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The time is...now.

The time is…now.

I figured I’d share this bit with you. This particular moment feels wrapped in quiet. The house is dim. Only the light overhead remains, dimmed low for a notion of ambience at some other point in time. It is the last hour completing 50 years of life. I don’t have any particular reason to give for why this particular birthday feels so significant to me. Is it ‘where I am’ in my life? Is it the progress I am making…in life, in love, in work, in…damn, is there any facet of me that I’m not taking a hard look at these days? My experience is that I’m enjoying ‘my experience’ more, generally, and sleeping a lot better  – I feel pretty balanced most of the time, and even the hormonal ups and downs are no longer calling the shots.  It all seems so mundane in text.

How is it that it feels so significant to face this moment, this place, this…now? 50…in minutes. Oh, I know, I know – just as with ‘end time’ prophesies, or the Y2K scare, tomorrow will be tomorrow. A day. Each moment a new now. I will be who I am. My lovers will be who they are. Love and life will continue in whatever way they will, based on circumstances and choices.  I will be 50. So will a lot of other people. Hell, Johnny Depp is 50, or so I read a day or two ago. He seems timeless to me, but I guess someone, somewhere, is probably keeping track of that detail. lol. 50, though, how important is it really? It isn’t. Time is pretty arbitrary, I think. Doesn’t it matter more what we do with it, than that it is?

I had considered something long, and detailed, and nostalgic for this post. Today has been my last day before I am 50. I’ve had a certain sense that I am ‘closing out the first half’…but it’s entirely internal.  Based on events and conversations, it’s clear that this is not an experience everyone shares…or perhaps it is difficult to identify with [or care about! lol] from some other vantage point in time? I don’t think I’d have been able to connect with such a thing at 21. Maybe not even at 30. Will I care about 50 when I am 70? It seems unlikely. So…I took some time to be alone with this last hour…just me and…me. Well, and you. Thanks for sharing the moment with me. 🙂

‘Now’ has gotten to be a pretty big deal for me, lately. I’ve learned some things about my values, too, and who I am…and who I am becoming. 50 years is a lot of ‘past’. Some of it will likely live on, isolated within my memory, for as long as the wreckage in my head and in my heart lasts, but what then? Is success forgetting? Is healing really something within reach for me? Who am I when I am whole? What does the world look like through those glasses? Do nightmares really go away? Then what?

This is getting long, and without any particular point. I’ll be 50 tomorrow. That’s when the second half starts, and instead of spending a long while writing, perhaps weeping, and wading through a lifetime of emotions I have already felt, about events I have already experienced, I want to come back to now. This right here. Not quite 50, almost done with 49…timeless in a dark room, the quiet tap of my fingers on the keyboard, the hush of the air purifier, and the house sounds creating this quiet made of sounds that seems more dense and solitary than quiet is intended to be. Now. I will set this aside, finished (do we need more words between us now, in this stillness together?) and end the first half in thought, cradled in a very nice ‘now’ indeed, and eager to wake and celebrate how far I’ve come, and how worth it the journey is proving to be.

Tomorrow…well, it’ll be ‘now’, then, won’t it? lol

Blackberries - summer comes.

Blackberries – summer comes.

Still counting down, and I woke this morning acutely aware that in just two more days, I turn 50… ‘the end of the first half’. lol. This morning was a strange one. I spent it in solitary meditation watching wee fish swim, and in the greenhouse, watering seedlings, and in the rose garden quietly tending roses that got so little from me over the weekend. I sipped my coffee. Shared a wave and a smile with a neighbor in passing. Watched the dawn unfold to day, and went on in to work.

Work is… work. Today I am earning my living – and then some. Busy getting ahead, for a few days off to celebrate me.

There will likely never be a time in my life when it is appropriate to ‘share everything’ I’ve been through with any one other human being – and I’m not sure how many could withstand the tale without considerable heartbreak. Blech. Let’s not, shall we? Perhaps it is enough – and maybe all I ever truly needed – if I honor and respect my own experience, and value myself for having endured what I have, and managing to turn out decently well, over time, after a fashion, in spite of it all? I used to think I needed others to be understood, others to ‘feel heard’, others to feel supported and nurtured, to ‘make me happy’… but I’m not at all sure of any of that now. It seems quite possible that I needed to understand, myself, to hear my own words to respect my own heart, to treat my self with compassion. Certainly, now that I am learning to do so, and succeeding more often, and more consistently, much of what I felt I was missing turns out not to be missing at all – it’s simply best sought from within. 😀

I’m excited to be turning 50. To be ‘finishing the first half’. I’ve sort of muddled through it; had some wins, had some losses, some successes, some failures, some pain, some joy… I have some better notions of what to do with me now. I have a path. I have an experience. So…

Another lovely garden.

Another lovely garden.

I am feeling tired today, on a different level, as if my heart or perhaps my ‘soul’ is fatigued and needing rest. Hormones, probably. Or some other simple fundamental of being human, perhaps.  I slept well enough, although I woke once or twice briefly, and of course ahead of the alarm clock when my night ended.  I’m eating well and taking care of my nutritional needs.  I’m getting good regular exercise, and I’m not taking medications I don’t need, and those at the lowest effective dose of the most reliable Rx available at this time.  I’m staying with new mindfulness and meditation practices, and yoga, and attending to the needs of my spirit and my heart by ensuring I take time for people and things I love. 

Memories and daydreams mingle as I approach 50. "Sunset on the River" 1994 and 2011. Oil on Canvas

Memories and daydreams mingle as I approach 50.
“Sunset on the River” 1994 and 2011. Oil on Canvas

…and I’m tired.  I feel a bit like I am momentarily ‘paused’ to re-buffer… or something… When my mind is still and quiet I feel the unease of dissatisfaction more clearly.  I’m uncomfortable facing it.  What am I afraid of? Change? There’s so much of that of late I don’t see that it would be all that remarkable. lol.  Hormones. I will be so glad when the over-rationalized, highly resented, chemical driver of my experience ebbs like the tide.  I daydream that I will be suddenly ‘more sane’ and calmer… I hope not to be disappointed. LOL Maybe I am just a madwoman after all? I do wonder, sometimes…

The ‘first half’ is nearly at an end… a dear friend who heard about my new aquarium adventure remarked “one must adjust the temporal currents in ones own body and mind in order to commune with the fish.  it will be very beneficial to your journey, i believe.”  I’m sure she’s right on both points.  So, ever onward…50 staring me in the face, and when I stare back I see it pretty clearly some days.  Still…overall I’m pretty happy. Overall I’m pretty satisfied with most things. Overall I’m in good health, and reasonably rational.  It’s hard to bitch about feeling tired, or share some existential angst, knowing how many friends, family, and acquaintances are really struggling.  Harder still to deal with feeling dissatisfied about things that suddenly look awfully small when I consider the pain and turmoil in our global community. Am I finally becoming a grown up? lol.

7 days to 50…

8 days to 50…and today is actually pretty damned unpleasant so far. I woke from nightmares, groggy and drenched in sweat, before the alarm went off. The day seemed to begin well enough; a good latte and a sense of relief that nightmares are something I can wake up from isn’t a bad beginning. The morning shared with a partner seemed lovely…

Maybe it looks easy..but...

Maybe it looks easy..but…

…the day is not idyllic. I’m frustrated. Struggling to communicate well. I feel discontented. I feel disappointed that I seem to suck so badly now at something I thought I was really good at, and wondering how it is that I ever managed to think I was good at it in the first place? I am ‘having a bad day’. Somehow the satisfaction of good work, skilled problem solving, and task completion is escaping me. I feel dissatisfied in spite of my efforts, in spite of my successes. Right now, only my failures seem to count for anything with me. I’m aggravated that I feel this way. Fucking hell – struggling to communicate, to connect, to feel joy in what is joyful to me, to feel valued and appreciated…I want very much to yield to ‘today sucks’, but I know it doesn’t have to be the day, even if it is the moment.

I am crying. I’m not sure how much that matters, really, aside from completely removing any chance of being able to communicate effectively. I can see sunshine outside through the patio door. Flowers nodding in the breezes as if to confirm that it is a lovely day… out there. (In here –  meaning within my being –  it is sucking rather a lot, today.) Some of this ‘growth’ stuff is pretty damned painful, and today it is hard to see the value. I sometimes feel very alone on this journey. Alone, and silenced.

I feel like ‘my inbox’ is piled high with things I need to master, work on, improve, succeed at, appreciate more, do better, understand more… and I feel like I’m not making any progress. At least, I feel that way today.

8 days…good thing it isn’t a deadline.

…I bet I already know how you finished that phrase, if you speak American English as a native. lol. Actually, I have rocks in my thoughts, so perhaps you aren’t far off? 🙂  I’m 15 days from my birthday…my new aquarium is standing in its place, ready to be leak tested, and waiting a final equipment check.  Yesterday I delighted my senses with a visit to a nearby landscaping business for some choice rocks for the decor. (Yes, I am the sort of being who finds searching great piles of river rock for just the right ones quite entertaining and satisfying.)   My experience is one of ‘creating a world’. lol. Grand of me, I know, but it is the sort of imagination I have, and really the metaphors while I also ‘work on me’ are endless and wonderful.

...a box of rocks.

…a box of rocks.

The box of rocks is exciting on its own, but it also got me thinking about aphorisms, homilies, figures of speech, slogans, and idioms; shortcuts we take to communicate.  Thinking on that ‘box of rocks’ and how we take communication shortcuts that rely on our listener’s own experience, history, and culture to understand us (by implication) as much as explicitly through our own unique verbiage, (if not more so) quickly put my attention on the clear contradiction between embracing a genuine life and genuine sense of self (sense of genuine self?) and taking verbal shortcuts.  Only 15 days left, and the first half ends…so, I will commit to avoiding the use of figures of speech, slogans, idioms, homilies, and aphorisms for the next 15 days.  Why? I mean, we all use them (some of us more than others). Aren’t they pretty harmless? Well… maybe, but it struck me that colorful or not, expressive or not, they are both lazy and imprecise – and in no case is a choice to use someone else’s phrasing truly ‘my own voice’. Worse still, so many times lately, at the heart of some bit of logical fallacy, error in reasoning, failure to take care of myself emotionally, or moment of treating someone else less well than I could have, I find some verbal shortcut that has become, over time, ‘programming’ instead.  It starts with nursery rhymes and rote memorization in childhood, and slowly becomes who we are.

Maybe you think I’m taking this too seriously? ‘ Making a mountain out of a…’  I don’t need to finish that, do I? Ok,  maybe it seems a small thing, and unlikely to change the way any of us view the world we live in. Perhaps. I mean… Science is safe from sloppy language becoming programming, right? Hmmm… maybe. Again, maybe. What if I ask you what the moon is made of? If the little voice inside your consciousness quickly quips ‘green cheese’ in the background – even though you know it is not factual– just maybe this is a bigger deal than seems obvious.  I’m at least going to give myself 15 days to be who I am, using my own words as much and as often as possible – even correcting myself if I catch myself taking a short-cut through the programming. lol. Why? Because ‘I love you, too.’ means more when it isn’t a knee jerk reaction to someone else saying ‘I love you’, and ‘because I want to be heard’…my own thoughts…my own words…the things that matter to me, about me, to be understood by others.

While I walked to work, I gave the matter of words a bit of thought, well, a lot of thought. I came up with uncountable numbers of simple phrases heard over my lifetime that have become something beyond a sentence or a simple thought – they are cultural programming.  I won’t list them, you no doubt have your own, I simply suggest that for me, it is time to retire as many phrases, and sentences, that I quickly reach for every day, in favor of more genuine heartfelt communication.  If it auto-completes in my head, I’ll be looking for other words. lol.

…In other words, 50 seems a nice point in life to be who I am.

Being one, among many.

Being one, among many.