Archives for posts with tag: practicing the practices
« Older Entries
Newer Entries »

Winter?

December 27, 2025 //
0

I woke rather randomly, feeling cozy and warm and not at all inclined to get up. I got up and dressed and left the house quietly, because it was clear that I wasn’t going to go back to sleep. I’d already “slept in”, for some values of sleeping in; it was 15 minutes later than I commonly wake. I feel rested. It’s fine.

The car was frosted, sparkling under the street lights, and the car door opened with a crackle, and some resistance. The morning air was quite cold. This is only the second hard frost of the season, the last one being weeks ago. Between them, it’s been mild and rainy. I started the car, and waited for it to defrost enough to see, and to warm up the engine. It’s not ridiculously cold, just freezing. I found myself grateful for the warm layers I put on this morning, without thinking much about the weather – it just happened to be what I had laid out last night as “options”. I wasn’t really thinking about options as I dressed, and I just put things on piece by piece, until I was dressed. I’m warm and comfortable. Suits the colder morning.

The trailhead parking is empty. I arrive before daybreak. It’s a little warmer here. Although still cold, it’s not freezing. Gloves, scarf, hoodie over sweater, cane in hand – I’m as ready as I’m going to get, but the cold and darkness are unappealing, and the frosty trail running alongside the marsh pond is more hazardous than it appears in some spots, and likely to be slick with frosty fallen leaves. I decide to wait for daybreak, more light, and maybe a degree or two of additional warmth. I’m in no hurry, it’s Saturday. I can write from the warmth and shelter of the car, sparing myself the experience of writing from the trail with freezing hands. I somehow doubt I will find sitting at my halfway point at all appealing on this wintry morning.

I stretch and yawn, listening to the traffic pass on the nearby highway. There’s not much of that this morning, only enough to keep me aware that this is not wilderness, and I already knew that. 😆

The darkness begins to ease, ever so slightly. I see hints of almost blue sky beyond the clouds, above the eastern horizon. It’s not quite 07:00… I sit quietly considering the lengthening days, noting with some small measure of wonder that the change is already so obvious. I don’t honestly prefer to walk in the darkness, it just happens to be “convenient”, for some values of “convenience”. I’m looking forward to seeing the sun rise as I walk this trail. It won’t be long; Spring is on the way.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. Meditation first, walking after, this morning. I’m okay with that. I do find habits, routines, and practices very useful, but being fixated on sequences or timing can create needless anxiety any time I deviate from some pattern that developed over time. That’s not healthy nor ideally flexible, and the day-to-day variance in timing and the order in which I do things prevents me from becoming “stuck” or inflexible. Rather than fight it, I try to embrace it without being bothered by it. Change is. I’ve found tremendous value in accepting impermanence and practicing non-attachment. Another breath, another exhalation, another glance at the horizon.

I sit with my thoughts awhile, reflecting on who I have become over the years. We become what we practice. This is reliably true. If you don’t like some characteristic of who you are, it’s very likely to be entirely within your ability to change that, through your own actions and decisions, with practice. Are your behaviors what you want them to be? Are you “your best self”, living your best life? What will you change today to become more that person you most want to be? What qualities make a person of “good character”? Do you embody those characteristics? You could, with practice. It’s your journey – your path to choose. Choose wisely.

One winter morning

The way ahead is visible. The path is clear.  It’s time to begin again, I suppose. I wrap my scarf around me, button my cardigan, and pull on my knit hat. Every journey begins with a step, and it looks like a great day to practice being the person I most want to be.

Tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,
Categories Allegories, Anxiety, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, inspiration, joy, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, solo hiking, The Art of Being, winter, Words

What Looks Like a Path…

December 24, 2025 //
0

…May be an obstacle. Sometimes it’s a matter of perspective and expectations.

I’m sitting quietly in my meditation/studio/office space, which also serves as my “anything specifically me” space, and has a comfortable couch well-suited to sleeping, napping, reading, and meditation along one wall, my work desk on the opposite wall filling the space from the door to the corner. I’ve got the lights dimmed. I’ve got noise-cancelling headsets on, set to “quiet”, and no music playing. Just quiet. All around me, little things my beloved Traveling Partner has made for me, built for me, done for me, suggested to me – that’s a lot of love in this small room. Even the “do not disturb” sign presently hanging from the door knob as a cautionary suggestion was made for me by my Traveling Partner.

…This afternoon, I am “enjoying” a rare hour home alone by “dealing with” my PTSD. Not what I had planned, for sure, but it is the set of circumstances in front of me. Maddening – and thus, I am soothing myself through the madness. So far, so good. (The solitude is helpful for me – well-timed – I am most successful at managing my symptoms and nudging myself back to a grounded emotional place if I am not also having to interact with other people.) The muffled quiet and the heavy embrace of the headphones feels comforting, like a boundary being respected. I breathe, exhale, and relax – well, I make the attempt. It’s going to take some practice. My shallow breathing, tight chest, and trembling begin to diminish a little at a time, breath by breath. Progress. I keep practicing. Meditation works pretty reliably for me.

(Before I begin writing, I split my display into two windows, and keep messages open in case someone needs to reach me, this only works because I’m in an environment where boundaries are generally respected with care. I’m not trying to be hurtful by stepping away, just taking care of myself.)

In 2013, a similar situation might have resulted in a major emotional meltdown, yelling, tears, hysterical rage, finishing with some sort of physical collapse, often followed by succumbing to illness and not being able to bounce back emotionally for days or weeks. I lacked emotional resilience (that’s putting it very gently!). My PTSD and my anxiety were out of control. I teetered on a precipice and got a lucky break when one more attempt at seeking therapy finally paid off in new tools, and real improvements. That’s not the point though, the point is – I’m still me. I’ve got some “issues”. I manage them better than I’ve ever done before, and it has been a worthy journey. Therapy, treatment, for some mental or emotional issues (or even for some physical ailments or injuries) isn’t going to be 100% a “cure”, or fix that fixes everything in some permanent way. Results vary. Years of trauma often don’t have a reliable permanent “fix”, at all; those experiences change the way we’re wired. For some people, that’s exceedingly hard to change for the better, in adulthood. We do become what we practice, though, and given better tools and more effective practices, it has been possible to get pretty fucking close to “fixed”, and that’s amazing. It’s also something I recognize as feeling like it “isn’t enough”, now and then, when I find myself fighting my demons in the darkness, again, or fall through some thinking hole when I’m fatigued beyond my capacity to reason, or get triggered by a circumstance (or someone dear to me who would never do me an intentional injury). That’s hard. It’s also only an emotion, and potentially unreliable. Today? Today I’m just dealing with my bullshit. I’m okay for most values of “okay”, just super irritable and doing my best not to let that reach beyond this room.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I’m okay. Moments are fleeting. Perhaps the next will be much better, filled with joy and laughter and love? I’m open to that. It’s time to begin again.

Tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,
Categories anger, Anxiety, Brain Injury, breathe, Despair, forgiveness, Free Will, Frustration, gratitude, meditation, Metaphors, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, The Art of Being, The Big 5, Words

Sometimes “Enough” Looks Different

December 18, 2025 //
0

I’m sipping my coffee (hot, black) grateful to have it. The hot liquid feels soothing on my still-raw feeling throat, although the discomfort is no longer up high near my uvula, and is definitely showing indications of having moved into my chest instead of lingering in my sinuses. I’m still unwell, but I’m working today; there is much to do as the year winds down, and giving up on it is not an effective strategy for making more money at some future point. (I don’t much like that this matters more to me right now than my fucking health, but this is America.) The box of tissues on my desk, alongside the hand sanitizer, and me wearing a mask, gives adequate caution to others that keeping their distance is a good choice.

My Traveling Partner woke me this morning, early, checking whether I was okay. I mumbled something about being okay, because for most values of “okay” I surely was. I was dead asleep when his voice roused me, but having wakened and seeing it was nearly time to begin a normal work day, I went ahead and got up, dressed, and left for the co-work space I typically use when the university library is not open. There was no traffic at all, but it was also too early to get coffee on the way. It was fine. I was awake, and the rainy drive was much improved by how little traffic there was.

None of this really “matters“, it’s just the set up for the punchline to a joke that isn’t actually funny. I let that go. I’m grateful that I feel well enough to face a work day, honestly. I’m grateful for the hot coffee that was available when I got to the office. I’m grateful for the instant chicken soup which proves to be far more satisfying than the coffee. I’m grateful for a few quiet minutes alone with my thoughts before this co-work space fills with other co-working professionals, and grateful for a desk that puts considerable distance between me and others. I’m grateful for my Traveling Partner, who does so much to care for me when I’m not well. I’m okay for most values of “okay” now, and I definitely feel better than I did yesterday, in spite of the cough I’ve now developed, that will likely linger for days or even weeks after I’m fully over whatever ick took me down in the first place.

…I can’t say I feel much like working, there’s just a lot to do…

I savor the hot too-salty flavorful instant chicken soup. There’s an intense comfort to it when I feel this way. It’s enough to satisfy what limited appetite I’ve got, and enough to genuinely “make me feel better”, every bit as much as the cold remedies I also took. Funny how “enough” changes with the circumstances, eh? On a beautiful summer morning, on some beach or forested trail, there’s little chance this off-brand cheap poor quality instant chicken soup would be at all satisfying, but here, now? It’s definitely enough and I’m grateful to have it. That brings my thoughts to the Giftmas holiday ahead. I think over the unwrapped gifts stacked in an out of the way spot needing to be wrapped and placed under the tree. Are they “enough”? G’damn, I sure hope so. They seem less than I’d like to be putting under the tree this year, but… this is what we had to work with for resources, and anyway, it’s more about presence than presents. I do like presents, no need to be coy about it, but it’s not “the big deal” it felt like in some years past.

I sigh to myself, eager to see the other side of the day, though it should be quite manageable and pretty chill, generally. Pain and illness color my subjective experience of work and even this one moment of quiet, solitude, and peace. It would be ease to slide into anger, frustration, or despair – I’m one bit of bad news or moment of Other People’s Drama away from it almost all the time, these days. Frankly, I’m appalled by the state of American governance, and it lurks in the background of my consciousness however often I attempt to resolve it, somehow. That is one of the “secrets” of human suffering; how often we choose it. I don’t bother with looking at the news today; the president gave another one of his rambling ill-informed misleading fatuous self-serving narcissistic vile and cruel speeches yesterday, and the news feeds will echo that slop for days to come. Fuck that shit; I’d be stupider for every word of his bullshit I allow into my consciousness. I’ll wait for any rationally fact-checked breakdown of that nonsense that may surface, but I certainly don’t want to expose my mind directly to that fuckwit’s voice. (If I’ve offended you, dear reader, my apologies. If you voted for that grifter and his corrupt clown car of cronies, I can’t say I understand your choice at all, but this is a democracy – for now – and it is your right to cast your vote as you will and endure the consequences of your choices, however ridiculous or hateful those look to me. It’s a shame so many other people get hurt along the way.)

I correct my posture, and breathe more deeply. Breathe, exhale, relax. I meditate. I make a point of crafting detailed mental imagery of myself as a woman standing in an airport, setting down baggage and walking away. I feel lighter for doing so, even though it is only an imagined moment. This is a practice that can bring real change of perspective and subjective experience. “Visualization” works as a practice, but indulged without consideration and care, it can drag one into a nasty negative spiral, too. Still a good practice, but associated (as many things are) with an inherent risk. Visualizing trauma and negative experiences or feelings can bring those much closer, rendering them in a very immediate and visceral way that can cause further damage. Visualizing positive experiences and moments (real or pure imagination) similarly renders those in a more immediate and visceral way, seeming to make them “more real”, and incorporating those feelings into our implicit “sense of being” in a truly useful way. Choose wisely.

I read an article recently that touched on the concepts of positive visualization for dealing with anger. If you’re someone who struggles with managing your temper in relationships, flaring up over small things that likely don’t rate that sort of escalated reaction, this one may be worth a read. Useful and practical, the basic idea is that imagining positive interactions, and reinforcing positive feelings about an individual, will tend to improve the relationship with the real person in real life interactions. That seems worth knowing, doesn’t it? Worth practicing? We become what we practice. It may be a poor choice to practice being angry and hateful… It seems unlikely that any of us would actually want to become angry hateful people. I sit with my thoughts awhile.

I stretch and refill my coffee. There’s an entire work day ahead to get through and much to do. It’s already time to begin again.

Tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,
Categories 2024 Election, Allegories, anger, Anxiety, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, Logic & Reason, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, The Art of Being, The Big 5, War and News of War, winter, women, Words

Counting Down the Days

December 16, 2025 //
0

It’s almost Giftmas time! I admit to counting down the days like a kid, just as eager for Santa to come as if I didn’t know the factual truth of the holiday; we are Santa, as much as we each undertake to be. All around the US, kids are eagerly counting down the days until the holiday – however it is celebrated in their home (if it is). Parents, on the other hand, experience that countdown differently, and they may be counting down the days to the next payday, a little concerned about whether the dollars will stretch for another gift or two under the tree, or whether the lights will be on, or the heating bill paid. Right about this time of year, I’d often hear my Dad’s vexation come through as “If you birds don’t knock that shit off there won’t be any Christmas!” (And oh, damn, the tears that would be shed following that announcement!)

…Our tree often sat in a bucket on the porch, quite bare, until Giftmas Eve, when my Dad would set it up, and make certain it was quite upright with my Mother’s help (she would hang a plumb bob from some point on the stairs, such that my Dad could see it alongside the tree, to trim this or that branch, or adjust the screws in the base holding the tree,and some water for it). We’d all go to bed, passing by the fragrant bare tree standing in the livingroom, wondering if Santa would really come.

Making holidays magical.

I can’t even wrap my head around how my parents made holiday magic every year. They stayed up into the wee hours, decorating the tree together after we kids had gone to bed. They’d assemble things with “some assembly required”. Last minute gifts would be wrapped in secret. All the gifts previously purchased and wrapped would be pulled from their hiding places, and placed under the now-decorated tree. Empty stockings would be taken down from the mantle, filled, and as my parent’s finally went to bed (sometimes closer to 4 am than to 2 am), they would gently lay the stockings at the foot of each kid’s bed – a neat holiday touch that also bought them a little additional time to sleep, since we were allowed to open our stockings quietly and enjoy anything we found, so long as we did not wake them before 5 am. I’m fairly certain that some years, it was our excitement combined with the quiet sound of their bedroom door closing that woke us. Not a lot of sleep-in time in that scenario. lol But wow… the holiday magic was intense, and has lasted me a lifetime.

… I believed in a literal real Santa Claus until embarrassingly late in life, still convinced at 15, reluctantly accepting the truth at some point before I turned 17…

A modest tree, every ornament has history. What stories does your tree tell?

‘Tis the season, eh? How will you be making someone’s holiday bright? What twinkle lights will illuminate your hearth and home with a soft holiday glow in the wee hours of the night? What memories will you make, and carry into the dark nights of your future? What experiences will you share with those dear to you? I call it “Giftmas” instead of “Christmas”, but the holiday is still one that is more about presence than presents. (I do love the presents… but there’s more to it than that, by far.) For me this holiday is a celebration of love and community and getting through our darkest times together; it’s no coincidence that this holiday is so near to the Solstice. The nights are long, dark, and in many places very cold. Resources begin to run low. We rely on each other for our shared survival – this is a time for remembering that, and also celebrating it with a meaningful exchange of gifts. I mean… I think that’s what this holiday is about. That’s what it is for me.

I smile and face another work day. I’m counting down the days, now… 8 more to Giftmas Eve! Will Santa come? Will there be gifts under the tree? A tasty Giftmas morning brunch? A too-early celebration of the day, over coffee or cocktails, still rubbing the sleep out of my eyes? Will there be carols on the stereo? Harry Potter, Home Alone, Christmas Story, Scrooged, and the Grinch on video? A roast supper that seems more elegant with holiday decor in the background? Unexpected packages on the front step? Visits from friends or family? General merriment, the chaos of torn wrapping paper, and the sudden urge to nap before noon? I don’t know. Yes? I don’t build my expectations on any particular detail; I just enjoy the season as it is, all the options, all the challenges, all the choices, and these precious finite moments together – or in solitude. (No wrong answers; we’re each having our own experience, and I have enjoyed some memorable, beautiful Giftmas holidays alone.)

My mind wanders to another magical Giftmas; the first I shared with my Traveling Partner. (If I wasn’t sure I wanted to spend my life with this man before that first Giftmas holiday together, I was definitely certain afterward.) He made that holiday happen for us – for me. It was a gesture of pure love. We didn’t have the means, we had just moved into an apartment together that was double the rent either of us had been paying before. We made a frugal decision to “skip it this year” (no children to disappoint). It kind of bummed me out, but I was “being grown up about it”. Then that cold afternoon that I arrived home… to a small holiday tree, lit and if I’m recalling correctly, decorated. I was moved to happy tears. I’ve never forgotten that loving gesture. It’s one of my fondest Giftmas memories.

I sigh to myself and realize I am distracting myself from physical pain with holiday merriment. I mean… okay. Useful. Handy. I’m okay with it, but the work day is not going to complete itself, and it’s already time to begin again…

Tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,
Categories Allegories, Brain Injury, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, inspiration, joy, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, pain, Perspective, Practices, Relationships, The Art of Being, winter

Soothe Me

December 5, 2025 //
0

I’m sipping my coffee slowly, after realizing I sat down and started my work day without taking time for me, at all. This is strange behavior (for me), and likely a byproduct of lingering background stress, which seems mostly pretty pointless, and perhaps a bit ridiculous.

It’s a very human experience to be mired in stress that is “inherited” (as from another person’s stress) or “opted-into” (as with becoming stressed by choices to read or consume specific media known to cause stress, and possibly little else), or even illusory (or delusional, as with hand-crafted personalized internal nonsense that just isn’t “real” in any practical sense). Then, of course, there’s all the real stress that may be simmering in the background of an individual human experience…commuting…cost of living…lack of means or resources…some momentary hardship or disaster…the risk of any of these being imminent… Although there are definitely practices that can effectively reduce stress (a lot), feeling stress is part of the human experience. It’s pretty non-negotiable. Sooner or later, a human primate experiences stress. I breathe, exhale, and relax. I sign out of my work tools, and “look away” for a few minutes of self-reflection, meditation, and self-care.

Lately, I’ve been pretty chronically feeling (and responding to) stress day-to-day, more than I had been, for awhile. Some of it is cultural; I’m responding to what so many of us are responding to, because it’s part of our shared experience of watching American democracy struggle. Pretty terrifying shit, and I guess being stressed about it, at least somewhat, is “rational stress”, but it isn’t helpful to become mired in it, or to let it consume my precious mortal lifetime. Then there’s the “work stress”, but that is also pretty routine ordinary shit; I’m new in the role, and still feel a sense that I need to “prove myself” – but this is self-inflicted stress, and I could safely less this go… by letting it go. lol There is an act of willful self-care and discipline involved in releasing that kind of stress. The way out is through, and taking time for self-reflection, and for practices like “taking in the good” are going to be useful for this. The stress sourcing from “home stuff” is a strange stress smoothie of unrelated things: increasing costs, reduced resources, a vague unsettled feeling of job insecurity (a byproduct of being laid off a couple of times after relatively short time in various roles), things I’m behind on but really want to get done, and something I hadn’t anticipated at all – some stress around the changes in my Traveling Partner’s abilities, as his healing progresses. As stressed as I was trying to provide full-time caregiving while also working full-time, I had expected it to dissipate when that caregiving was no longer a massive day-to-day nearly continuous requirement. It hasn’t. Quite the contrary, I’m potentially a bit more stressed working to stay up-to-date with his changing capabilities and needs. I can’t assume his abilities or needs are the same as yesterday. It pushes me out of “auto-pilot”. I can’t really build a routine based on expectations of his needs. Things change and shift with each day, and I’m doing my best, but feel (often) as though I’m just a step behind on everything, all the time. Being fully present is a good thing, and healthy relationships need that presence and connection to thrive. Being fully present is also more work. I sometimes find myself overwhelmed by how much I’m trying to keep track of.

I’m not bitching, I’m simply taking a moment to examine where “all this stress” is coming from – so I can more effectively address any portion of it, at all. It adds up. I sit with my thoughts and my coffee, reflecting on life, love, work, and being human.

I give myself over to a moment of gratitude. There is so much right in my life, giving too much of my attention to the things that may be less than ideal seems wasteful and foolhardy (and a serious bummer).

I look at my hands when I feel my fingertips gently pass over a snagged cuticle, feeling the rough edge of it. The sensation distracts me. I stop myself from pulling at it. This, too, requires presence and discipline. The condition of my fingertips tells the tale of my background stress and general emotional wellness. I set myself a challenge; just for today, don’t pick at my fingertips at all. Just one day. I can do that, right? I think it over, and wonder if I really can. Brain damage and nervous tics and things of that sort don’t work the way a “bad habit” does, but the same “rules” often apply; we become what we practice. If I can practice not fucking biting my nails and tearing up my cuticles, it’s quite likely the behavior may be extinguished… eventually. I may need to replace the physical experience (the actions of the behavior itself) with something else that satisfies the signals reaching (or not reaching) my brain. I think about that, too. I’ve been having some success with a “worry stone”, when watching videos. I’ll keep practicing.

I hear a short bit of a song in my head. Again. It’s been there for days, now. It occurs to me that it may be percolating up from within, a message from me to myself to put attention on reducing my stress before it becomes a problem with serious consequences. I’ve been trying to figure out what song it is for days, because the only thing I hear in my head is the refrain, “Soothe me, Baby, soothe me. Soothe me with your kindness…” Sam and Dave. Finally figured it out. Yeah, it’s a funny little stress response, and not the first time song lyrics “speak to me” in some direct meaningful way.

Tis the season, isn’t it? Are you managing your stress sufficiently well? Have you identified where it may be coming from, in order to more easily deal with it? Are you running from it instead, and hoping for the best? Are you choosing to numb yourself with intoxicants, instead of dealing with it at all? Are you hoping it will go away if you ignore it? Have you started a meditation practice to help you manage your stress – or abandoned one because you feel you have no time for it? I’m of the opinion that life should not (ideally) feel like a hamster wheel. I prefer life to feel like a walk on a well-maintained path, myself, but that isn’t always the experience I have. I chuckle to myself; reality does not care a bit about my opinions, and never has.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. It’s time to begin. Again. I’ll start by managing my stress with gratitude, self-care, and a plan.

Tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,
Categories 2024 Election, Allegories, Anxiety, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, Despair, forgiveness, Free Will, Frustration, gratitude, Healthy Living, inspiration, joy, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, The Art of Being, The Big 5, War and News of War, women, Words
« Older Entries
Newer Entries »