Archives for posts with tag: practicing the practices

I crashed hard, early, last night. It wasn’t even 8 pm. The alarm woke me, with some persistence. I’ve no recollection of waking at any point during the night. I slept, nearly motionless, for a continuous 7.5 hours, according to my fitness tracker. I woke feeling rested, according to my subjective experience of self. I’ve frittered away nearly an hour over my first coffee, reading this and that, catching up on email, making a list of things I need to get done this weekend.Β It’s a nice morning, so far, preceding what I anticipate will be a pleasant, if busy, work day.

It’s spring. I enjoy spring. I get my camera out more when it isn’t raining. It’s been raining a lot. It’s raining this morning. I am thinking about bluer skies.

Evening walks home under blue skies…

…vibrant sunrises and the promise of sunshine later…

…brilliant shades of azure and cerulean blues, tiny green leaves unfolding, shades of pink and mauve and creamy white blossoms everywhere.

Each morning I look forward to my walk in to the office, through the city. Each morning I pause and look back, across the river, at this city I’ve enjoyed now for 19 years. I’m glad I came here. πŸ™‚

I’m glad it’s spring.

Today is a good day to begin again.

 

I woke this morning with some effort. I yawn my way through coffee somewhat amused to be sooo sleepy. When I finally think to check my fitness tracker, I see why I’m so sleepy; two hours of sleep. Well. Yeah. I remember being awake for some extended time, but I didn’t realize it was… most of the night. lol Well, at least I wasn’t stressed out or anxious. I contentedly sip my coffee. At least so far, I’m not good for much else quite yet.

I woke in considerable pain this morning. More than usual. I face a complicated day at work. More so than usual. I’m crazy tired this morning. More so than usual. I struggle to figure out quite what to do with myself right now; “everything” feels as though it exists in a future not yet now. I’m okay with the moment right here. It’s not fancy, but it has coffee… that’s something. πŸ™‚ Eventually, the quantity of coffee inside me, instead of in this mug, will be sufficient to have the desired result – an imagined state of fully alert wakefulness that is ready for a new day. I chuckle quietly in the stillness of this pre-dawn moment; even with my morning coffee there are no guarantees. 2 hours of sleep? Who am I kidding? I may be dragging myself through the entire day, one cup of coffee at a time. lol

It’s a strange sort of morning. I guess I’ll get on with it. πŸ˜‰

House-hunting is weird. I have generally stayed fairly detached, which seems wise and emotionally healthy. This last little house felt so right, it was harder to maintain emotional distance. Each time I acknowledged, internally, how much I wanted this one my inner voice only weakly replied “how does it feel to want?” in that safely bitter tone that is a steady, more affectionate than not, reminder that until the keys are in hand… it isn’t mine. Well. It isn’t mine. πŸ™‚ I woke to the news from my Realtor this morning, immediately followed by the search result with new listings. So. Okay. The search continues.

Funny thing, I learned more from this experience, because I really wanted this little house that very much. My anxiety while making the offer lingered while I waited to hear back. I was equally anxious about either outcome… but I learned the most from my anxiety specific to success; if I my offer had been accepted, there would suddenly be so many new details to attend to, and I didn’t feel wholly ready to face them. This is something anxiety is good for; teachable moments built on what-if scenarios that really “come to life”. There are things I hadn’t previously thought to specifically plan for, like… this little house lacked most basic appliances, and the result would be that immediately upon moving in, I’d be needing to buy a refrigerator, a washer and dryer, and certainly wishing I’d prepared sufficiently to also afford a dishwasher! Wow… That’s quite a bit of money to spend immediately after closing on a house, and also paying for a move. So… yeah… maybe plan for that? I mean, plan for it anyway, for the undetermined and indefinite future of many possible outcomes that exist until one actual outcome unfolds ahead of me. The more prepared I am for all the many possible outcomes, the less anxiety there will be in the moment, and the more easily that anxiety that does develop can be soothed by the easy assurances of good preparation.

So, this time, I’m not sitting around feeling disappointed (that consumed about a day and a half last time), instead I am making a list of the obvious details that would have required funds in the immediate aftermath of moving (I don’t own a lawnmower, either, or some of the homeowner gear one might expect to need…. like a step-ladder). Many of them are things I can plan ahead for, and certainly… I would do well to live much more frugally leading up to a home purchase; I’ll need every cent available in those first few weeks to be most easily able to just get up and go get whatever small solution to whatever common problem develops. That level of readiness would feel very secure. πŸ™‚ More cash in the bank then seems to have more value that some moment of frivolity now. I find myself resolved to be very strictly attentive to a very lean budget. It even feels comfortable to make the wiser choices.

This morning, yesterday evening’s anxiety isn’t leading my day, but the recollection refines my thinking and keeps me on track toward reaching my most important personal goals right now. It’s a nice change of pace from allowing anxiety to send me into a tailspin, wrecking my days, wrecking my sleep, tainting my thinking with doom-soaked scenarios that never teach me anything, or have any positive result. I smile and sip my coffee, and move on with the morning, having taken some notes.

A beautiful morning full of hope… that was yesterday. Today, too. Probably also tomorrow. πŸ™‚

Today is a good day for perspective. Today is a good day for contentment. Today is a good day to be re-inspired by the ordinary – and even by my own anxiety. Today is a good day for beginnings… and a good day to begin again. πŸ™‚

I slept like crap last night. I mean… according to my fitness tracker I was at least recognizably making the attempt at sleep for more than 7 hours. That’s something. My sleep was fitful, restless, broken into small pieces interrupted by moments of wakefulness, and dreaming that I was awake. I woke wanting very much to continue sleeping, sometime around 7 am. I call that “sleeping in” today, and drag myself from my bed to face the day, which seems already very much in progress, being quite a bit past dawn.

I put on music first thing. I’m really hung up on a track I first heard yesterday. The words fit my playlist, Β “Sit down. Be Humble.” A reminder. A great groove. I start there. Sunday. A good day for contemplation and reminders to be the best human being I can. I dance into the kitchen and make coffee. Music carries me into the studio with my coffee. More reminders. Β It’s a morning for fun and love and… dancing? Who knew. πŸ™‚ The smile on my face feels like part of how my face is made, this morning. I move things around on my playlist to put the best beats and bass and yes, even reminders, at the top. Later will be soon enough for anything more structured or serious. Right now? Music, movement, and smiles. This is about feeling good. πŸ™‚

In case it hasn’t come up before… I am not a dancer. I’m also carry a few more pounds than I find comfortable (or aesthetically pleasing). I have physical limitations due to old injuries, and hell let’s acknowledge that aging has its say as well. Doesn’t matter. I’m not dancing for contest judges. I’m not dancing to show off. I’m not dancing to be good at anything or to demonstrate a skillful execution of some particular choreography. I simply like the way it feels to hear music and be moved. So this is all for me. It feels good to dance. It eases some of my arthritis pain. It slows the creeping inevitability of the passage of time. It is an experience. These are verbs I enjoy. πŸ™‚

I move on in the playlist as I head for coffee number two… favorites new and oldsongs that fill me with hope… and I dance on with the day, thinking about love.

Today is a good day to enjoy the moments that feel the best whenever they turn up. Savor the hell out of that delightful moment, right now, however brief. Save the recollection for later. Enjoy the experience as though it is the only moment. Wallow in it. Appreciate it fully. Be here, now. Then…

Begin again.

Please note: this is not the usual thing, I think, and I’m not really sure quite what “set me off”. I feel vaguely inclined to apologize, or perhaps to at least give you an opportunity to reconsider this one, so… here’s me, alerting you that this is some pent-up ancient anger simmering just under the surface, and, well… a bit of it seeped through, somehow, and bubbled up… and spilled over. So. Angry ranting ahead. Choose wisely. πŸ˜‰ ❀

One more chance to choose perspective and beauty. Angry ranting ahead… you’ve been warned. πŸ™‚

I made the mistake of scrolling through Facebook first, this morning. Gross. Seeing the ethical and moral decline of a country I feel part of, connected to, is frankly super depressing and… provoking. It irks me to deal with the constant continued attack on women, on people of color, on people who face economic disadvantages, on people who choose reason, on science (and scientists)… all so a small handful of rich old white guys can fatten up their bank accounts and afford enough great medical care to manage a few more self-congratulatory erections and strut around impressing themselves while others suffer. It’s fairly sad and pathetic, on the one hand, and on the other… it enrages me. I’m frustrated, and my emotions bounce between anarchistic anger, and immobilizing learned helplessness; I am not an old rich white guy, not the daughter, wife, or chattel of an old rich white guy, nor subject to any clear benefit that they exist. Still… I persist. It’s an ugly, hateful system that preys on the weak, robs the poor, and penalizes the outspoken.

On the other hand, when I lift my head from Facebook, and put down the new media’s aggressive outrage-generating machinery, and interact directly with the world, I find myself connecting with a lot of other people who, just like me, are angry and unwilling to sit down and shut up about it. I’ve unhesitatingly ended friendships over the past two years solely because I was not inclined to participate in hate. (I’m not seeking praise for that; I have things to atone for over a long life. I will not reach the end of this journey able to say “I never hated anyone and always did my best and cared for my fellow travelers”, and I often find myself so very angry.) I see other people – real people – who actually care. I don’t mean grand gestures that demonstrate with big obvious public actions that we need to care. I don’t mean running for office or protesting in the streets. Those things are needed, too, but… I mean, I see every day people helping each other out, being kind, offering support in a difficult moment, expressing affection, sharing… those things give me hope. There aren’t enough of those things. There’s a lot of fucking hate.

So, I put aside Facebook this morning, resolving to log off social media for the weekend and get some digital downtime. The world can wait on my anger for some other day. I need some rest and I need to recharge and take care of the being of light resting within this fragile vessel.

My heart feels heavy when I think of women who won’t have healthcare forced to bear children they don’t want, on poor timing, because their consent is not sufficiently respected, or who don’t have easy access to birth control. I think of women and girls who could turn the world around with scientific breakthroughs, improvements in technology, great works of engineering, art, or philosophy who lose their opportunity through a willful institutionalized lack of basic respect. I think about women of color. I think about women in poverty. I think about mentally ill women. I think about the woman in the mirror. It feels like a very personal attack on me as a woman every time I see some smug rich geriatric white asshole in office smirking over something else he’s just done or said that diminishes women. If I say so, I get called angry. Fuck yes, I’m angry. Why wouldn’t I be? Do the simple thought exercise; turn the tables in any direction you choose, change the balance of power and put yourself at a chronic institutionalized legislated disadvantage – however you identify yourself, in whatever class or group – make sure you add a hearty helping of no one takes you seriously about that, so you can be both frustrated and demeaned, and take that shit for a test drive. No heroics, make it real. Is it too hard? Well, too bad – at least you get to choose whether to think about it.

Privilege being what it is, I find it hard to see my own. I’ve been making an effort to really really try – because it matters, and because hate is so pervasive, and those who hate tend to be so fucking self-righteous, justified and self-congratulatory about it. I want no part of hate. Β I study. I listen. I mean, I really full fucking stop take time to listen. It can be hard to hear that I share characteristics with a “problem class of individuals” being both white, and at a point in my life when most of my basic needs are relatively well-met. It’s still necessary to listen, and to understand, and to be part of changing the world.

I’m sure old rich republican white guys think they’re doing women who rely on Planned Parenthood a real favor – go ahead, ask them, they will shove some line of clueless bullshit your way so fast you’ll need an army of fact-checkers on meth to sort that shit out in time to stop some internet troll from climbing on board to turn it into “news”. I’m not immune to being human, and I know I can, will, and do make mistakes that have the potential to hurt people…Β but I don’t want to be someone insensitive to the impact of my choices on the world around me. Caring matters. Compassionate awareness matters. Acknowledging mistakes matters. Β I mean… I killed a spider this morning… as killings go, fairly inconsequential and commonplace… but… I bet it seemed like a big deal to that fucking spider. :-\ I think I’ve come some distance as a human being, from the point at which I started life; I have mixed feelings about killing that spider.

Wow. Start the morning with angst-y angry ranting? Why, yes thanks, I think I shall. <sigh> All too human. I think I’ll have a second coffee… and begin again. πŸ˜‰