Archives for posts with tag: taking care of me

Then There Was This Other Time…

June 17, 2015 //

I woke this morning, groggy, smiling, slow to roll over and untangle myself from blankets and pillows, to shut off the ceaseless beeping of the alarm. I’ve had this same alarm clock, a small black travel clock, since…seriously? Wow… since 1987. It’s cheap black plastic, and aside from replacing the battery now and then, it’s been terrifically quiet (no ticking) and reliable (with the exception of the occasional inexplicable failure that may have been mine; I sometimes shut it off in my sleep, I think). My thoughts careen carelessly through trivia as I wander haplessly through my morning routine, entirely out of sequence. Aside from being groggy, and I am in a very pleasant state of mind that feels less like a good mood and more like a state of being.

With some discipline, I pull myself back on course, take morning medication, make coffee, do yoga, meditate. I smile considering the evening behind me, and the evening ahead. In some hard to describe way, I feel as if I am ‘getting my life back’ in some way that reaches beyond the chaos and damage and finds me whole and well and making the choices that suit me best and meet my needs over time. I try not to get too excited about it, and just coast on this feeling of being. This smile on my face has lingered since I woke, and it reaches deeply into my heart, coming from a place of contentment, joy and love.

Life isn’t ‘perfect’ (whatever the hell that is) and I am very human. Change is – and it demands my attention, my will, and my acceptance; it isn’t ‘good’ or ‘bad’, and forcing it into such a definition will definitely deliver the experience I choose. That freedom of choice thing? Free will? Yeah – that’s a very big deal, because so much of my experience is indeed entirely self-selected (except the bits that someone else is selecting in their experience, that may ripple across my own). Sure, there’s room for linguistic parlor tricks in life, and conversations about whether free will is ‘real’ or ‘truly exists’ can pass the time most entertainingly…but…I choose my coffee black, and brew it using a pour over method, and it’s a choice I make using my free will, based on my preferences and desires (and resources)… how does it matter in any practical way if that sense of free will and decision-making is somehow somewhat different than I understand it to be, on some metaphysical level that my human cognition is not truly able to grasp with any ease? I assure you, it does not matter one wit. I chose my brew method, my beans, and what I put in it once it was brewed. Those choices are entirely real for me, and entirely my own. Not all of the questions that can be asked benefit from attempts to answer them. Some of the answers don’t provide lasting value… at least… that’s how it looks to me, generally. I like the questions, though. 🙂

Blue sky, perspective, and the freedom to choose.

It is a lovely summer morning. There is music playing in the background. My coffee this morning is exceptionally good. I suspect that my evening with a friend, and the excitement of the evening I will spend with my traveling partner tonight, are responsible for the extraordinary morning, more than any particular quality of the morning itself. I enjoy living alone, but I am confirmably a human primate, a social creature, and greatly enjoy the connection and contact of an evening in good company. Living alone can be a tad short on touch and eye contact – this lovely morning is gently wedged between evenings rich with the warmth of companionship, and connection; the smile is a giveaway that those qualities matter a great deal to me.

Today is a good day to enjoy the day just as it is. Today is a good day to smile, to dance, and to love. Today is a good day to choose good practices, and to face the world with a smile. Today is a good day to look the woman in the mirror in the eyes and say ‘no problem, I got this’.

Tags being and becoming, choose wisely, emotional self sufficiency, good self-care, love and lovers, mindful loving, practicing the practices, relationships, taking care of me, The Art of Being, The Big 5, walking my own path, what matters most?

Categories Brain Injury, Free Will, Healthy Living, Love, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Perspective, Relationships, Summer, The Art of Being, The Big 5, Uncategorized, Words

Definition

June 16, 2015 //

I stood in the shower smiling this morning, feeling comfortable, and enjoying the sensation of warm water over skin. The bathroom is small, and the standing room is quite limited. I don’t mind it much at all; the bathtub is quite large, and of a shape and design that allows it to fill and hold water sufficiently deep to properly soak, quite comfortably. The bathtub makes the small bathroom utterly insignificant. The bathtub was a detail I shopped for specifically while I was looking for a place to call home – it matters to me, and because that is the case with regards to the bathtub, taking care of me meant being attentive to this detail.

Soaking in a different tub, on a different day, in another life.

What matters most to you? Small details, too, do you take a moment to consider you while you are planning your day, planning a move, planning your social calendar, your relationships, your choices? Do you also pause to consider love, and what matters to those dear to you? Who is at the top of your agenda? If the person at the top of your list isn’t you…why isn’t it? If it is you, do you maintain that placement at the expense of others dear to you? Questions on a Tuesday.

I am listening to music, and listening to a pop star plead for someone to come and rescue her, to save her life, to turn her on…I love the track, but watching the video and listening to the lyrics is a tad dismaying if I give it too much attention. Even as a metaphor, reaching for an external solution to feeling unsafe, to feeling incomplete, and to be brought to life by some other being troubles me, now; all of that is within my own control, built on my choices and my will. Art doing its thing this morning – and doing it well – I am provoked to think more deeply about love, lust, emotional self-sufficiency, and the defining of self. I find myself asking powerful questions about how I define who I am, and how I answer the questions ‘what moves me?’ and ‘what do I want?’. Who I am is self-defined. This morning I recognize how much and how often I have failed myself by putting that power in other hands.

“Portrait of the Artist’s Tears” watercolor on paper 5″ x 7″ 1985

I am thinking of love and lovers, and giving consideration to what it means to free oneself from external definition. I am asking myself questions about what I want from a lover, and whether it is something I could be providing myself? I am enjoying being so much more free of external definition, and the [perceived, subjective] need to satisfy the expectations of others. I am awakening to the realization that this quality of life is sufficiently important to me that I will likely continue to live alone until I understand it well enough to maintain it even when cohabiting. The freedom of it is intoxicating.

“Joy” watercolor on paper, 6″ x 8″ 1995 (sorry about the camera flare, this delicate watercolor is under protective glass)

I still love the track, and the video, enough to listen to it again. That’s another lovely quality to art; I don’t have to agree with what it says to me in order to enjoy it, and there too, I bring the message with me, the context of my understanding is my own.

“Emotion and Reason” 18″ x 24″ acrylic on canvas w/ceramic and glow. 2012

Today is a good day to put things in context, to ask powerful questions, to move on to other things before answering them – I find it is the questions that have the power, answers tend to impose definitions and limits. Today is a good day to limitless, and free of external definition. Today is a good day to put me at the top of my list, without crossing off those dear to me; they have their place in my experience, too. Today is a good day for verbs – and music. 🙂

Being, and becoming. Having my own experience.

Tags are you going my way?, art and the artist, be the change, being and becoming, emotional self sufficiency, good self-care, love and lovers, meditation, mindful living, mindful love, mindfulness matters, p.s. I love you, perspective, practicing the practices, relationships, taking care of me, The Art of Being, The Big 5, the ephemeral beauty of self-portraits, the map is not the world, what matters most?

Categories Art, art and the artist, Free Will, Healthy Living, Logic & Reason, Love, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Perspective, Relationships, Summer, The Art of Being, The Big 5, women, Words

Staying Power

June 15, 2015 //

Relaxing over my coffee after a good night’s sleep. Feeling well-rested is gradually becoming an everyday experience, more common than not. Like so many other things, it’s likely to fail me at some point, but I don’t focus on that as a concern, or a fear; it’s just an observation, and once made I let it pass from my consciousness.

There is music playing in the background, loud enough to enjoy, quiet enough not to force the neighbors to have to share the experience with me. I choose music that gets me going in the morning, fills me with joy, and moves me to move – dancing in the morning is just about as effective as yoga for easing my arthritis stiffness, and combined they are a powerful way to improve my ease of movement and start the day well. Music is so much a matter of taste – I am glad there are so many sorts to choose from. Like exercise, like diet, like knowledge, the vastness of the variety means I have choices that make life more wonderful, more individual…my experience is built on my choices and it is uniquely my own.

I sip my coffee thinking about my playlist; songs come and go, get added and removed. My playlist is a fairly fluid thing – but there are tracks on it that have real staying power. I liked them ‘then’, and I like them now. They continue to delight me, to move me, to provoke one emotion or another that I enjoy feeling – or seek as a sensation for some reason aside from casual enjoyment. Others are songs I really get into for a briefer period, and lose interest in over time. This all seems fairly obvious and common place, but how interesting that it is a thing, at all. What makes some songs stick around so long as favorites? It isn’t as obvious as ‘meaning’ – that’s one thing I’m quite certain of, since so much of the music I like best is not the least bit deep or particularly meaningful, and very meaningful songs are as likely as any other to quietly move along to the much longer list of ‘music I used to really like’. This is not an important question, as questions go. I’m just getting my brain warmed up for the work day, I suppose. 🙂

I took time yesterday after work to shut down the devices for a couple hours and embrace stillness. My intent had been good self-care basics: yoga, a long soak, meditation, maybe some writing. In practice, I got comfy in yoga pants, and did only enough yoga to be easily able to sit quietly and meditate without becoming stiff, and sat down to meditate without a timer. (No timer? By design, or by mistake? I guess by design; I rarely use a timer because almost without regard to what else I have planned, taking time to meditate is more important than that.) About two hours after I sat down to meditate, I found myself focusing again on more practical matters, smiling softly, content and calm. Two years (and then some) ago, when I started down this path, I found 5 minutes of meditation a challenging commitment to myself, that required a great deal of discipline and seemed to offer limited immediate reward. Incremental changes over time being what they are, I am in a different place with meditation now. The challenge currently is figuring out my new timing, and new routine, to ensure I indulge myself with this particular practice as much and as often as practical. I can say with certainty I benefit from meditating very regularly – and without a timer. It is a practice that puts me first like no other – and has no particular potential to harm anyone else.

The things that have great impact on my experience are often not obvious, or seem somewhat trivial initially. Like a great playlist. Like meditation. Like tiny spiders. Like getting a smart phone. Like living my life in an authentic way, precisely as the woman I am. Like making life’s choices with great care and consideration. Like loving the woman in the mirror. Like a smile. There is incredible promise to be found in the details – like buried treasure, without a map, and some of the details end up being as gems of great value – tiny delights in the broader context, of far more worth than the noise and bother that sometimes fills the day-to-day experience with challenges that are less important than they seem.

“Enough”.

This is not a particularly insightful, relevant, or important bit of writing, this morning. I’m not disappointed – life isn’t always about that. I’m just chilling over my coffee, listening to music I enjoy, playing a bit with words in the playground of my thinking, and preparing for a long work week beginning in earnest. I am learning that contentment has staying power. I am having my own experience, and it is enough. 🙂

Tags be the change, choose wisely, emotional self sufficiency, good self-care, meditation, mindful living, mindfulness matters, ptsd, taking care of me, TBI, The Art of Being, The Big 5, the map is not the world, walking my own path, what matters most?, yoga

Categories Brain Injury, Free Will, Healthy Living, Love, Mindfulness, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, The Art of Being, The Big 5, women, Words

Life’s Unbreakable CNC

June 12, 2015 //

Today I’m 52. I woke up stiff as hell; I walked about 10 miles yesterday without really planning to (or preparing for it) – a little more than 6 of it all at once at the end of a hot day. No regrets and no bitching, I’m just a tad stiff and sore. At 52 that seems a reasonable price to pay for youthful shenanigans. Next time I will plan my route more attentively, and ensure my calories and fluid intake leading up to the excursion are more appropriately managed to support the demand, as a proper grown up might. 🙂

A lovely day for a journey.

I’m sipping my morning coffee and smiling. I smile a lot lately. I feel content, generally, and comfortable with myself and the woman I have become over time…eager to celebrate the small successes with my traveling partner, and a little self-conscious that at least for now, he is my only partner, and my only lover. It’s not an entirely comfortable experience for me, but wonderful for learning to treat one person truly well – me – and leveraging the power of that knowledge to treat my partner(s), and lover(s) well in the future. I need this time exploring who I am, and what matters about that – and what does not. My highs and lows are entirely my own. I feel sexy, beautiful, and comfortable in my skin. I love, and I am loved in return.

“You Always Have My Heart” 8″ x 10″ acrylic on canvas with glow.

Some past relationships have ended leaving me feeling damaged, cheated, betrayed, and robbed – less of goods than of emotional experiences I really enjoy, and invested in heavily, only to find that the circumstances, or actions taken within the relationship took from me some moment of pleasure or joy, in some cases things I miss even to this day. I am surprised to find that I have come to terms with something I didn’t understand when I was less experienced, or less worldly, or less wise, or less… old. 🙂 Life has a pretty firm non-compete clause. Oh, I don’t mean that people don’t try to out do each other through one-upmanship, childish game playing, or frank actual theft, but Life itself is having none of it. Consider this thing that seems [to me] to be unavoidably true: you can’t have who I am. You could cut your hair the way I cut mine, color it precisely the same shade, learn my turns of phrase exactly, repeat my anecdotes to others as if they were your own, and attempt to duplicate my aesthetic, my issues, my timing… you would not be me. If we were twins, we would be individuals nonetheless. If we love the same movies – or the same people, we remain distinctly limited to being who we are, ourselves, whatever lies are told and whatever truths are hidden. It does not matter at all what we say about who we are. We simply are the being we are, with our choices and actions standing front and center and shouting the truths of it. “The truth will out.” Oh, hell yes it will. Put all the effort you may care to into some charade; all is revealed through choices, and actions.

“Contemplation” 12″ x 16″ acrylic and iron oxide. August 2011

I am reminded of a jazz standard I love that is apropos. “They can’t take that away from me” We don’t lose the things we love – they become part of who we are. I am this woman, this being of light and love, and I am unapologetically original – there just aren’t any copies that pass for the real thing. Just like a jazz standard, each singer’s song is different. Life being what it is, which is to say filled with change, experiences do come and go – there will be points in my life when leisurely contented conversation over morning coffee between passionate lovers may not be an everyday thing. I may not always have the leisure time (or the lover) to share lazy hours naked in the arms of love. Will I miss the things I enjoy when I am not able to enjoy them? Well, sure. Can anyone truly rob me of them? Not so much, no. Even when someone takes actions that seem to tear apart the fabric of my experience for their own gain…at no point, and in no way, will they ever be able to experience what I experience. I belong to me. My joys are mine. My challenges are mine. My growth and my triumphs – all mine. There is no ‘competition’ actually possible – even with love. We’re all beings of free will – my lovers will choose me, because I am who I am, and I meet some need at that point in their life. We share some measure of our journey together, for a time, but each remains individual. Our shared experience – still our own. The Art of Being is an art, because unlike science it can’t be truly duplicated, repeated, or taken over one from another; we are each having our own experience. I like my coffee the way I like it, and it tastes the way it does – to me. Your results may vary. Will vary. You are undeniably you. I have no power to take that from you (and no desire to have your experience), and you can’t have mine.

“Communion” 24″ x 36″ 2011 acrylic on canvas w/ceramic details & glow

I am smiling over my coffee because there is no ‘win’ or ‘lose’ – just love, and human beings – a handful of whom are probably the sort who would take what isn’t theirs rather than put in the work to be the person they so desperately want to be. In the taking, they gain little, destroy much, and in the end – touch nothing about me, myself, unless I allow myself to be down trodden by their malice or ignorance – and they can’t have what they attempt to take in the first place, because they can’t have my experience of self. I’m not at all sure when this realization solidified in my understanding – recently. Wednesday? Earlier? Weeks ago, perhaps, but I didn’t have words for the growing sense of peace and utter self-assurance it filled me up with. It’s a lovely birthday gift to myself to have the feeling, and find the words.

Somewhere across the distance of life’s journey, I am connecting with myself.

I was on a journey elsewhere…and I found my way home. 🙂

Tags 52, an original work of art, beginnings and ends, can't take that away from me, experience, feeling loved, having my own experience, I am, love and lovers, p.s. I love you, ptsd, summer love, taking care of me, taking time for me, TBI, the return of the woman who is always smiling, there is no competition, you have no power over me

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

Just Do? Just Be.

June 11, 2015 //

There are some powerful metaphors out there that seem intended to point me in the direction of being, versus simply doing, and they crop up all over in movies, animation, the words of celebrity athletes…”Be the ball.” “Be the target.” Be like water.” There are a lot of suggestions to be. The Art of Being isn’t so simply expressed – there really are a lot of verbs involved. An entire iconic ad campaign was built around the idea that the notion of being is, perhaps, not enough. “Just Do It” (Which can also be applied to being.)

I am 52 tomorrow. Two years, and a bit more, practicing practices with a commitment to one particular quality that may matter more than most – authenticity. I fail. I own it. I fall down. I pick myself back up and get back to the journey at hand. I have bad moments. I move past them. I hurt someone. I say I am sorry – I even throw in some verbs to make amends and use the moment to leverage personal growth. Sometimes it seems there are a lot of verbs involved. It is not a coincidence that ‘to live’ and ‘to be’ are also verbs.

The year I turned 50, I cut my hair short – cutting off years and years, layers and layers, of dye, of product, of damage. I chose to express a desire to live a more authentic life through the action and metaphor of cutting my hair. It was pretty powerful. I still invest every day in that more authentic experience. Sometimes it uses a lot of verbs, and all of my will and intention. I got my aquarium that year, too. It continues to delight me, calm me, and contribute to a solitary space that feels like home to me. I enjoy every detail of caring for my aquarium; each task reminds me that my quality of life is based on my choices, and also that I am connected and interdependent on other beings (just as my fish are on me). I have spent two years learning to treat myself well – and along the way I have learned so much about treating others well, too. It is, of course, a journey. There is more to learn, and a continued and ongoing commitment to self is required.

Tomorrow I turn 52. I moved into my own place in time to look around this humble wonderful space that is mine and observe that this move is one of the nicest, kindest things I have ever done for myself, and a hell of a grand birthday present on a scale unmatched by any – except perhaps love. Love is the sort of thing that makes everything else ‘the next best thing’ no matter what. What I hadn’t understood for most of my life is that treating myself to a hearty helping of my own affection is quite as important as loving someone else…may even be a prerequisite for loving another with any depth or skill.

Yesterday, I took the day to observe my birthday, because I need to be in the office tomorrow. I had quite the exceptional day doing some fairly ordinary things. I went to the dentist. I got a hair cut. I visited a new shop. I saw my therapist. That all sounds quite ordinary phrased that way. It doesn’t capture the splendid day I had. Hell, the day was not even marred by a hearty helping of OPD later in the day – it probably didn’t hurt that it wasn’t truly ‘unexpected’, for me. (Like most things, even drama has patterns that tend to make it rather predictable.) It wasn’t my drama. The launch of Weapons of Mass Distraction elsewhere caused some emotional casualties. I provided what support and comfort for the wounded that I could. We enjoyed pizza, hung out, talked about life and generally enjoyed each other’s very good company. It wasn’t at all the evening I had planned, myself, but no matter; my very dear friend, and my traveling partner, are extraordinary men of good character, and it was a delight to enjoy them, regardless. I am further quite pleased that I have managed to create this comfortable, safe, and largely drama free space, where I – or those few I welcome to my home – can take refuge from WMDs or basic bullshit.

Why stand down range?

It is very quiet here in the morning. I hear birds outside the window observing that morning is well underway. It is a lovely summer morning, and the weather forecast suggests that it will be merely pleasantly hot, rather than “Fresno”. Lacking A/C, those days when it seems Fresno has moved north to catch up on old times are not comfortable.

I choose my path.

Two years ago, I made an explicit personal commitment to authenticity. It was a powerful choice to swim upstream, and I am far stronger for it. I also feel more loved – because the love I receive really is for me. I am more able to love well, because my feelings are quite genuinely my own, no bullshit or charades or going through the motions, and the recipients quite worthy – and well-chosen.

I am a big fan of living an authentic life. Even if I were a truly dreadful and vile human being, starting the journey to a better self, a better place, and becoming the woman I most want to be is surely simplified by being wholly myself to start with? Authenticity requires that I recognize my flaws in an accepting and self-compassionate way – how else can I choose change? Well…this has been my experience. My own choices begin with the recognition that there exists some quality worth changing – worth it to me, myself, because I am humbly able to recognize my utter humanity, and see that improvements I value exist as choices. Choosing change requires a next step; there are verbs involved.

I don’t know what tomorrow holds. I mean…other than ’52’. Crap, 52 sounds old sometimes. It doesn’t actually feel old, generally. I am sometimes taken by surprise to see the face in the mirror looking back at me; she isn’t a child, or a fit hot lusty young woman – and I don’t expect to see those things – but she is definitely…older. lol. I wear my years relatively well, I think, but yeah. I see my years on my face, now. I look into my eyes, curiously. Does my joy – and my pain – look back at me, or are those just eyes? I don’t find myself unpleasant to look at, and I am often surprised that I am more beautiful in some hard to express way than I was at 25…but I am not an astonishing beauty. My gray eyes and brunette-hint-of-auburn-streaked-with-gray hair are rather ordinary. My features are not quite symmetrical, but not distractingly so. I find myself rather plain in most moments – and I like my smile; it transforms me, and for an instant I am lovely. 52 isn’t particularly scary or depressing. It’s also not any sort of obvious benchmark in life – only – it is. I am precisely where I am choosing to be. That’s a very big deal, even at 52. 🙂

I will tend the garden of my heart with great care.

Today is a good day for love. Today is a good day to make choices that build on what works, and to step away from bad practices in favor of positive change. Today is a good day to transform something plain into something lovely with a smile; there are verbs involved. (Your results may vary.)

Tags 52, beautiful like a summer day, I don't feel old, loving myself, mindfulness matters, not my circus not my monkey, not that kind of self love, OPD, ptsd, taking care of me, TBI, the woman in the mirror, welcome home, when is old?, Yesterday Today and Tomorrow

Categories Brain Injury, Free Will, gardening, Healthy Living, Love, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Relationships, Summer, The Art of Being, The Big 5, Words

Then There Was This Other Time…

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Definition

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Staying Power

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Life’s Unbreakable CNC

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Just Do? Just Be.

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