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Total Situational Awareness

April 11, 2015 //
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I am up early enough on a Saturday to get to the Farmer’s Market before it’s mobbed. I don’t enjoy crowds. I move easily enough through them, but doing so tends to push me into a very focused, navigation-oriented manner of thinking that pushes aesthetic to the side in favor of things that feel more about survival. I like to move more gently through my experience. I enjoy being aware, and at leisure. I like to take my time. Those are thing I enjoy. Chances are if you know me, or if you speak to someone who does, on the matter of how I move through my experience moment to moment, it is quite likely that ‘slowly’, ‘gently’, and ‘aware’ are not going to be the first words to come to mind. I practice. A lot.

I am thinking about my imminent departure for the Farmer’s Market, this morning. Camera in hand, I am entertaining myself with a wee scavenger hunt; I am looking at it as an exercise in improving my awareness, too. I giggle when I think of a favorite cartoon hero, Sterling Archer, and his ‘total situational awareness’; it is his stated sense of self, but from the viewer perspective, he haplessly bumbles through quite a lot of his experience, demonstrating extraordinary good fortune every bit as often as any detailed explicit awareness. His experience is very much his own; it differs greatly from the perspective on his experience held by others. I, too, often feel quite aware of my surroundings, my experience, the presence, behavior, and demeanor of others…I have substantial empirical evidence that I am far less so than I tend to feel. ‘Why?’ is not the relevant piece of the puzzle, generally. ‘Why’ only becomes relevant in any way if something about the why is problematic for achieving goals, making desired changes, or negatively impacts my quality of life, overall. So… let’s not worry so much about ‘why’ today? 🙂

Some moments only reveal their beauty when I slow down to notice it.

Some moments only reveal their beauty when I slow down to notice it.

One reason I began carrying my camera everywhere (some weeks or months after starting this blog, actually) is that my camera has become a tool for bringing me back to a mindful moment, and reconnecting with ‘now’ – by raising my awareness of some detail, in order to get a picture of it. I move through my experience so quickly, in spite of my joy in slowing things down; taking a picture requires a willful pause, and careful consideration of what I see. The pictures themselves have the additional wonder of holding the power to bring me back to that specific mindful moment, at a later point. In time of greatest stress, doubt, or despair, flipping through my photographs one by one puts other moments in front of me for consideration. They become keys to the locks in my chaos  and damage that sometimes cause so much suffering; when I am very distressed, agitated, or blue, I have trouble connecting with better moments and returning to a place of emotional equilibrium. The pictures tend to help me leverage the power of a disinhibiting injury – to be liberated by the very qualities that sometimes limit me. The pictures help me, over time, tweak my implicit bias in a more positive direction; I don’t photograph things that cause me pain, or further suffering, generally speaking. (There are artists whose creative strength takes them down those dark paths, and I am awed by their power to reveal, and to heal.)

I don’t assume that because I have the injury I do, that these practices are exclusively beneficial to me; your results may vary, and there are verbs involved, but actions do have consequences – surely you would experience results of your own. 🙂

I used to fight stress and panic by shutting myself off, by withdrawing into myself and cutting off the world.  It didn’t actually work out that way, and I suffered in spite of my withdrawal, sometimes more so by building a solitary emotional prison, invisible and alone. I tend to feel more angry and encroached upon than comforted, or safe, by trying so hard to be less open, less available, less outspoken. I end up resenting the lack of consideration, the lack of reciprocity from others, and the constant pinging on my consciousness of the world. On the other hand, it is not a better deal to launch emotional weapons of mass distraction into a crowd, or to impose my very intense emotional life on others, over their explicit objections or boundary setting. Quite a puzzle.

I am still a student. There are questions, and more to learn. For now, I am walking my own path, and today it leads to the Farmer’s Market, camera in hand, to see the world.

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Categories Anxiety, Brain Injury, Free Will, Healthy Living, Logic & Reason, Love, Metaphors, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Relationships, Roses, Spring, The Art of Being, The Big 5, Words

Singing Myself a Love Song

April 7, 2015 //
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“We are each having our own experience.”

...Stormy weather.

…Stormy weather.

I don’t actually remember, now, where it was I first heard that specific sentence, carrying the significance it now does. A book I read? My therapist? My traveling partner? I hang on to it on mornings like this one. Maybe you have them, too? Those mornings that begin well… I mean, really really well…then unexpectedly slide sideways on some icy emotional sidewalk? Yeah. Those suck. At least…they suck in the moment that I feel the good morning slip out from under me, stranding me in some very real, very challenging emotional moment of some entirely other variety.

Afterwards, sometimes days, sometimes hours, I often find that I’ve learned something important about someone who matters to me a great deal. It’s worth noting that I only seem to have these experiences with the people in my life who do matter most to me. That’s meaningful…but for now it generates only questions, and most of those are not of the useful sort.

Growth can be a lonely process.

Growth can be a lonely process.

I am continuing to re-read The Four Agreements. More studying, really. I find immense value in some of the simple concepts within this small, humble book. It’s on my kindle, but I am reading it from a bound book, to feel the weight of it in my hands, and connect with the experience in some more physical way, somehow. This morning, “Be impeccable with your word” rang out in my consciousness in conversation, and supported me; I was able to be more simply honest about my experience than I am often able to do without seriously escalating emotionally. Learning to let go of the sensation of ‘not being heard’ in order to speak freely, regardless, has challenging moments. There is balance and perspective to learn here, too. There are opportunities to learn to soften my tone, and choose words with care – still respecting my experience, and sharing it frankly, and simply. That isn’t always well-received – and it isn’t ever going to be ‘always well-received’, because we are each having our own experience; there may be things about what I have to say about mine, that are not a comfortable fit for someone else’s understanding of their own.

Those complicated mismatches between individual experiences, perspective, emic realities, maps – hell, even vocabularies and context – push another of The Four Agreements to the forefront this morning, “Don’t take anything personally.” It’s hard to be simpler than that. I am having my own experience, understood solely with my own understanding, filtered entirely through my own filters, limits, beliefs, and assumptions. I find myself wondering if all conflict, everywhere, comes down to one attempting to convince another to adopt an experience that is not shared… ‘just because’. Does the reason matter? Life and love are not a race to be won, or a competition in which someone ‘comes out on top’, or a battle… I guess, unless you’re in battle. At this point in life, my lack of interest in ‘being right’ sometimes sets me up to cave to pressure, rather than simply being.  That’s complicated. If I defy who I am to yield to someone else’s idea of who I am, or what I have said, I will neither be heard, nor will I be who I am. Strange puzzle.

This moment. Just this one, right here.

What about this moment? Just this one, right here.

You are not the person I think you are. You are who you are. I am not the person you think I am. I am who I am. Suddenly, this morning’s sturm und drang pulls the nature of attachment, and the gift of acceptance into focus. My irritation passes, and I feel more able to treat myself kindly; being poorly understood sucks. Being dismissed or rejected sucks, too. Feeling hurt over those things is still more suckage… but here’s something that doesn’t suck; being poorly understood isn’t about me, and there may be occasions when however clearly I express myself, the message is not wanted, and will not be heard. So not about me. Being dismissed or rejected? I guess I could take that personally – I’m pretty cool to hang out with – but why put myself through that? Choice is what it is, and there is no obligation for someone to choose me, in any moment, of any day, in any relationship. Free will being what it is, it makes sense to feel quite wonderful to be chosen – but probably healthiest to utterly disregard rejections, beyond moving on to other things with my time; there is no requirement that I be chosen, ever. Suddenly, feeling hurt dissipates, and I am free, myself, to choose.

Still, it’s not the morning I faced with such eagerness. That’s more than a little disappointing. I can choose, too, to invest in that disappointment, nourish it, grow it, and let it take over my day, filling my heart with resentment, and hurt feelings… or not. I think this morning I choose ‘not’. There’s a whole day ahead of me, with unknown delights that could so easily be missed if I am weeping in my coffee over someone else’s experience.

Each moment has its own beauty, its own significance, and its own worth.

Each moment has its own beauty, its own significance, and its own worth.

Today is a good day to enjoy my experience, and create compassionate space for others to similarly enjoy theirs, without taking personally the choices they make. Today is a good day to breathe deeply, to smile, and to notice that I am okay right now.

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Categories Anxiety, Brain Injury, Free Will, Healthy Living, Hormone Hell, Love, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Relationships, solo hiking, The Art of Being, The Big 5, Words

Art and Practice

April 6, 2015 //
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I like the sound of the phrase ‘The Art of Being’. I find something contained within those simple words that hints at more than the practical details of practicing practices and the slow pace of incremental change over time; it suggests nuances of self and experience that exist beyond the logistics of resources and effort in practices. As lovely as it sounds, however, the Art of Being remains tangled up in practices that need practicing. As with being an amazing singer, or gifted artist, perhaps, the beauty of raw talent is a wonder that holds potential to be further improved upon with skill, craftsmanship, and experience…all things that come from practice, and possibly some coaching or education.

Sorting out ‘art’ from ‘science’, and taking those next steps from talent (or good fortune) to skill and craftsmanship, to design and engineering, is an experience of its own. It is the journey from awareness to real understanding. From “I’m doing it!” to “Of course, I’ve got this.” From asking questions to… understanding, or at least to the threshold of building real understanding. To be clear, I am still asking questions, and still approaching my circumstances and experience with a beginner’s mind in every  moment that I remain mindful to do so; there are still practices involved, still requiring verbs, will, and choice.

I am rereading the Four Agreements; a worthy starting point on any journey of self.

I am rereading The Four Agreements; a worthy starting point on any journey of self.

For me, now, the ‘art’ in The Art of Being speaks to an increased level of ‘ease’ within myself, and how I approach my experience moment-to-moment. It implies a heightened level of acceptance, of self-compassion, and self-appreciation. It implies a reduction in assumptions, expectations, and attachment resulting in an increased level of calm, contentment, and even merriment. I expect to find that someone skilled in The Art of Being will be emotionally self-sufficient, accepting of themselves and not inclined to take the emotions or experience of others personally, and to be so without doing emotional harm to others thoughtlessly or by intention.

I feel a bit as I do out on a long hike, checking my map for significant landmarks, intersections, places I’d like to stop, or turn toward another direction…I’ve got my eye on the next turn, the next goal, and the signpost I am looking for reads ‘The Art of Being’. I’m not discontent on this path so clearly marked ‘Practicing the Practices’, and it is an important part of my journey. This is, however, a journey; there is more life to live, more ground to cover.  I am my own cartographer, and I am placing an ‘x’ on this particular spot…right over…here. The Art of Being seems a good direction to head, a worthy goal, and a good place to find myself farther along the way. This is not a journey about destinations as much as it is about steps, and continuance, and walking on…

Taking time to consider the journey, to rest, to observe, to enjoy, all have value of their own; there is no need to rush life.

Taking time to consider the journey, to rest, to observe, to enjoy, all have value of their own; there is no need to rush life, now is lovely.

One of the challenges for me day-to-day is remaining committed to the practices that seem most effective, and not allowing myself to become distracted by old patterns, ineffective programming, and moments of distress caused by the clash between historical expectations and change over time. It is almost inevitable in the context of relationships that (because we are each having our own experience) I may occasionally feel a bit like some mysterious quantum particle – I’m not quite in the place I’m expected to be, as a person, but it isn’t obvious ‘where I’m at’ until a specific outcome is observed – but having made the observation, I may have already moved on to better things by way of that very observation, itself. Similarly, I may have a sense that I’ve ‘come so far’, only to observe that in some moment, the incremental change is far smaller than anticipated, at least right then. It’s hard to keep up with, myself. I continue to practice the practices that are most effective, and I am learning to set aside the expectations altogether and give myself a break from constant criticism, and demands, and enjoy the journey in my own good company.

I am using my current search for a live/work space to promote deeper understanding of where I am in life, now, as well as putting focus on ongoing challenges with attachment; investing willfully in my own needs feels powerful, and provocatively hints at growth to come, in an environment uniquely suited to me. Although it feels ‘overdue’, I don’t allow myself criticism of the relevant decision-making that put it off so long; each of those decision-making points in life have been important, and each one handled in the way that seemed best at the time, based on my understanding of events, and of self, in that moment. Regret and bullying myself over past choices drives stress, feeds attachment, and continues the sort of self-defeating beat down that impedes clear thinking in the present. Besides – I deserve better than that from me. When I treat myself badly, I also make it much more difficult to treat others well.

The weekend was pretty good. I enjoyed it a great deal. I had a couple challenging moments yesterday, both missed opportunities to more skillfully manage my emotional experience, and to more clearly express myself, both very illustrative of how much further there is to go on this journey, and how much value there is in love. Wonderfully, they were both moments, and moments pass, in fact – in the case of yesterday, both challenging moments passed by like spring showers, and didn’t linger. Progress.

There is more to do, and farther to go. There is life is to be lived, and there is pleasure to be enjoyed, and further progress to make. There is a woman I love, to smile at in the mirror. I’ve got practices to practice as I continue down this path, on my way to The Art of Being.

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Categories art and the artist, Brain Injury, Free Will, Healthy Living, Logic & Reason, Love, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Perspective, Relationships, Sleepless Nights, Spring, The Art of Being, The Big 5, Words

Sleeping and Dreaming

April 3, 2015 //
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Sleeping and dreaming are two of my favorite things. Seems a bit odd considering the challenges with insomnia, sleep disturbances, and nightmares, perhaps it is because of those things that I enjoy sleeping and dreaming so much. I enjoy and appreciate them greatly, and definitely have experience with some of the less pleasant, less restful, and less satisfying options sleep has to offer.

I did not sleep well last night. I don’t recall my dreams. I had no nightmares, and did not spend the time restlessly – I just mostly wasn’t sleeping. I managed more than 4 hours of sleep, though, and one period of unbroken sleep that lasted nearly 3 hours. Not too long ago, a night like last night would have been spent out of bed, awake, perhaps writing moodily whatever stray thought crossed my mind in the twilight of minimal artificial light. I would have, potentially, become more cross and frustrated – and anxious – as the night passed. I was sleepy and tired last night, just not able to fall asleep, or stay asleep, so I stayed in bed, relaxed and comfortable, meditating through periods of wakefulness until I felt sleep begin to return. I am decently well-rested, though not ideally so, and I am in a mostly pretty pleasant mood, although I am in a lot of pain with my arthritis.

There is a connection between quality of sleep, and my experience of pain. Pain seems more than usually painful when I am not well-rested.

I yawn, and stretch, do some yoga – slowly and with great deliberation. I am stiff, and seemingly unreasonably so, but I’m not really surprised by it, just annoyed. I accept the feeling of annoyance as a warning that I may not have the emotional resilience I expect to, today; the moment of kindness turned inward eases the annoyance, but not the pain. My medication will kick in slowly, over the next hour; I count on the yoga for as much relief, and it generally delivers.

Sipping coffee, dreaming of love, and thinking of home.

Sipping coffee, dreaming of love, and thinking of home.

It is a quiet Friday morning. I enjoy quiet mornings greatly. This one I spend gently, considerate of my needs and my lack of sleep. I take time to contemplate the sensation of ‘going home’ – and getting there – and what I might enjoy seeing and experiencing as I step into a space that feels like ‘home’ for me. For the purpose of this moment of contemplation (daydreaming?) I accept the assumption that my emotional experience of ‘feeling homeless’ is not driven by externals, that it is simply a stray sensation I am stuck on that can be changed by moving in the direction of things that feel differently for me, with practice. This opens the door to considering what does feel like ‘home’ to me? (My traveling partner is correct that my linguistic and grammatical tendency to phrase thoughts ‘in the negative’ supports negative thinking and experiences more effectively than it can support positive ones; I work on changing my implicit biases with a number of practices like this one.) Beginning with the assumption that I can improve on this experience, I allow myself to ‘think through’ a variety of ‘arriving at home’ moments, letting my imagination fill in gaps and create little details that catch my attention and point my awareness in the direction of what sorts of things really do feel like home – for me. I have changed over the years, and my taste has as well.

This morning, I ‘come home’ in my imagination to a very orderly place that feels spacious, but is quite compact. The space is ‘filled with light’; windows that bring in the natural light of morning, or afternoon is especially lovely. The decor is organized around function, and in favor of being able to create in the same space in which I live; finished art on the walls, beautifully arranged with adequate white space, easel and brushes neatly ready on a whim, and unashamedly out in the open. The art would be selected to take advantage of the light, and also ‘where I’m at’ in life now; lighter, brighter, more glow, less darkness, sensuous textures, positive meanings. Decor in neutral earth tones in light shades and pale wood case goods would direct my eye back to the color; art, objects, beautiful porcelain tea cups, books – always so many books! In a place that feels to me like ‘home’, all my lovely breakables would be on display – and in use. I would live gently in a ‘cruelty free zone’, treating myself with compassion, kindness, and care (I have been too hard on myself for far too long). The environment would feel quiet, and stillness would be available – even plentiful – and would be ‘inspiring’ to live in. The dining table would be set, beautifully, simply for the loveliness of it, in between meals. The kitchen and pantry would be arranged to suit my needs and cooking style, and would take into account my injury and my arthritis – putting things I commonly need in easiest reach, and maintaining a ‘logical sense’ that perhaps only makes sense to me, but does so in an intuitive way, changing only to improve on that. This is unmistakably a ‘selfish’ perspective; there is no reason to hold out on myself in my own daydream, and the point of the exercise has nothing whatever to do with how I treat others, or building a lovely home in a shared experience. This one is for me, about me… it is me, communicating my needs to myself with greater clarity than I otherwise might, and hoping to improve on my day-to-day experience along the way, just benefiting from knowing myself and my needs a little better.

More often than not, when I feel ‘home sick’ or yearning to ‘go home’, it is desire for a safe place that feels like my own, filled with order, stillness, sufficiency, and contentment…the other details are simply a way to get there.

...And a wee garden would be lovely, too.

…And a wee garden would be lovely, too.

Today is a good morning to consider going home. Today is a good day to consider what that means to me. Today is a good day to be my own best friend, compassionately listening, offering encouragement and support, and celebrating growth. Today is a good day to enjoy change.

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Categories art and the artist, Brain Injury, Free Will, Healthy Living, Mindfulness, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Sleepless Nights, The Big 5, women

Filters and Lenses

March 31, 2015 //
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Do I see what I see through honest eyes, or is it filtered through my experience, and my own limited awareness and understanding?

Do I see what I see through honest eyes, or is it filtered through my experience, and my own limited awareness and understanding?

I woke this morning to the sound of an audible ‘click’. I often do, but don’t know what the sound is caused by. Perhaps a door elsewhere, or the timer on my aquarium, or some other commonplace occurrence that I simply haven’t placed or clearly identified – because I am asleep when I hear it. This particular morning, when I woke, my emotional world careened around within myself in an almost dizzying way; residual emotions from dreams colliding with in-the-moment reactions to sensations and awaking, leftover random moments of emotion from earlier hours – or days – left piled up in the unswept corners of my consciousness, stirred together, mixed and shaken, as I wake up. It is far too easy to take this bit of ’emotional seasickness’ personally, first thing in the morning, and more than one otherwise lovely morning has been wrecked by emotions that got the best of me – even though I had no idea why I actually felt the way I did.

This morning I am playing a quiet game of ‘being my own best friend’ and sipping my coffee and hanging out with me, unconcerned that my emotions feel unsettled, uninterested in exploring them further, and choosing instead to relax with me for a while, and enjoy some of the very cool things about this woman who I am.

I find myself thinking about a very fancy camera I had once had – long before the age of the digital camera, and back when analog film drove the decisions about how many pictures I could reasonably afford to take, and to get interesting effects, or special shots, I lugged around a camera bag full of filters and lenses. It’s an interesting metaphor. Even in our thinking, we use ‘filters’ and ‘lenses’ to sort through what we see, and to determine how we understand it. More than once I’ve messed with my own head, and caused myself a lot of needless suffering, because my perspective (a filter, right?) or awareness (a lens?) were not well-suited to the experience of the moment.

I don’t really know where it takes this metaphor, but when I take pictures these days, they are most often available light shots, free of effects or ‘fun’ filters; I want most to capture the quality of light – of life – in a moment, just as it is. This, I find, is also a very nice way to treat my own heart – although less simple, once I have stepped from metaphor to action, sometimes. This morning the time taken to get my balance, and my bearings, and secure emotional footing before rushing off to face the day seems like a nice way to start a new day.

Today is a good day to view things through a different filter, and through a cleaner lens. Today is a good day to enjoy who I already am, in this moment right now, and see where the day takes me. Today is a good day for love and lovers – and a bigger picture.

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Categories Brain Injury, Logic & Reason, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Relationships, Spring, The Big 5, Words
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