Archives for posts with tag: the four agreements

I didn’t sleep well last night. Actually, I didn’t sleep last night. I went to bed in the evening feeling fully prepared and ready to sleep. I even fell asleep with little effort. For about 2 hours. Then I woke, and dozed, and woke again. I got up around 12:41 am and prowled the house quietly. Then back to bed; there were no monsters. I woke again shortly after 2:00 am, did the trip to the bathroom. Back to bed. Heard my partner wake and move about the house. Another sleepless being. Shortly after, I got up, and got more water. I kept trying to sleep. I kept dozing off, waking, and not sleeping. I figure I may have gotten about 3.5 hours of sleep. I am not rested. I am not alert. I am highly volatile, and likely to be easily irritated. I’m not making predictions or making assumptions; this is my now.

When I got up with the alarm and recognized my state of being for what it is, I made a point of alerting my partner – still awake, himself – and letting him know I’m high risk for tantrums and nastiness this morning. He shifted from delight at seeing me, to concern and tender caution. He made it easy to retreat to my own space, where it is at least quiet, and unlikely that someone will haplessly piss me off, without remembering the fragile state I’m in.

The weekend is a blur. I took yesterday off in observance of Veteran’s Day, so that someone else on my team could take it off today, comfortably. We’re both veterans. I will work today, fuzzy-headed, slowed-down from lack of sleep, irritable, and doing my best to be patient with random people thanking me for my service. (The temptation is always to explain very carefully why it wasn’t worth it, and how the price is too high; I already know they don’t understand, and I generally don’t bother.) They mean well, and generally in the moment they say the words, they are indeed attempting to communicate something heartfelt and important to them. I try to accept it, graciously. I can’t actually offer them absolution, if that is what they are seeking. There is no way to ‘validate their parking’ ethically on matters of war.

I can hear the family, on the other side of the door, talking and laughing. I feel a surge of pointless anger. I’m so tired. The anger isn’t rational, and there is no blame-worthy object at which to direct it. I didn’t sleep. I fell asleep dozens of times, never achieving a deep enough sleep to survive foot steps in the hallway, coughing, toilets flushing, trucks passing by, occasional nose-blowing, drawers, doors, or the noises of the pipes cooling, or whatever it is that pipes do that causes that knocking they sometimes do. These are all everyday sounds. Generally they are not sufficient to keep me awake, or to wake me. Last night I wasn’t sleeping well. Returning to a calm resting place wasn’t too hard. Even if I hadn’t been actually sleeping, and tired, and very much inclined to sleep, there’s always meditation to bring me to the edge of readiness to sleep, and from there it’s usually just a choice. Last night my experience was different. I didn’t sleep well.

Now I’ve been on about it for more than 500 words; it’s hard to think about anything but the sleep, and rest, I desperately need to function well when I didn’t get it. I dread going to work today.

Rain-drenched autumn flowers...no substitute for sleep.

Rain-drenched autumn flowers…no substitute for sleep.

I hurt this morning, too. I wonder if the pain kept me awake? I don’t recall now. I know I hurt.

Lovely blossoms, just less frequent than spring.

Lovely blossoms, less frequent than spring; even pain doesn’t hide autumn’s loveliness.

I’m almost numb with fatigue. I hadn’t slept well for a few days, although I had at least slept. It wasn’t enough to prepare me for this. I giggle slightly hysterically, frustrated by the rampant typing mistakes this morning, the inappropriate expression of amusement somehow my response to the internal seething. Yep. Tired. It’s going to be an interesting day at the office.

Sometimes the truth isn't grand, or illuminating.

Sometimes the truth isn’t grand, or illuminating.

Today isn’t wasted, in spite of the rough start. There’s always more to learn, and the challenges I face – when I face them well – show my strength. When I am less successful facing my challenges, I learn more, grow more, and find new questions to ask along this journey of discovery. Today is one day I’ll do so from the perspective of great fatigue, and limited resilience. The day is far from wasted; it has the potential to teach me something truly new about what I can do with my choices and my will, and where my values really lie. Today, as days go, is ideal for putting new practices to the test, and for seeing progress and growth in action. Tired isn’t synonymous with poor treatment. I still have choices. I still hold a standard of behavior in my treatment of others – and myself – that puts abuse out of reach, and challenges me to do more, better, on a day like today. Where might that take me? No idea. I know I am loved.

My traveling partner comes to me with a smile, and although my initial reaction is one of caution and suspicion (because I am, frankly, not entirely clear-headed), he reached out with love, wrapped me in his arms and held me, touching me gently, stroking my skin, rubbing my back in places he knows reliably hurt, and folding me in his love. Am I still tired? Oh yeah. Do I still hurt? Yep, unquestionably. I am loved, though, and that goes beyond pain, and beyond fatigue, and touches my heart. Even today.

Lovely autumn roses; more beautiful because they are unexpected.

Lovely autumn roses; more beautiful because they are unexpected.

Today is a good day to do my best. Today is a good day to avoid making assumptions. Today is a good day not to take stuff personally. Today is a good day to be impeccable with my words. Today is a good day to savor pleasant moments with my full attention. Today is a good day to let small stuff go. Today is a good day to be patient with myself, and with others. Today is a good day to take care of me, and mind the basics of good self-care – even if I didn’t get enough _______. (Today it’s ‘sleep’, tomorrow I might forget my vitamins. lol) Today is a good day to build a world that cares for me, by being one person I can always count on to do so.

Today I’m feeling pretty low, waking with a vicious headache, and memories of last night. I don’t care for drama so exploring the details isn’t on the agenda today. Is it enough to say I’m human? That I have moments of self-doubt, moments when things that made so much sense some other day don’t make sense right now? Times of struggle and heartache? I am, after all, grieving… that colors life somewhat, doesn’t it? I’m asking because, at 51, sometimes I don’t feel like I know the answers to some of these questions.

...There's still sky overhead...and possibilities.

…There’s still sky overhead…and possibilities.

Lonely in a crowd? Yeah, this has some of that feel to it. Uncertain about the future? Yep, I’ve got that, too. I feel sad. I feel challenged by life’s curriculum in a similar way to what I imagine it might be like to wander into a college physics class at some tender age, without any academic preparation, and being told my grade depends on the day’s pop quiz. My partners are good people. This morning the tears on my face and the splitting headache I woke with go hand in hand with my doubt that I qualify to make that team.

Death sometimes has an unexpectedly insistent way of making us look closely at our own life. What do I want out of mine, truly? Where am I headed? What is the trajectory of my choices, and where are they taking me? Is this what I what? Is it what will best meet my needs over time? I don’t have good answers to these questions either, and I feel adrift. Oddly, this does not make me eager to see my therapist, instead, a profound urge to ‘leave it all behind’ builds, but I don’t know what I really mean by that. I’m too old to ‘run away from home’ and the sorts of baggage I have are neatly chained to me, going along for the journey everywhere I go.

Each day dawns, entirely new, filled with potential and choices.

Each day dawns, entirely new, filled with potential and choices.

This one’s difficult. My skilled brain tries to tell me I will be okay, that “this too shall pass”. Mindfulness… well… yeah. It’s getting to be easier and more habitual. Mindfulness in moments like these doesn’t often do much to ‘make it stop hurting’. Opening my own heart to this experience of hurting and making room for it, and being compassionate with myself are not the simplest of tasks – particularly after an evening of being castigated for imperfect execution of practices that serve me so well other times, other days. So, I sit here allowing the tears with a certain irritated resignation, and doing what I can to be kind to myself, and understand that it’s all a lot to take, and that being human is the nature of my experience. I focus on me, my experience, what I need from me to feel nurtured and supported. There’s that emotional self-sufficiency piece rearing its head again, too. Would I cry less if I met more of my own needs? Maybe tears are what I have to count on? Where is the line between working through grief and trauma appropriately to heal, and ‘being a victim’ – is that a matter of perspective? I feel like I was headed for summer vacation and the teacher just handed me Moby Dick, War and Peace, and Atlas Shrugged and said “see you in two weeks”. Being a student of life and love doesn’t really end with ‘graduation’ – there’s always more to learn. I kind of wish I weren’t a ‘C student’, though, this shit is hard.

So. Today I am alone. In a sense, I always am; we are each having our own experience. That can be a very lonely thing, sometimes. It is, right now.

I’ll spend the weekend out in the trees, in the stillness, breathing, safe, content; I may not ‘figure it all out’, but I’ll get a break from everything that hurts except the stuff I carry with me. That I just have to deal with. It’ll be a few days, maybe, before I write here again. I won’t have access to the internet – the trees don’t use Facebook, they simply stand in stillness, content. Or something poetic like that. Anyway. I guess I’ve ‘run out of words’ for now.

What is there to say about a sunrise? It is, in a sense, the only 'do over' we get; a new day.

What is there to say about a sunrise? It is, in a sense, the only ‘do over’ we get; a new day.

No affirmations, today, they would feel hollow to me this morning – and if nothing else, I am genuine. Today I hurt.

Sunday already? Yesterday managed to feel both busy and leisurely, fully occupied and still including many lovely chill moments of stillness and contemplation. Sometimes I find that harder to manage when the house is filled with people, and I have to untangle shared or overlapping agendas and somehow still take care of me. The occasional solitary day, evening, or weekend often serves, as much as anything, as an opportunity to check in with myself and ensure that my needs remain my priority, and that I’m not allowing them to be swept away by someone else’s moment, or needs. Does that sound ‘selfish’? It did to me, too, for a long while – and well beyond when I’d moved past ‘selfish’ being some sort of secret swear word. I sometimes struggle with a hell of a gap between intellectual understanding and putting something in practice; mindfulness practices are a powerful way to close that gap.

This matters more than I understood when I started.

This matters more than I understood when I started.

This morning the day will be gently balanced between the things that must be done – adulthood is filled with those – and the things that I will do to support, nurture, and indulge myself, before another work week begins. I have a list. Keeping – and efficiently using – a ‘to do list’ is an important detail for me, otherwise I just don’t remember moment to moment what it is I intended to do. I rarely forget what I am doing mid-task, but while I am completing task A, however mindfully, I am highly likely to completely forget the existence of tasks B-Z altogether, or perhaps just one or two of them, and in that case without any predictable pattern to what is forgotten. Important things are as easily forgotten as unimportant things. Things I offered to do for someone else, that they are counting on, are as likely to be forgotten as something I promised myself, and that my heart is set on in some other moment. It can be very frustrating for me – I don’t doubt it is maddening for others. So. A list. This morning my list is filled with all manner of practical things; my partners are away, and no one likes to come home to a house not ready for the next week. I know I don’t care for that, myself.  Similarly, I dislike the experience of suddenly giving up on everything important to me, myself, to rush through a quantity of house work in a day that would impress a superhero if it got done in week; it drives anxiety, panic, and discontent, and I inevitably end up not doing some one thing that will prove to be the only thing the person I wanted to impress ever noticing. Fuck that. I prefer to clean as I go, as much as I can, and tidy up in a calm and mindful way, doing my best, and being satisfied with that. Simple basics that I would usually get done on a weekend will get done today, and I’ll still paint. I’ll do some nice things for each of my partners, small stuff that matters to them, each, as individuals, and I’ll still take care of me, too, ensuring that my needs for the upcoming week are met as well as the needs of my partners. It’s enough.

An opportunity to reflect in stillness and solitude.

An opportunity to reflect in stillness and solitude.

Next weekend I am solo camping. Learning to take care of me has also meant a frank acknowledgement of how my PTSD affects me in some circumstances that previously I would have just gritted my teeth, and endured things, hoping for the best and trying not to be a jerk, or lose my temper. Next weekend is the weekend of a local airshow. Rather than take Rx pharmaceuticals for the anxiety that the military aircraft overhead for 3 days causes me, I’m going camping and taking advantage of the time to invest in other needs. Fall camping feels different from summer camping. I’ve continued to build strength and bring new life to old skills. I’m eager to tackle more forested trails, and meditate under the stars. Camping is more practical, too, than a weekend getaway in a coastal cottage, and I am far less tempted by the world. I’m eager to have the work week behind me so I can head into the trees – so much so, that I am already entirely packed. lol. I’ll finish work Thursday, load my gear into a vehicle, and go.

See, the thing is, my Big 5 relationship values aren’t just about building relationships with other people, they are simple basic good treatment of humans; I try to apply them to myself, too, through my actions, my thoughts and my words. Can you see it? Let’s take a look together…

1. Respect is one of my Big 5. I respect my need for solitude to recharge, gain perspective, and invest in me creatively and emotionally by allowing myself to take advantage of rare solo days and weekends utterly guilt free, and without over-committing to things other people would like to have, or have done.

2. Consideration is possibly the most important of the Big 5; without Consideration, how is Respect even possible? I am considerate of my needs and experience, and of others, and by taking that approach I ensure I do small things that matter without stress – like taking out the trash and not overlooking the small trash cans in each bedroom, or work area, and ensuring the dishes are done and all put away before the house fills with people again, and making sure the household linens are washed, dried, and restocked in bathrooms and linen cupboards. Small things matter, and generally fit neatly between things I am doing for me – like writing, painting, meditating, or yoga. When I consider my own needs, and the needs of my partners, mindfully and in gentle service to hearth and home – without excluding me from my loved ones in my thinking – so much more of what matters gets done, and far fewer projects that don’t really matter end up on my list. When I am treating myself considerately, I also know when to stop and accept that I’ve done my best, confident that my partners will be content, and considerate of my limitations in return. (That’s the ideal, anyway… and when humans are human, and fall short of the ideal? Ah, yes…)

3. …Compassion makes the Big 5 because we’re all quite human. Lacking perfection I turn to compassion, for myself and my very human limitations, for my loves and their own humanity. They will return home tired, and possibly very late in the evening. It’s so easy to get home, relieved just to stop driving, and quickly unload the car into the living room without taking a look around. It’s easy to collapse into bed after a shower, and an exciting weekend, without taking a look around. To wake, thoughts still buzzing from events, and eager to share those…still not taking notice of the small details that make a household ready to welcome travelers home, or understanding that the reason everything is lovely and tidy is that an actual person took time out of their own agenda to  make it happen. Compassion is what lets me smile without a thank you or a word of acknowledgement, and gives me a secure heart, content that the effort mattered regardless of a lack of words. Compassion is what I bring to my own experience, a gift to me from me, if I feel a moment of hurt or doubt if I feel ignored or lacking in importance. I will have done my own best, which is the only piece that is really ‘about me’.

This serves me well, again and again, on the path of treating myself, and others, well.

This serves me well, again and again, on the path of treating myself, and others, well.

4. Reciprocity is a big deal for me, and it makes my Big 5 because it is powerful. Reciprocity speaks up when I prepare for my solo camping next weekend with an equal priority to any piece of housework intended to make a traveler’s homecoming comfortable. I matter to me. Reciprocity is what results in my own return home next week being as comfortable as my partners’ homecoming at the end of this weekend, now. Ideally, we exert equal will, and invest our efforts in each others needs in a way that is consistent with love and loving. Reciprocity doesn’t necessarily mean “I did dishes Tuesday, so you must do them Wednesday” – it could mean “I really hate doing dishes, and seeing them done promptly is a big deal for you, and I know you detest cleaning the bathroom, which I don’t mind – if you’ll take care of the dishes, I’ll similarly keep the bathroom clean.” and then investing a similar effort in those tasks.  Reciprocity in a relationship is pretty easy to determine, too; look at sex. Any sex act that one person benefits from far more than the other and isn’t balanced by ‘returning the favor’ in some clear obvious way is a decent indicator that the relationship itself may not be reciprocal. Some people may not need reciprocity in their partnerships…for me it is non-negotiable, and the lack of it is a strong early warning indicator a relationship will end, although I’ve actually only ever had one relationship, one partnership, that was truly reciprocal, on a relationship defining level.  It was such an incredibly positive defining characteristic, that all my relationships since that one are measured against that standard, and it is what I look for in partners, and strive for in my own actions.

5. Openness makes it all work. Openness to conversation, openness to sharing emotions, openness to shared experiences, openness to considering another view-point, openness to trying new things; openness is an act of will. If my relationship is failing, openness brings my concerns into the open. If I am struggling with my own experience, openness allows me to share it frankly and be comforted. If I feel disrespected, or that my needs are not being considered, openness brings will and words together to express those feelings compassionately and with consideration, and the understanding we are each having our own experience. Openness is even there for me if I must consider that my needs are not met to the point of having to consider other choices in order to respect myself, or treat myself well. Openness is important.

"Some Distant Sunrise" 16" x 20" acrylic on canvas w/glow 2014

“Some Distant Sunrise” 16″ x 20″ acrylic on canvas w/glow 2014

The Big 5 are good relationships values, but they are not the only relationship values. Other people make other choices. Your results may vary. What I have found, myself, is that perspective and balance are important, too; my relationship values are what they are, and if I don’t value myself enough to also apply them to my experience with myself, and show myself the same courtesies I show others, or expect them to show me, the outcome is resentment, anger, and discontent. None of that sounds good to me at all. This weekend I’ve been taking care of me, treating myself well, and enjoying the one relationship I can’t escape, or walk away from, and I’ve been doing it using the same Big 5 that I practice in my relationships with others. It’s been nice.

Am I just stalling? This is a pretty long to-do list… 😉

One choice. One change. One moment.

One choice. One change. One moment.

Today is a good day for action. Today is a good day to get a few things done. Today is a good day for mindful service to hearth and home. Today is a good day to love. Today is a good day to change the world.

My sleep this past few days hasn’t been great. It’s been restful enough, which is sufficient, but it has been interrupted, each night, with periods of wakefulness of varied length, sometimes resulting in actually getting up, puttering around the house quietly, or writing. Last night I woke, at 2:33 am, and after meditation didn’t return me to dreamland, I got up, had a cup of tea, touched up a couple of the new paintings, and went back to bed. I never really went back to sleep, but found letting my consciousness wander in and out of brief dreams adequately restful. By 4:42 am all I could think about was having a cup of coffee, and got up ahead of the alarm.

The solitude doesn’t cause me any stress. I enjoy it a great deal. My recent camping trip, too, it was the solitude – when I had it – that seemed to meet my needs. On that occasion my usually-at-home partner had expressed concern that I might not enjoy being alone out there in the trees and assured me I could ‘call any time and get picked up’. I remember being quite astonished, and as the conversation continued, it was clear that somehow my partner didn’t ‘know me’ on the matter of solitude – and we’d been living together for some time. She directed my attention to that first month or so we all lived together, and the occasion that she and my traveling partner had gone to San Francisco for a couple of days, shortly before or after New Year’s Day, as I recall.  I had a bad time of things and was mid-freak out, when they called to inquire if I would mind if they came home early – out of boredom.

Moving along past ‘how does someone find boredom in San Francisco?’ to the point I’m actually getting to… We really are each having our own experience. My partner stored the recollection of those events as somehow indicating I had difficulty being alone. My own perspective is very different, because I was there. I desperately needed the comfort of solitude on that occasion. We’d all recently moved in together. All my routines and habits were completely disrupted and I wasn’t sleeping much. My PTSD had flared up partly due to the disruption of the move, partly due to finding out about my TBI – and what a big deal that has actually been all along – and partly due to the heinous gang rape in New Delhi that December that set the media on fire with some unstated competition to report as many rapes as possible, in as much graphic detail as culturally permitted; I could not escape my own history and I was in incredible emotional pain and feeling suicidal despair. As if that weren’t enough, the emotional volatility in the household in general resulted in receiving no emotional support for the state I found myself in, no one to talk to, and lacking any tools to really do anything about it. I was at the breaking point of what limited emotional resilience I had to work with. They went on their trip. I found myself alone ‘at home’ in what was at that time still ‘a strange house’ – everything in disarray from the work of moving two additional adult humans and all their accessories into space fully occupied by one. In the moment they departed, I took a deep cleansing breath and began to relax. It didn’t last. In the next moment, it was clear that I didn’t know how to operate the stereo. Or the video. At the time I didn’t have a laptop of my own, and couldn’t access the household network. My phone wouldn’t connect to the internet over wi-fi, and I couldn’t recall the password. The frustration of not being able to simply turn on some music launched me into a private emotional hell built on the hysteria and pain of a lifetime of chaos and damage, and lit like a bonfire soaked in gasoline with that tiny match of pure frustration, and the shame of being utterly incompetent at 49. I spent the next 24 hours in tears, aside from a couple of hours of fitful napping.  I soon found I didn’t know where much of anything actually was – including most of my own stuff, and didn’t know how to work the alarm system in a house I just moved into. For hours I stalked through the house screaming at myself, crying, storming with frustrated child like rage… because I couldn’t find a pen, to write with. I felt trapped, and frightened.

At that point in my journey, I knew nothing of stillness. I didn’t understand meditation – my only experience with it was intended to increase focus and concentration, not build awareness and mindfulness, and it hadn’t done anything whatever to address the needs of my heart. I had no way to move past my rage. I was trapped. Desperate. Unwilling to reach out for help – because not only did I not know where to turn, I lacked conviction that any help was even possible.

When they arrived home, prematurely, I was relieved.  There was music. There was order. Things could be found. I didn’t understand at the time that my partners – neither of whom has been with me more than a small number of years – didn’t understand what was going on with me. (The weeks that followed developed in a painful way for many reasons. I went from ‘feeling suicidal’ to sitting down and planning things out, and making a list of ‘loose ends’ that needed to be wrapped up ‘before I left’.  Their emotional experiences with me over issues that developed around differences in communication styles and practices resulted in behavior that I try to avoid thinking about these days, it was that damaging and hurtful. I was battling coming to terms with my TBI, and doing so mostly without any help or support beyond a casual occasional brush off intended to reassure me that ‘it doesn’t matter’, and prevented further conversation about a topic that was uncomfortable for them, too.)

What got lost in all that was what was up with me, why, and some really important things about my experience, and who I am. I enjoy solitude. I don’t enjoy frustration. More importantly? I am the sum of all my experiences and choices – not just the ones any one friend or loved one has been around for.  Looking back it is more obvious, at least to me, but as with any small review mirror – I am the only one who sees that view.

Today, as I look ahead into a future that doesn’t yet exist, and enjoy the stillness of a quiet morning of solitude, I gently explore that past hurt in my rear view mirror. Something to share, a matter of perspective, a past moment that so clearly illustrates that however close we are as people, whatever our intimate relationship with each other, however connected we are, our perspective and understanding is filtered through our own experiences, our own choices; we create our view of the world using our own limited understanding of events and people. We don’t just create our own narrative, we create the narrative we use to understand others, too, and sometimes without getting input from the main character of the tale. A poor strategy for compassion, or understanding. The Four Agreements nails this one too, with “Don’t Take Anything Personally” and “Don’t Make Assumptions”.

So basic.

So basic.

Today is a good day to ask caring questions. Today is a good day to be compassionate. Today is a good day to recognize we are each having our own experience. Today is a good day to remember that investing in joy and contentment requires acts of will, and choices. Today is a good day to change the world.

I’m waking up, this morning, on the other side of change. It’s interesting to feel it  unfolding in my experience; different actions result in different outcomes. My appointment yesterday was somewhat intense, challenging, very intimate and connected, and…personal. It didn’t feel ‘bad’, or cause me great distress. That alone is a change in my experience. The everyday practice of taking a few moments for real stillness, for calming my mind and my heart simply as an exercise in mindful presence, and doing it regularly, has definitely changed my emotional resilience, and reduced my level of panic when I am overwhelmed, which happens less easily, and less often. Progress.

When I choose to behave differently, I change the way I interact with the world, and potentially open new opportunities and choices for people involved in my life. It isn’t about ‘fair’ or who did what first. It is very much about making real choices to be who I most want to be, to willfully and deliberately choose to honor my values, and act in accordance with them. It is about who I am, and how I treat fellow humans along the way. I create the world with my choices and my actions, or at least that small piece of it that revolves around me. Sounds so simple. Figuring out those pesky choices is the challenging bit. I’m definitely certain, at this point, that repeating ineffective behaviors again and again is not going to change an unappreciated outcome.  I’ve also got substantial empirical evidence to support the idea that treating myself badly limits my ability to treat others well, and that treating others badly generally results in two outcomes: one, people react and behave in life in accord with the way they are treated by others, and two, it tends to set up a perception of ‘who I am’ in their experience that isn’t very pleasant when reflected back on me in the way they choose to interact with me later.

I don’t always see my progress. I definitely experience my challenges in a visceral and immediate way. It can make for a pretty negative experience without the balancing effect of a daily meditation practice. At least, that has been true for me. (Your results may vary.) What I bring to my experience, myself, definitely colors that experience, affects my understanding of my experience, and filters it through the context of my chaos and damage – often in spite of efforts to be more present in the moment, more ‘now’, more mindful, more aware – and less ‘think-y’.  I guess that’s why it is ongoing ‘practice’ with no ‘mastery’ in sight.  This morning is a little different from other Thursday mornings, largely because Wednesday evening had a different outcome; we made different choices, my partner and I. I am more aware of small everyday differences in my choices, decision-making, and experience, these days.  It’s more important than I understood that I, myself, acknowledge and validate my small successes from within; it’s part of that ’emotional self-sufficiency’ notion, and it feels pretty good to enjoy this experience of recognition, alone in the dim light of dawn over my morning coffee.

There’s a lot of violence and tragedy in the world. Humans killing humans. Humans treating other humans badly. I can choose differently, myself, and although I am ‘just one person’ – I am also, actually, one person making choices, and that matters. I can choose, myself, to be non violent. It makes a direct and immediate difference in every one of my relationships with individuals, every time I make that choice. That is true of each of us, each time we make any one choice we do make; it matters, and it changes the world. I suggest, based on my own experience, that when we choose actions that result in violence, that result in overstepping the boundaries of others, that result in actions which violate another human being, or our own values, it also changes the world – and every one of those choices is an act of will.  Choose differently, if you want a different outcome.

Beyond grieving, beyond acknowledgement, what will you choose to do to make it better?

Beyond grieving, beyond acknowledgement, what will you choose to do to make it better?

So, here it is Thursday, and I’m headed to  work. Today I won’t bomb any school children in their sleep, or violate boundaries willfully. Today I won’t steal, murder, or deliberately put other human beings in harm’s way. Today I won’t use my ideology to justify the maltreatment of others.  Today I will not go to war. Today I will not justify bad acts with my experience of anger. Today I will not make choices that worsen the circumstances of others in order to profit. There are probably very few among us who ever do most of these things – but I snuck in a couple that I know many of us do choose. It’s pretty easy to casually use ideology to justify mistreating someone whose ideology is different; the ease of it doesn’t make it excusable, or less ugly. Certainly, many of us have used our own subjective experience of anger to excuse treating someone else badly, and my observation is supported by the plethora of news articles about domestic violence, and police brutality; the reality  of it doesn’t excuse it. Wheaton’s Law truly covers the basics;  that and The Four Agreements could easily ‘save the world’… but there are choices involved, and ideology and anger can get in the way of good choices.

Today is a good day to treat human beings with humanity. Today is a good day to love and to help. Today is a good day for compassion. Today is a good day to change the world.