Archives for posts with tag: we become what we practice
« Older Entries
Newer Entries »

Rain, Fog, and Walking Anyway

October 21, 2024 //
0

Monday has arrived. Here it is, a new week. The rainy foggy morning has enough chill in the air to remind me it’s autumn, already October and there are holidays ahead to plan. I lace up my boots wondering where I’ll find the energy for all of it. One foot after the other, eh? Every walk, every morning, serving as a living metaphor of persistence and momentum.

I sigh to myself, have another drink of this coffee that will be waiting for me on the other side of my walk through the rain and fog and darkness. I grab my cane, tuck my handbag out of sight, and save the beginning of my writing (I’ll finish it later). I stand, stretch, and set off down the trail, visible only within the circle of light provided by my headlamp. Another metaphor, I guess, and I walk on thinking my thoughts.

I get to my halfway point glad to be wearing long sleeves under a favorite heavy baggy sweater. I’m not cold, though my hands feel the chill in the air. I turn off my headlamp when I sit down on a convenient bench, and see hints of imminent daybreak in spite of the fog. My back aches with the arthritis pain that vexes me most during colder wetter weather. I mostly succeed in ignoring it. It’s not as if I can do much of anything about it that I don’t already do.

I breathe, exhale, and relax, taking a few minutes of stillness in the morning quiet. I’ve got a busy day ahead of me, and I need this quiet time for reflection and meditation to face it and somehow manage to get it all done.

I sit with my thoughts awhile. I’ve got some shit on my mind. I try to avoid minimizing it, or wishing it away. The way out is through. I consider the questions, the doubts, the unhealed hurts, and the stressors that complicate everything else. I try to avoid complicating things by conflating circumstances with the feelings about the circumstances. It’s an easy mistake to make.

… Life might be easier if I weren’t the sort of person who so very much truly wants things very specifically to be “easy”. lol It seems healthier than not to be able to laugh about that…

The fog becomes more dense as the sky lightens. I sit with my perception and wonder if it is an illusion. I sigh and let my mind wander on. There are surely more important things to think about. I find myself feeling regretful that it is so hard to find time alone. Going on 5 years in this little house I love so well, and I’ve still never spent a night home alone (or even more than a few hours, really). The Anxious Adventurer only moved in in July, and has already spent more hours alone there (taken as a total) than I have. My Traveling Partner has spent by far the most time home alone in our house (and doesn’t want or need all that, it’s just a byproduct of circumstances). Frustrating (for me).

I really miss the luxurious solitude that comes of living alone, sometimes. I don’t regret living with my Traveling Partner, it’s one of those things I wish I could have both in equal measure; the delight of his companionship and good company, and also my solitude. I don’t know how to make that work out aside from taking occasional getaways to camp or paint, and those clearly don’t happen at home. Before his injury, my partner’s work kept him home. Since his injury, it’s been the realities of injury, surgery, recovery, and day-to-day limitations (for now). It is what it is. It’s not intentional or in any way intended to limit my experience or prevent me meeting that need. It’s purely an unfortunate coincidence that the person in the household with the greatest need for solitude has the least opportunity to meet that need. It’s not personal, it’s just life.

I sigh. I would definitely not trade my beloved or one moment of the joy we share for lasting solitude. It’s true that I have to put some thought and effort into meeting this need. That’s just adulthood. I laugh silently and chastise myself – something about building character.

I sit wrapped in dense fog awhile longer. I amuse myself with imagining that I must create the day ahead from pure will and see it emerge from the fog as I do. A useful notion that encourages effort and discipline. It’s something to start with – and it’s time to begin again (already?). I take another look at these words, hit “save”, and “publish” and head back to the car to face the day.

Tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,
Categories Allegories, autumn, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, inspiration, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Practices, solo hiking, The Art of Being

For Goodness’ Sake

October 15, 2024 //
0

“Are you even a good person?”

I sip my coffee, listening to the rain fall, thinking about goodness, character, doing and being good, and what any of that really means in the world we actually live in, where nations hold themselves up as righteous while committing genocide, and human beings individually lay claims to being “good people” while espousing hate, and “othering” human beings who have never harmed them at all.

Are you even a good person? If you answer “yes”, the follow-up question has to be “what does that mean to you?” How will you answer that? How do you defend your less than ideally good thoughts or behaviors? You know the ones I mean – and we’ve all got some. We’re human. Our brief mortal lives don’t lend themselves well to aspirations of goodness.

… But are you at least trying, though? Are you making the attempt to be a good human being, a good person? Putting real thought and effort into it? Working day after day to be a better version of yourself than you were yesterday?

This is on my mind this morning because of a brief interaction with strangers waiting in line ahead of me at the pharmacy yesterday evening. I was tired, and irritable. Hungry. They were making conversation to kill time in the long, slow, line (and blocking the aisle, forcing other shoppers to detour around them). They were mostly shit-talking younger generations. One of them was a woman somewhat older than I, the other about my age. The details are pretty irrelevant, aside from admitting they sounded pretty ignorant to me, and more than a little offensive. One of them caught my eye and probably picked up on a microexpression of some critical sort. She laughed somewhat uncomfortably and said, as if in protest of my judgement, “But I’m a good person!”

… Sometimes my mouth has a life of its own…

I held the stranger’s gaze and and replied rather cynically “Are you?” I said nothing more, and she turned away uncomfortably. There was a brief pause in their conversation, before they resumed, quietly, seeming more aware of other listeners. The line continued to move slowly.

Since then, I keep coming back to this idea of viewing one’s self as a “good person”, while simultaneously doing, saying, or thinking things that completely undermine any potential truth to that statement. It wants thinking about.

Are you a good person? I’m not judging or accusing you. I likely don’t know you, and even if I do, how could I truly know the content of your character sufficiently well to judge you? But… Are you, though? Are you at least trying?

Am I a “good person”? Hell, I don’t know. I want to be a good person. I value the idea of goodness. I aspire to goodness. I recognize and appreciate goodness when I see it. I seek to practice goodness as I understand it in all of my relationships. But – and it’s a big but – I am human, I am mortal, I have been traumatized, I was raised and influenced by human beings of poor moral character, and have participated in systems that could not ever be described as “good” – for nothing loftier than a fucking paycheck. At best, I guess I can say I’m generally at least trying to be a good person. My results vary. My efforts are often more aspirational than practical. I’ve still got a lot to learn and I still need an entire lifetime of practice.

I guess my point is… be humble about what a good person you are. You probably aren’t all that g’damned “good”, if you’re truly honest about actions no one observed, lies no one ever caught you out on, or thoughts you’ve never admitted to another person. Definitely keep working at it – the journey is the destination. The world has a serious shortage of goodness, and maybe nothing keeps us from the darkness besides our own will to fight for what is truly good and right. The effort to be the best version of ourselves is worth making, every day, in every interaction. We’re going to fail a lot, all of us, so let’s also be kind to each other about how difficult it is, while encouraging each other and also keeping things real when we see it all going very wrong. “See something, say something” is a useful strategy. Make corrections, not excuses – but for goodness sake, turn that critical eye toward your mirror, first, last, and often!

… Funny that this is where my thoughts are this morning, but I definitely need to reflect on these things as much as anyone…

I could do better. I’ll keep practicing.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. The rain continues to fall. I sip my coffee waiting for daybreak and wondering whether the rain will let up enough for a walk before work. I think thoughts about art, about love, and fill my heart with gratitude. I’m fortunate to live where I do, when I do. This particular “here and now” is pretty good. I can comfortably afford to spend time reflecting on whether I am a good person, instead of worrying about drones, bombs, or whether there will be food or drinking water for my family.

I sit quietly with my thoughts for awhile. What defines a “good person”? I watch the traffic roll by like the seconds hand of a strange clock. Isn’t it time to begin again?

Tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,
Categories 2024 Election, Allegories, art and the artist, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, gratitude, inspiration, meditation, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, The Art of Being, The Big 5, War and News of War, Words

How to Get That Rest

October 3, 2024 //
0

I’m eating oatmeal and drinking a fairly uninteresting cup of hotel coffee. I slept in – I mean, for me – rather a lot; I didn’t wake up until 06:30, just as day break hinted at a new-day-to-come on the eastern horizon beyond the hotel room balcony. I sigh contentedly. I don’t even like oatmeal. lol That’s not the point.

Afternoon view from the hotel balcony.

I arrived yesterday in the late afternoon and started getting settled in… set my phone down while I brought my bags and pastels in to the room, and missed some pings from my Traveling Partner (after he had rather abruptly told me to stop pinging him because he was trying to use the phone) and he called me, worried about the prolonged lack of reply. I was fine. Everything was fine. “Nothing to see here.”

An exchange of pleasant messages a short time later managed to become a stressful conversation about an irritating eBay purchase for which we’re waiting on a refund. The circumstances themselves are annoying, and I very much want to see those resolved satisfactorily, but I definitely wasn’t seeking out opportunities to be stressed the fuck out about anything, just then. At all. Regardless of relative importance or the amount of money involved… I’m not here for that, right now. I have been teetering on the edge of “see a professional” levels of exhaustion and just frankly overwhelmed by having to do every fucking thing, basically all the time. (I recognize that a great deal of that stress and overwhelming effort is “emotional labor” vs actual physical workload, and that I do get some help with some tasks around the house from the Anxious Adventurer.) I say something about it to my partner, and he reminds me that I don’t have to look at – or respond to – his pings in real-time every moment.

…I think back to the earlier phone call and wonder how true that really is…

…I honestly don’t like leaving him hanging, and don’t want to miss responding to something truly urgent…

…Adulting is hard…

…Then I set expectations (again) that I’m going to lay down (because I’m in pain) and I set my phone aside and do that.

I wake to the sunset.

I wake to the ringing phone. I hadn’t meant to sleep… “Definitely tired,” I think as I answer the phone. My Traveling Partner greets me with a loving tone and an apology (for being cranky earlier and stressing me out) – he called because he realized I was likely to crash hard and possibly sleep past the point I’d wisely pause for healthy calories. He was right. He generally is right, about most things he bothers with at all. I’m grateful. I go across the road to the food carts and get some tasty Indian food, a nice treat. We chat briefly when I return. He misses me. I get it – I miss him too. (and I also miss me.) I’m grateful to have a partner who supports me taking care of myself in this way…and we sometimes benefit from a chance to miss each other. Perspective.

I wasn’t up much longer last night than it took to “let dinner settle” (I don’t enjoy waking up to acid reflux, so I avoid going to bed on a full stomach). I ended up calling it a night at a more or less typical time (for me), after a pleasant shower.

I woke this morning, after “sleeping in”, to a lovely new day. The sound of sea birds on the bay. The sound of ocean waves beyond the channel. A view of day break and dawn yet to arrive. Lovely. I made oatmeal and hotel coffee; I have no need to rush around doing anything more than this. I’m here, now, making the most of an opportunity to rest. This is an endeavor that has a surprising number of verbs, itself, frankly – they’re just different verbs. lol

Time to begin again. It’s a new day.

My phone pings me an alert from the security camera; the Anxious Adventurer on his way to somewhere. I send him a quick good morning message, and ask if he remembered to make coffee for my Traveling Partner (I’m clearly not there to do that!). New habits, especially short-term, can be easily overlooked, and I truly need the backup on this – not checking in on it this first morning seemed unwise. This? Right here? This is one of the major drivers of my fatigue; I struggle with feeling responsible for “all the things”, almost all the time. It’s probably a trauma-based character flaw of some kind. I breathe, exhale, and relax – and let myself return to this place, and this moment.

I open the balcony door to let in the fresh ocean breeze. I sip my coffee and write. A little later, once there’s plentiful daylight and the delights of the sunrise have been savored from here, I’ll go walk on the beach, reflecting on life and love, and feeling life’s minutes tick by gently. Later still, I’ll return to the room with fresh coffee, properly made by some professional coffee-making establishment, and set up the pastels for a day of painting and creative musings, listening to love songs and sea breezes. G’damn I needed this restful time. I’ve been pushing myself so hard, and so little of that effort has anything at all to do with me. I don’t resent service to family, hearth, and home – it’s not that. I’m just tired. It’s been a lot, and I am one mere mortal woman with my own limitations. I can only do so much for everyone else, before I have to stop, just stop, and do something for me. Rest. Paint. Wander. Exist quietly for a time without external observations, however helpful – a moment to simply be. Now and then I need a couple days alone with the woman in the mirror.

…Then I can begin again.

Tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,
Categories Allegories, Anxiety, art and the artist, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, inspiration, Love, meditation, Mindfulness, Moments, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, The Art of Being

A Moment With My Thoughts

October 1, 2024 //
0

Another quiet morning, aside from the ringing in my ears. I could do without that, but tinnitus is most vexing when I focus on it, so I turn my attention elsewhere. Inward. It’s a chilly morning. Definitely autumn and I am grateful for the sweater, and my fleece. I sit with my coffee and my thoughts.

… Just a couple more work shifts separated by an evening at home, and I’ll be heading to the coast for a much-needed break from… “everything”. Hilariously, to get this much-needed rest, this opportunity to recover from day-to-day exhaustion, I’ll have to exhaust myself further first, to ensure I’ve adequately prepared for my Traveling Partner’s comfort. Enough fresh towels available. Snacks and things within reach. Fresh tissues and such. Freshly made bed and clean linens. His laundry done and put away….

…Oh, and anything I need for myself…

… G’damn, I am so fucking tired. lol

Yesterday evening, as I happily prepared to gently lay newly arrived pastels in various hues of green into their places in my pastel case, I opened the case and… a tray stuck, then unexpectedly released and fell askew, dumping the fragile sticks. Several fell against the hard edge of the case, others to the firm surface of the wood tabletop. They don’t take well to such rough treatment and several of the delicate beautiful sticks broke into pieces. I suppose it’s no great tragedy, but my eyes filled with tears and my heart with disappointment and hurt. My fault. Broken things. I fought crying. It’s not as if the damage rendered them less useful at all…it just pained me to see them less than perfect, and by my own hand. My Traveling Partner was tender and supportive. He knows I’ve got strange baggage to do with such things. The evening finished quietly, without madness or hysterics. Win.

…Hell, I’d even forgotten about it, until just now, and I’m okay – that’s real progress!

I sit awhile with my thoughts. I watch the traffic on the highway beyond the trailhead parking lot. There won’t be daylight for walking before work this morning, but I came to this place anyway. It’s on the way to the office and lacks the glare of office lighting. lol I find a few quiet moments in a parking lot preferable to those same quiet moments in the office. (I could walk… I’ve got my headlamp. Taking “time for me” takes a variety of forms. This is one; just these few quiet solitary moments writing and reflecting.)

I catch myself missing my partner as though I had already gone. I think of him sleeping (I hope that he is) and tenderly wish him well. My heart is full of love and yearning. I love him and that experience is a huge part of my life. Has been for… going on 15 years now. Wow. The time seems subjectively so much shorter. My longest intimate relationship over a lifetime. He’s stuck with me through an impressive assortment of circumstances and challenges. I’m grateful and… something else profound and heartfelt and joyful that I haven’t got a word for. Interesting. Maybe I can find the colors to describe it somewhere in my pastel case? lol

… I think it would be nice to get a short walk in, in spite of beating the sun to the trail this morning. I reach for my cane and my headlamp. It’s a good time to begin again.

Tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,
Categories Allegories, art and the artist, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, inspiration, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, The Art of Being

Embracing Change

September 30, 2024 //
0

Shit does not always go as planned. Actually, giving it some thought over my coffee, in the deep predawn darkness of an autumn morning while waiting for the sun, I have to wonder if perhaps circumstances vary from our human attempts to plan things more often than a plan ever unfolds as intended?

This morning certainly makes me suspicious of the value in planning. In most respects, it still ends up being a rather commonplace Monday, but instead of getting a hike on the local trail I favor, I’m at a more distant favorite. Instead of working from home today, I’ll be in the office. Instead of cutting the workday short to take my Traveling Partner to an appointment, I’ll need to remember to reschedule it for another day. I’m okay with all of it… though I clearly won’t be getting any laundry done while I’m working (and I feel grateful to have gotten much of that done yesterday).

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I slept like crap last night, after also staying up later than usual enjoying South Park with my Traveling Partner and the Anxious Adventurer (for whom many seasons are as yet unwatched). It was a good time and well-worth the deviation from my routine.

During the wee hours, I thought I heard an exclamation of annoyance or frustration, but upon waking heard only the quiet of a household at rest. I couldn’t place the sound and wasn’t even certain I’d actually heard something… but I had a message from my partner, left for me sometime earlier, letting me know he wasn’t sleeping and gently suggesting I consider canceling his appointment and working from the office. An easy enough change to make, the hardest part of that being deciding whether to respond (risking waking him) and remembering to make the call to reschedule the appointment for another day. After waffling a bit, I take a chance on a short response, and finish dressing and making coffee for my partner to wake up to later, and slip away into the early morning darkness.

Change is. Just go with it, when you can. It’s easier than fighting it.

I sit quietly with my coffee and my thoughts watching an autumn mist gathering in lowlands along river and creek banks becoming a fog that stretches over the highway. My Traveling Partner pings me a string of emoji; he is grateful for the coffee and feeling loved. He plans to return to bed soon. We exchange a few words. Fuck, I love that man. I miss him when we’re not in the same space however much I also enjoy my solitude. He’s quite remarkable and I adore him.

I sit smiling “for no reason” (isn’t love reason enough?), and feeling grateful. Love isn’t perfect – we’re imperfect creatures – but g’damn it is pretty fucking wonderful.

The mist has become a fairly dense fog. The sunrise comes so late now that it’s likely I won’t get a walk today without a headlamp and the will to walk before daybreak. One more change of plans. I sigh and put my boots on. I grab my cane and tuck my purse out of sight. I fumble in my backpack in the darkness (it’s always in my car in case of emergency) and pull out my headlamp. It’s as good a time to begin again as any other…

Walking through fog before dawn… it’s a metaphor.
Tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,
Categories Allegories, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, gratitude, health, inspiration, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Sleepless Nights, solo hiking, The Art of Being
« Older Entries
Newer Entries »