Archives for posts with tag: practicing the practices

Yesterday was a mixed bag of joy and aggravation. I really wanted to paint after returning home from coffee with a friend. I was in so much pain that I was uncomfortable to be around, even for me.

[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]

I couldn’t make it work, and inspiration got hung up in my Traveling Partner’s irritation and my own discomfort. I took more pain medication and laid down for awhile.

My beloved kindly woke me some time later, so I wouldn’t miss the entire day. I got some laundry done. We hung out a bit. It was fine. It was a quiet, mostly pleasant evening together. I went to bed early (crazy early, like 6:30 pm) still dealing with pain. I slept through the night, waking only once, briefly. I must have needed the rest.

This morning I woke rested, mind empty, heart serene, feeling content and unbothered. I dressed and left the house, seemingly without waking my beloved. I hope he sleeps deeply and wakes rested.

Heading down the trail, the morning seems almost spooky it is so quiet. I gently touch my left ear, checking that I actually do have my hearing aids in. Yep. It’s just an unusually quiet morning. My footsteps seem quite loud, generally I don’t notice them at all. My breathing, too, is audible. My tinnitus? Not as bad as usual, seems like. I do a simple “body scan” as I walk. Vertigo? Nope. That has thankfully cleared up. Headache? Mild. Arthritis pain? It’s there, but not yet bothersome, today. My gait feels steady, and if not effortless, at least comfortable. Good enough. Generally speaking, a mostly comfortable Monday.

The first hints of daybreak reveal the trees, silhouetted against a dark sky, not yet at all blue. I’m also not blue, which is a nice feeling, although I know my Traveling Partner would ask me irritably to rephrase it in terms of what I am feeling, which does seem reasonable. I guess this morning I am feeling…calm? Calm. Contented. Yesterday I felt the weight of considerable sorrow, though I never really sorted out why. Sleeping it off was probably a good choice.

So… here I am. Today. I get to my halfway point and stop to meditate and to write. It is an ordinary work day. I don’t really have anything on my mind at the moment, and don’t feel like digging around in my brain trying to find some worthwhile kernel of an idea to get started with, so it’s just me, and this moment. That’s fine, too. It’s enough. I breathe, exhale, and relax.

As I watch the sky lighten and change colors, dawn becoming day, I think about the powerful advantage (and convenience) offered by having dedicated studio space again. I can paint after work, any time. I smile; the thought feels like a quick shot of high potency joy straight to my soul. I grin to myself and fidget excitedly like a kid about to receive a gift they just know is exactly what they wanted. I chuckle aloud. I’m pretty easy to please. My Traveling Partner is right; I need to take better care of myself, and do more things for me. He is far more capable than he was after his injury, and I can trust him to tell me when or if he needs help. That’s a huge weight off my shoulders, and peculiarly, I am having some difficulty adapting.

I breathe deeply, and as I exhale I visualize releasing my stress and baggage. It’s a simple, perhaps slightly silly exercise, but I find it effective. I relax and return to meditation. I write. I watch the sun rise. I begin again.

We’re all human in this thing. Generally doing our best, or some version of that. Sometimes failing (sometimes badly). There are no “do overs”, from the perspective of the crumpled paper lesson, so the stakes are pretty high in any valued relationship.

[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]

On the other hand, people aren’t made from paper and we’re resilient and capable of healing and growing…

Yesterday I was in pain when I woke and it worsened as the day progressed. Aside from one choice win, early in the day, everything seemed calculated to vex me, frustrate me, or slow me down. Timing ended up being critical, forcing me onto a high risk route in dense traffic. I made it to my last appointment gritting my teeth with barely managed stress, more than a little aggravated, white knuckling the steering wheel as I pulled into the parking lot.

… I hadn’t eaten since a protein bar around 10:00 am, and I didn’t have “extra” (or stronger) pain relief with me. I faced repeated frustrations and had to carefully and very strictly manage my temper all day. I got home quite late, drenched in sweat, head pounding, impaired mobility, and omg so grateful to be home! These details are important context for what comes later. My Traveling Partner had a similarly difficult day, and expressed similar gratitude that the day was over and that he had been eagerly waiting for me.

…Then I fucked that all up, completely…

My beloved asked me a question, the scope of which I misunderstood. I sat down to give him an answer, and when he expressed his irritation that I had missed his point, low blood sugar and bad temper finally bested me and I exploded. Raised my voice (on this whole utterly unacceptable level). Door slamming. Saying terrible mean things. He returned that anger with his own. More yelling. More angry words. I started to storm off – my go-to argument-ending move once my PTSD is in the driver’s seat (I managed, with effort, to fight off the need to flee). Within the hour, I was hysterical with insane terror and rage, and not myself. (G’damn, I fucking hope that’s not myself!) Only…it also is very much myself, and I am responsible and accountable for the consequences of my actions, in spite of pain, low blood sugar, PTSD, and whatever else.

… I could have chosen differently…

That’s not to say I’d have deliberately chosen that mess with my eyes open and my wits about me, nonetheless, my choices were assuredly involved. “We become what we practice” becomes a terrifying reminder that failing to manage strong emotions properly, and failing to perform basic self care can too easily become “who I am” – a lesson I learned awhile ago, but find myself facing cruel reminders, too often. (What is “too often”? Honestly, in this case, ever; I love my partner too much to see him faced with my worst behavior.)

Sitting through a bit of rain.

We are not perfect people, my Traveling Partner and I. We’re human. As human as anyone else. We live and love, and fail and fuck up, and learn – and ideally get back to the living and loving on this strange journey. There’s no one else I want to spend it with.

…When I woke this was all still at the forefront of my consciousness. I dressed and headed out. The air smelled of rain. I filled the gas tank on my way, and noticed that the pavement appeared damp. As I left town, a soft mist became a steady rain. It makes more sense why we were both in so much pain yesterday. Nothing about that excuses the behavior, it’s just a footnote to an incredibly difficult day.

Bad days happen. People behave badly sometimes, and reduce themselves to their worst behavior. We find ourselves standing knee deep in our chaos and damage wondering how we got there and lashing out at any unfortunate soul nearby. Fuck, this shit is hard sometimes.

Storms pass.

The rain stops, reminding me “this too will pass”, and the minutes of our mortal lives are precious and few. It matters to be willing to admit our mistakes, and to make amends and repair damage with the same “enthusiasm” with which we lost our temper.

I adore my Traveling Partner with my whole heart, and mingling love and madness has notoriously been… problematic. I sigh to myself at the halfway point of my walk. There’s a full moon over head. G’damn we’re hard on each other sometimes. A young squirrel approaches me hesitantly. I absent mindedly pull the handful of acorns I’d gathered as I walked, and gently toss them a short distance away for the squirrel.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. Apologies don’t always feel like enough, and really, an apology is only words. Really making amends is about changing behavior. Difficult, but not impossible. Another breath. I consider each small error that snowballed. I exhale. I consider what I could do to reliably achieve better outcomes and more agreeably demonstrate my love and abiding affection for my Traveling Partner, even in difficult moments. Another breath, another thought. I dissect the failures one by one without doing myself personal harm. Self-flagellation isn’t necessary (or useful), growth and change are.

An oak savannah under a stormy sky.

A new day dawns on the oak savannah. I sit with my thoughts watching squirrels play. I contemplate being and becoming, and making things right with the human being most dear to me. G’damn loving me must be fucking hard sometimes. I watch the storm clouds overhead begin to break into pieces and disperse. There’s a lot yet to contemplate, and to learn from. I sigh to myself; I’d very much like to paint (it serves to “unclutter my soul”).

…moments and choices…

I get to my feet to begin again.

I was on the trail this morning in the usual way. The little circle of light on the ground ahead of me bobbing and swaying with my footsteps holds my attention, which is probably a good thing. I watch my steps, one after the other, eyes mostly on the ground. Walking in the dark can be treacherous and full of surprises. (It’s a useful metaphor, too.)

[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]

Yesterday went sideways abruptly, almost as soon as I got home. It was unfortunate, and dismaying. There were raised voices, door slamming, and an overabundance of hurt feelings. As with walking in the dark, there was more going on than we could easily see in the moment.

The resentment and anger that seethed beneath the surface lingered a long while for me. The hurt feelings, too. Still walking in darkness, metaphorically speaking. We did manage to get things sorted out. A mistake in medication, poor timing, individual frustration with circumstances had collided and become a problem. We’ve been through much worse, my Traveling Partner and I, which isn’t a surprise to me; I know through painful experience what I’m working with, and how much chaos and damage still remains on my path, creating obstacles on my path, often unseen in the darkness.

…”Wear a headlamp you silly bitch,” I think to myself as I walk in the actual darkness, wearing an actual headlamp. I think about metaphorical headlamps…

I get to my halfway point, still in darkness, and turn off my headlamp, letting my eyes adjust to the darkness, before I begin to write. It must be overcast. No stars. I sigh to myself before I meditate. I feel a little out of sorts; it is recognizably the aftermath of yesterday’s unpleasantness. It will pass, I remind myself. I breathe, exhale, and relax, and take steps to chase the blues with something more hopeful. It takes practice.

I am distracted by the sound of helicopters. I listen to the sounds of morning and watch the sky change color as daybreak arrives. I reflect on the importance of kindness and making room for failure, whether the failure is someone else’s or our own. I reflect on the importance of restoring peace, of reconnecting, and of healing each other’s hearts after conflict arises, and is resolved. I’m not actually very good at the part of conflict resolution that is “making things right again” and repairing an emotional connection. My beloved is more skilled. I’ve at least learned to be open to that process and to be accepting and approachable and willing to make things right together.

… There’s more to learn and more to practice…

I breathe the morning air deeply and exhale slowly. I remind myself to drink plenty of water today and to take my meds on time. It’s a start. (Still listening to helicopters, and wondering what’s up.) I breathe, exhale, and relax – meditation is also a practice. Sometimes it takes a couple tries to get it right.

Somewhere in the background, a ticking clock. Somewhere ahead, an opportunity to begin again.

I woke slowly, a moment ahead of the alarm. I shut it off, dressed, and left the house. Then, I went back in because I somehow managed to forget the fob for my car. This tended to cause me to be concerned about whatever else I may have forgotten, and as I went to grab my fob, I double-checked whether I remembered to turn off my alarm, my noise machine, and various little details that are part of my morning routine. I think I got it all.

[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]

I got a little more than 9 hours of sleep last night. I was tired and in pain and I laid down “for an hour” after my Traveling Partner and I enjoyed a genial meal together. That hour stretched into 3, and I got up briefly, enjoyed the company of my beloved while he worked on something. I went back to bed, unsure how I could possibly sleep more… and immediately crashed out. I certainly feel rested this morning. I clearly needed the sleep, my partner was right about that.

I grabbed my headlamp and cane eagerly when I reached the trailhead, and got started on my walk feeling light on my feet and merry. It’s a good start to the day.

A new day begins. What will you do with the opportunity?

I get to my halfway point and stop. The morning feels chilly. It reminds me that summer will end soon. Seasons change. The clock keeps ticking. The sunrise begins with a colorful display. I’m content to watch it.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. It’s hard to believe that the world is in such chaos – I let all that go. This is not the time for all that; these quiet moments are best spent on other thoughts… gratitude, love, wonder… I exhale, and let go of worry and doubt. The sky lightens as daybreak becomes the dawn of a new day.

“Nothing to see here,” I think to myself, contentedly. Just how I like it – calm. Quiet.  A small buck steps out from the vineyard rows and crosses the trail, heading into the trees. The western sky has become a pearly blue gray, clear and cloudless. A soft distant wooshing is audible from here. HVAC on the nearby water park building, probably, but in a different moment and place it might as easily be the sound of the seashore. It’s only a pleasant illusion, and I don’t mistake it for real. I yawn and stretch and fill my lungs with the cool air of this lovely summer morning.

… I almost feel like I could go back to bed! It’s a silly notion, and I got plenty of restful sleep last night…

I get to my feet, stretch again, feeling the movement as I extend my arms towards the sky. There’s coffee on the other side of this walk, and to get to it, I’ll need to begin again. 😁

I woke from complicated dreams feeling unbothered. They faded from my recollection before a memory of the details could form. I dressed and left the house, going back for my new headlamp, which I managed to forget in spite of the helpful note from my Traveling Partner.

[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]

I set off down the trail in the dark, my headlamp creating a well lit area ahead of me (or wherever I happen to look). It’s a much better headlamp than my old one. I’m not really surprised by that; my beloved recommended it to me. I smile to myself. I feel loved, with every step.

The humidity is 93% this morning, according to the weather app on my phone. Bleh. I feel it. It feels like other places I’ve lived… Maryland… Georgia… Alabama. Oof. I begin sweating before I’ve reached my halfway point. By the time I stop, I’m pretty damp. The air quality is some better today though, feels like. The temperature is mild and the air is calm. It’s a quiet morning. I sigh to myself and take a seat on a big rock. It’s not yet daybreak.

“Nothing to see here,” I think to myself. It’s not a criticism. I feel content and unbothered, and mostly pretty comfortable. Comfort is relative. I don’t escape the chronic pain very often at this point (hardly ever), but this morning it is a manageable 2 out of 10. I stare at the circle of light on the pavement just beyond the edge of my boots. Nothing to see there either really. I breathe, exhale, and relax. Nice morning for a quiet bit of meditation.

I rub my hands together, massaging my thumbs with particular care. I’d like to be painting and it feels unfair to be feeling arthritis developing in my hands. I find myself wondering if a paraffin wax heat treatment would help or only feel nice? I sigh out loud without meaning to, and notice that the air tastes a bit like fall, already. My mind wanders – maybe some time in the studio this weekend? That would be lovely.

I sit watching as daybreak arrives. I turn off my headlamp and let it hang from my neck. I’ll wait awhile longer, here with my thoughts, and then I’ll begin again. I can see the path ahead pretty well now. Here comes a new day. What will I do with it? I don’t know yet, aside from working. I hope I choose wisely.