Archives for posts with tag: what are you practicing?

I took a moment in the garden in the afternoon, just to enjoy the sunshine after the rain, and to see how things are growing. It’s still early spring, but already the first roses are blooming.

Rose “Baby Love” blooming first in my garden, peeking out from beyond the curry plant.

I stepped gently across the soaking wet lawn, carefully making a point not to come back the way I came, to avoid compressing the moisture saturated ground too much. Everything is lush and green. The earliest planted peas are thriving and blooming.

I’ve already forgotten what specific sort of peas these are. I’ve got several types and varieties. I just enjoy peas.

Interesting greens in the salad bed are beginning to do interesting things. I like to plant a variety of salad greens, including things like dandelions, arugula, “corn salad”, and several other sorts.

Including this… whatever this is. I’ve forgotten.

…And some lettuces. I mean… salad. Obviously. Tender looseleaf red lettuces, and soft delicate butter lettuce… no iceberg lettuce, and rarely any romaine. Boring. I can do without. Flavor, texture, colors… I enjoy the crunch of iceberg lettuce, well enough, I suppose… but it’s rather bland otherwise and not much nutritional value. It’s a small garden; the nutritional density matters.

I took my time as I made my way around the garden. The walk around makes an irregular sort of open-ended oval, not quite a “U” shape, not quite an “O”. There are 13 roses to see along the way, and kitchen herbs tucked in here and there. There’s an assortment of blueberry bushes planted last year, with a hope that they’ll become an edible hedge along one stretch of the walk toward the front door, and a couple others just tucked in here and there for “shrubbery”. Most all the perennials (including most of the roses) are pretty young, having been planted some time in the not-quite-four years we’ve been here. (A couple of the roses are much older, having come along with me for multiple moves, in pots, over the years.) Some of the roses are new this year – they may not even flower until next year. The oldest of the roses, and those that were planted the first year we were here, I expect to bloom heartily. “Baby Love” will bloom more or less continuously, once she begins, through to January next year, unless I do something to force her to acknowledge the changing season (which I rarely do), like prune her back aggressively after the first frost. Our climate is relative mild, and it is not necessary to winter-over the roses.

…It’s definitely Spring…

The lupines are beginning to bloom. The dahlias have broken through the ground. The French tarragon has sent up new sprigs. The curry plant is setting buds and will bloom soon, too.

As I walk in the garden, I find myself strangely feeling that I’m in the company of my Granny, who would walk me through her garden when I was a kid, sampling the herbs and sharing their scents with me, and telling me all the things they were used for. I find myself in the company of my Dad, thinking about which new variety of this or that vegetable might be worth a try this year, picking weeds out from around the tomato plants, and carefully checking those for growth – do they need to be pinched back? I find myself imagining sharing this garden with my dear friend, and her delight over this flower or that one. My background stress recedes and my heart fills with love… and gardening tips. lol

The blue sky and breezes beckoned me to have a sit and rest awhile, listening to the birds. A blue jay stops at the edge of the garden – a familiar one, that comes regularly to see what I’m up to, and rummage around among the weeds and greens for whatever it is blue jays come to the garden for. He watches me fearlessly curious. I watch him back.

It’s cooler now. I’ve finished my time in the garden, and returned indoors to enjoy a quiet cup of tea and hang out with my Traveling Partner, and share my moment in the garden here, with you. It’s enough. I definitely needed it. 🙂

I’m paused on the trail. I arrived just as the park gates opened, put on my boots and got started down the trail moments after daybreak. The trail was still quite dim and I have it to myself, even now. I  set a good pace, and at my planned turnaround point (a riverfront viewpoint) I stopped to catch my breath and write. It’s a cool morning, but not so chilly that my fingers would struggle with my phone. I’m warmed through from the walk.

My night was wakeful and not especially restful after my Traveling Partner woke me up. I don’t remember why he woke me, only that it was difficult to get back to sleep, and my sleep was interrupted with wakeful moments and anxious dreams from then until morning. Less than ideal. He left me a sweet and kind apology note, which I saw when I woke. I’m okay. Not mad or cranky about it,  just not well-rested. Maybe a nap later…?

…There are nutria playing along the riverbank. I watch them awhile…

It’s a gray rainy looking morning. There’s laundry to do. Vacuuming. Salad greens in the garden are looking good, and I consider carefully harvesting enough of the more mature outer leaves for a salad for breakfast after I return home. It’s Sunday…

Today is a “benchmark day”. Time to take my next dose of Ozempic, do my weigh-in, and take a couple pictures of progress-to-date. This is my 4th shot. This is also the first time I’ve ever approached fitness and weight-loss from a perspective of actual eagerness and confidence, since I was  bodybuilding in the 80s. It helps to see the progress, and as with so many things, the progress is often only visible if I’m really looking for it. So, the meal tracking, weigh-ins, and weekly progress photos serve to help me see the reality of my subjective experience. I found myself actually excited to get to Sunday, my “benchmark day”, more and more as the week progressed, and here I finally am.

…I am curious about the outcome…

Life is full of benchmarks and milestones. Celebrating those, big and small, has real value, and amazing potential to lift us up – or “set us straight” about where we are on a given journey. I  sigh contentedly,  sitting in this place, listening to the birds, and the river as it flows by. It’s a beautiful morning and I made it to this goal, this lovely place to sit with my thoughts, in good time. That’s another piece of my fitness journey; overcoming my pain, and mobility issues, to “go further, faster”. I’m pleased to be back to being comfortable with 2.5 miles. I’m eager to reach 3… then 5… I’m counting on practice and incremental change over time. I know this works.

I’m grateful that I’m still walking.

A bit of daylight breaks through the clouds. It’s time to head back down the trail to other moments and beginnings…

It’s early, but the sun is already up, and the sun rise is almost over by the time I get to my desk. I’m not running late, it’s just the changing season. I enjoy the variety, and take a moment to watch the evolving glow reflected in the windows of other buildings. Variety is certainly something I appreciate. This morning, that pleasure in going beyond “the routine” makes itself obvious in my choice of breakfast. I’ve been having a very high protein breakfast, lately, usually hard-boiled eggs, maybe with a small salad of mixed greens or spinach. This morning I’m having oatmeal with nuts and fresh fruit. The ventilation comes on, and I “enjoy” my breakfast with a side of sneezes – seasonal allergies. The trees are all in bloom, and the pollen eventually makes its way into the ventilation system. It is what it is. It’s not personal, it’s just… one of the weeds in the garden of life, I suppose. lol

The weekend was a lovely one, spent in the garden, and in the good company of my Traveling Partner. Time well-spent.

Some species of wild geranium is a very common weed in my garden.

I spent some of my time weeding various flower beds and around the base of some roses, and a small oak. The weed most often catching my eye is some kind of geranium. There are several, and without taking real time to study the features of this one, it’s hard to narrow it down. Invasive, sure. Commonplace, definitely. Mostly harmless, probably. Like a lot of weeds, it’s only a problem because it isn’t what I want to see growing in some particular spot. I pulled a bunch of them out, and tossed them in the yard debris bin, surprised to see that it is already almost full (for the first time this year).

I think about “the weeds” in my metaphorical garden (this life). Here, too, it’s sometimes hard to make an easy distinction between what is a “weed” and what is simply a wildflower growing in a less than ideal location. I think that over for awhile, sipping my coffee, and eating my oatmeal while I watch the sun rise. Because variety in life (and our experiences) is generally a good thing, it makes sense to approach ripping out our “weeds” with a certain bit of caution, and a sense of consideration – what makes a weed? Is there no lasting value to the things we consider “rooting out” of our experience? In the garden, and in life, there are definitely some scenarios in which the “weedkiller” of choice is more toxic than the displaced wildflower that seems so unwelcome in the moment… just something to think about. Certainly, it makes sense to eradicate the “toxic plants” in our metaphorical garden, just as it makes sense to maintain walking paths, stepping stones, flower beds, and structures with care and a sense of aesthetic. There is work to gardening, and to living life (well). The effort pays off in more substantial harvests of better quality, and the joy of simply being in the garden on a lovely Spring day. The flowers are worth a pause, to enjoy the scent, the colors, and the textures. Around every corner is a new perspective, a new angle of light, a new moment of wonder to embrace and enjoy. This is true in the garden and in life.

…The thing is, if we put so much time and care into creating and maintaining our garden, then only “see” it as we exit the car and head into the house, or leave the house for some other destination, without making time to simply enjoy the garden, itself, we miss out on much of the entire point of gardening, in the first place. This too, is true in life as well as in the garden…

So… I guess I’m saying, in spite of the busy-ness of adult life, and the demands placed upon me by work, and home, and responsibilities, and goals… I do myself a tremendous favor by slowing down to really enjoy the journey. To stroll through life’s garden, smelling the flowers and enjoying the sunshine, is the point of having the garden (well, and maybe also growing food). It’s not really there for show, or to impress the neighbors, or while away the weekend hours “staying busy”… it’s there to delight, to offer respite, to present small wonders, and a moment to breathe the scents of Spring and find joy (and harvest tasty vegetables).

…I sip my coffee, and think about my garden – and my life…

Rose “Sweet Chariot” – and some weeds.

There’s so much to do. So much to put time, effort, and thought into. So many projects I would like to get to. So many paintings I’ve yet to paint, and books I still want to read. The journey is the destination – in life and in the garden. Is my garden perfect? Hell no. lol I’ve got weeds. I’ve got bare spots. I’ve also got… flowers, vegetables, and sunshine. No, my life isn’t “perfect” and neither is my garden – but it’s mine, and it’s worth my time, consideration, and enjoyment. There’s more to do, but there’s no point rushing – I’m already “here”, wherever “here” is, and there’s plenty of time to begin again.

Misty, chilly Spring morning and I have the trail to myself. Bliss. I walked with my uninterrupted thoughts, watching the sunrise. The park gate opened at 05:45, pleasantly early, enough light to walk the trail without a headlamp or flashlight. So little traffic on the nearby highway, all I hear are the sounds of nature and wildlife… and my tinnitus. lol I’m okay with it. Beautiful morning.

Health and fitness-wise, this morning is a small milestone; 3rd shot on Ozempic, first weigh-in (at home) since I started it. I even get to discontinue another medication, since I am tolerating the Ozempic well, I get to discontinue the beta blocker I am taking,  which also means getting back some energy,  being a bit less out of breath when I am walking, and losing the edema in my ankles that developed when I started the beta blocker. I am excited about that.

Will I be bummed if I haven’t yet lost any weight? Nope. My overall health and feeling of wellness is improving and that’s the actual point (and goal). More energy means more exercise, more easily, and the results over time are what matter. Increasing my activity level and skillfully managing my calories and nutrition will get me down the path. It’s not a sprint, it’s an endurance challenge. lol

The mist is still clinging to the marsh, as I return to the car. The Canada geese take flight in large flocks that fill the sky overhead. The golden sun shine begins to fill the sky with warmth and light, and I am smiling as I walk, thinking my thoughts and feeling pretty good.

The most recent updates about my Traveling Partner’s injury and recovery are somewhat reassuring and provide some hope and encouragement. I feel more comfortable planning to camp in May. I’m excited about the possibility of also feeling stronger and having more energy for it, too.

The weekend isn’t over. There’s more to do at home, and in the garden. It’s already time to begin again.

We become what we practice.

We become what we practice. Think about that for a minute in the context of anger, and how you express your anger, handle feeling angry, and how your anger affects others around you. We become what we practice. Practice “venting” your anger, releasing it into the environment, directing it toward other people… over time? You become more skillful at being angry. To be clear, you don’t become more skillful at managing your anger constructively, or harnessing the potential in your anger to communicate violated boundaries, or to seek change. You just become more skillful at (and more easily provoked into) escalating quickly and becoming a monster built of rage capable of doing great damage to those around you without anything much in the way of a positive outcome. I’m just saying, maybe give some thought to what you practice with regard to how you express and deal with your anger.

…I know I could do better, myself…

I’ve been noticing some more recent research being published about the relative value in “venting” one’s anger. Apparently, it’s not such a good practice. Gratifying for the angry person, perhaps, but not “helpful” for managing conflict, or reducing stress, or resolving whatever circumstance triggered the emotion in the first place – but reliably also incredibly damaging for the relationship with whatever hapless other primate is receiving the emotional blast of an angry outburst. Justified or not, delivering that angry blast of emotion to another human being is unpleasant, damaging, and not especially helpful for anyone involved. It’s unfortunate that we’re not taught sooner by knowledgeable practitioners how best to understand, endure, process, and express our emotions.

…Maybe don’t look to me for guidance on this one; I’m still learning…

I sip my coffee thinking about anger. I’ve gotten a lot better at managing my anger over recent years, but it still “gets me” now and then – most commonly when I’m driving. Thinking about that in the abstract, that seems pretty fucking dangerous. I keep working at it, because 1. we become what we practice, 2. disgorging explosively angry energy isn’t useful for anything in that situation 3. it wrecks my experience in the moment, and 4. it’s seriously unlikely that anything any other driver does or doesn’t do is at all personal or “about me” in the first place. This morning, I commuted calmly into the office, with the exception of one brief moment of frustration with a driver ahead of me going less than the posted speed limit. My angry reaction caught me a bit by surprise, but I recognized the inappropriate escalation of temper in the moment, and managed to take a breathe, and dial that shit back. Way back. I was going to get to my destination regardless, and this rather unimportant – and very brief – impediment to my forward momentum wasn’t going to change my arrival time in any notable way (even if it did, there’s no time pressure on my start time each day). I took a breath. Took my foot off the gas. Took another breath. Exhaled slowly and got a fucking grip on myself. I was being, frankly, ridiculous. So… I let that shit go.

Managing anger isn’t easy. It’s worthwhile, though. It does take practice. My results do vary. Still… incremental change over time is a thing. We really do become what we practice. When we practice calm, we become calmer. When we practice kindness, we become kinder people. When we practice listening attentively, we become better listeners.

…When we practice expressing our anger aggressively, we become angrier…

I’ve got choices to make. Practices to practice. Every time I feel my anger rise up, I’ve got another opportunity to practice managing my anger with wisdom, consideration, compassion, and understanding, and without explosively escalating it. Sure, my results are going to vary… but each time I practice being the person I most want to be, I get a little closer to that goal. Like anything else, when I fall short of my expectations of my best self, I can begin again. There will definitely be another opportunity to do better.

I’m grateful that I’m no longer the seething ball of taking-everything-personally rage that I was in my 20s. That rage didn’t get me anywhere with the underlying traumas that caused it, it just did more damage. I’m grateful that I’m no longer the pensive, frustrated, still-seething-in-the-background resentfully angry mess that I was in my 30s and 40s. There was an impotence and fugue of futility to that which undermined my ability to feel any joy in life at all ruining some otherwise pretty good years. By the time I entered my 50s, I at least recognized I needed to do something quite entirely different… so I began again. It’s been a strange journey of growth, change, and transformation. Worthy. The journey is, after all, the destination.

I sip my coffee, and reflect on the past decade of growth and change. It seems such a short time…

…and already, still, time to begin again. Again.