Archives for posts with tag: The Big 5
« Older Entries
Newer Entries »

Well, Hello Game-Changer

March 5, 2016 //
0

My traveling partner arrived, blowing in unexpectedly like a spring shower after a dry winter, and every bit as welcome. I’ve been enjoying his time, his company, his humor, his love, his delights and charms. All the best bits of people being together, it’s nice. There’s a lot more I could say, but I would likely encroach on his story, and that’s not my intent. Having no particularly firm expectations or certainty, I embrace the moments, enjoy them without reservation, and…

Love doesn't watch the clock.

Love doesn’t watch the clock.

…I quickly find that I haven’t been on my meditation cushion, or yoga mat, in days – and haven’t taken time to write. My ‘habits’, however helpful, positive, nurturing – or longstanding – break easily. I begin again. It’s practice. Practices are ongoing. I rarely think in terms of ‘habits’ so much any more, because they are so easily broken.

Love is reciprocal.

Love is reciprocal.

Last night I arrived home to his warm embrace and loving smile. I made a point to gently take the time I need for meditation; however much his wounded heart needs the comfort of home and companionship, I need this time for myself,  or I would quickly find I am unable to provide the listening ear, and loving arms he needs so much right now. I have plans to hike with a friend today. I haven’t canceled them, although love is on my doorstep. Love doesn’t benefit from me abandoning my friends. Before bed, I set expectations that I’d be up early, and would want to write in the morning. There is no drama or animus in it, or in his reaction. He is up early this morning, anyway; sleeping deeply in a strange place takes getting used to. I make us both coffees, and enjoy mine at my desk, fingers contentedly clicking away. “Hey, Baby… I’m going to close this door, okay?” He says it as he does it, and there is no interruption, only my reply as I write, “Okay.” I hear music in the background and smile. It’s a good day that begins with love.

I keep practicing. There are so many practices worth practicing, worth maintaining over time or renewing if they have grown stale or become disused. “Begin again.” So simple. Where did it come from? I read so much… In its simplest form, as an idea, it seems the sort of pairing of words to associate with ‘always’, but recognizing this has been rather a long journey, and that I have indeed ‘begun again’ so many times… I’m still not certain that the words held so much meaning for me before sometime after 2013. Life had reached this place where the chronic mistreatment by one partner, and the generally very good but sometimes surprisingly variable treatment of another, required me to begin again, in a lot of ways, on a lot of practices, and finally in some rather magical way ‘beginning again’ in my life, itself, by moving into my own space. Beginning again with my traveling partner as we healed both shared and individual hurts. Beginning again as an artist in a very confined space too small for large work. Beginning again in this lovely bigger space with room to work in abundance. Impermanence once sounded like a fairly ominous concept to become entangled with. Turns out it’s very much all tied up with beginning again. 🙂

My ‘hiking season’ begins again, today. I will walk a trail I’ve never walked. I will see a literal new point of view. I love living metaphors. I will head into the trees and metaphorically ‘walk on’. Solo hiking is another form of meditation, and a favorite one, and there will be time for that. Today, I go with a friend. Here, too, there are practices to practice, and beginnings aplenty. She makes good conversation, and has a good heart. (These are qualities most of my friends have, actually, as I give it some thought.) I will practice listening deeply, and speaking simply. When we’ve had our fill of the trees, birdsong, wildflower sightings, and laughter, we’ll return to the car, return to our routines, and all the details that fill the days and nights and leave me feeling so busy will have renewed luster, and fresh purpose. Well…that’s often the outcome of a good hike out in the trees. It’s been a long while since I arrived home from hiking to be greeted by love. I am eager to enjoy it, without expectations. (I mean, seriously? He might be out of the house in that precious limited moment I arrive home. lol It happens.)

Why yes, thank you, I shall.

Why yes, thank you, I shall.

Today is a good day to begin again. Today is a good day to love and be loved in return. Today is a good day to renew a sense of purpose where purpose is needed, but perhaps fallen flat. Today is a good day to walk on, and to practice – there are still verbs involved. With practice, I change my experience. With enough practice, we change the world.

Tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,
Categories Brain Injury, Free Will, Healthy Living, Love, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Relationships, The Art of Being, The Big 5, weight loss secrets, Words

Simple Things, Complex Issues

February 19, 2016 //
0

It’s a quiet stormy evening. I’ve gotten most of my laundry done, bringing it in warm and dry from the laundry room between rain showers. Between loads of laundry I’ve spent time meditating, as storm clouds and passing showers crossed the view out the patio window. I enjoy seeing the sky, a horizon, a view, and so placed my favorite cushion for meditating just there, where my view of the park beyond the patio is unobstructed.

Potted miniature roses drenched by passing showers don't seem to mind the rain at all.

Potted miniature roses drenched by passing showers don’t seem to mind the rain at all.

Tonight had been planned for love and loving, but love had other needs, elsewhere, tonight. Love isn’t always easy, and needs considerable investment in respect, in consideration, in compassion, and yes, even openness and reciprocity. I’m sure I’ve never felt truly loved in their absence. (That’s why they are my Big 5 relationship values!) Still, I don’t feel any lack of love for love’s lack of proximity tonight. I feel heard, cared for, respected, valued – I feel wrapped in the comfort and warmth of a strong partnership, signal boosted with clear communication and explicit expectation setting. I find myself feeling compassion (his are complicated circumstances), and hoping very much that the evening goes well for my tested traveling partner; his relationship building skills are considerable – love still requires that everyone involved make an equal investment of heart, and will, and effort. No one human being can hold an entire relationship together alone. There are so many verbs involved…mindful loving uses many more of them than I had imagined (and I still have so much to learn). Listening deeply is a practice worthy of practicing – and then practicing more; I’ve learned so much more about love in the silence between my words that gives my lover room to be heard, than I ever did in one moment of something I said myself. Still; verbs. It isn’t enough to wait to talk. It’s the listening that counts, and doing it skillfully requires more than a little practice.

Listening deeply is like looking at something distant, requiring attention, focus, engagement and presence; this is not a picture of branches.

Listening deeply is like looking at something distant; it requires attention, focus, engagement and presence. (This is not a picture of branches.)

The television is off. No background slide show, no cartoons or animation, no favorite series or new hilarious YouTube video, science documentary, or nature show to pull my focus from the quiet evening. I am giving myself my time and attention. There is music playing, but that too is subdued; jazz (‘fusion’) tonight, bass heavy, relaxed, complex, rich, and joyous, and turned down low enough to feel the quiet of evening nonetheless – the sort of easy, inspiring sounds that apparently compel considerable overuse of adjectives and adverbs – the musical equivalent of poetry, but the sort of uplifting simple thing easily remembered and happily shared.

Too many words. This is too many – isn’t it? Is it? I’m not sure. I think I’ve gone a tad overboard here, just now, but I feel content and filled with warm joy and a feeling of security. It’s pleasant – and I don’t feel quite this way very often at all. It’s the security, I think – a sort of calm strength just beneath the surface of the contentment and joy. It’s nice. I’m sure I ‘worked’ to get ‘here’…but I didn’t plan it, or seek it out, I’ve been busy on other practices, other verbs, other concerns in life. Maybe that’s the point of what I am saying tonight; I didn’t chase this down as an outcome. I simply arrived here. Practicing good basic self-care, treating myself truly well, practicing practices that build emotional resilience and self-sufficiency, learning skills that support my emotional balance – whether I am home alone, out in the world, or faced with a moment of someone else’s drama – each incremental change over time has been a step on a journey that brought me here. ‘Here’ is very nice, I must say…and it’s enough.

One moment of many. I am here. I am okay. This is enough.

One moment of many. I am here. I am okay. This is enough.

Today is a good day to enjoy what is – whatever it is, however much it can be enjoyed. Today is a good day to learn from what hurts. Today is a good day to watch storms pass over head, and to recognize the difference between ‘climate’ and ‘weather’. Today is a good day to take a step back from the world, and listen deeply in a quiet moment.

Tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,
Categories Brain Injury, Free Will, Healthy Living, Love, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Parables, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Relationships, The Big 5, Words

Ouch.

February 11, 2016 //
1

I’m no good with raised voices. My insides go tense and weird and I panic, chest heavy, struggling for breath. I maintain calm by force. I remind myself to breathe. Tears slide down my face recalling my traveling partner tersely telling me, voice cutting with emphasis, that he feels I don’t allow him to experience his emotions. I struggle for breath in the face of astonishment at how often I have felt that experience, myself, and how many other times one of us has said as much to the other. Fucking primates – how do we treat each other so poorly, and with so little regard?

I just sit down and cry. He’s left, of course. He suggested it. I agreed. Choices. Verbs. I’ll probably cry awhile, evening feeling blown and wishing I hadn’t bothered, or had canceled when I realized I had a headache, before the work day ended; he was clearly not in a great place when he picked me up.

Shit. So, here I am. Tears. Disappointment. Heartache. He said good night without saying he loves me; that’s meaningful and so rare that I’m fairly certain it is a first. It hurts. A lot. The sad starts taking over, and I move from the living room to the keyboard, hoping that words will diminish the pain. I feel incredibly alone right now, and I hurt. There’s a wee rational bit leftover, somewhere in the background, earnestly trying to pull my attention back to right now, succeeding only in causing me to worry about this one human so dear to me, driving upset with me, maybe even feeling unloved, and icy fear sweeps over me and I hope that he feels enough better when he gets home to let me know he’s safe…

p.s. I love you.

p.s. I love you.

I don’t actually understand what went wrong this evening. It seemed so random and strange. I don’t know what ’caused it’ – and from the things he said before he left, our recollections are so different as to be pointless to compare. We were not having similar experiences at all. I was not understanding him, nor did he seem to be understanding me, like a conversational fun house mirror, the words seem to mean entirely different things heard than spoken. I know he had a headache. I know he has an ill pet at home. I know I’m not the best with the communication stuff sometimes. Something went very wrong. I wish I knew what would make it right.

"You Always Have My Heart"

“You Always Have My Heart”

What a poor choice of way to end an evening… I could choose better, but…it’s hard. I breathe deeply and try to understand why it feels wrong to put aside the hurting and pick up a book, or have a quiet cup of tea and let it go. I want to make it right… I feel at fault. It’s not helpful – and it’s not quite the same as feeling responsible, or accountable, or just feeling a moment of compassion that two people who love each other so much still have moments like this. It’s hard not to dive deep. It’s hard not to go numb. It’s hard not to punish myself. I’m okay right now – that’s hard too; there are verbs involved.  I think about emailing him – the emotional equivalent of drunk-dialing, and I refuse to indulge myself; neither of us need the drama, and I am too fragile to be certain of avoiding it, and being reasonable, and kind, and grown up.

I remember the nice moment a bit earlier when he told me I was sweet, with so much love. Tears start again. Words feel empty and incomplete. I go for my checklist; meditation next.

Perspective isn't always easy; verbs require effort.

Perspective isn’t always easy; verbs require effort.

Today was a lovely day, with just one difficult moment. Moments matter – and they’re just moments. I’m okay right now, and a few tears haven’t hurt me before. This is a safe quiet place, and moments pass. I hear a mocking voice in my head tell me ‘maybe if you throw more platitudes at it something will stick’, and feel a moment of further hurt that I hear it in my partner’s voice. Well, crap. If my brain is going to start playing mean games with me, it’s definitely a good time to step away from the internet. Tomorrow I can begin again.

Tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,
Categories Anxiety, Brain Injury, Free Will, Mindfulness, more than a little bit of bitching, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Relationships, The Big 5, women, Words

Catching Up On Missed Details

February 10, 2016 //
0

Fatigue still seems to be catching up to me unexpectedly easily. I wake comfortably this morning after a restful night, and not overly concerned about it, but it turns my attention to a number of life’s details that were quickly shifted to ‘later’ during the move, and attending to them makes sense, certainly putting them off indefinitely is a poor choice.

After yoga, a shower, and making coffee I remember that the quantity of coffee on hand is quite low. I order coffee, and recall that the wall heater uses considerable energy (costly) and that I had planned to get a second oil heater to keep the more spacious apartment comfortable; I make a note for later. While I am involved thus, I make a point of identifying assorted other quality of life details that need to be adjusted or refreshed for the new living space, and if nothing else, I give each sufficient consideration to have an idea what I will do about them, and when. I take time to consider my ‘breakables’ – a collection of delicate glass, porcelain, and crystal objects that I enjoy displaying and using; I made a point of boxing them all up for safety when it was clear that the environment was putting them at risk (before I moved into Number 27), and they have remained packed up since. No curio. (They used to ‘live in’ my sideboard, unless they were out, here and there.) I’ve bookmarked a couple lovely pieces to finish the dining room – a lighted glass door cabinet, and a cute chest with drawers that will serve well as a smallish sideboard; they compliment the light wood of the table. I find myself regularly brushing my hair out of my eyes and recognize that the more immediate need is for a haircut; I have Monday off, and book an appointment.

The day starts in this very grown up way, taking care of the needs of the moment, planning out the future quality of life improvements, and smiling that there is any sense that my quality of life actually needs any ‘improvement’. The smile pulls my attention, somehow, back to the quality of my life, generally, and the moment of contentment and appreciation finishes, rather amusingly, with the recollection that I don’t have a good mop for the much larger kitchen/dining room floor. I order one; that’s a ‘sooner than later’ detail, since a dirty floor will render a home seemingly filthy even when that is the literal only messy detail. (I am no longer that woman who has no will or energy available to live beautifully; I have the verbs for that.)

I feel relaxed and confident in my space and in my experience – and this feeling doesn’t feel ‘alien’ or unfamiliar. It feels more as if something treasured that was missing has been found. I think over my recent nightmare, still clinging to my consciousness, and the epiphany that followed and weave it together with the recollections of times past when I felt my most whole, my most adult, my most capable, and the when/where of those experiences – unsurprisingly nearly all of them at points in my life when I was living alone, however briefly… (with one notable exception; my relationship with my traveling partner, which tends generally be to very adult-to-adult with the exception of an extraordinary period of care and support when I needed it most, struggling to wean myself off of poorly chosen psych meds, and later when we were both working through issues associated with my injury, or my PTSD).

Trying to force myself to live comfortably in a pair-bonding cohabitation model of existence hasn’t worked out well for me, in any relationship. Attempting to cohabit with multiple adult partners (and their multiple very human issues) didn’t work out very well, either (although I could see myself trying again with a more rational choice of partnerships – a choice of more rational partners?). I find myself again and again allowing myself to be lead into over-compromising my needs, my values, or my quality of life solely to avoid confrontation, when I live with other people. It’s silly – and not a very efficient way to live harmoniously. Festering resentment is super unpleasant to live around, and to be quite reasonable about it, my anger is not something to be trifled with, but that’s a truth that is often not heard between primates until shit goes really wrong. Then it’s all neighbors on the news with quotes like “well, she always seemed very pleasant, I’m very surprised…”. It’s not a place I want to find myself, frankly. So. Other choices.

I am still getting used to the spaciousness here. Gone the utterly necessary compactness of … everything. Am I rambling? If I am, is it because there is so much additional room here? More than enough – which feels a tad strange very often, still. The roominess here, for one person, is ‘ample’. Perhaps even ‘ideal’ (for me). The idealness of it is taking some getting used to, and there is some point in my consciousness I occasionally catch discontentedly searching for ‘the worm in the apple’. Freaking human primate negative bias issues – like I need that bullshit! 🙂 Meditation works well to address that… I think I’ll do that.

Begin again... And then again. Each dawn is a new beginning.

Begin again… And then again. Each dawn is a new beginning.

Today is a choice day to begin with good choices. Today is a lovely day to spend the day on loving, and being love. Today is a fine day to reflect on the woman in the mirror, and the opportunity to live well that stretches ahead. Today is a very good day to take care of me, and in doing so I am changing my world.

Tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,
Categories Brain Injury, Free Will, Healthy Living, Logic & Reason, Mindfulness, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Relationships, The Art of Being, The Big 5, Words

Bliss Point

January 24, 2016 //
0

Suddenly the apartment is so very quiet, almost unnaturally still. To be fair, I turned off the stereo some minutes ago, precisely for the quiet and a few still minutes. Silly primate – it  hardly makes it at all remarkable, when it is chosen. 🙂

My traveling partner spent the better part of the entire week with me, this past week, and it’s a rare delight. It’s been quite connected and wonderful, easy, and intimate; we work, and it’s an experience I enjoy greatly. We enjoyed this last morning (at least for some days to come) gently, over coffees and music, and baking cookies together before he took off for the company of other friends in other places. I am excited and hopeful that he enjoys an experience worth having, and I know that his own good choices will put him on that path. On the other hand… I already miss him.

Love in the kitchen.

Love in the kitchen.

I still have work to do, a journey ahead of me, with the woman in the mirror; it is still so easy to thoughtlessly defer immediately to any whim my love may have in the moment without also considering what I need for myself, and too easy to rest gently by his side, doe-eyed, without expectation, wrapped in warmth in some romantic Land of the Lotus Eaters, no needs beyond his presence. I actually have quite a lot more I’d like to get done, day-to-day, as pleasant as that is. 🙂 He left some minutes ago, and for the first several of those it was rather as if I had had something precious torn from me – the pain was quite peculiarly visceral, and very real seeming. So I turned off the music. I sat quietly. I took time to breathe. I took time to enjoy and savor the recollection of the lovely time we’d shared together this past week. I recalled some wonderful humorous repartee exchanged, and some heart-felt emotional moments. I gave further consideration to his gentle suggestions for improvement in the layout of my space, and some efficiency and safety recommendations. I thought over some cool quality of life improvements he suggested I do further research on that sounded quite good to me. I remembered his kisses, his touch, his loving gaze. I began to feel quite calm and secure and steady, and smiled remembering I’ve specifically asked to have some time to get the move out of the way, and that he has graciously made that work in his current plans – he’s that guy; it matters to me, and he respects my ability to plan and execute this move, and understands that there is value for me in handling it for a number of reasons. He is considerate and supportive of my needs. He’s a partner.

I have been putting quite a lot into deep listening, and slowing down and giving my partner room to be, room to talk and to share. I sit now, quietly, considering my partner’s words about his comfort, likes, preferences, needs, and the new place I am moving into. I feel supported and cared for, and reciprocate even in my planning; I look for ways to ensure the space suits his comfort as much as mine, without regard to whether we cohabit permanently or full-time. Whether he lives there is not relevant to my desire that he feel ‘at home’ in my space every bit as much as I do, myself. I don’t think I can explain why I place importance on his comfort, but it is quite important to me, and I have difficulty understanding how anyone can say “I love you” to someone else without also being willing to reciprocate actions of love.

Sometime around mid-morning, I realized we’d simply hit our ‘bliss point’ as humans together; doing things we love with someone we love, having a shared and intimate connected experience unique to this particular combination of humans, only. Not because no one else could share a small kitchen baking lemon shortbread, or because no one else enjoys coffee in the morning with their lover, but because no other combination of human primates would be precisely us, with our values, with our individual and shared histories, with our individual ways of viewing the world and communicating that to each other… we just happened to be, in that moment, the most wondrously, joyously, easily, happily, romantically us that ever tends to be – and it was enough. More than enough. For that short shared beautiful time, it was everything (in its own delightfully limited way). So much so that when the door closed, and he was gone, in that instant of real anguish… there was also joy. It makes sense that I needed some quiet time to sit and smile and let it all soak in. 🙂

Yes. Quietly. Meditation. Study. Rest. I’ve got a busy week ahead filled with change; change is sometimes hard on me, even when I embrace it so eagerly. It will be important to take care of me. This is all happening so fast…

I am walking my path from another perspective, and there is more to learn.

I am walking my path from another perspective, and there is more to learn.

…I smile, and remind myself it is entirely okay to slow it down. I notice the time and realize that aside from having a ‘test cookie’ with my traveling partner, my calories today have been pretty minimal. I pause to hope that he is having the same thought, somewhere along the way, and stopping for a bite, himself – although I find myself regretting that I had not thought of it before he left, I can tell I needed the quiet, having finally reached ‘my bliss point’ and become perhaps even a bit overwhelmed by the power of love. I don’t beat myself up over needing a little space to handle the move; it’s complicated enough handling me handling the move as it is – it’s a lot of small changes, and tasks to juggle, and details. It’s time to be focused on good self-care, and to be reminded that I am enough. 🙂

Tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,
Categories Brain Injury, Free Will, Healthy Living, Love, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Perspective, Relationships, The Art of Being, The Big 5, Uncategorized, winter, women, Words
« Older Entries
Newer Entries »