Archives for posts with tag: practicing the practices

This morning is as if it is an entirely different day… oh. Wait…it is. 🙂 It tends to work that way, generally speaking.

Yesterday was challenging, but the evening was lovely and my traveling partner and I hung out, played a favorite game (Carcassone), and conversed. It was connected and fun and gentle on our hearts. I found it a lovely way to prepare for my departure into the trees today. I woke with a smile – way ahead of the alarm, and excited like a little kid. This morning it’s espresso over ice, with a splash of lemonade, as I find myself catching odd ‘nice to have’ items that I had overlooked (pony tail bands…quarters in case I need to contact someone at home…oh hell, phone numbers!…), although I could walk out now with the gear as packed and be ready to go, and have a great time.

My partner observed that I had not either patched my old tent from last time (a young owl landed on it while I sipped my coffee, very early, and when he took flight, he left behind a small tear in the top of the rain fly) nor had I replaced it. I laughed about this tent being 30 years old and only costing $30 (I sure never expected it to last this long!)…which is nearly true. I bought it in 1996 to attend my first Renaissance Fair, so only 18 years old. Still – damned old for a $30 tent. It was 8:30 pm when my partner suggested I just go ahead and replace the tent. By nine I was back from our neighborhood gear shop with an excellent replacement – and instead of heading to the trees in an 18-year-old, worn, torn, one-season tent, I’ll be heading out with a brand new, good quality, 3-season tent that will be far more comfortable. Call me excited, I can barely make myself go to work! lol

So, I sip my iced coffee, go over my gear – before I head out after work, I’ll check the tent carefully to ensure I have all I need, and that I understand the set up. Being compassionate with myself about my TBI means I take extra steps to ensure I understand how gear works in advance. Relying on smarts and experience to push me through new set ups is a poor choice; I can do it, but my stress level regarding the emotion of frustration, specifically, isn’t something I want to put myself through if I can make better choices.

Being compassionate with myself – and my  partners – also means I give myself time, and room, and permission, to let go of what hurts, trust that I am loved and able to love in return, and accepting that the limitations I do have can be enormously frustrating for people who love me, and that’s entirely understandable. We’re all doing our best around here, and although sometimes it doesn’t feel ‘good enough’, it really always is.

So. Here I go. A more pleasant launch point for a weekend of stillness in the forest. See you in a few days!

The storm clouds of the moment are so quickly swept away in some moment that follows. I am still learning to make room for change, and to trust love.

The storm clouds of the moment are so quickly swept away in some moment that follows. I am still learning to make room for change, and to trust love.

Today is a good day for adventure. Today is a good day to trust my heart. Today is a good day to enjoy smiles, laughter, and hugs good-bye. Today is a good day to take a step back from the troubles of the world, and from the chaos and damage within. Today is a good day to change.

Today I’m feeling pretty low, waking with a vicious headache, and memories of last night. I don’t care for drama so exploring the details isn’t on the agenda today. Is it enough to say I’m human? That I have moments of self-doubt, moments when things that made so much sense some other day don’t make sense right now? Times of struggle and heartache? I am, after all, grieving… that colors life somewhat, doesn’t it? I’m asking because, at 51, sometimes I don’t feel like I know the answers to some of these questions.

...There's still sky overhead...and possibilities.

…There’s still sky overhead…and possibilities.

Lonely in a crowd? Yeah, this has some of that feel to it. Uncertain about the future? Yep, I’ve got that, too. I feel sad. I feel challenged by life’s curriculum in a similar way to what I imagine it might be like to wander into a college physics class at some tender age, without any academic preparation, and being told my grade depends on the day’s pop quiz. My partners are good people. This morning the tears on my face and the splitting headache I woke with go hand in hand with my doubt that I qualify to make that team.

Death sometimes has an unexpectedly insistent way of making us look closely at our own life. What do I want out of mine, truly? Where am I headed? What is the trajectory of my choices, and where are they taking me? Is this what I what? Is it what will best meet my needs over time? I don’t have good answers to these questions either, and I feel adrift. Oddly, this does not make me eager to see my therapist, instead, a profound urge to ‘leave it all behind’ builds, but I don’t know what I really mean by that. I’m too old to ‘run away from home’ and the sorts of baggage I have are neatly chained to me, going along for the journey everywhere I go.

Each day dawns, entirely new, filled with potential and choices.

Each day dawns, entirely new, filled with potential and choices.

This one’s difficult. My skilled brain tries to tell me I will be okay, that “this too shall pass”. Mindfulness… well… yeah. It’s getting to be easier and more habitual. Mindfulness in moments like these doesn’t often do much to ‘make it stop hurting’. Opening my own heart to this experience of hurting and making room for it, and being compassionate with myself are not the simplest of tasks – particularly after an evening of being castigated for imperfect execution of practices that serve me so well other times, other days. So, I sit here allowing the tears with a certain irritated resignation, and doing what I can to be kind to myself, and understand that it’s all a lot to take, and that being human is the nature of my experience. I focus on me, my experience, what I need from me to feel nurtured and supported. There’s that emotional self-sufficiency piece rearing its head again, too. Would I cry less if I met more of my own needs? Maybe tears are what I have to count on? Where is the line between working through grief and trauma appropriately to heal, and ‘being a victim’ – is that a matter of perspective? I feel like I was headed for summer vacation and the teacher just handed me Moby Dick, War and Peace, and Atlas Shrugged and said “see you in two weeks”. Being a student of life and love doesn’t really end with ‘graduation’ – there’s always more to learn. I kind of wish I weren’t a ‘C student’, though, this shit is hard.

So. Today I am alone. In a sense, I always am; we are each having our own experience. That can be a very lonely thing, sometimes. It is, right now.

I’ll spend the weekend out in the trees, in the stillness, breathing, safe, content; I may not ‘figure it all out’, but I’ll get a break from everything that hurts except the stuff I carry with me. That I just have to deal with. It’ll be a few days, maybe, before I write here again. I won’t have access to the internet – the trees don’t use Facebook, they simply stand in stillness, content. Or something poetic like that. Anyway. I guess I’ve ‘run out of words’ for now.

What is there to say about a sunrise? It is, in a sense, the only 'do over' we get; a new day.

What is there to say about a sunrise? It is, in a sense, the only ‘do over’ we get; a new day.

No affirmations, today, they would feel hollow to me this morning – and if nothing else, I am genuine. Today I hurt.

I like communication. I think most of us probably enjoy it, or some aspect of it. My favorite, as much as I enjoy words and talking and writing, is being heard.  I’d be surprised in that weren’t true of most people, but I’m not ‘most people’ in a lot of ways, so I likely shouldn’t go out on that limb. 🙂  I do enjoy being heard, however I have a lot to learn about listening; this is another statement I suspect is true of a lot of people, just based on observation.

It is a journey taken one step at a time.

It is a journey taken one step at a time.

I’ve noticed something strange…people who don’t feel heard are generally not listening (at least at that point at which they feel they are not being heard, themselves).  “Communication” so easily turns into tit-for-tat bullshit that there are actually enough books written about communication as a subject to fill a library without help from any other topic. Amazon has 339,665 books on “communication” across a variety of subtopics, such as “communication skills” (very popular, right at the top) and “law” (which I suppose gets involved when communication goes seriously awry).  Human primates work hard to communicate – hell, we created language to facilitate that! We consider both verbal and non verbal forms of communication when we discuss language, and make a big deal over one versus the other, and when it is appropriate to use them, and how to interpret them. We make rules about communication and set up hierarchies of information to sort fact from fiction, lies from well-intended misstatements based on erroneous beliefs, and novels from religious tomes. Us versus them. We get our emotions involved. All that fuss and effort – and we’re still communicating poorly, and taking shit personally based on untested assumptions, and expectations that source from fictions in our own heads.

Part of my own challenge in communication rests on the distinction between ‘hearing’ and ‘listening’. You, too? Have you ever been in a heated discussion, or contentious meeting, and rather than actually listening with awareness to the speaker of the moment, you were investing time in formulating a reply – to something you heard moments ago, or something you are only half listening to in the moment? It’s a poor practice. I can make that assertion comfortably, feeling pretty sure you’ll agree with me – all I have to do is make that observation from the vantage point of the disregarded speaker, themselves. We’ve all been there – making a point that matters to us, doing our best to be clear, concise, and hold the attention of our listener, and… aware that we are not actually ‘being heard’; the vaguely distracted facial expression, and loss of eye contact, or lack of focused gaze, are a hint – the real giveaway is when our listener begins to reply or rebut, and it is apparent they are not speaking to the salient points at all, they are just downloading what they spent time considering – while you were talking. They weren’t listening, they were waiting for their turn. Awkward. Rude. Ineffective communication. It’s so easy, though, to get wrapped up in what feels like matters the most – and lose awareness that what actually matters most is listening while someone is talking.  It gets more complicated if the person talking is an unqualified asshat, I get it, or espousing views that are “offensive” or inflammatory. That’s hard to take. Perhaps in that scenario the more effective communication is to say frankly that there is offense, or express clearly and simply that the information is in some way unacceptable – then disengage without further rebuttal or reply? (Is every battle mine? lol I’ve been making some different choices, lately, myself).

Deceit, treachery, willfully misleading someone, treating them poorly or bullying them with language; my perspective is that these things are not good uses of communication between honorable beings making compassionate choices, and treating people well. We don’t always make our best choices in the moment, though, do we? It’s easy for a person, in a moment of anger, to be willfully cruel, or in a moment of frustration to be impatient or callous. We’re all very human.

I dislike imprecise communication, particularly regarding emotion. I’m not always good at it, myself, and I practice some things I find key, and I do so in a very planned and studied way. The things I put that kind of structured emphasis on are simple enough. I practice communicating willfully in words – for me this means moving gently through physical space, and not using my body to communicate strong emotion instead of using words; no deliberate slamming or banging of cupboards, doors, drawers, etc to communicate distress or anger. It’s very upsetting and imprecise, and it tends (in my own experience) to foster panic, anxiety, and insecurity in the human herd without truly communicating anything with accuracy, or honesty. It seems mean, and it causes considerable extra wear and tear on household goods.  (Do you slam shit when you’re mad? Why do you do it? What does that satisfy for you? I’ve been there, but I can’t say I find anything of lasting value in that method of communicating; I gave it up in principle some time ago.) I won’t claim any mastery; I practice continuously whether I am upset or not.  The other key practice is listening, really attending to the words another person is taking time to share with me, without being distracted by the pressure of my own desire to speak and be heard, or caving to some need-in-the-moment to challenge or disagree. It’s very difficult for me – the disinhibition issues I struggle with often get in the way; practicing is very important for reinforcing better habits. Not interrupting people is a good start on a basic level. (I am so not there yet! I work at it every day.) It matters that much to me, that people speaking with me feel heard.

It was slow going to reach a place where I understand that because I desire to be heard, learning to listen is critically important. It was also a struggle to reach a place where I understand that communicating emotions is not about pushing the visceral experience of strong emotion into the consciousness of other human beings against their will, or without their consent; it is about using gentle words, clearly and simply, while allowing that other consciousness to continue to have its own experience. There’s a lot of practice ahead of me. The day I realized I am practicing these qualities and behaviors because they are who I want most to be – and by intention, who I am – I became so much more able to step back from frustrations built around ‘I will when they do’ and ‘they don’t so why should I?’ or issues of unfairness, and suddenly I felt more heard – because I am listening to my own voice. That matters, too. So often it has turned out the person not listening to me, is me.

Savoring each precious moment through awareness is a nice place to start a journey of discovery.

Savoring each precious moment through awareness is a nice place to start a journey of discovery.

Some rambling notes on communication early on a Tuesday morning. It’s a good day to communicate with love, and with great attention. It’s a good day to really hear the message I am sharing with the world, from the world’s perspective. It’s a good day to be kind, and to treat others with courtesy – not because they deserve it, but because it is who I am. Today is a good day to change the world.

I woke early this morning, ahead of the alarm clock by an hour or a bit more. It was an unexpectedly nice opportunity for connecting with a partner in the wee hours for a few precious minutes. Love doesn’t mind the clock.

The remainder of the morning, thus far, has been spent in meditation and study, quietly, gently, enjoying the stillness; except for that one bit when I whacked the back of my wrist against the corner of my desk somehow. Ouch. (It had that ‘blow to the funny bone’ feel to  it.) This morning I have been contemplating the nature of time. I haven’t meant to, it’s just what my brain latched on to when I wrapped up meditation. You see, it’s been an incredibly chill and restorative weekend for me. The subjective feeling of it is even that it was ‘a long weekend’ of painting, hanging out, and some shared evening time with partners watching videos (science shows and Archer), although it has been the ordinary 2-day sort. It’s been quite delightful, and an extraordinary way to prepare for the very busy workweek to come.

This weekend I took care of me, and managed to meet most of my needs for myself. It’s been an exceptional taste of emotional self-sufficiency. Powerful. Something clicked recently, and I’m enjoying the outcome of that. I hope, and intend, to continue to invest in the practices, choices, and changes that are proving to be such a powerful win for me over time.

"Summer Afternoon" and a lovely weekend to paint.

“Summer Afternoon” and a lovely weekend to paint.

I spent much of the weekend painting. It is a whole different magnitude of change in quality of life for me, as an artist, to have space to paint – not just room to do so when I take time to clear space, set up, work on a few pieces, tear it all down and put it away for next time; the difference is in having dedicated space to paint, and to work creatively. Now I know what I was yearning for, and having it, I now really understand why it matters so much. It’s a realization that feels a bit like the tail end of a South Park episode; the point at which Kenny delivers his short monologue that begins “I learned something today…”  I learned something this weekend; I need space to paint, and it is an emotional need, the meeting of which improves my quality of life enormously. It’s a practical understanding of myself, too; I’ll never again shop for housing the same way, for example, because I’ll be looking for ‘space to paint’ in a non-negotiable way, any time it comes up in the future.

The days of this weekend were much more ‘timeless’ than a typical weekend. I rarely looked at a clock, and the days seemed long and leisurely. Is it a byproduct of investing in doing what I love, and taking care of me without stress or worry? What slowed the hands of the clock this weekend? Whatever it was, I’m grateful for the wonderful weekend, invested in taking care of me. Bringing mindfulness practices to the realm of my emotional life, and my emotional needs, doesn’t come naturally to me, yet; I practice attentively, and with discipline and commitment. Sometimes it feels vaguely ‘forced’, and I find myself fighting old programming that says my needs don’t matter. Every moment of that battle is so worth it; this weekend was a small ‘payout’, a return on investment, and I feel recharged and refreshed.

...Because I don't do cross stitch. :-D

…Because I don’t do cross stitch. 😀

Today is a good day for beginnings. Today is a good day to be the woman I most want to be. Today is a good day to embrace change. Today is a good day to savor each precious moment, to connect, and to be present. Today is a good day to change the world.

Yesterday was productive, in spite of lingering dizziness, arthritis and headache pain, and a significant shortage of sleep. It was also quite a nice day, with one bit of emotional difficulty in the evening, which didn’t last long and which I wisely followed with an early bed time. Although I only managed about 6 1/2 hours of sleep, it was an improvement over the 4 hours the night before. 🙂

The emotional challenge du jour wasn’t any great mystery, either, it was simple a matter of humanity. In pain, tired from lack of sleep, tired from a long busy workday, excited to see the traveler returned home, I was more volatile that I realized, and took a partner’s irritation and hurt very personally in a moment that was handled poorly. There is a reason so many of the things I am learning to do to support and care for me are referred to as ‘practices’; mastery is not the point. The opportunities to practice are decision-making points. Will I choose wisely? Will I practice? I did last night, and the evening ended well, after I took a time out and took care of my needs (a long soak in Epsom salts, meditation, yoga, nutritional support).

No dizziness this morning, and I feel a tad foolish. I may have given myself two days of vertigo by making a poor choice to try out my partner’s exercise hoop… I had a hoola hoop when I was  kid, and it seemed a fun moment to give it a try as an adult. I just didn’t stop to consider that my fused spine, held together with confidence and surgical wire, might rule this activity out for me. At no point did my brain helpfully point out that perhaps a leisure activity that applies a lot of twisting motion to the very location of my spinal fusion might be a poor choice. I paid for that oversight, but find myself fairly appreciative if that is all it turns out to be.  It could be much worse. 

Things nearly always ‘could be much worse’. When I’m having a shitty day it can be hard to hang on to that thought, but it’s a great observation for perspective. There are people smarter than I am, by far. There are people who are funnier. There are wiser beings and people with much greater ambition. There are some moments in life that blow me away with how awesome and moving they are. There are good days and bad days. Generally, regardless how else any given moment is defined by any one human being – including me – things could be ‘much worse’.

Perspective matters; life looks very different to the wee spider on this rose, than it does to me.

Perspective matters; life looks very different to the wee spider on this rose, than it does to me.

This morning’s meditation and yoga were a gentle opener for what will likely be another lovely day. I’ll do what I can to refrain from setting myself up for failure by building up my expectations; expectations have proven time and again to be a detour off my path that rarely leads anywhere I want to go. Still, as with most mornings, there’s no particular reason to expect the day will turn out poorly, either. It is a day, like so many, that begins with a pleasant morning.

caption

Does a wee spider have expectations?

Today is a good day for love – and for listening. Today is a good day for compassion – and for following through on commitments. Today is a good day to appreciate the efforts of others, and to recognize that most of the time, most people, are doing their best. Today is a good day to be kind, and to be patient. Today is a good day to change the world. 

However small we may feel, our choices matter.

However small we may feel, our choices matter.