Archives for posts with tag: the map is not the world

Well… damn. I slept rather restlessly, waking briefly, often. Around 3:20 am I woke, really woke, and got up for a drink of water, took my morning medication, and went back to bed. I mean, shit, it’s Saturday; I can sleep in!! 😀

I forgot to shut off my alarm, though, before I went to bed. It went off at the usual time. I’d only just really fallen deeply asleep, and without a thought I rolled over, turned it off, and went back to sleep. Restful, blissful, deep deep sleep… So nice. At some moment, probably approximately 5:51 am, my consciousness roused just enough to smile to myself and feel some amusement that I hadn’t at all planned the day or the weekend. How strange is that?

How strange is that?

No, hey, you there – sleeping – that’s strange, isn’t it?

Isn’t it?

My eyes opened ever so slightly and noted perceptible loss of darkness in the room… then it hit me; it’s Friday and I have work today. Fuck. Fuck, and damn it, and… LOL.

I didn’t quite launch myself from the bed, and I was calm and fairly together as I checked the time. 5:51 am. I felt a huge wave of relief; I can be entirely on time for my day, nonetheless, and start doing the things. No need to rush through my routine at breakneck speed, very little of the morning is spent on that. I accept that I won’t have coffee, or write, this morning and get one with things.

By 6:15 am, I’ve showered and dressed (a t-shirt and jeans go well with both my hiking boots and the work culture, so… yeah, done and done).  I start the dishwasher while I make coffee… and even sit down to tell the merry tale of misadventure before I leave for a work day I’d forgotten I have. The chaos in my morning… isn’t. I’m okay right now. My routine pays off. Practicing the practices pays off. I am resilient… and I’m ready to bounce. I’ll even leave the house on time! 😀

I’m not bragging. …I suppose if you aren’t aware that oversleeping on a work day could have put me in a state of unmanageable hysterics as little as 7 years ago, on this whole other “do you think we should… call someone?” level, it might not make sense that I am smiling, and merry, and even quite pleased with the morning so far. Why punish an entire Friday for 81 minutes of sweet restless sleep stolen from my morning? I must have needed the rest pretty badly. I’m glad I got it. 😀

Ready? Begin!

Ready? Begin!

Today is a good day to pause, and appreciate what works. Today is a good day to build on what is. Today is a good day for being quite human, and being quite okay with that. 🙂 Isn’t that enough?

“Who am I?” is a more-difficult-than-face-value sort of question, isn’t it? As questions go, it is one of the only ones I can think of that was once capable of spinning me into full-on freak out, real emotional meltdown, just to contemplate it under any sort of pressure to deliver an answer. Thankfully, I outgrew that at some point, and became free to fully consider the question for myself.

“Who are you?”

I wipe paint off my hands with less care than would perhaps be ideal. In the moment, it is enough to be certain of not leaving pigmented finger prints on every carelessly touched surface, and to limit the risk of ingesting paint. I am taking a break from painting, and considering the notion of “identity” – how I choose to answer the question “who am I?” matters greatly to me, although it has little to do with how I am identified to others. An odd byproduct of my musings, I find I am understanding with greater clarity how hurtful it can be to refuse to use someone’s chosen name, insisting on using a given name that they resent, dislike, or that simply doesn’t reflect who they see themselves to be. It’s a dick move to refuse to use the name someone chooses for themselves, regardless why they chose it, or what it may mean to me; it’s their name, they get to choose it if they wish to. Simple enough.

I can extrapolate that same thinking to cover most any characteristic someone might choose to identify themselves by. Me, for example… I take hundreds of pictures a month, thousands every year (some are even quite good… take enough of them, that’s gonna happen eventually). I don’t consider myself “a photographer”. I write poetry… one or two poems, reliably, every week at a minimum. Many hundreds over a lifetime. I rarely refer to myself as a poet, and this in spite of the fact that my one currently completed (as yet unpublished) manuscript is a book of poetry. I don’t paint every day, or even every week – in fact, there have been even a couple of actual entire years during which I did not paint, or sketch… but I do consider myself an artist, specifically a painter. Funny which things become part of my sense of self, my “identity” and which do not. Stranger still how little the qualities that define me, for myself, have anything whatever to do with how others may define me.

Letting go of attachment becomes most challenging when I am asked to let go of my attachment even to the words and ideas I have used to identify and define myself, within. I am an artist whether I paint or not – why is that? Is it any more “real” or “true” than any other element of my “identity” and sense of self? Am I harmed or changed in any way by not having defined myself as a photographer or poet? I still take pictures. I still write poetry. “Who am I?”

I find myself living my experience less tied to the words that may be used to describe it, just enjoying the rain as it falls, drenching meadow and marsh. Sipping a fresh cup of coffee, watching paint dry, and contemplating something beyond the words of the question “who am I?”, and living each moment awake, and aware, without being particularly concerned about who I may seem to be… even to the woman in the mirror. Today it is enough to stand naked and free and to answer the question “who are you?” with the simplest of wordless replies, “I am”. It is enough to be. 🙂

Strange morning. I feel my Traveling Partner’s absence like a weight; he is traveling, truly, and far away. I wake and start my day in the usual solitary way, but somehow I still feel his absence from my larger sense of space. My own version of separation anxiety, I suppose. 🙂 Still, in the same sense that he is away, he also tends to be “with me”, even though we are not often in shared space lately, so although I miss him, I still feel loved, still celebrate loving.

I sip my coffee, distracted and vaguely… bored? Weird. It is an uncommon thing in my experience, and I find myself poking at the feeling with a certain curiosity and wonder. The boredom dissipates as I realize it isn’t that at all. I’m just tired. My sleep tracker notes that this makes the second night on less than ideal quantity and quality of sleep. No wonder I feel a tad “out of it”. I correct my posture. Take some deep cleansing breaths. Relax. I hear the horn of the commuter train approaching the platform. I feel the chill in the room. I take a moment to just be, without fussing. It feels comfortable and self-supporting to acknowledge the fatigue, to accept myself in this moment, and to be okay with it.

One more work day and another weekend. Oh, my yes! I can sleep in tomorrow, attend the baby shower of a friend, and quite likely see my Traveling Partner in the evening. Sounds like a lovely weekend. It sounds like enough.

Today will be a good day to take care of the woman in the mirror, to be kind, and to show kindness, to take the day a moment at a time, and to enjoy this life as much as I am able (which is a lot, and mostly). Change the world? I’ll add that to my “to do list”. 🙂

What an odd night. I woke once during the night unsure of where – or when – I was. It took some minutes walking through quiet rooms, a disoriented groggy stranger in my own experience, to remember myself. I returned to sleep easily and without stress. I woke again later, some noise or another, and again returned to sleep. Having taken a day off of work for an appointment, I thoughtfully reset my alarm sometime when I woke during the night, and got an extra hour of sleep. I woke feeling rested and content, sometime between when I ordinarily wake, and the time I for which I had reset the alarm.

The morning has not been the slightest bit routine. Usually it is pretty fixed: meds, yoga, meditation, shower, dress, coffee, write, tidying up, then off to work. This morning I dilly-dally over my coffee, in my yoga pants, having not yet yoga-ed at all (What the hell is the past tense for that verb?? …Then I remember that it is a noun, and that I am an abuser of good grammar.) I sipped coffee on the patio, though, feeling the pre-dawn chill of a mild winter morning, and listening to the geese on the marsh, and the horn of the distant commuter train. I rely on habit and routine to ensure, day-to-day, that my self-care needs are met, and recognizing that stepping away from those routines and habits could come at a cost (if I fail to follow through on practices that I know benefit me greatly) my alarm is set at intervals to remind me before the clock runs out on the morning.

Easy enough to shrug it all off and say “what does one day matter if I don’t…?”, but I actually know that in some cases, for me, it really does “matter”. There are differences. No yoga? By day’s end I will be less mobile, less flexible, and in more pain. No meditation? By midday, I’d likely be edgy, irritable, and at risk of losing my shit over something small or inconsequential. No shower? Well, come on now, does this have to be explained? If nothing else, the lack of basic hygiene would hint at disordered thinking when my Traveling Partner turns up later, and that would be a source of concern for him, not to mention that basic hygiene is… well… basic. (One of my own first alert “symptoms” that my mental or emotional health is slipping is that I begin to find it “hard to drag myself into the shower”, versus enjoying the sensuous pleasure of warm water on bare skin.) No getting dressed? For me that’s also no going out. lol I have stuff to do. Getting dressed is definitely happening, preceded by showering, and yoga will definitely be a thing, and while I’m at it, I’ll meditate somewhere between yoga and heading out for my appointment – and probably a time or two later on, also.

I notice the time. My perspective shifts and I feel the day as “busy” although it is far less so than usual. The clock ticks on. I have less time to do “all the things”. I feel a surge in anxiety, briefly, and recognizing it is merely my moment of time-related awareness, I let that go. There is no rush. There is only this moment here, writing, sipping coffee, enjoying the morning. I have an alarm set to remind me of the time, and that timing is based on still not having to rush. Since it hasn’t gone off yet, I am most definitely not in any hurry to be anywhere else. 😀

I swallow the last of my now-cold coffee. I check my spelling ever so carefully (fully knowing that both the spellcheck and I will miss something.) It’s time to move on with the morning, and with the day.

It's not really "made of gold", it's more a matter of perspective.

It’s not really “made of gold”, it’s more a matter of perspective.

Today is a good day to go and do and be. Today is a good day for love. Today is a good day for a moment of sunshine, a smile, or a friendly word. Today is a good day to be the woman I most want to be. I think I’ll go do that. It’s enough. 🙂

I started my morning with a good night’s rest, which I have followed with music. This morning, mostly Skrillex.  For one thing, this is music that moves me, physically, in an irresistible way, which is quite helpful for easing the discomfort of the arthritis in my spine. Movement hurts – movement helps.

As I danced through the morning, music loud in my ears, headphones on to preserve the morning peace for others, I had an interesting moment of awareness – and I hope I can hang on to it. Listening to this very young music (EDM is still a very young sort of music, isn’t it?) being made by this rather young human being (at the time I write this, I think he’s about 28) represents a very real peek into the future. Human beings of 16 to 30 are queuing up, as generations before them have, to be our future. Future politicians, too – even this man, making music now, may one day hold office, or lead the world in some other way that isn’t directly musical. In his audiences are our future. They aren’t just ticket holders, and partygoers – they are future politicians, future rule makers, future leaders, future wielders of great power. Like it or not, however heinous the current political climate (left, right, or in between matters not at all)… human beings are mortal. This too shall pass – and the future is already here, if we’re willing to turn and look and see what is following us.

Are you paying attention? 

Anyway. Just some thoughts on taking a long view, and maintaining a historical perspective on the future of history. 😉

Today is a good day to be aware of what is, what isn’t, what seems to be, and to be open to what is not yet. Today is a good day to be reminded that much of our experience of the moment is made up shit in our head. Today is a good day to be mindful that we have already changed the world. ❤