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Re-Write the Moment

August 9, 2015 //
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I am enjoying my morning coffee. The morning is still and quiet. My tinnitus is louder in my ears (in my head?) that the sounds of the world that are audible through the open patio door. I slept well, and through the night, waking at my usual time, and returning to sleep after taking my morning medication. Sleeping in is a lovely start to a Sunday.

I have re-started this post three times now, changing the underlying idea, changing the title, changing my mind about what matters most this morning…it’s easy; it’s a blog post.

Life allows us to re-write our own narrative, too. I’ve needed to make use of that truth so many times, I sometimes forget how easy it is to commit to one detail, one experience, one notion of the ‘true truth’ or the ‘real reality’ that it becomes less clear that many of the details of life that I cling to with such passion are…well…completely ‘made up’. Seriously. How often has a simple change of perspective completely altered my understanding of the basic facts of an experience such that what I think about it, and what it means to me, are completely changed? Let’s just call that quantity ‘often’, and move on, without criticism or judgement.

I started the weekend with a loose plan, and a lack of preparation. I am ending it mostly with no plan at all, completely prepared for each moment as it happens – just by being here – and I have been both enjoying and benefiting greatly from the experience. Enjoyable has not meant ‘easy’, although it has been very restful and nurturing time with myself, it has also been emotional. The benefits in these circumstances are that I am forced nudged encouraged to listen more deeply to myself regarding what I need, not just of this weekend, but out of my own life, and out of living alone. As usual, there have been verbs involved; I’ve had to repeatedly choose to turn away from brain candy, to listen deeply to my own heart. Tenderly caring for old wounds, and looking at some of love’s challenges from a different perspective has had profound value. I still have more questions than answers – but the questions I have right now are particularly good ones to ask.

One of many creative endeavors - and satisfying without being messy.

A well-spent evening.

I spent yesterday evening meditating and sketching pen & ink note cards for future correspondence. It feels good to work artistically, and it is definitely one purpose of this solo space – more room and time to paint is how I have phrased it, but without intending to limit my creativity to paint on canvas. I have spent a lot of time this weekend meditating, and simply sitting quite still in this quiet place. Oddly, the love seat that arrived Thursday seems to help with that; I find myself sitting there far more often than at my desk. I thought to ask myself why the chair that was already here, in the living room, did not also have that effect? I have no answer, but it is true – I spend much less time at my desk now (and my back thanks me).

Some things don’t work. Quite a few things, actually, and my first draft this morning focused on things that don’t work, from the title to the last word – when I realized I don’t really want the day to be about that. My mouse, for example, is apparently dying… fresh batteries are no improvement. Cleaning it didn’t help. Highlighting more than one word is currently an exercise in managing frustration, as is clicking on a link, which now requires a very careful, deliberate, thoughtful action to be at all successful. I had been, as is my way, just ‘working around it’ and didn’t quite  understand my mouse to be dying – I thought it was something about me that had changed somehow. It was my traveling partner’s frustration with my mouse, and his firm advisement that the mouse is dying, that got me thinking about the experience differently; a needed change in perspective. With some small amount of sadness, I have ordered a replacement for it, and even paid to have it arrive sooner. I like this mouse… it seems to have an image of a naked woman dancing on it, rather abstractly, in the design, and the mouse itself is small and fits nicely in my hand. I feel sad when I replace things that have worked for a long time; this is also part of who I am. There have been other things not working, for days, for weeks, recently, over time – it’s part of life that some things work well and easily, and others less so. It sort of goes without saying, doesn’t it? Even with love…some things work, some things don’t. How that experience fits into life’s narrative remains largely chosen, and changeable – subject to interpretation.

As with so many journeys, it isn't always clear where the path leads.

As with so many journeys, it isn’t always clear where the path leads.

I have a pleasant morning ahead of me. A hike. Brunch with a friend and a visit to a nearby farmer’s market. Coffee and conversation about art, later. An afternoon of housekeeping and taking care of me before reluctantly facing the ongoing truth of having sold my life and effort for 40 hours a week to the highest bidder; tomorrow is Monday, and I must return to work.

I miss my traveling partner a great deal. I wonder when I will see him again? (And what of the wanderer? I have been missing him, as well.) We have plans for next weekend, and I am already eagerly looking forward to dinner with him – ‘dating’ my partner is great fun, and we didn’t do much of it when we first got together. It’s a strange place to be with life and love; appreciative of what we have together, and aware that I want a great deal more from love than what he has to offer, right now. I suppose loving with my whole heart while also leaving my loves free to love in just such measure as they are able to is something to celebrate – sometimes, though, I miss reciprocity, and wonder what I can do to love more skillfully, more tenderly, more passionately, as if doing so would result in being more well-loved… Forgetting, perhaps, that love looks very different seen from their perspective; love has many faces, and all of them are beautiful. Still… I miss romance, and touch, and intimate laughter. I am eager to welcome love home.

Tending the garden in my heart.

Tending the garden of my heart.

Today is a lovely day to be present, and engaged, and real. Today is a good day to love.

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Categories art and the artist, Brain Injury, Free Will, Love, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Relationships, solo hiking, Summer, The Art of Being, The Big 5, Words

What Time Is It?

July 31, 2015 //
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I could as easily ask ‘what time is love?‘ – same answer: at the tone the time will be…’now’. It’s always ‘now’, actually, and never any other moment…unless, I suppose, we count the possibility of time travel, or perhaps the influence of huge quantities of certain hallucinogens. So… sure, okay, a few things may shake the unavoidable ‘now’…but…generally…’now’ is the time. Here we are. This is it. Whatever it is…it is.  This morning, ‘now’ came early – at 3:17 am, actually. I turned off the alarm once it was clear I was definitely entirely awake, and headed for the shower.

It’s still ‘now’. A shower, yoga, meditation and preparing coffee…and although it is later, it remains very much ‘now’. I can look ahead…it’s still simply ‘now’. I can look back…still, here I am, fixed firmly in the ‘now’ moment. Wherever I turn, ‘now’ is what I really have to work with. It’s not that the future is unaffected by ‘now’ – it is most definitely affected by ‘now’; every choice I make ripples through my future. Even the past is altered by ‘now’; my perspective changes with experience, with new information, with the passage of time itself. Still, however busy life is, all I have to work with, to enjoy, and to live is ‘now’.

Taking a few moments to consider an idea.

Taking a few moments to consider an idea.

What time is it? Right now it’s coffee time. My coffee this morning is quite dreadful. I am considering pouring it out and making a fresh cup. ‘Now’ matters that much; if I am not present in the moment, my actions may not be sufficiently relevant to my needs, and I may be unaware even of what my needs in the moment actually are. Me, personally, at 4:43 am…I need coffee, and frankly, my preference is that it be, if not exceptional, at least quite good. So…now I am going to make a fresh cup of coffee because this one… yeah… it sucks. It’s definitely important to pay attention while making coffee if using something that requires an artful touch, and some precision, as with a pour over. “Paying attention” is one way to describe mindfulness.

Second cup, no second thoughts – and it is still very much ‘now’. That’s how it tends to be – ‘now’. What will I do with the moment? I rarely pause to consider it, I simply do and be much of the time, and I don’t make that observation with any hint of criticism. I find life is to be lived. I strive to live well, and mindfully, and mostly doing so is more pleasant than not, and tends to result in a certain sense of worthiness to the entire endeavor – which seems worth having, and reason enough to work at it attentively, investing in good self-care practices, and learning to cope compassionately with my injury and my damage. ‘Now’ has become a pretty big deal.

Here’s something noteworthy about ‘now’, though – it’s easily wasted. It can slip away in an instant and become hours that have passed me by without action, without effort, without any investment of will and intent, and without significant result, or activity worthy of later recollection (I’m looking at you, television!). I find that almost any moment spent mindfully aware, even the painful ones, and yes, even the ones spent in stillness, meditating or watching clouds drift by, is a moment well spent. I remember more when I am awake, aware, and present. I have the sense that I am doing or achieving more, regardless how much ‘got done’. Life feels lived – as though the noun itself comes alive and gets all verb-y straight away – when I approach it mindfully, aware of my choices, deliberate in my actions. Time itself passes more slowly – and ‘now’ becomes of even greater value, extended, prolonged, and significant.

There’s nothing actually ‘easy’ about mindfulness. It’s also not actually ‘difficult’. It isn’t expensive to pursue it, and it requires no costly memberships or equipment. It need not be attached in any way to profit-generating activities, although it is clearly finding its cultural moment, and along the way many people are finding ways to market mindfulness or profit from it. The current popularity of mindfulness as a word, as a concept, and as an endeavor don’t make it any more likely that people will actually practice the needed practices to become more mindful – though many will say that they will, or do, or are. I don’t worry much about any of that, although I am sometimes frustrated to read articles that seem critical of practices I find have such value, myself. I worry, sometimes, that people innocent of the marketing bullshit, the hype, and the inevitable disappointment of people who expected it to be ‘easy’ or to ‘fix everything’ will result in someone who really needs what mindfulness has to offer not finding their way to it – that was my own experience. I didn’t get ‘here’ sooner; I was distracted by other people losing their way, being discouraged, and because I was discouraged, myself, the first time I was exposed to meditation – there were verbs involved, and more than one sort of practice, and… and… and… it’s not easy! (“Isn’t there some prescription, or…?”)

Mindfulness practices can be very simple and very basic. My own favorite meditation is not any sort of elaborate guided meditation with a soothing voice, lovely visual image, or lofty conceptualization – it isn’t necessary that it be such, and those don’t ‘work for me’ in the sense that although they may be soothing and pleasant, what I need myself is to become very centered, present, and calm within myself. I rely on meditation to keep me from standing on the precipice, to pull me back from the brink of disaster, to clean up the chaos and damage; the only world I am looking to change with any urgency is the world within. My own favorite meditation is simply to focus on my breath, to remain in this ‘now’ moment until I achieve stillness and inner calm. Yes. I have to keep at it. Yes. My mind wanders. Yes. I am sometimes distracted by physical discomfort, noise, stray thoughts, having to pee, and suddenly remembering other things that arise in my recollection attached to a sense of urgency. There’s no rush, no pressure, no report card, no internal criticism; I just keep at it until I do find that inner stillness. If’ I’m uncomfortable, I adjust – and begin again. If I am distracted, I take another breath, and begin again. If I have to pee, I take care of that biological need and begin again. If I remember something important that has been forgotten, I take a note and begin again (and often meditate with a notepad very near at hand for that reason). It’s called a practice for a reason – and there are most assuredly verbs involved.

“Does mindfulness work?” is a question with similar value as “what time is it?” – It really depends on what you are trying to find out. I find mindfulness practices very effective, myself, but the outcome is entirely dependent on my actions, my own investment in practicing the practice, and how well-chosen the practice is for my needs. If I were to discontinue the practice of meditation, would meditation itself be less effective because I stopped practicing it? Um…no. I might be less effective – but it would be a choice I make for myself, not a failure of meditation as a tool or practice.

The Stillness Within

“The Stillness Within” 8″ x 10″ acrylic on canvas w/glow 2014

The time is ‘now’. If one practice has failed, try another. If the ‘failure’ is simply a lack of actual practice, easier still – begin again. There are verbs involved, and there is all the ‘now’ in the world to use them. 🙂

 

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Categories art and the artist, Brain Injury, Free Will, Healthy Living, Love, Mindfulness, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, The Art of Being, The Big 5

Mornings After

July 30, 2015 //
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I slept well, and deeply, and even slept through the night. My coffee is prepared – I haven’t tasted it yet. This morning, like so many mornings, is pleasant and quiet. The morning seems to lack any connection to the stress and weirdness of the night before. That’s pretty pleasant, itself, and represents a significant improvement in outcome. Practice may not make ‘perfect’, but it definitely has the potential to change things; I know to be thoughtful about new practices, mindful of the new outcomes, and careful about attempting to choose wisely what will meet my needs best over time.

Last night it was basic self-care and self-compassion for the win, and I am okay. I was okay last night, before I went to bed. Hell – I was ‘okay’ even while I was crying, really. The emotional moment passed – I knew it would. Nothing so intense is really sustainable. And, as is often the case after the fact, I’m not at all sure now what it was that was actually upsetting me so much. There is no requirement that I have certainty about what may have caused prior tears; deep-diving those details is just asking for more, and it is a process that generally lacks the value it seems it might have…or feels as if is should have. There are other, more effective practices, and certainly there are other, more pleasant, uses of my time on a quiet morning.

Summer berries, summer sky.

Summer berries, summer sky.

So. Here it is morning, again, and another lovely one. I’m content with having made progress such that pleasant mornings are so commonplace. I miss my traveling partner – that’s not uncommon in the mornings, although I also very much value the deep quiet of solitude, greatly; it’s very good for writing. Still…we do well together in the mornings, and I miss having the occasional unexpected quite exceptional latte, made by loving hands. It was my traveling partner who taught me the value of quiet leisurely mornings, so of course I do associate the experience with him, even though it is quite rare that he is up so early, himself. Shared mornings are less common living apart, making them even more precious when they occur.

That’s one element of living alone that I treasure beyond words; the profound way my traveling partner and I are able to make every moment together count. There hasn’t been a single trivial argument – or any argument, actually – and so little stress between us that I can’t recall it at all, since I moved into my own place. We just don’t waste time on negative bullshit, or drama these days. The time we share is limited, precious, and put to the very best use: love and loving. Mortal lives are short – there really is no time to waste on contentious foolishness or game playing. Letting go of that sort of thing has resulted in a life that feels rich, warm, and uplifting most of the time, resulting in an environment that really promotes growth and healing – we are on a shared journey, with shared goals. It isn’t really relevant that we live in different buildings at all. Cohabitation doesn’t dictate the quality of a relationship – and a building isn’t the essence of ‘home.’ You probably already knew this stuff – I’m very much a beginner in the School of Life. (Did you know there actually is a School of Life on the internet? It’s pretty awesome.)

Oh hey…I got distracted by thoughts of love…and sex… lol. Time has passed. The morning begins with smiles and thoughts of love – that’s a good start to the day. There remains time enough to hit ‘publish’, and do a little housework; I love coming home to a well-kept tidy home, and I love waking up to one. Each morning I do some housework to prepare for coming home from work…each evening (often before bed) I do a bit more, so that when I wake I step into a lovely orderly space. This suits me. It is ‘my way’.

Summer flowers.

Summer flowers.

Today is a good day for beginnings, and good practices. Today is a good day to appreciate love and lovers. Today is a good day for gratitude, awakenings, and growth. Today is a good day to heal. Today is enough.

 

 

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Categories Brain Injury, Free Will, Healthy Living, Love, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Perspective, Relationships, The Art of Being, The Big 5

Simple Pleasures

July 27, 2015 //
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This morning my arthritis pain is…well, it is. But it isn’t as much so as yesterday, and the improvement is the foundation on which my smile is built, this morning. My coffee is hot and tasty, and the morning is chilly – this seems a pleasant combination, and tends to reinforce the smile. On my way to make coffee, I spotted my rather shy clown pleco (Panaqolus maccus) scooting out of view and I grin from ear to ear to have seen him at all. He has his favorite hiding spots and generally only ‘comes out’ when he’s pretty sure no one is watching.

The only picture I've gotten of my clown pleco since I moved.

The only picture I’ve gotten of my clown pleco since I moved.

So far, a basically pleasant morning, filled with small things to smile about, and some arthritis pain. I start to think ‘not bad for a Monday’ and catch myself rolling my eyes rather dismissively; there’s nothing ‘wrong with’ Mondays – and setting those expectations, even in a back-handed way, is no way to treat myself, particularly on an actual Monday. I find my thoughts wandering to ‘how did we find our way to a place where Mondays are given such a poor reputation?’ We can get pretty worked up about how shitty Monday’s might be (or tend to be, or seem to tend to be, or are rumored to seem to tend to be), but in practice, are Mondays actually any worse than any other days? Maybe Mondays are worse for people coming off a weekend bender and having to drag themselves through an ugly commute into the office to commit acts of servitude in corporate purgatory…but even that…I feel kinda bad for poor Monday having to listen to people talk shit on her all the time. Pretty good that she’s not a person.

This particular Monday seems to be starting well, at least for me. I am not reading the news – even the articles linked by friends on Facebook get no attention from me this morning. They’ll be there on Tuesday, no doubt. I am enjoying my coffee, my yoga, my meditation, my writing. I am enjoying an email from a dear friend. I am enjoying a pedicure, and a foot rub – oh sure, I know as well as anyone else that a foot rub I give myself doesn’t feel ‘as good’ as a foot rub given to me by someone else…but living alone doesn’t mean I simply go without everything that feels good. lol. That would suck, wouldn’t it? (I assure you, a foot rub I give myself still feels pretty damned good.) I woke a little ahead of the alarm this morning, and feeling well-rested, I got up. There’s more time in my morning, and on a Monday I suppose I could go to work early…but damn, what does the job ever do for me that I didn’t straight up earn in the first place? Nothing. I do verbs of a variety of sorts, for a variety of purposes and persons, all the time, and certainly I am worthy of investing in my own needs and pleasure on a Monday morning; the job will still be there at the usual time. I choose to put my time and my effort where it will be most appreciated this morning – in myself, and meeting my own needs.

The sun rises noticeably later each Monday. It is still summer, but this morning is not a hot one, and I am pleased to wear something less…sleeveless, for a change. The morning is comfortably cool. I smile, noticing the time; it’s only now the time I usually wake up, a leisurely Monday morning, indeed – with plenty of smiles.

I spent much of the weekend, in spite of pain, puttering around the apartment continuing to ‘move in’ – smaller tasks, now, but the details are part of what makes this place “home” for me. In the rush of having to move ahead of schedule (my safety is more important than financial concerns, honestly), details that I would have handled quite differently got…’managed’ hastily and without much forethought: paperwork stuffed into drawers, unrelated items packed into boxes that were not well-labeled, and on moving in some cupboards were stuffed with things that “don’t really go there”, just to reduce visual clutter enough to create a sense of order, and momentum to continue unpacking.  I love creating order from chaos. I love the sorting process of figuring out where things most ideally go for both storage and use. I love creating this space that “feels like I live here”. The small details of moving in delight me – my comfort, built on my choices. It’s lovely to have this autonomy after so many years of conversations resulting in me compromising what works for me so that someone else can have what works for them. I guess that sounds pretty selfish… for now I am okay with that. I have lived a lot of years making do in living arrangements not well-suited to the issues I have, or set up such that daily life is an impediment to therapy, or rehabilitating this injury. I’m overdue to enjoy things “my way” for a while. (First, I’ve had to figure out what that is…) 🙂

Monday? It’s a good day to spend time with the woman in the mirror. It’s a good day to take a ‘no compromise’ approach to treating myself well. It’s a good day for simple pleasures, and for bringing a smile into the office – and into the world.

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Categories Brain Injury, Free Will, Healthy Living, Love, Metaphors, Mindfulness, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Relationships, Summer, The Art of Being, The Big 5, women, Words

100 coffee filters, 65 days

July 25, 2015 //
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Life here at Number 27 is generally a very gentle experience. I can usually expect serenity and quiet on a Saturday morning. Not so this morning; there is construction very nearby, and my music is re-mixed with sounds of hammering, and the coarse humor of the workers, calling to each other from above and below, some on the roof, some on the ground. I hear a drill, or a power saw a moment later, more hammering. This is not a quiet morning. I turn Lil Jon up louder.

Home.

Home.

I woke much earlier than the work began, and I am happy enough that I wasn’t awakened by construction noise on a morning I was trying to sleep in. I remind myself that many people I interact with in the community today were likely not so fortunate, and neighbors may be irritable because of the noise. It’s tempting to be aggravated that my peaceful weekend is being disturbed by construction noise – I mean, seriously? It’s got to be more expensive to pay this crew to keep working through the weekend! As I feel the irritation develop, I take a breath and smile, and acknowledge that the needs of displaced families inconvenience by the exposed wall, the missing windows, the unfinished roof, are a great deal more important than the inconvenience of the noise for the rest of us.

A great coffee in the morning is a practice, a ritual, a measure of time, and a way to take care of me.

A great coffee in the morning is a practice, a ritual, a measure of time, and a way to take care of me.

As I made my coffee, I observed that I had used up my original purchase of 100 #1 unbleached coffee filters… already? How was it I thought that would last my first three months? That was unrealistic – even counting on me to drink just one cup of coffee a day that’s just bad math – and assumes I am an ungenerous hostess with visitors. lol I’m up to two cups of coffee in the mornings, myself, and sometimes three on weekend days, but drinking only 8-10 ounce cups using pour-over brewing, instead of 16 ounce mugs with 4 shots of espresso. I entertain friends more than I have in many years. The math is clear; 100 coffee filters does not last 90 days.

I’m just 65 days into living solo. I am still ‘getting to know me’, and figuring out ‘my way’ of doing things. I’ve learned quite a lot about this woman I have grown to be over the years. I find that there are quirks and habits I have that – regardless of peculiarity – I really favor, and find value in, and they are a part of who I am that I am eager to nurture and build on.

  • I take the trash out every night before I got to bed. It’s not about whether that’s necessary; I just prefer not to sleep near garbage, or have it lingering near my kitchen.
  • I vacuum most days by preference. I’d do it every day, but sometimes I just don’t. It’s not that I’m throwing sand in the house, or have animals living indoors, or a lot of mess – but I really really like the way clean carpet feels on bare feet. I walk on the rug every day – why would I not also vacuum every day?
  • When I load the dishwasher, I put the flatware in the basket ‘handles up’ – so that when I unload the dishwasher I’m not touching the end I’ll be putting in my mouth later – and I always wash my hands before I unload the dishwasher. It’s my way.
  • I make my bed every day – but I’m not about ‘hospital corners’ or bouncing quarters off the comforter – I just like it to look tidy. I change the linens regularly – never less than every week, sometimes 2-3 times a week, certainly any time I sweat up the sheets. I like the way clean sheets and blankets feel.
  • I manage my lighting to maintain the ambiance that feels best to me personally for the time of day…soft intimate lighting in the evening, bright artificial light when I am cleaning or working, and as much natural light as I can get, supplemented with artificial light, when I am painting… I enjoy light, and the way light can play on emotions and aesthetic.
  • I lock my front door, more out of habit than concern…I’m often sitting here writing with the patio door open, soft breezes coming in through the screen – locking the front door is not about security (I’m pretty sure the spiders do not care that the door is locked, and I worry about those getting in more than ‘intruders’).
  • I foster an emotional environment that is calm, welcoming, and drama free – and manage a great deal of success there, making this the most singularly easy-on-the-heart living arrangement I’ve ever had.
  • I am learning over time to treat myself well without much rigorous habitual behavior, and benefiting greatly from letting habits and routine support me – but not control me. This is a work in progress, but so far so good.

I have learned that the woman in the mirror invests heavily in how things feel – most of my choices are about building a beautiful life from the perspective of feeling at ease with myself and my environment long-term. I don’t care much how other people choose to do things, or whether I ‘measure up’ to some other standard. It’s nice to make so many small choices entirely on my own, and really find out what ‘my way’ actually is. I smile a quiet thank you at my traveling partner, enjoying his own Saturday morning on the other side of town; he recognized how badly I needed this, and how much the lack of individual development in this area of my life skills was hurting us, together.

Every project requires tools, a plan, and verbs.

Every project requires tools, a plan, and verbs.

I find that I am also very human – and sometimes struggle to meet my own needs easily, or recognize them in a timely fashion – I learn as I go along. It’s enough to do my best, and to try again when I miss.

  • When I am feeling low, or terribly fatigued, or in a lot of pain, I struggle to find my ideal balance between letting stuff go, and investing in the effort to handle tasks I know I will be irked about if I don’t do them.
  • I still struggle to treat myself with the tender consideration I give others that I love, and I can be pretty hard on myself when I wake and notice that indeed I left that coffee cup in the sink over night, or get home from work to notice I forgot to make my bed when I left for work in haste after losing track of time watching a great Skrillex video.
  • Slowly loosening my grip on rigid habits intended to support good self-care and emotional self-sufficiency, to learn to take the very best care of myself, and build sustainable no-bullshit lasting emotional self-sufficiency is fucking scary as hell, and I sometimes struggle with the emotional outcome of ‘failing myself’ in small ways – instead of supporting myself compassionately, and trusting incremental change over time is the inevitable result of practicing good practices.

I smile, noticing that the ratio of ‘things I easily identify as being pleased with about the woman in the mirror’ to ‘things I struggle with rather a lot’ is very much in favor of things I am pleased with. That feels pretty amazing. Just noticing it seems like a very nice thing to do for myself this morning. I sip my coffee grinning without any self-consciousness, guilt, or discomfort.

Today is a good day to sit down with myself and appreciate my progress. 65 days living with the woman in the mirror – she’s a good sort, and not bad to live with. She does tend to be rather particular, but she loves me, and does her best to care for me with great kindness, consideration, respect, and tenderness. She’s learning.

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Categories Brain Injury, Free Will, Healthy Living, Love, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, The Art of Being, The Big 5, Words
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