Archives for posts with tag: perspective

Life is actually like that, most of the time, isn’t it? “Without warning”, I mean.

I woke during the night to the sound of a partner’s voice in the dark…something about thunder and lightning and unplugging things.  It made sense to me, wrapped in the surreal world of sleep and dreams, and although I wasn’t sure in-the-moment quite where/when I was… all seemed well with the world.  I remembered my father unplugging things during thunderstorms.  I did feel a vague moment of envy as sleep sucked me back into the land of dreams… thunderstorms are not common here, and I rather like their wild fury and drama.  The nearby rumbling of thunder, real thunder, was the last thing on my mind as I returned to sleep.

morning sky

morning sky

I woke to sodden gray skies, heavy folds of clouds as the dawn broke seeming to promise more rain soon.  My coffee sucks this morning. The beans are from a bag that didn’t get dated, and did get… old.  Beans from July seem ‘vintage’ by September, and really not very good. lol.  The resulting coffee (I assure you it does not qualify as ‘espresso’) is strong, a bit bitter, and although considerably better than fondly remembered cups of military coffee in another time and place… it still sucks. lol.  It’s not a big deal, I’m pretty adaptable as beings go.

I contemplate, for the moment, that handy quality about myself, adaptability.  I didn’t always recognize it in myself.  I didn’t always understand what a tremendous strength it is.  I struggle with being spontaneous – I’m more of a planner – but when things break down, go awry, drift off plan, or simply turn out differently, I generally do pretty well in spite of my desire to plan – because I adapt easily.  The down side of adaptability is that I sometimes forget to mention to others that something is broken or not working as it ought to… because I am simply working around that!  An example of what I mean would be a laptop I had for work years ago; the keyboard was not sufficiently robust for me, and keys would pop off regularly and the IT guys would glue them back on, or whatever it took to fix them. It was a regular thing.  Eventually, the ‘o’ key popped off in a more permanent way… it was some time before I did anything much about it, because I had quickly learned to type using language with fewer ‘o’s (yes, yes I did. lol) as well as slightly changing my keyboarding style so that an ‘o’ resulted in a very specific key strike that hit a very specific spot on the missing key’s location.  It slowed down my typing a bit, but was more nuisance than impediment.

This post is pretty irrelevant.  Frankly, this morning I am simply enjoying some quiet. Watching day break through the window with this unsatisfying cup of coffee, and ‘getting my head right’ for the work week.  Usually after a long weekend, I’m a wreck, frantically wanting to get back to work and stressing weird details that don’t actually matter – like ‘that one thing I said the other day’ to someone relevant to something, that by the start of a new week has developed into a tiny demon all its own, named ‘you’ll probably get fired for that one!’  It’s an illusion, I know, since it generally turns out to be something no one else remembered at all.   This morning is different.  I am content after a weekend well-spent.  We wrapped it up yesterday quite pleasantly, watching movies together, laughing, and enjoying the easy familiarity of chilling with family at home.

A pleasant long weekend – without warning.   It doesn’t really ‘look quite right’ to see ‘without warning’ at the end of a comment about something nice, does it? Still, pleasant days are just as likely to come up unheralded, without a calendar entry, no RSVP necessary – aren’t they? Far more likely, as I consider my own experience, to have some bit of warning ahead of something really bad – like ‘duck!’ or ‘take cover!’ or ‘we’ll talk about this later’.  Awesome stuff, and nice days, usually just happen in my experience.  That got me thinking about how often I may get in my own way of having a great day – by giving myself an unnecessary warning about imminent danger – that isn’t really there.  Small stuff like those quiet internal reminders about someone who is grumpy in the morning… does it cause me to see them as being grumpy in the morning when they aren’t being grumpy, too, because I have warned myself?  Something to contemplate on the walk to work – expectations, early warning systems, and setting myself up for failure by preparing for the worst, and failing to be open to the best.

It’s a lovely Tuesday morning after a stormy Monday night.  Heavy gray clouds that threaten rain, also promise a cooler day, don’t they? 😀  Today I will go forth into the world without expectations, and without warning.  ;-D

Multi-tasking personal growth...

Multi-tasking personal growth…

It’s been many days since I had enough ‘bandwidth’ to write… the world is, as is so often the case, teetering on the brink… of something.  Again and again I find War on my mind, conflict, emotion…and growth. Because I am so prone to metaphors, even War reflects back onto my ‘right now’ experience.  Learning to stay ‘in the moment’ is not as simple to master as it is to take on as a practice. So I continue to practice.  “Taking care of me” is a more complicated puzzle of choices and observations than I’d like it to be, and there too, I get plenty of opportunities to give it another try.  I still make choices that don’t serve me well, more often than I’d like.  I still struggle to be fully who I am, and feel accepted and understood by people who matter to me…and by myself, too.  Change requires effort and, oddly, perspective.

...from another perspective.

…another perspective.

Today I am working on “Perspective” from another angle. Art.

I’ll talk about the inspiration, first.  My life felt like it was unraveling quickly at the start of the year.  The upheaval of moving mingled with my chaos and damage (that I’d managed to avoid dealing with in any notably successful way). I had spent decades allowing myself to be heavily medicated, out of desperation, but against any potential ‘better judgement’ – and went off them one by one, but without any real understanding of how that experience would go, after so many years.  I found out I’d had a pretty serious traumatic brain injury as a ‘tween’, that I’d never been told about, didn’t remember, but had always had evidence of… and it explained a lot of lifetime weirdness, and odd impairments and eccentricities.  My PTSD flared up, and news articles about the high rate of suicide among military veterans over 50 started looking like suggestions… and I was approaching 50, fast.  It was a very bleak bit of my life… (If I had had a different perspective, perhaps that would not have been the experience I had?)

I was at a place in my journey where my perception was that my life was entirely filled with pain, that the chaos and damage could not be overcome, that I ‘couldn’t do any better’ and that failure was inevitable, and a permanent state of being. I still had lucid moments, and I still existed alongside people who love me. In better moments it seemed obvious that things ‘couldn’t be that bad’.  I wanted more data. I wanted to change my perspective, to know something different, and to ‘see for myself’ without the complications of the wreckage in my head.  I was inspired to measure my experience in some way; “Perspective”- in acrylic, on canvas, with 3D mixed media, and of course – it would glow.

It became, over time, more than an art project – and it spoke to me.  Now it is time to finish it.

Every journey has a starting point.

Every journey has a starting point.

I had chosen the move to our new home, all of us together, as a not-entirely-random starting point – it was a big event that caused me a lot of stress and interrupted pretty much every routine imaginable, and it was in the context of struggling with that fairly every day sort of change that I found out about my TBI, and started to understand what a big deal that had actually been for me all along.  My basic concept was simple enough: I would use two glass canisters, and add items to each, representative of events and experiences, day by day from that point until I turned 50. I would watch my life unfold as data points in a visual display – positive events, happy moments, exciting and fun experienced, powerful epiphanies, and positive developments all in one canister – the other would hold the hard times, the angry moments, the pain, the tears, romantic spats, discord, confrontation, PTSD freak outs, stress, grief – and there too, epiphanies and growth, because those come sometimes from what hurts us.  I didn’t want to be bleak, but I figured, at best, the outcome would be a draw – pretty nearly balanced between the tough times and the good times.  It was already February when I started – so I carefully went over my journals, notes, and emails to friends, looking for documentation of the details, and ‘building the foundation’ of “Perspective”.  I was more confused than surprised to see that even from where I was standing in that moment, the wonders and joys, the good bits,  seemed the larger part of life, and it wasn’t a small matter – it was obvious.  That sat rather uncomfortably in my consciousness for many weeks as I added to one or the other canister… because, the good times were still a much bigger piece of my experience than it felt like.  I started questioning a lot of things about my understanding of the world around me, about my ability to understand my own experience, about what the hell was really holding the chaos and damage in place, after all this time… and I kept adding to each canister, day after day… and I kept observing… and I kept meditating.

My intention was to meditate on the progress of events in these canisters, until my 50th birthday, then use the elements on canvas to finish the project.  That’s where you find me now, considering my life, and my “Perspective”.

202 days of my life in "Perspective"

202 days of my life in “Perspective”

There’s certainly more to say about perspective, in general.  The pictures don’t lie – I may be in pain, my PTSD isn’t behind me, yet, and hormone hell is often just one misunderstanding away from seemingly unprovoked tears or anger – but I enjoy life, and life has a lot of joy and wonder to share with me.  My anger, the wreckage in my head, my struggles with chaos and damage are actually a pretty small part of my experience – so much so that it all has to be placed in a single canister to be visible at all.  I have the suspicion, untested as yet, that if I combined the contents of both canisters into one, it would be tough to pay much attention to the dark bits at all, because there is so much light.  Light is a powerful metaphor; illumination, gnosis, clarity…

Canvas is waiting.

Sometimes a sunny day is enough.

Sometimes a sunny day is enough.

Days go by…saying so makes me think of the song by that name, but it isn’t relevant.   Time spent with family, time spent on love, time…spent.  I’m nearly there, myself. I’m tired.  I very much want to take real time to write. Really write; to think, and muse, and contemplate, to reflect, analyze, wonder…to communicate and to understand.  The time is not now, but just in case you are missing me… I’m not gone, I’m just doing ‘now‘ right now, and there is too  much of that to write about it.

So, perhaps sooner than later, I will sit down at a new, faster laptop, in a quiet place, with a tranquil heart, and I will write about life, and love, and men of 20, and fathers and sons.   Until then… living, loving… and hey, yeah, painting – I finally painted the first canvases in our home together.  3 new pieces – one as yet unfinished.  I am even spending time on painting – by far one of the most worthwhile ways to spend my time. 😀

"Summer Flowers" 16" x 20" acrylic on canvas with glow. 2013

“Summer Flowers” 16″ x 20″ acrylic on canvas with glow. 2013

 

I

It’s been an interesting week; more of some things (arthritis, affection, intimacy, discussions of the future, analytical workload, headaches, adulthood, vulnerability, satisfaction, contentment, excitement about the future being discussed, sunshine)  and less of other things (pointless conflict, frustration, tedium, nightmares, ‘extra’ bandwidth at work, whimsy, self-restraint, subtext, cool weather).  It is summer, and already the mornings grow light just a little later, and the workload gets just a little heavier. I’m not bitching. It’s the end of my work week, and I’m home, feet up, cold water to sip on, and the entire world at my finger tips. It is a quiet evening.

My head aches viciously. PMS and fatigue. My back torments me beyond wanting to casually call it something as simple as ‘pain’. I will take an Rx pain reliever tonight. 😦 I hurt. It isn’t any more than that, though – a physical experience of discomfort.  On other levels I feel serene, calm, balanced, emotionally comfortable, cherished, wrapped in love… nice world to live in. I think about other worlds, other pain, but the thoughts drift through my head space like clouds, casting a momentary shadow and moving on.

Therapy tomorrow. Shit’s getting real lately – I don’t look forward to it, although I know that even this is part of the journey, and that my therapist really knows some things, and that I am ready for this.  I’m struck again and again by how profound this experience is.  I’ve been in therapy before… it’s hasn’t been solidly effective or actually changed anything, in the past.  At best, I felt some relief for weeks or months, and been helped past some moment of crisis – and that has had to be enough to get by on.  This? This is an entirely different experience. I don’t talk much about therapy.  It’s incredibly personal, as experiences go, and extraordinarily intimate and naked and raw. It doesn’t translate well into spoken language, much of the time, because the things that strike me most are subtleties and…completed sentences, finished thoughts, provoked epiphanies, sudden connections…and something else. Something I feel about me, sense within myself, recognize as being changed…and I don’t know what to call it or how to describe it.  I know it is important.  BUT, I no longer look forward to it, at least for now.

….

…Huh… I just had one of those baggage dropping, altered-state creating, moments of weirdness… nothing went wrong. I think it went ok. Which feels weird. Now I don’t want to write … because I don’t know what just happened or what exactly is ok about it.  Being a grown up is hard sometimes and I don’t always understand it.  I’m just going to add some pictures, and finish the moment on a metaphorical note.

Close up...

Close up…

... or from a distance.  Perspective matters.

… or from a distance. Perspective matters.

 

 

 

I have a strange relationship with Time. It begins in the morning of every new day, when I wake before my alarm goes off. I set it for 5am, but it rarely has a chance to go off, I usually wake minutes or seconds in advance, and shut it off. 4:58 am, 4:52 am, 4:46 am; never even a moment after 5am, even when my alarm is turned off for the weekend. Strangely, I don’t rely on that, and failing to be certain my alarm is set and turned on generally results in a night of restless sleep, waking again and again to check the time. I don’t set my alarm for an increment of time that isn’t on the hour, the half hour, or more rarely the quarter-hour. It seems pretty arbitrary and more a matter of habit or tradition than any rational choice about an ideal moment to wake.

Isn’t Time rather arbitrary, anyway? I mean, the math bits and science bits are certain to be important to someone, somewhere…but, my subjective experience with Time often finds me winding my way back to ‘why do I put myself through this when it seems so…imaginary?’ I don’t have a comfortable experience with Time. I rush myself, too often. I pile expectations of punctuality on my demands of myself that result in bitter emotional battles with myself, or others, over some occasion of minor lateness – in the face of a lifetime of time-based brutality directed at myself. I’m rarely late by my own actions; it freaks me out. When circumstances or people ‘make me late’ I’ve been known to unleash an amount of emotion and temper that is most easily described as ‘desperate and enraged’ – an unpleasant combination. I’m sure the origins of my troubled relationship with Time is lost in the darkness of ancient pain, and a lovely Sunday doesn’t yield to further exploration. Not right now, when I’m having such a good time. 🙂

This morning I was thinking about alarm clocks, agendas, and time and those thoughts resurfaced later while I was meditating. I suddenly felt so aware of something I’ve fought for so long… the only time I really benefit from concerning myself with is…now.  Well, hell… I have time for that. 😉

...some metaphor about time...

…some metaphor about time…