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Hot Coffee, Fresh Headache

March 13, 2024 //
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My head aches ferociously this morning, some annoying combination headache that grips the base of my skull and holds on, dull and distracting. My tinnitus is loud, and also very annoying. Ah, but this cup of coffee is hot, and properly made, and soothes the part of my brain that very much wishes I were not awake right now at all. A new day begins, and so far… it’s mostly annoying. lol Yes, I’m also mostly laughing it off – because honestly what the hell else can I do with it that might get me somewhere better than this situation right here, right now? I’m just saying, I could choose to be angry about it and mired in my aggravation, but I’m doing my best to not do that.

I was awakened too early; my Traveling Partner was having trouble sleeping because he was congested and having trouble breathing easily, which is most definitely a crappy experience to be having. I woke from a deep sound sleep, cross and alarmed, and concerned that I’d likely not be easily able to get back to sleep (and might also be at risk of escalating the situation into some sort of argument) because of where my head was at when I woke. I chose to get up, dress, and head into the city (so so early) – I knew I could nap on the couch in the lounge for a couple hours before my day typically begins (there wouldn’t be anyone there to be disturbed or inconvenienced). The drive into the city was pleasant, uneventful, and calm; there was no traffic, and I only saw a couple cars passing in the other direction on the entire drive. Once I arrived, I had no difficulty getting more or less comfortable (for most values of “comfortable”) on the couch, and I managed to nap for a couple hours, although the city version of “quiet” is rather noisy for my liking.

I sip my coffee and recognize that some portion of my headache may be the result of the less-than-ideal pillow I was resting my head on, or the position I was in, generally. Still… I did rest, and it is a new day…anyway, I think I had this headache when I woke up earlier. Today I have my appointment with my massage therapist, and that will likely give me considerable relief from this headache.

…Pretty good cup of coffee, too…

Fairly typical of cities, this one seems “flooded with light”, even during the wee empty hours of the night. When I woke, this space seemed “brightly lit”, although there were no lights on. It was just the ambient light of the city itself, and my eyes had adjusted while I dozed. I woke somewhat disoriented (so I know I definitely slept, possibly fairly deeply), confused by the illuminated surroundings, which clashed with my expectation of darkness. Finding my way to the coffee machine in the “darkness” was easy, and the hot cup of coffee was so welcome.

…So here it is a new day…

I sigh and stretch, and rub my aching neck, and sip my coffee. I wonder if my Traveling Partner finally got back to sleep, himself? I hope he did. Being short on sleep sucks.

My mind wanders. I drink my coffee. The pre-dawn sky is still quite dark, and daybreak is still minutes away, and it’ll be more than half an hour after that before the sun rise. For now, I can’t even see whether the sky is cloudy – those details are still obscured by the city lights. Still, it’s interesting enough to simply watch the cars go by on the streets below, and listen to the crows announcing their plans for the morning, while I drink this coffee.

Day breaks, and the crows take flight as a noisy group. Soon enough it’ll be time for coffee #2… and time to begin again.

…Fucking hell, this headache, though…

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Categories Allegories, Anxiety, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Sleepless Nights, Spring, The Art of Being

Love & Memory

March 12, 2024 //
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I had a restless night of interrupted sleep. No bad dreams, just periodically waking up for no obvious reason, before settling into sleep once again. It wasn’t unpleasant, but the night seemed unreasonably long and I got up well ahead of my usual time, dressed, and left for work early. The commute was effortless, because at that hour there was no traffic on the road. Now, I’m sitting at my desk, looking out at the dark pre-dawn cityscape, sipping my coffee. It’s a Tuesday, and my calendar is pretty full, but all that begins quite a bit later, and I have some time to sit with my thoughts.

A cherished handmade gift from a dear friend.

Last night as I was tidying up a quiet room that is mostly decorated with books, I found this small handmade paper journal sort of just set aside, waiting for some moment. It was a gift from my recently deceased dear friend, celebrating my 60th birthday. It was intended to accompany me on a camping trip with my Traveling Partner, and as I recall now, I elected to keep it safe from harm by not taking it out into the wilds where dirt, wind, or rain might wreck it, knowing I’d find some similarly meaningful use for it some other time and place.

It even came with instructions. 😀

I sat for a moment with this cherished gift in my hands, gently unfolding the letter that is still tucked into a pocket inside the cover. I reread the letter, my heart filled with love and fond memories, a soft sad smile on my face. I miss my friend, but how delightful to have this memento of our friendship to remember her by!

Each page decorated by hand, each page unique, bringing to mind the illuminated manuscripts of another age.

I turn the pages, one by one, each one different, each one ready for some thought, or poem, or random handful of words to be written there. I felt so inspired, just to hold it in my hands! I examined each page, reconnecting with so many memories of the friendship we had shared. I delighted in the recollection of her enthusiasm for small handmade gifts, and how extraordinary and special each such gift to me remains to this day. I smiled thinking about her best friend bringing a similar cherished gift to the hospital while I was there visiting, to share that precious memory. What a beautiful human being my dear friend was! She was – is – so well loved by those who knew her. Missed.

“Friendship is a gift that lasts.” – It is indeed.

I turn to a page with a pocket from which a string dangles, and a note attached to the pocket reads “Pull the white string up”, and so I do – and as if speaking to me from “the beyond”, a tag appears that reads “friendship is a gift that lasts”. My eyes fill with tears that don’t fall, and the smile on my face becomes a bit brittle, a little fragile, with this reminder that I was also dear to my dear friend. I feel loved. I feel grateful to have shared this amazing friendship. My smile deepens as I sit with my memories for a moment. I’m okay. Grief is a process, and there is no escaping it; “the way out is through”. Fucking hell, what a first rate friend she truly was.

The last page. A bookmark. A reminder.

I turn page after page of this small handmade journal, and imagine writing in it, at long last. What would I write in such a precious space? What words fit in this slim fragile volume? I imagine for a moment that whatever I wrote here might be something she could read, from wherever her spirit rests. Fanciful, but comforting. The bookmark tucked into the pocket on the last page says only, in large letters, “Roses”. I smile and think about the roses I recently purchased to add to the garden with her – and the memories of our friendship – in mind. I allow myself the fancy of imagining she somehow knew. (Certainly, she knew I love roses.)

What a beautiful little moment! It lingers with me now, and I woke this morning to see the wee journal resting on a cushion, next to my neatly folded clothes, waiting for the new day. Where will this journey take me? What is ahead on this path? I sip my coffee and think happy thoughts of trails to hike, and roses to plant, and long summer days in the garden. I think about the wee journal, and my dear friend, and what words might fill these pages.

My mind wanders to other cherished friendships. I could be a better friend; I make a commitment to reach out to friends I haven’t spoken to recently. I think fondly of my Traveling Partner – our deeply loving relationship is also built on a firm foundation of a cherished friendship. We were friends long before we were ever lovers. I’m grateful for that friendship, it has carried us through some tough times with considerable affection and grace. Whatever else goes on in life, friends are such a huge part of life being worth living in the first place. I sip my coffee and think about how fortunate I am to have the rich friendships I do. The value isn’t in numbers of friends, either, it’s in the quality of enduring friendships, and the love and laughter they bring to this very human experience, that can sometimes feel so lonely otherwise.

I look up as I finish my coffee. The morning sky is hues of blue and shades of gray where clouds crowd the horizon. Daybreak has passed. Sunrise is moments away, although I doubt it will be anything exceptional to see, this morning. Regardless, here it is a new day – and already time to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, art and the artist, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, grief, Healthy Living, inspiration, loneliness, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Practices, Relationships, Roses, Sleepless Nights, Spring, The Art of Being, The Big 5

Dumb Mindfulness Exercises

March 11, 2024 //
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I’m sitting here with a cup of tea and a terrible headache. The headache is no surprise; it’s the Monday after Daylight Savings Time began this year, and that rather abrupt change to the timing on all my medication reliably results in a headache, and some crankiness. I guess I’m fortunate that it isn’t worse.

I found myself needing a break. A “proper break”, though, really stepping back from “this” and giving myself room to reconnect with myself here/now. I brought a fat juicy “Sumo” tangerine to work with my lunch today, and it seemed like a good time to enjoy that…

…I tore off the “top knot” of the tangerine and the smell of it filled my senses. I thought immediately of some of the odd-seeming mindfulness exercises sometimes taught to students or CBT patients just learning mindfulness practices. You probably know the ones… “eat a raisin”… “eat an orange”… These departures from the mindless consumption we often tend towards are intended to “wake us up” to the real depth of some very commonplace ordinary experiences and create an opportunity to experience them more fully, in a more present and engaged way. They can still seem pretty silly, or awkward, or fake, especially the first time, or in the company of strangers.

…Embracing authenticity is sometimes a matter of letting go of our own self-consciousness or embarrassment, or concern about what someone else’s idea of “normal” looks like…

I sit here with this big fragrant tangerine quite happily. I love the scent of it. The heft of the large asymmetrical fruit feels very satisfying in my hand. The bumpy rough skin tempts me further, and I begin to peel it, smelling the freshness of still more citrus-y tangerine-y scent filling the air around my desk. The skin makes a sort of quiet ripping sound as it pulls away from the juicy flesh of the fruit it has been protecting. The bitter white pith pulls away easily, without a sound. The inside of the peel feels vaguely damp and very soft. Minutes have gone by in the time it has taken to peel this one fruit, and even though I haven’t even tasted it yet, my mood has already lifted quite a lot.

…Does it matter if something seems silly, if it works for you?…

I slowly separate one slice, one “segment” I guess it is, of the tangerine from the rest, breaking the fruit into halves as I do. Like a kid, I carefully peel off the thin skin that separates the slice from the others, and which holds the section intact as an individual piece. I admire the deep orange color of the fruit, and wonder how many of the tiny orange tear-drop shaped inner bits there really are in each section, before I bite into it and taste the sweet tang of the tangerine, at last. Somehow, tangerines manage to taste like Christmas and summertime both at the same time. Simultaneously exotic and ordinary, fancy and everyday, for a moment I think perhaps these are my favorite fruit – before I laugh to myself, aware that I probably feel that way the first moment I bite into almost any fully ripe fruit. One by one, I bite into the slices of tangerine, tasting each one anew, going slowly enough to really appreciate the taste and texture, and really enjoy the experience. Here’s the thing about this as a mindfulness practice; it’s not about going so slow that the slowness becomes the experience, it’s simply about going slowly enough to have an experience in the first place. This is a huge tangerine – certainly big enough to be at least two whole servings of fruit – so shouldn’t there be some time consumed along with the fruit? If I’m sucking this tangerine down almost whole in mere seconds, have I even had an opportunity to actually enjoy it beyond the first sweet brief bite?

I sit smiling, eating my tangerine, taking my break. Minutes go by. Enough time for two streetcars to pass by on the street below. Long enough for a soft rain to begin, spattering the windows and changing the quality of the light. I feel present and real, instead of a bit distracted and harried. I feel relaxed, and also energized (doesn’t hurt that this tangerine is juicy and sweet and nutritious). Sure, I’ve still got a headache, and it’s still the day after the start of DST, but I feel pretty good, and here. Present. I break the last slice of this tangerine in half and eat it in two delightful bites.

I’m ready to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, Brain Injury, breathe, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, inspiration, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Spring, The Art of Being, weight loss secrets

DST Fog

March 11, 2024 //
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Good thing I have my commute memorized. lol The Monday after DST begins is hard. I didn’t oversleep, but my silent alarm had the lights at full brightness before they woke me, or even disturbed my rest at all. I woke groggy and stupid, clumsy and disorganized, but still managed to dress, still remembered to grab my lunch from the fridge, still thought to get gas before I left town. I joined a ridiculous queue of Monday morning commuters, a lot more traffic than usual (some mix of folks heading out late, and others leaving early, on top of the “regulars” who depart more or less when I do). The drivers were a mix of groggy, stupid, and irritable, but traffic moved along pretty efficiently, and although it was a bit slower than usual getting into the city, I am grateful that I arrived safely – particularly after passing a really nasty traffic accident blocking one of the more complex intersections as I entered the city (looked like 3-4 cars, and not just a “fender bender” – there were cops and emergency vehicles pretty much blocking all but one lane, and that one was mildly obstructed, too).

I got to the office, made coffee, and got the day started, and I find myself grateful for routines and habits built over time that can carry me efficiently through the first couple hours of my day when I’m so groggy and stupid. I get things sorted out for what looks likely to be a routine and very commonplace Monday, and then take a minute for myself, and this cup of coffee.

…My coffee had already gone cold, so I get up and pour the whole thing over a glass full of ice…

The weekend was a lovely one, relaxed and easy, spent in the good company of my Traveling Partner. I got out into the garden a bit, even picked out a couple modestly-sized roses to plant with the memory of my dear friend who recently passed in mind. It delights me to celebrate her life, and our many years of shared friendship, and brings me a great deal of contentment and comfort to do it in this lasting way. I planted some flowers (seeds) here and there. I checked in with the neighbor who does some of the yard care (for many of us in this community) to see what his plan is this year, and coordinated some details. I got in a couple good hikes, did some housekeeping, ran some errands. It was a fairly ordinary weekend in my wee suburban paradise. I feel rested and contented, and the smile on my face lingers from the pleasant days spent with my Traveling Partner. So much joy and love. I sit awhile just enjoying the recollection.

A new addition to an old collection.

One of my errands took me to a local thrift shop, and although I was looking for something else entirely, I strolled past the cups and saucers (I always do), and I spotted a lovely cup and saucer that is a good fit for my collection! It’s been a long time since I added anything new (about… 8 years?), and I was excited to see that the manufacturer’s mark is an authentic one. I still need to take time to identify the pattern by name & number, and determine the likely age of the piece – all part of the fun (for me). In the meantime, it sits on my mantlepiece where I can quickly pick it up, examine a detail, and, you know, maybe enjoy a cup of tea in it. 😀

It’s been a wonderful weekend. I sit and enjoy that thought awhile longer. Soon enough it’ll be time to begin again. 🙂

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Categories Allegories, breathe, Free Will, gardening, gratitude, Healthy Living, inspiration, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Practices, Relationships, Roses, Spring, The Art of Being

Being and Yearning

March 8, 2024 //
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As I came around the last bend in the road before I reached the city, the sunrise greeted me with a messy smudge of coral and orange, like badly applied lipstick. I so earnestly wished to make a right turn and chase that sunrise to wherever the day might take me…

The yearning hit me hard. I don’t find myself wanting to chase things like a bigger house, a more exotic car, Birkin bags, or Louboutin shoes. Sufficiency is generally quite enough for me, and I’m content with the occasional excesses of more modest scale, like garden seeds, or art supplies, or a new keyboard…but… I sometimes find myself faced with a very peculiar moment of yearning and discontent that is very much part of “who I am” (and has been for as much of my life as I can recall)… I sometimes earnestly and deeply want to be free of everything that defines my life – however it is presently defined. As though the constraints of habit and routine, and requirements and expectations, just get to be too much, and something within me spills out and I just want to… go. Somewhere. Somewhere else than wherever I am. I want to “chase that sunrise”. I want to sleep in and when I wake wander to some previously unvisited delightful breakfast spot and linger into the day over my coffee. I want to wander a beach or a forest trail, listening to the birds and the breezes. I want to be… untethered. I doubt this experience is unique to me, and it seems generally very human.

This morning, once my commute carried me to the city, and the car was parked in the usual place, and I frowned at the thermostat in the office on my way past it, as I often do, and made a cup of coffee (that has already gone cold), I sat down and did the payday stuff and the budgeting, like a proper grownup. No tears or terror, no stress, just regular adult shit that has to get done regardless of how lovely the sunrise may be. I’m okay with it. I don’t really need to drop everything and escape my existence, I’ve got a pretty comfortable life that I enjoy very much, and I’m fortunate to share it with a partner I love deeply, and who loves me back so wonderfully. Life is pretty good right now. I’m not objecting to that, or craving change – just acknowledging my restless nature, and maybe wishing it were already “camping season” (too chilly yet for me, personally). lol Funny creatures, human primates – give them everything they want and need in life, and still they find their way to discontentedness, wanting either more, or less. LOL

I sip my tepid coffee, unbothered by any detail of the morning, thus far. I’m okay. I breathe. Exhale. Relax. (Mutter something cranky about the broken heat in this office.) I stretch, and check my calendar. Set up my work day. Email the budget details to my Traveling Partner. There’s no particular stress to the day, so far. Hell, I’m not even in much pain; it seems very manageable so far. The sun continues to rise, and the buildings beyond the office reflect the golden glow and hints of orange and pink. Beautiful. I take a minute to enjoy it, before I sit down to write a few words.

It’s a Friday. I find myself missing my Traveling Partner greatly this morning, and wishing perhaps that I’d worked from home, but we’d discussed that yesterday evening, and he expressed a desire to make the day a quiet one, healing and resting, and to support that endeavor, I committed to the commute and the day in the office. Maybe a short one? I’d love to get the weekend started and get out in the garden again, or try a trail I’ve never walked before, or just… drive somewhere far. lol That restless nature nagging at me in the background almost makes me giggle – I’d be satisfied to spend the day in my studio, on an artistic journey, and as that thought crosses my mind, I realize that this is what I’m yearning for – some creative time in my own head, whether writing, or painting, or in the garden. Well, the weekend is here, and that’s easily done. I just have to begin again. 😀

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Categories Allegories, art and the artist, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gardening, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, inspiration, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Roses, solo hiking, Spring, The Art of Being, turning 60, weight loss secrets, winter
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