Archives for posts with tag: sufficiency

I’ve spent the day relaxing in this quiet room, and providing my Traveling Partner with caregiving. It’s detail-oriented personal service work, providing care to this human being I love so deeply. Still, it has been a day with ample time for reflecting on life and love and what I have learned along the way.

Here are 61 lessons from my mortal lifetime thus far:

  1. There’s always something more to learn.
  2. Change is a constant.
  3. Zest for life is closely tied to experiences of wonder and awe.
  4. Self-care matters.
  5. Meditation is an effective practice.
  6. We become what we practice.
  7. We each have the power to define success for ourself.
  8. Setting boundaries is a self-care practice.
  9. Our values are not what we say they are; they are what we live and practice.
  10. Taking the time to do something well is reliably more efficient than having to do it more than once.
  11. Anxiety is a liar.
  12. Chasing happiness does not result in greater happiness.
  13. Lust is mostly a matter of biology.
  14. Savoring life’s small joys and making time for gratitude builds emotional resilience.
  15. Human primates operate “emotion first”.
  16. Our quality of life is more dependent on the quality of our relationships than the size of our paychecks.
  17. Assumptions are not facts.
  18. Expectations are not facts.
  19. Opinions are not facts.
  20. Beliefs are not facts.
  21. The catchiness of a slogan has no bearing on its truth or usefulness.
  22. Very few of life’s stressful moments have lasting impact.
  23. I probably need to drink more water.
  24. “Wealth” is relative.
  25. The person who throws the punch doesn’t get to decide whether it hurt.
  26. We are each having our own experience.
  27. A lot of the crap that bothers us most is shit we totally made up in our own heads that has no actual basis in reality.
  28. Self-reflection can help develop perspective.
  29. Rumination can be really damaging, and tends to limit perspective.
  30. The difference between rumination and self-reflection can be subtle.
  31. Emotional intelligence has real-world value.
  32. Getting enough rest is as important as drinking water, eating healthy food, and exercise.
  33. Solitude can be rich, beautiful, satisfying, and nurturing.
  34. Few people recognize their own confrontational, hostile, angry, or escalated tone of voice.
  35. Forgiving someone is a thing we do for ourself, not for the person being forgiven.
  36. People notice when someone isn’t paying attention.
  37. Distracted driving is potentially lethal.
  38. What we think we understand about human behavior isn’t reliably accurate, and can’t be assumed to apply to all people in every circumstance. It doesn’t.
  39. People are people.
  40. We’re all in this together.
  41. The journey is the destination.
  42. Your lived experience is yours. My lived experience is not yours.
  43. How you behave when you think no one is watching will tell you what your values truly are.
  44. Rationalizing poor behavior doesn’t make the behavior any better.
  45. We feel our own pain the most.
  46. Our ability to understand the world is limited by our perspective.
  47. Being a dick to people is a poor practice with predictably poor outcomes.
  48. Thriving and surviving are two very different experiences.
  49. Reading is an incredibly useful skill, the benefits of which are multiplied by enjoying it.
  50. Art is a way of expressing the things we don’t have words for.
  51. Language functions by agreement.
  52. Carefully defining the terms in a discussion prevents a lot of arguments and misunderstandings.
  53. Apologizing without sincere contrition isn’t really an apology.
  54. Apologizing while making excuses for how the offense is justified, understandable, or must be overlooked isn’t really an apology.
  55. An effective apology is 100% focused on the person hurt and how they were affected, and 0% about how the offender feels about it.
  56. Listening deeply is a powerful relationship building tool which takes time, practice, and effort to develop.
  57. Hijacking a conversation to talk about yourself instead is rude.
  58. Waiting for a turn to talk while someone else is talking is rude.
  59. Interrupting someone while they are speaking is rude
  60. Manners and civility are key to quality of life and cultured society.
  61. Life is worth living.

It’s not science. These are things I’ve learned myself, over a lifetime. I’m not even saying these observations and learnings are “all there is” (what would you add?)… these are just a few things I’ve learned that continue to serve me well.

It’s your journey, up ahead. I’m over here walking my own path. May your path be smooth and the way ahead illuminated.

Every sunrise is a chance to begin again.

I finished my walk with a contented sigh, and changed from my boots to my shoes, then looked over my list of errands and things to get done. I’ve got a couple stops to make on my way home. Routine stuff. “Normal.”

An ordinary beginning to a new day.

I look over my grocery list, hoping to avoid having to make several trips to the store, where one would do.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. It’s time to begin again, and I’ve got everything I need to enjoy a lovely day. What will I do with it? I sit with my thoughts a while, until the clock catches my attention.

I snarl quietly with cantankerous humor at the mindless “AI” (it isn’t) making suggestions regarding my grammar. Stupid thing can fuck right off. I’ve no interest in sounding “all same-y” as every other writer on the internet, so I’ll be using my own voice, thanks. lol That’s one very nice detail of being a human primates; I can choose the tools I wish to use.

I smile to myself, content with the morning thus far.

… It’s still time to begin again…

I’m parked where I can see the ocean, smell the scents of the seashore, and hear the sound of the waves rolling in. I arrived shortly before sunrise, but well past daybreak. Dense gray clouds cover the sky and obscure the horizon. There will be no dramatic hues of orange nor charming delicate shades of pearly pink or luminous lavender today. It’s all gray skies as far as I can see into the distance in all directions. I’m okay with that, it’s still beautiful.

What’s holding you back? Is it externally imposed, or something of your own doing?

I sit with my thoughts awhile before tackling the steep trail down to the beach. I listen to the gulls and the waves. I breathe the fresh sea air and enjoy the soft breeze and the morning mist. I breathe, exhale, and relax, letting go of the accumulated tension and stress of caregiving, waiting, and worrying. I’m in no hurry to do anything at all. I’m just being here, now, in this pleasant moment, in this lovely place.

The temperature is quite a bit cooler here than in the valley to the east. I dressed with that in mind and I am comfortable in spite of the chill of the seaside at dawn. The air is mild and not actually cold, but definitely suited to the baggy shapeless sweater wrapping me in warmth. I sit contentedly sipping an iced coffee. It’s a couple hours yet before I will check in to my hotel room. I don’t care about that at all, sitting here watching the waves roll in. Sooner or later I suppose I’ll do something about breakfast, but for now I have everything I want; this quiet moment is enough.

I remove my shoes when I reach the beach, and walk a damp mile along the wet edge, where the sand is firm with only a little risk of wetting my feet. The damp sand is cold and it feels at first refreshing, and later, chilly. I don’t mind. I enjoy the way the sand yields to my footsteps. I sigh and smile as I walk. I have this stretch of beach to myself, at least for now. This,too, is enough. More than enough. I drink in the satisfying feeling of contentment and fulfillment. I walk the beach grateful for the moment, and the opportunity to rest and “recharge my batteries”.  I give silent thanks to my Traveling Partner, who is so steadfast in the support of my mental health and self-care, and to the Anxious Adventurer, whose presence in our life and home makes it so much easier to “step away” for a few days to get the downtime I need without continuing to carry the full measure of stress and concern for my injured partner while I am away. I am fortunate, and I am grateful.

… Gratitude feels really good…

Distracted by my thoughts, I stray too close to the incoming tide and soak my feet. I laugh out loud, but turn back the way I came and head back to the car. Dry socks feel luxurious and the warmth of socks and shoes is disproportionately pleasant after the cold walk back up the beach. I sit awhile with my thoughts, and write a bit. The lack of time pressure feels… amazing. I feel my shoulders relax. I feel a steady joyful calm creep over me.

Breathe. Exhale. Relax. It’s enough to be here, now. I sit with my thoughts awhile longer. There’s no hurry. I’m enjoying this. It’s enough. Later, I’ll begin again.

Breathe.

Another chilly morning, as I hit the trail to walk, think, and watch the sun rise. There’s a mist clinging in the low places along the marsh, almost as dense as fog this morning.

Flowers, trees, mist, and morning.

My tinnitus is ridiculously loud in my ears. My neck aches ferociously. I am grateful that my next stop will be an appointment for some myofascial release work that reliably helps…at least for a little while.

It’s a busy day ahead. Errands. Housekeeping tasks intended to keep life easy for my Traveling Partner and the Anxious Adventurer while I am away for a few days. I’m no expert on caregiving (at all), but the Anxious Adventurer has still less experience, and anything I can do to set him up for success while I am away is a win for me (and for my Traveling Partner, his father). So I’ve got a list of things to get done before I go, and a plan to leave early tomorrow – maybe even do my morning walk along the beach, or in the forest, on a trail I’ve never walked, somewhere along the way to the coast. I’m eager to have a break, with a real reduction in stress (because my Traveling Partner won’t be home alone trying to do things for himself he presently struggles to do).

I face the day calmly and with a sense of purpose. There’s quite a lot to do, but I did some of it yesterday, and I’ve made a point not to leave it all for the last minute. Helpful. Practical.

The sun rises golden against a shell-pink sky streaked with delicate lavender clouds. Pretty. The air smells of summer flowers. A doe with two fawns stands very still and quiet as I walk past (so still I didn’t see her there until I was almost next to her). Around the next bend in the trail, the buck stood watching me intently, before walking slowly back up the trail towards his mate. At the edge of the river, nutria enjoy a playful moment. I walk on. Every now and then my thoughts stray in the direction of more stressful concerns. I observe the thoughts and let them go. This is not the time for any of that. I bring my attention back to this moment, here, now. I watch the delicate lacy flowers that stand above the tops of the meadow grass. They wave just a bit in a breeze I don’t really feel.

Breathe. Exhale. Relax. Walk on.

I love these quiet solitary moments. I fill my soul on this feeling of peace and contentment, savoring small joys and wonder for later moments. My residual anger and frustrations with life and circumstances melts away and I feel a sense of being “my best self”. Pain doesn’t matter so much in this timeless now.

Breathe. Exhale. Relax. Walk on.

Like a lot of things, building emotional resilience is a practice. Creating an implicit sense of living life that is skewed towards the positive requires practice. One step at a time. One walk at a time. One moment of gratitude at a time. Savoring small joys and deliberately bringing my focus to what is working, what is pleasant, all of life’s little successes…it adds up. Incremental change over time works; we become what we practice. Practice is ongoing. It’s not a competition, there is no “finish line”, and the journey is the destination.

I breathe deeply, and keep on walking. It’s a lovely morning to begin again.

Yesterday was a good day, pretty much from the time I woke until I went to bed. I enjoyed the day, my work, and the companionship of my Traveling Partner. I sit with the recollection of my experience for a few moments, at the halfway point of my morning walk.

Today starts well, though I woke with a headache after a difficult night. My sleep was interrupted by my Traveling Partner’s restlessness. I had no difficulty returning to sleep, but I woke often, and when the night finally gave way to a new day, I woke feeling groggy and stupid. S’ok. It’s fine. I’m fine.

I stepped through my morning routine in much the same dogged persistent fashion as I later stepped down the trail; one foot after the other. It’s a practice. A process. If I just keep at it, eventually I get somewhere. In a few minutes, my steps will take me back up the trail to the truck (I offered the Anxious Adventurer the use of my car for work on these hottest days, since his has no AC), and then on to work. I yawn and rub my eyes. I still don’t feel quite awake yet, in spite of the sunshine making my eyes water when I carelessly look too closely at it.

… Sometimes persistence is more useful than enthusiasm…

I sigh to myself. I glance at the time, and count the days until my coastal getaway…12 days… I watch the shadows shift as the sun rises. Pretty morning… I guess I will get on with the day. Feels like a good time to begin again.

Another summer morning, another opportunity to be the person I most want to be.