content is repeated, and also “sponsored”, rather than actual posts from chosen friends? Programming. Just saying. Maybe don’t choose that – or don’t choose it so often. Do you even have any clear idea who Facebook is programming you to be? We become what we practice. Repetition is learning. Who are we becoming? Why are we allowing it?

Something to think about. There’s only one you, until you become one of many cookie cutter people all stamped out from the limited content broadly shared (and filtered) by an agency you have no control over, and which does not reveal its method or goals to you. Then, you become copies of one another, all nodding along politely as you grouse about the same things, using the same language, sharing the same appropriately polarized dichotomies approved for use that year. Yuck. We have more to offer each other, ourselves, and the world.

Facebook isn’t “the bad guy”, they are merely providing a requested service to which we happily succumb. There are others. Lots of others. We choose those, too, and in choosing who we allow to program our consciousness, we have at least some small choice over what fills our consciousness… but we can be free even of that. It’s also a choice. I’m not even saying “give it all up”, though surely that’s one choice that holds great promise. I’m just saying, be aware, be awake, and choose. Make that choice your own.

I guess I’m sort of grumpy this morning. It’s early. The work day is ahead of me. I’m very human. πŸ™‚ My coffee is super yummy, and in general I am content. I smile at my crossness, recognizing that this morning words are from me, to… me. I need to stop looking at Facebook (or the news) first thing in the morning. Fuck those bitches. lol There are better things to do with mornings, and my cognitive liberty has great value to me, personally.

I take my coffee out to the deck, into the pre-dawn darkness. It’s a lovely morning to begin again. πŸ™‚ It’s a lovely morning to change my world. I have choices.

I woke late. Slept in. I made coffee and stepped gently through the apartment in no great hurry to begin the day. I opened the windows and let in the cool morning breezes. I smile at the recollection of yesterday evening’s twilight rainstorm. I sat a long while as darkness settled, listening to the rain on the leaves of the big leaf maples just beyond the deck. The fine ash that had fallen everywhere when the winds carried smoke from the wildfires into our area has been washed away. I carry my coffee and a smile out to the deck and linger there for some moments.

I had left the windows of my bedroom open all night, and the sounds of rain, and peeping frogs, lulled me into such a deep restful sleep. I feel rested this morning, content, and even willing to use the word “happy” to describe this moment. A rare moment of utter delight, satisfaction, joy, contentment… and solitude. I’m okay with the solitude, which works out nicely for enjoying the moment. Nonetheless, when my Traveling Partner replies to my good morning message, a bit later, when I took my seat at the computer, my smile deepens, and my heart thumps happily, reminded of Love.

This too shall pass. Some other evening perhaps, tears will fall instead of rain, and some other morning I will wake with a headache, or heartache. πŸ™‚ It’s a thing. Life requires living – even the challenging bits are best if I am present, and the delightful bits are inevitably fleeting. So, I enjoy the morning, my coffee, this smile, this moment, this day… no idea what tomorrow holds. I’m sure there will be verbs involved. I’ve no interest in a do-over just now, or beginning this one again; it’s quite lovely as it is. I think I’ll just enjoy this, until sometime later. πŸ˜‰

For just a moment, from this narrow perspective, it feels as if we’ve changed the world…