Archives for posts with tag: walking my own path
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What About You?

June 7, 2018 //
1

Yesterday went by fast. Too fast. I ended the evening feeling a bit rushed, pressed for time, hurried through things, short on bandwidth… and a little stressed. You too? It’s a fairly common experience for adults I know – what about you?

Did you do anything about it? Do you know that you can?

I halted mid-rush, somewhere in between watering the container garden on the deck, feeding the fish in the aquarium, yoga, and a shower… I… just stopped. I paused for a moment in front of a painting that hangs in the hallway (in a space that’s really a bit dark for that one), and really looked at it, vaguely surprised to see it, as if unaware I’d hung it there in the first place. I took a minute. For breath, for life, for a moment – for me. There wasn’t really any reason to be rushing around like a mad woman. Is there shit to do? Yep. Am I the one that’s got to do it? Again – yes. Does everything have to be done with equal fervor right fucking now? Ahem. No. Not at all. Not even possible – and the attempt to make it so isn’t just silly, it is exhausting. It also tends to dial up the intensity on life’s background stress, quite a lot. So.

I stood quietly looking at this painting with new eyes. Giving myself over to really seeing it. I turned and looked at another. And yet another after that. When I moved on with things, it was a comfortable pace, and a relaxed approach to the evening – and to life.

I sip my coffee this morning thinking over that moment, and many that preceded it during the day, contrasting the hurried moments, the frantic moments, with the chill moments. Which are actually more productive, realistically? Which bring more joy? Can I have/do both? My own answer is a clear and unequivocal “yes” – but there is an effort of will involved in managing it. I find myself needing to pause, now and again, because over time the pace of life seems to accelerate rather unpleasantly.

We are mortal. That’s still a thing, even in the 21st century. We have yet to improve upon that, or fix it, or, really, limit it in any noteworthy way. So, given that this may be my one shot at living well, at living beautifully, at living life from a perspective of contentment and joy, it seems wholly worthwhile to figure out how not to be so damned rushed all the time. lol 😀 Still working the bugs out. A quick pause to reset is what I’ve got for now that I know is effective.

I begin the morning with coffee and music. I almost overlook writing, and valuing this time, pull myself out of the news – pausing for a moment to slow my thoughts and breathe deeply – and write (here I am!) for a few minutes. There isn’t time for everything – we have to choose. Choose wisely.

Time to begin again. 🙂

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Categories Anxiety, Brain Injury, Free Will, Frustration, Healthy Living, inspiration, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Spring, Summer, The Art of Being

Today is Mine

June 5, 2018 //
0

I arrived home last night in due time. The ride from the airport to my place was efficient and pleasant, the taxi was clean, and the driver gave me a discount – for being nice. (What a peculiar world this has become, that basic civility and pleasantness are provided a cash reward, due to being uncommon.) The evening was relaxed; I’d left the house in a comfortable state to welcome my return. It’s a favorite practice; leave it as you’d wish to return to it. 🙂 A good practice in life, in relationships, in the wilderness, at my workstation, in the kitchen… I’ve yet to come up with an exception of any note.

A quiet evening passed gently, without fuss, suffused with the glow of relaxed contentment, and emotional riches. Clearly, I needed to reconnect with dear friends. I’m glad I made the trip.

I mostly slept well, last night, and slept in this morning. The night was interrupted by frequently needing to pee; Portland’s milder cooler spring climate does not require so much water consumption, and as is the way of things, my body naturally made that adjustment. lol I didn’t expect to sleep in so deeply, so easily – or so late, waking up well past 7:30 am. I felt great waking slowly, then attempted to stand. Every muscle protested, as though I’d done a lot of heavy lifting, or engaged in a grueling physical competition. I didn’t do any of those things – just spent a few days in the Fresno area heat, in the company of friends, going here and there, on my feet, back and forth, doing things, and stuff – mostly just hanging out. I feel like I’ve been beaten. LOL Fuck. The higher humidity of the Pacific Northwest grabbed me by the arthritis with a real commitment to making me pay for ever leaving. LOL

Yoga helps.

Mmmm. Coffee’s good, too.

More yoga helps.

I’m still stiff as hell, but I’ve got this beautiful day off ahead of me – and it’s all mine. I’ve no idea yet what I’ll do with it, but it is mine, and I’d planned it to recover from my trip away. Good call, too; I don’t need it as much as I thought I might, but having it feels like a wonderful way to care for myself. 😀

A beautiful day, a beautiful moment.

Golden morning sunshine peeks through the brash spring green leaves of the Big Leaf Maples beyond the deck, catching my attention with shifting breezes. A small brown bird hops here and there looking for seeds, and glancing at me expectantly; I wonder if there is recognition that the human primate is back, or specific understanding that I provide the seeds? The weather report suggests a pleasant high of 72, and a lovely day to be in the garden…

It’s time to begin again.

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Categories Brain Injury, Free Will, gardening, Healthy Living, inspiration, Love, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Practices, Relationships, Spring, Summer, The Art of Being

A Morning, a Journey, a Cold Drink of Water

June 4, 2018 //
0

I woke at 4 am. The headache nagging at me had all the signs of likely being caused by dehydration, in spite of the quantity of water I am drinking. I need to be drinking more; it’s just that dry here. Fresno is, more or less, a city snatched from a desert by sheer cussedness. It’s not the most hospitable climate for human primates, but we adapt pretty easily.

With effort, and considerable awkwardness as my muscles protest, I get up, get a big big drink of unbelievably icy cold water from the near-frozen bottle of water in the tiny (working, quiet, convenient, appreciated) fridge. I think I’m going back to bed. I’m not. I don’t. I’m awake.

Fuck this headache.

I drink more water. I check my email. I rather pointlessly hunt for the tiny earring back that fell to the floor when I got up; I forgot to take my earrings out last night. In spite of the early hour, I was that tired. No matter. I give up; I’m not even awake at that point and the effort is wasted until sometime after sunrise. There is only one working light in the room, and it doesn’t illuminate much at all. lol

I drink more water. I’ve been drinking more than a gallon of water a day. It’s not enough. This is Fresno.

So hot.

I’ve a journey ahead, and find myself feeling a pang of reluctance to return “home” so soon. How is this place not home? I mean… yeah. I could, still, call this place home. I miss these friends. I miss the life that had been developing, before I moved, chasing “love” (sex, actually, and maybe security). A different path might not have brought my Traveling Partner and I together, so, no regrets, really… But, oh this place! These friends. I miss a great deal of what “here” has to offer. It’s hard to leave so soon.

…On the other hand. I miss my own place. This small room confounds me. lol I am traveling quite light on this trip, and I’m missing a few things for everyday expected comfort. I can’t paint… no art supplies. 0_o In this heat, I don’t have the energy for hiking and shooting nature photographs. The heat exhausts me; I slept in every morning but this one. That peculiar sleep of desert folk, where the best deepest sleep really begins shortly before dawn, after the night has cooled off all that it will. It makes sleeping in quite effortless; it’s the best sleep. This morning I woke early with a headache, having somehow not consumed enough water yesterday. It’s a bit annoying, really; I was looking forward to the sleep. :-\

The Author will pick me up around 8am, and we’ll go out to breakfast somewhere sort of near the airport before he drops me off to people watch and read before my flight departs. I’ll arrive home, hours later, after a layover, after ride from the airport to my residence. There will be the moment of relief. The setting down of bags. The discerning glance around the place as I note how well or poorly I have welcomed myself home, based on how thoroughly I prepared for that moment, before I departed. A shower. A quiet evening. Then… back to the routines of life. Not as if this trip hadn’t happened – it has been too profoundly rewarding and connected for that – more grateful to have had the experience, and the opportunity to see so many people so dear to me, than anything else. A needed vacation.

Headed back to a cooler climate.

Still with the fucking headache? I drink more water, and look at the time. It’s time to begin again. 🙂

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Categories Brain Injury, Free Will, Healthy Living, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Spring, Summer, The Art of Being, Words

Well, Of Course That’s a Thing

June 1, 2018 //
0

My anxiety chased me slowly all day yesterday before finally subsiding during the course of an evening phone call with my Traveling Partner. There’s just been so much drama so far this year, of the OPD (Other People’s Drama) variety, that it eventually had begun to affect my consciousness, generally. The outcome? Anxiety at the thought of being any more distant, or distracted, or uninvolved, or unavailable to my partner than I absolutely have to be… making traveling rather anxiety provoking; it held the unspoken potential of somehow leaving him in harm’s way without my support. Yep. I take the safety of my Traveling Partner, and his well-being, rather seriously. I had become, in some fashion, literally “here for him”, and was losing my perspective on being “here for me” as well. lol Oops.

He is so dear, and strangely, humorously, wise; he pointed out that my trip would be taking me to a point almost the same relative distance from him that I already reside, day-to-day, and that digital communication being what it is, and friends, and personal resources, being as they are, certainly if any great need were to develop… I’m no farther away than I am right now. Well, damn. That’s some excellent perspective right there, and my anxiety could find no further foothold, and quickly dissipated, and has not returned. I woke feeling rested this morning, eager to enjoy the weekend with friends, and feeling chill and content. 😀

Well… I guess I’m glad I checked the weather for the weekend… lol

I’m packing light on this trip. I don’t just mean my baggage – I also mean my “baggage“, and that feels good. I’ve got clothes suitable for the weather, which looks to be… typical. Hot. lol Different than here. So different. I checked. 😀 I’ve got my laptop. My kindle (so… all the books). My device (camera, phone, tiny super computer…). A notebook… for notes, obviously. (Actually, it’s for writing poetry, which just “feels better” on paper, with ink, than on a keyboard.) That’s pretty much it; one small carry-on bag, with a couple changes of clothes and basic toiletries. I like to travel light – it’s so much less to fuss with and keep track of. This is true of my metaphysical, emotional, and social “baggage” as well… I feel so much lighter and less “weighed down” today! 🙂

I’m seeing old friends this weekend. Dear friends. The very best of “friends for almost 30 years”, friends. As many of them as can make time for it on this trip down their way, who live close enough to work with me to make it happen. I have a peculiar sense of home-coming, returning to a place I haven’t lived for 20 years (as of this coming October). I also have a lovely sense of “this is already exactly as pleasant as I’d hoped”, in the sense that I have no specific expectations, requirements, or needs beyond enjoying a chill weekend away. 🙂

55 soon… just 11 days. Numbers, emotions, time… it’s a good weekend to reflect gently on life, and to ask all the questions without worrying too much about the answers. 🙂 It’s a good time to begin again.

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Categories Anxiety, Brain Injury, Free Will, Healthy Living, inspiration, Love, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Spring, Summer, The Art of Being, The Big 5

Anxiety Attacks

May 31, 2018 //
1

Yeah. Still a thing. Still so human. I woke anxious at 2:41 a.m. I got up at 3:00 for a few minutes to deal with it, when turning over and calming my breathing wasn’t sufficient to soothe me. I went back to bed a few minutes later. I woke with the alarm, less anxious. It’s still lurking there in the background waiting to be taken more seriously. Ideally, I don’t plan to give it much thought, this morning; there’s nothing “wrong” over which anxiety could gain some legitimacy.

I’ll just say this bluntly; this is advanced anxiety management, and I could not have managed it in this fashion a few years ago. It’s not that I’m “ignoring it”, quite the contrary, I’m very aware that the sensations are there, and those are quite physical, but, and this is an important thing, because there really isn’t anything particular to be anxious about, I am mostly able, at this point, after years of practice and work at this specific thing, I am mostly able to relegate the experience firmly to the realm of “weird physical sensations that don’t mean much” and let it go. Mostly. I’m more than typically vulnerable to stress real-time, though, and that’s something to be mindful of as I go through my day. I treat myself gently, and a bit as if I am “already triggered”, just to stay alert for unexpected losses of perspective or emotional balance as I go through my day.

I sip my iced coffee. I breathe. I practice good self-care. I consider the day ahead. I look forward to the weekend. Oh – there it is. Am I anxious about the flight? I rarely travel by air, and it’s been rather a while since I have. I’m pretty human. lol Novelty isn’t especially comfortable for me. Crowded airport spaces are noisy, and filled with stimulus. I’m easily overwhelmed by it. I breathe. I pause to remember the real joy and excitement of waiting for my grandfather in airports when I was small. I feel a smile tugging at my face, and the anxiety dissipates. Yeah. Just needed to feel heard. Okay. I got this. 😀

This weekend I’ll be taking my laptop, and possibly writing a bit; it’s a time for self-reflection as I close in on 55. Wow. 55?? How the fuck did that grand age creep up on me, and why is it that it feels so much younger than old? Pretty sure I once thought 55 would be… old. It’s just not, actually. lol I guess I’m glad about that – there’s still so much to do!!

It’s time to get started – I’ve got a list. 😉

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Categories Anxiety, Brain Injury, Free Will, Healthy Living, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Sleepless Nights, Spring, Summer, The Art of Being, The Big 5
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