Archives for posts with tag: sufficiency
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Reconsidering Everyday Carry

February 21, 2017 //
2

I’m smiling over my coffee after a weekend of painting. Switching gears to be ready to head in to the office this morning feels the tiniest bit “artificial” and forced. I carefully consider my “everyday carry” items, checking them off a mental list: access badge, card case, house keys, bus pass, packed lunch… Each item is utterly essential for its purpose, and sufficiently commonplace that I need to have it on me each day, at least as the day begins.

I find myself, as I often do, considering “everyday carry” in a more metaphysical way, and contemplating what I am well-served to have going for me, each day, in my cognitive and emotional backpack as I get the day started. Resilience. I definitely favor making a point to be adequately prepared with emotional resilience each day; I never know when life is going to haplessly knock me down. I like knowing I am prepared to get back up and begin again. Oh, and I’m also going to want to bring as much mindful awareness along for the day as I can; it’s more than helpful to be aware and in the moment, and also to recall that we are each having our own experience. So, perspective gets stuffed into my mental backpack for the day, too. Kindness? For sure, I’m definitely going to be bringing along kindness; I try to plan on enough so that I don’t run out before the day ends. A sense of sufficiency helps ease stress all day long, and minimizes any creeping sense of entitlement that might sneak in somewhere, so I maintain that with great care, too.

What’s in your everyday carry of the heart? How about your cognitive everyday carry? Are you prepared for imagined disasters, but not for the most likely stressors you’ll face each day? Are you prepared for major successes, but not for small failures? Flip that one on its head – are you prepared only for failure, but giving no consideration to success’ sometimes weighty consequences? I’m just saying, it’s a an exercise worth indulging to consider one’s preparedness for the day from the perspective of emotional experience, and of likely real-world events that any one of us might be required to face. We think to double-check that we’ve grabbed our house keys, our credit cards, and our cell phones before we head out for the day, why wouldn’t we also “check ourselves” and ensure we are bringing our best self, and our most skillful self-care along as well?

Some days are rainy. I may need different things in my everyday carry to account for the weather. :-)

Some days are rainy. I may need different things in my everyday carry to account for the weather. 🙂

Today is a good day to be prepared. Today is a good day to choose, to act, and to change for the better. We become what we practice. We could, if we choose, practice changing the world. 🙂

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Categories Brain Injury, Free Will, Healthy Living, Logic & Reason, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Relationships, The Art of Being, The Big 5

Identity

February 20, 2017 //
0

“Who am I?” is a more-difficult-than-face-value sort of question, isn’t it? As questions go, it is one of the only ones I can think of that was once capable of spinning me into full-on freak out, real emotional meltdown, just to contemplate it under any sort of pressure to deliver an answer. Thankfully, I outgrew that at some point, and became free to fully consider the question for myself.

“Who are you?”

I wipe paint off my hands with less care than would perhaps be ideal. In the moment, it is enough to be certain of not leaving pigmented finger prints on every carelessly touched surface, and to limit the risk of ingesting paint. I am taking a break from painting, and considering the notion of “identity” – how I choose to answer the question “who am I?” matters greatly to me, although it has little to do with how I am identified to others. An odd byproduct of my musings, I find I am understanding with greater clarity how hurtful it can be to refuse to use someone’s chosen name, insisting on using a given name that they resent, dislike, or that simply doesn’t reflect who they see themselves to be. It’s a dick move to refuse to use the name someone chooses for themselves, regardless why they chose it, or what it may mean to me; it’s their name, they get to choose it if they wish to. Simple enough.

I can extrapolate that same thinking to cover most any characteristic someone might choose to identify themselves by. Me, for example… I take hundreds of pictures a month, thousands every year (some are even quite good… take enough of them, that’s gonna happen eventually). I don’t consider myself “a photographer”. I write poetry… one or two poems, reliably, every week at a minimum. Many hundreds over a lifetime. I rarely refer to myself as a poet, and this in spite of the fact that my one currently completed (as yet unpublished) manuscript is a book of poetry. I don’t paint every day, or even every week – in fact, there have been even a couple of actual entire years during which I did not paint, or sketch… but I do consider myself an artist, specifically a painter. Funny which things become part of my sense of self, my “identity” and which do not. Stranger still how little the qualities that define me, for myself, have anything whatever to do with how others may define me.

Letting go of attachment becomes most challenging when I am asked to let go of my attachment even to the words and ideas I have used to identify and define myself, within. I am an artist whether I paint or not – why is that? Is it any more “real” or “true” than any other element of my “identity” and sense of self? Am I harmed or changed in any way by not having defined myself as a photographer or poet? I still take pictures. I still write poetry. “Who am I?”

I find myself living my experience less tied to the words that may be used to describe it, just enjoying the rain as it falls, drenching meadow and marsh. Sipping a fresh cup of coffee, watching paint dry, and contemplating something beyond the words of the question “who am I?”, and living each moment awake, and aware, without being particularly concerned about who I may seem to be… even to the woman in the mirror. Today it is enough to stand naked and free and to answer the question “who are you?” with the simplest of wordless replies, “I am”. It is enough to be. 🙂

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Categories art and the artist, Brain Injury, Free Will, Healthy Living, Logic & Reason, Love, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Relationships, The Art of Being, Words

The Parable of the Barking Dog

February 18, 2017 //
3

The barking began at dawn. It continues even now. It’s not unusual; I have a neighbor with a dog that barks any time it is left outside, which is… often. It is frustrating and annoying, and incessant. The neighbor has received many complaints about the dog and the barking, and the reply is generally the same, “Well, I’ve tried to teach him to stop barking, but it doesn’t work. Dogs bark.” I gave that some thought, at the time, and even during the six months that I was home every day, I don’t recall ever seeing that neighbor working with their dog, at all. I wondered then, and this morning, what exactly my neighbor “tried”. I don’t see anything going on that looks like practice or training.

Dogs can indeed be trained not to bark (at the moon, at shadows, at strangers, because they are lonely…), it requires practice. Do the thing. Do it again. And again another time, and again after that. Then repeat all the practicing. Begin again, again. There are verbs involved, and a practice is not a noun, however much it may seem to be based on its function in a sentence. It requires consideration. Awareness. Intention. Will. Did I mention the practicing?

I’m sure my neighbor would be irked with me to hear me suggest that she isn’t actually making any particular effort to train her dog not to bark every hour of the day it is left outside. No doubt she believes her internal narrative that she “tried everything” and “nothing worked”. Haven’t we all said as much to ourselves – and our friends and loved ones – about something? Is it really the true literal truth in fact? Have I indeed “tried everything”? Have I truly practiced the needed practices with the necessary constancy? Have I tried, failed, and begun again sufficiently often? Or… did I try, fail, and then tell myself that I tried and failed and therefore “it didn’t work”? I see a difference there. Once I noticed that difference, it became more difficult to allow a negative experience to be who I am; we become what we practice.

Yes, there are verbs involved. No, change doesn’t happen solely because I’ve accepted that change would have value, or even because I am desperate to experience change. One evening in the yard training my chronically barking dog isn’t going to change that dog’s behavior long-term (or maybe at all) – practice is an ongoing thing.  So it also is with anxiety, with depression, with anger, with emotional volatility, with disorder, with sloth, with overeating, with nail biting… Hell, any number of troubling or challenging human experiences can be eased with one practice or another – if change is actually practiced. Fail. Begin again. Practice. We become what we practice. (Not one word of that implies “easy” or suggests effort would not be required.)

It works in a subtle way; even practicing ignoring that barking dog has an outcome rooted in incremental change over time.

Is your dog barking? What will you do about it? Endure it? Change it? There are verbs involved, and the choices are yours. So is the requirement to practice.

About that barking...? (photo by Emma Harris, used with permission)

About that barking…? (photo by Emma Harris, used with permission)

A very long time ago, I “tried meditation” and “it didn’t work for me”. I went forward in life for many years (decades) quite convinced by that experience that “meditation doesn’t work”, and gave it no further thought. My PTSD symptoms worsened over time, rather than improving. After all, dogs bark. We become what we practice. I didn’t understand why I wasn’t getting any better… hadn’t I “tried everything”?

In 2012, I stopped trying. I wasn’t sure what I would do instead, hell, I wasn’t sure I even wanted to live any more. I mention it because that seems a long time ago now, although it has been only 4 years since February 2013, when I started actually practicing meditation (and some other things) – and I do mean really practicing. Daily. Reliably. Even when I “don’t have time”. Even when “it isn’t convenient”. Even though I “wasn’t sure I was doing it right”. Even though I “wasn’t sure it would work”. Even when I found myself certain “it isn’t working”. Even when I thought “my life was falling completely to pieces”. Even when I thought “love might be lost” over my chaos and damage. Even when I wasn’t sure I wanted to live at all. I kept practicing, and failing, and beginning again.

We become what we practice. By practicing calm, I have become calmer. By practicing perspective and sufficiency, I have gained perspective, and learned what is “enough” for me. By practicing non-violence, I have become more peaceful. By practicing feeling content, I have become more able (and likely) to experience contentment. By practicing being awake and aware in this moment, I have become more present in my life, and in my relationships. By practicing listening, I become more likely to hear what is being shared. By practicing kindness, I have become kinder.

Today is a good day to practice being the human being I most want to be. Isn’t every day? 😉

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Categories Anxiety, Brain Injury, Free Will, Healthy Living, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Parables, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Relationships, The Art of Being, The Big 5, weight loss secrets

Variations on a Theme

February 15, 2017 //
0

What an odd night. I woke once during the night unsure of where – or when – I was. It took some minutes walking through quiet rooms, a disoriented groggy stranger in my own experience, to remember myself. I returned to sleep easily and without stress. I woke again later, some noise or another, and again returned to sleep. Having taken a day off of work for an appointment, I thoughtfully reset my alarm sometime when I woke during the night, and got an extra hour of sleep. I woke feeling rested and content, sometime between when I ordinarily wake, and the time I for which I had reset the alarm.

The morning has not been the slightest bit routine. Usually it is pretty fixed: meds, yoga, meditation, shower, dress, coffee, write, tidying up, then off to work. This morning I dilly-dally over my coffee, in my yoga pants, having not yet yoga-ed at all (What the hell is the past tense for that verb?? …Then I remember that it is a noun, and that I am an abuser of good grammar.) I sipped coffee on the patio, though, feeling the pre-dawn chill of a mild winter morning, and listening to the geese on the marsh, and the horn of the distant commuter train. I rely on habit and routine to ensure, day-to-day, that my self-care needs are met, and recognizing that stepping away from those routines and habits could come at a cost (if I fail to follow through on practices that I know benefit me greatly) my alarm is set at intervals to remind me before the clock runs out on the morning.

Easy enough to shrug it all off and say “what does one day matter if I don’t…?”, but I actually know that in some cases, for me, it really does “matter”. There are differences. No yoga? By day’s end I will be less mobile, less flexible, and in more pain. No meditation? By midday, I’d likely be edgy, irritable, and at risk of losing my shit over something small or inconsequential. No shower? Well, come on now, does this have to be explained? If nothing else, the lack of basic hygiene would hint at disordered thinking when my Traveling Partner turns up later, and that would be a source of concern for him, not to mention that basic hygiene is… well… basic. (One of my own first alert “symptoms” that my mental or emotional health is slipping is that I begin to find it “hard to drag myself into the shower”, versus enjoying the sensuous pleasure of warm water on bare skin.) No getting dressed? For me that’s also no going out. lol I have stuff to do. Getting dressed is definitely happening, preceded by showering, and yoga will definitely be a thing, and while I’m at it, I’ll meditate somewhere between yoga and heading out for my appointment – and probably a time or two later on, also.

I notice the time. My perspective shifts and I feel the day as “busy” although it is far less so than usual. The clock ticks on. I have less time to do “all the things”. I feel a surge in anxiety, briefly, and recognizing it is merely my moment of time-related awareness, I let that go. There is no rush. There is only this moment here, writing, sipping coffee, enjoying the morning. I have an alarm set to remind me of the time, and that timing is based on still not having to rush. Since it hasn’t gone off yet, I am most definitely not in any hurry to be anywhere else. 😀

I swallow the last of my now-cold coffee. I check my spelling ever so carefully (fully knowing that both the spellcheck and I will miss something.) It’s time to move on with the morning, and with the day.

It's not really "made of gold", it's more a matter of perspective.

It’s not really “made of gold”, it’s more a matter of perspective.

Today is a good day to go and do and be. Today is a good day for love. Today is a good day for a moment of sunshine, a smile, or a friendly word. Today is a good day to be the woman I most want to be. I think I’ll go do that. It’s enough. 🙂

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Categories Anxiety, Brain Injury, Free Will, Healthy Living, Logic & Reason, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, The Art of Being, The Big 5

Just a Drizzle of Fail Sauce with Mine, Please

February 8, 2017 //
2

I’m groggy this morning. Yesterday I was, too, I think, but the days are blurring together, already. I’m tired. Two short evenings in a row, and less sleep than I really need… for days. This can’t last – I need to get some rest, and the week isn’t half over. So far, no noteworthy negative consequences, I’m just tired.

So tired.

Still, the search results from my realtor get my attention when they hit my inbox this morning. My coffee is good. My shower felt wonderful, even if I did almost fall asleep standing up before it quite woke me. I’ll get through this day to another evening, and an opportunity to get an earlier night.

The secret to this puzzle, the trick to this as-yet-not-unlocked level in the game of Adult; I do not know how to get 8 hours of restful sleep between the hours of 10 pm and 4 am, and I find it difficult to fall asleep earlier in any reliable way, or to sleep in much later (with or without an alarm clock, generally). Work weeks get me up by 4:30 am, to the sound of the alarm if I am fortunate to be sleeping deeply. I need that time to really wake up so that when I leave for work I’m actually quite awake and fully able to function. I know going to bed earlier is needed – it’s hard to fall asleep earlier, many nights. Even doing all of the “good sleep hygiene” things is not a guarantee. I have sleep challenges, it is a thing I am aware of about me, having lived it for so many years. So many nights that I manage the bedtime and waking time details with skill, my sleep is still shortened and degraded by restlessness and wakeful interruptions during the night. My sleep tracker says I slept 6 hours last night, and shows the many interruptions in my sleep, and how little of it was deep sleep. I find myself frustrated that this doesn’t seem at all unusual. No wonder I am tired. When a busy week and my poor sleep quality and assorted sleep disturbances collide, it doesn’t take long for fatigue to build, and quickly become exhaustion.

My head aches, and I realize that I’m overly invested in bitching and moaning about the sleep I’m not getting, while rather groggily sitting here ignoring my coffee while I write. I sigh aloud in the chilly quiet room and sip my now cold coffee. I listen to the rain fall, tapping the windows, and rumbling through the downspout on the corner of the building. I hear the distant horn of the train approaching the commuter platform nearby. I pull myself upright, correcting my posture; it’s too early to create more pain later. I think about a second coffee and wonder whether what I put on this morning will be what I actually wear to work… an autographed MC Lars concert t-shirt is suitable casual attire for the office, right? I smile contentedly; I’m fortunate to work in a casual dress environment. What I wear to work is of very little consequence. (Which is good – I’m barely awake enough to do more than pull on jeans and throw on a t-shirt, honestly.)

The morning moves on, and the forward momentum of my life doesn’t halt for groggy mornings. There is still adulting to do, and the woman in the mirror needs me most on mornings like these. There are dishes to do. Counters to wipe down. Trash to go out. Small things handled before work that I won’t have to deal with after I return home, more tired. I frown at my bed with irritation, in passing. I would appreciate coming home to seeing it made, but that would require making it now… I silently tell myself, and that bed, to fuck right off, I don’t have to if I don’t want to! I let the moment pass on my way to making a second cup of coffee…

…While I wait for my coffee… I make the bed. lol

One by one, I tackle the small things I like to see finished before I leave in the morning – because coming home to order and tidiness is very pleasant (to me). I’m tired, and being tired finds me enduring continuous rather disrespectful commentary from my “inner adolescent”, which is quite probably just as annoying as it would be to deal with if there were a real life sass-monster following me around the apartment. So human. Today the practicing pays off; I have many more good self-care habits than I once did, and when I’m this tired I lean hard on habit to get me through. I look at the time and see there is still time for meditation before work.

Today is a good day to take the very best care of the woman in the mirror. There are verbs involved, and practices. There are challenges to overcome, and small frustrations to manage. There is perspective to be maintained and relied upon. There’s me. There’s you. There’s all of this that we have to work through, and even though we’re all in this together – we’re each having our own experience. I’ll do the best I can today. It’ll have to be enough. 🙂

 

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Categories Brain Injury, Free Will, Healthy Living, Mindfulness, more than a little bit of bitching, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, The Art of Being
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