Archives for posts with tag: The Big 5

Daybreak comes earlier as Spring approaches. Soon my early morning walks will bring me face to face with the sunrise, but that’s not yet. No need to wait for the sun, though, I have enough light to see the trail.

Cloudy winter morning just before dawn.

As the hints of blue sky are covered by incoming clouds, I lace up my boots. I’ve got the trail alone again this morning. I breathe the cold air, grateful for breath. It’s no small thing to be able to breathe easily, and worth a moment of gratitude.

This morning I am thinking about love. I consider, fondly, this partnership I have, now, and the journey getting here to this place in life. My heart is filled with love songs and enthusiasm. I’m grateful to know love at all – that doesn’t happen for everyone, and I was definitely late to that party! In 1995, I was still confusing lust and love, and it was obvious in my decision making. My heart was full of rage and pain, my head was a mess of chaos and damage. I wasn’t ready for love, at all. It would be many years before I would be.

“Face of Gods: Lust” acrylic mixed media, with ceramic & broken glass, on canvas  10″ x 10″, 2005

In fact, after some peculiar facsimiles of love, over various relationships and several years, it was 2010 before I actually found myself wrapped in love (and confusing it for lust), and another year or so before I began to truly recognize the difference and begin to understand what love demands (and needs to thrive), and I’m still learning.

“Communion” acrylic on canvas with ceramic details, 24″x36″ 2011

This too, is a journey.

The lines between love and lust can be blurry, but there’s no mistaking one for the other. When lust cools, and it sometimes will, love stands fast, unconcerned with such trivia. I walked with my thoughts and love songs in my heart. Nice morning for it. I feel fortunate and grateful to share the journey with my Traveling Partner. Fortunate to love like we do, and fortunate to burn (still) with lust’s fire for this human being I love so well. It’s a potent emotional cocktail.

I laugh to myself remembering a certain friend who had suggested at the time that perhaps this man (who would become my beloved Traveling Partner) was “just using” me… I remember my reply. “If he is? Worth it.” Possibly one of the most true things I’ve ever said. lol I’m grateful (and fortunate) to enjoy loving and being loved. Is there a price to be paid? Sure, isn’t there always? But at least in my own life, the price I’ve paid for lust has been paid in cash and pain, and paid in the damage done and the risk to my safety and sanity, where the price I’ve paid for love has been paid in the coin of a very different realm. I have had to learn to be “better than I am”, and learn to treat my Partner’s heart well. It’s been difficult and demanding. I am better for it, a thousand times over.

Love songs and gratitude are a nice way to start a morning. I smile while I walk, still smiling when I stop to write these few words. Love has made me work so much harder than lust ever would, but it has been so worth it. With a heart full of love, and an eye on the sunrise, I begin again.

I’m sipping my coffee reflecting on love, life, and how incredibly fortunate I feel, how grateful I am, for the partnership I share with my beloved Traveling Partner. Fuck, this has been a hard year (and then some) since his injury back in – was it November? December? – of 2023. Learning to be a caregiver, not just a partner, friend, and lover, definitely showed off some of my unpreparedness in the vast world of adulting skillfully. I had (have) a lot to learn. I’m glad things are improving (every day) now. I feel relieved. Did I say already? I feel grateful. Fortunate. G’damn it could have been so much worse.

We become what we practice. Once we are adults, our quality of life is largely in our own hands. Not entirely, to be sure, because we don’t all face the same circumstances, and just keeping it real – “the playing field” is not level. No one is in this alone, but we’re each having our own experience, and there is no question that some people are dealt a far more valuable hand of cards in the game than others. So…yeah. There’s that. Beyond that, though, we each have (and make) choices. Those choices really matter. Giving up on that is an unfortunately common mistake, but it’s an easy one to make. I think about that, and times that I’ve abdicated my responsibility to myself, yielded to cynicism, bitterness, or feelings of futility, and made things so much worse than they could have been, if I had chosen differently. Worth reflecting on, but as with so many such things – the lessons we learn after-the-fact can’t help us in the moment. I breathe, exhale, and relax. Sip my coffee. Listen to the woosh of the ventilation in the office – and feel grateful. Love has made a huge difference in how I make choices, and what matters most. I would not be the woman I am without the love I share with my Traveling Partner. Grateful barely describes my feelings.

“Communion” 2010

I feel so loved. My Traveling Partner can (and does) come to me openly and talk about his feelings and his worries. I can go to him when I am feeling feelings, and share my experience and feel supported and heard. Do we have challenges? Sure. We’re human beings, being human. This love, though… g’damn, am I wrapped in love. I woke this morning feeling loved. I’ll work through the day feeling it, too. It’s reciprocal. I love this man with a love that I don’t even know how to contain. Is it reasonable, practical, or even “sane”? Hell if I know – I don’t even care about that. I just love him. He loves me back. That’s worth something in this fairly scary world of chaos, violence, and human suffering. It’s something to “come home to”. I sip my coffee thinking of the moments we shared last night, talking and connecting, and loving each other. I hope every time I’m ever annoyed or angry over something trivial or stupid that my memory will carry me back to last night, and remind me that I am loved, and that love matters most. I hope the same for him – I can be damned frustrating to deal with sometimes – I hope he always feels loved, in spite of that. I sigh quietly and smile.

Is love a journey or a destination? Or… is love a verb?

…To experience an uncompromising, enduring love for so very long is a rare thing. For me, there’s only been this one, and all other relationships and moments of affection are dim lights compared to this roaring blaze. Love is always uniquely special, as feelings go, and I can only say again how fortunate I feel, and how grateful, to experience this one. This moment, here, now, wrapped in love – and all the others that my Traveling Partner and I have shared. I hope the journey goes on “forever” (or some close approximation of that idea), it’s been a journey worth sharing with this singular human being who loves me so…

“Cherry Blossoms” 14″ x 20″ acrylic on canvas. 2011

I sit quietly, smiling. Nothing else, really, just sipping my coffee and thinking about love. Work can wait on lovers, surely…?

So much of life is about love and loving.

My Traveling Partner is more than my spouse – so much more – he is my best friend. My muse. The inspiration behind so much of my artistic work over the past 15 years. The maker of so many delightful moments, and thoughtful things I use every day. I’d be pretty fucking lost without him – and very alone.

An alternate spelling of “I love you”.

I think about writing my beloved a love note, and realize as I sit here that I sort of already have. It never feels like enough; the love we share is so huge in the experience of a single moment. lol Filled with quiet joy, and wrapped in love, I begin again.

I’m sitting at the half-way point of my morning walk, thinking about an interesting moment of recognition at the gas station earlier that illuminated the importance of not being a jerk to people, and of “values” generally. It constrasted rather dramatically with a moment in the Congressional interview of Dr Fauci that I saw yesterday while I was at my appointment, in which a Congressional representative refused to address the renowned physician by his title.

This morning while refueling my car, a man at the adjacent pump ahead of me called out, in a friendly tone, “Gotten coffee yet?” I laughed and replied “Not yet, that’s next!” He pointed to my license plate and said “I saw your license plate, and knew you were a coffee person.” I assumed from his remark that we probably frequent the same coffee place. My license plate is sufficiently distinctive to create recognition, I guess, but there’s really nothing about it that shouts “coffee”. This, by itself, was somewhat educational.

…Don’t be a jerk in traffic, especially if you have a distinctive or recognizable vehicle (but mostly because that kind of shitty behavior is rude, and frankly dangerous)…

When I pulled into the drive through to get my coffee, there was the guy from the gas station, directly ahead of me. I waved. He waved back. It wasn’t creepy, and there was no stalker vibe, it was just two people,  and a moment of shared recognition. Very human. Very civil. The sort of thing that characterizes small town life. It was a pleasant moment of community.

Recognition matters. Willfully withholding recognition when it could be offered is pretty rude (like refusing to call a person by their title in a setting in which it is expected), and in some circumstances could be viewed as an act of aggression. It’s definitely rude, if nothing else.

What I found interesting in the comparison between the Congressional interview and the unexpected recognition at the gas station this morning, was how clearly it illustrated the value of civility in daily life, and the way an individual’s decision to be civil (or not) can alter an interaction. I could so easily have been terse or rude to the stranger at the gas station, and under some circumstances that might have seemed appropriate. The rude ill-mannered Congressional representative aggressively refusing to address a physician by the earned honorific of “Doctor” could have profoundly improved the productivity and tone of the interview by simply choosing not to be rude, and maintaining a civil presence as a professional… although that no doubt generates fewer clicks and views on media pages, and social media platforms.

Recognition matters. Being civil matters, too. It’s rather a shame that we’re not teaching these skills, rewarding this behavior, and promoting these cultural values. They seem pretty worthwhile.

I learned an additional lesson this morning about small town living, “Karens“, and recognition; it’s a small world, and we are noticed as often as we are ignored – and it’s pretty damned difficult to know when it’s going to be one vs the other. Being on our “best behavior” (and by this I mean specifically  being “civil”) is a good general approach. We make ourselves memorable to each other through our words and actions. We affect the world and people around us thereby. We are seen. Visible. Recognized. Our words and actions can change another person’s experience.

…How do you want to be known? By what characteristics do you wish to be defined? What is it about the person you are that you want to be recognized for? Who are you when you are the person you most want to be? Are you practicing that?

…Can you actually see yourself in your mirror the way the world sees you? Is that who you see yourself to be?

Wheaton’s Law is still very relevant. Having and practicing good values really matters in the world. What are your values? Have you chosen wisely? Do you actually live the values you say you have? You have the opportunity every day to do better for yourself, your relationships, your community, society, and the world. Just saying, it’s something to reflect on.

…Can you speak to a manager without becoming a “Karen”? That’s a useful skill to cultivate.

I take a few minutes to think about my “big 5” relationship values… respect, consideration, reciprocity, compassion, and openness. Are they enough? Am I practicing them consistently? What changes can I make to live up to my own expectations better and more consistently? Am I reliably sufficiently civil to be welcome in good company?

It’s a gray morning that threatens more rain. I’m in a more or less typical amount of pain, but feeling much more myself than yesterday. I think of my Traveling Partner, sleeping at home, and my awareness fills with love. I contemplate this morning’s interesting lessons and how best to make use of them within the context of love and partnership.

I gather my thoughts and get ready to begin again…

It’s a new morning. I hit the trail at sunrise, hoping to “walk off” this headache, this backache, the pain in my neck, and my general irritation with the day (which hasn’t even had a chance to get started)… but, as is often the case, all those things “follow me” down the trail and linger in my awareness.

Every journey begins somewhere.

…I find myself dreading the day, and feeling a bit trapped by my circumstances and choices. I remind myself how illusory such feelings can be, and to let shit go – let small shit stay small – and I remind myself to practice non-attachment, and to be mindful of impermanence. In the meantime, my steps carry me down this trail…

Pretty words and aphorisms don’t create change. My experience changes when I change my thinking or my actions, and it often takes some time. It’s a process. It’s important to understand that changing my own thinking and actions doesn’t change anyone else’s; it’s important to choose change based on what I want from the woman in the mirror. We’re each walking our own path, each having our own experience.

For many years I twisted helplessly within one relationship or another  trying to be the person a particular partner wanted, and often lost sight of who I,  myself, want to be. I suspect that’s not an experience unique to me. I try to approach things differently these days. I work on becoming the person I most want to be, myself, for me, based on my own values and sense of self. Taking the raw materials I’ve got, chaos and damage and all the messy broken bits, and practicing the practices that move me along my path in a way that causes no harm in my relationships, and creates harmony and connection isn’t reliably easy (or obvious), but I keep at. Seems a worthy endeavor and life is better for it.

…I am for sure not “perfect”… (there is no “perfect”)

Just as I walk this trail one step at a time, I walk my path in life one step at a time. The nice thing about this is that when I stumble (and I do), I can begin again – one step at a time. I set my goals. I measure my progress. I define my success (and my failure).

It’s been a challenging couple of days, for me. Caring for my Traveling Partner while he recovers from an injury has some difficult moments, bringing me to confront some things I would like to do differently and with greater skill. Requires practice. He’s got his own path to walk, and I can’t walk it for him – and it’s a poor choice to take that at all personally. His path is not about me. It’s more effective to focus on what I can do to be a good partner and care provider, and to be alert for opportunities to do more/better – or at least not make shit worse.

…I gotta say, my results vary…

The weekend is almost here. These days that doesn’t promise any great amount of actual rest, at all, there’s just too much to get done, and pretty much every day I already feel very behind on basically everything, more or less all the time. I’ll make a list of “must do” items and add things my Traveling Partner has explicitly asked me to take care of, and do my best to work down that list, task by task, until it’s all done… if I’ve got it in me. Some days I manage it. Others I don’t. “Everything I can manage” has to be enough.

I breathe the fresh Spring air as I walk. It’s a beautiful morning. I exhale each breathe grateful to have another day ahead to practice being the woman I most want to be. Who is she? How does she interact with the world? How does she handle her emotions? What’s her self-talk like? I see her as kind, considerate, experienced, and able to calmly deal with most of life’s chaos without losing perspective. I see her as someone helpful and understanding, compassionate and concerned for the state of the world (and her relationships). I see her being willing to listen, and honest without being unkind. I see her as comfortable setting boundaries, and respecting the boundaries set by others. I see her as a woman of great joy and enormous capacity for love. She’s hospitable, generous – but not a “sucker”. She walks through life with purpose, confident her path is right for her.

…Gotta have goals! Helpful to have a sense of self, both as I am here/now, and also where I would like to find myself. I walk on with my thoughts…

…Breathe, exhale, relax… walk on.

The day ahead seems more ordinary and routine, as I walk. I find myself more able to avoid taking my partner’s recent temper personally (or my own) as I walk down the path. Most of these moments of ill temper are a byproduct of injury or pain, and the ups and downs of medication taken to relieve discomfort or promote healing. An astonishing amount of the medication we’re given pretty commonly also happens to be mind or mood altering, though people rarely discuss it as being so. Even OTC stuff often has profound potential to color our thinking or the lens through which we view the world. I remind myself to be more patient and kind about such things, and to try to let petty aggravations just… go. It’s not personal.  Hell, sometimes that shit is barely real.

I laugh to myself, thinking about my own moments of misplaced temper in life. No shortage of those. Perspective. I could do better. I keep practicing.

I also keep walking. I get to the bench at the turn around point and sit down to write for a few minutes. This is some of my most cherished time each day. These few minutes of self-reflection and writing help me focus on what matters most, and help me find my calm center, my sense of perspective, and my joy. Whatever else any given day throws my way, I’ve got this moment, pretty reliably. That’s something worth having. I savor it.

I breathe, exhale, relax, and take a moment to enjoy the Spring sunrise and the golden hues that filter through the trees. It’s a new day, and I’ve got the path ahead, and a chance to begin again.

I woke groggy and in pain, this morning. Massive headache. Sinus congestion (and assorted other allergy symptoms). Tendonitis in my right knee. Osteo-arthritis pain in my spine. Traveling Partner’s bad mood ringing in my ears, first thing. Fucking hell – what a way to start a new work week, and first day back to the office after a couple very relaxing days away from “everything”. After an hour of snarling to myself discontentedly all the way to the city, I sat down to assess the work that landed on my plate while I was out of the office. My coffee is already gone. My headache most definitely is not.

…Pain sucks…

This morning is every bit as just frankly terrible as the weekend was delightful. Maybe there’s a real relationship between those things, but more likely it’s just a random correlation in the timing, with no meaning outside whatever meaning I choose to force into it. I start working on letting all that shit go. All of it. I start by replying to my Traveling Partner’s messages, catching up on email and taking something for my pain. I make another cup of coffee. I wade through 2 days of Slack pings and bookmark a handful for later action. I make notes about what has to get done today, and what needs my attention this week. I make reminders for myself to tackle some tasks my Traveling Partner asked me to handle for him, today.

…Fuck this headache, though…

I’m starting the day feeling distracted and annoyed. It’s less than ideal, and I would very much like to just have a fucking tantrum, cry, and maybe break some shit… but… that’s literally not who I am, or how I prefer to handle my emotions. It’s just a feeling I’m feeling, right now, and it’ll pass. I take a breathe, and a sip of coffee. My eye lands on my calendar, and I realize I’m “ahead of things”, based on the timing I had allotted to do the basic catching up, this morning. That’s a nice – if small – win. I adjust my calendar details for accuracy (it’s just a thing I do), and I don’t put anything into the time I “got back in my day” based on that change – I’ll just go with it. Feels good. Small wins are still wins, and I pause to enjoy that feeling.

I started the Ozempic yesterday. All the anxiety and rethinking and caution and concern… over… what, exactly? It wasn’t at all difficult to give myself the shot. I haven’t had any kind of side effects (yet). “Nothing to see here.” It still has the power to astonish me how often we create our drama and sorrow out of thin air, or allow ourselves to become freaked out over some momentary bullshit that literally does not actually matter in any substantial way. We’re strange creatures. I breathe, exhale, and relax, feeling the pain in my body and trying to let even that just go. My results vary, but making the attempt feels worthwhile, and at least somewhat effective… maybe?

I sit with my irritable mood and my coffee, managing to be annoyed that I “missed the sunrise”, being distracted by work things as soon as I arrived in the office. It’s not worth being annoyed about, but I prefer it over being annoyed with my Traveling Partner, who managed to genuinely vex me this morning, just being human himself. Working toward also letting that go, I find myself annoyed by other things too small to actually care about, which is… fucking stupid, but very human. I quietly remind myself not to let the moment color the day, which seems practical and wise – I hope I can take my own advice. lol

I continue to drink my coffee, plan my day, and fuss to myself quietly over the amount of pain I am in this morning. I’m unlikely to bitch about it openly in my interactions with other people – which serves to remind me how little we can know about what someone else is actually going through. The result is that I find myself looking at my Traveling Partner’s early morning shitty mood with fond compassion and empathy, instead of just being irritated with him for being irritable, himself. No, I didn’t need that shit this morning, at all, but it’s not as if he’s dishing that shit out “on purpose” with an intention of causing me to also have a shitty morning; he’s having his own experience. I feel for him. He woke too early, when I got up to pee in the wee hours, and couldn’t get back to sleep. That sucks. I get being irritable as a result. I sigh to myself, and drink more coffee. My ears are ringing and my head hurts, but it’s not a reason to be a dick to people. I can do better… I just need more practice.

I finish my coffee, and open up my checklist of shit to get done today… it’s time to begin again.