Archives for posts with tag: what are you practicing?

It’s early. I’ve got this moment, and this fresh cup of coffee. In a sense, everything is new and the entire day stretches ahead of me, all potential, untouched by turmoil or hard feelings. I love this time of day; it reminds me how real each new opportunity to begin again really is. I sigh contentedly. I sit quietly, just enjoying the moment without needing to change it at all.

My heart is filled with love, and I’m thinking of my Traveling Partner. I ping a “love note” in the form of a digital “sticker” to him, forgetting for a moment how early it really is. I hope I didn’t wake him… He generally does not take his phone into the bedroom when he retires for the evening, so… it’s probably fine. (I reliably do, and have more than once been wakened because I’d forgotten to silence notifications, or left the stupid thing face up too near to my face.) Yesterday had some difficult moments, but they were illusions born of emotion, in most cases, and the practical details did not need all that drama. Human primates and their messy emotions!

Love is strange and wonderful stuff. Anyone who has ever seen my Traveling Partner and I together recognizes (and often comments on) how obviously in love with each other we are…but… as wonderful as Love is, it doesn’t do much to make someone a better human being than they actually are. We’ve each still got to work on that for ourselves, every day. I’m a deeply flawed human being, marked by trauma, sometimes mired in my chaos and damage, dragging my baggage around with me like I really need that shit close at hand. lol Messy. There’s so much work to becoming the person I most want to be. Putting down the baggage sounds so easy… it isn’t. There are verbs involved. Practices. Study. One might expect cleaning up the chaos and damage would be a relatively procedural matter involving some clear steps and reliable outcomes, but that has not proven to be the case in practice. My results vary. The outcomes often seem to change the path ahead and my understanding of myself changes over time.

I sip my coffee. I feel pretty okay today. I got some sleep last night. I slept until my “alarm” brought the lights up to full brightness. I “finished my dreams” – which nearly always finds me waking feeling that sleep is “completed”. I didn’t stumble or drop anything as I dressed and readied myself for the day. Traffic was light and the commute was an easy one, in spite of the drenching rain that accompanied me along the highway. The day has had a promising start and I feel optimistic. I’m not even in much pain. My tinnitus is relatively mild this morning, mostly fading into the background. My cervicogenic headache is a barely noticeable 2 out of 10 or so on a 1-10, and my occipital neuralgia seems to have – for the moment – diminished. My arthritis isn’t bothering me, today, yet. A good start to the day, feeling good, sipping coffee, and looking out the office windows on the rainy pre-dawn cityscape below me.

My results vary. However easy or difficult the journey, yours will as well. No point taking that personally. I breathe, exhale, relax, and sit here with my coffee and my thoughts. I make shit too difficult, sometimes. I mull that over while I drink my coffee. There’s something to learn there.

I yawn unexpectedly, finish my coffee, and prepare to begin again.

I’m grateful for the terrible cup of coffee in my hand as I walk this morning. I switch hands with it, warming each in turn, walking and watching the sun rise. There’s mist in the low lands along the marsh, but it looks like blue skies above, so perhaps a sunny day ahead?

I stop and set down my coffee to take an occasional picture.

I walk and watch the dawn become day. The air is crisp, clean, and cold. Frost edges the shrubs and dry grasses. The gravel of the path crunches under my footsteps. Lovely morning for a walk along the edge of the marsh, in spite of the cold.

The path beyond me beckons.

I walk with my thoughts. My heart is filled with love and gratitude. What a pleasant holiday my Traveling Partner and I shared! The meal was excellent. The day was merry, and we delighted in each other’s company all day long. We each exchanged holiday well-wishes with friends and loved ones over the course of the day. We had everything we needed and more, and it wasn’t necessary to go out into the world or run any errands. We enjoyed the day at home.

It’s a new day now. I’m enjoying this quiet time on the trail on a chilly Autumn morning. I wonder if my partner went back to bed for a bit more sleep? I smile and finish this dreadful cup of coffee before it goes cold, and drop the cup into a trash can on my way back to the car. It’s already time to begin again.

A new day

Middle of the work day. Coffee long behind me. Stopped for a break to have a bite with my Traveling Partner. We’ve had a difficult couple of days for some reason. It’s probably me, I guess? I’m not sure and I’m not sure it’s helpful to “assign blame” or point fingers at each other, or any particular individual issue. I just want to do better as a partner and as a lover – and as a friend. That’s where we started. That’s what matters most.

So far today I’ve avoided beating myself up over yesterday(s). I like the thought that I’ve treated my partner with similar kindness and gentleness, but I don’t always feel sure of myself on that point. He said some things yesterday that took my breath away with how much it hurt to hear them. I’m not of a mind to make bold promises about changes, I’m just going to seek to do better day to day, and hope that incremental change over time makes a difference. I wish myself luck on that, in a sincere and heartfelt way, and let my thoughts move on.

I read an article that offers some promise of improvement on the strange ticks and habits that are dermatillomania or trichotillomania – as a lifelong “can’t seem to stop” biter-of-nails, and picker-of-cuticles, I’ve been frustrated a long long time that these seem to be “habits” I can’t seem to break. The news article is here. The “habit replacement manual” that supports the practice the article is about is linked with a video, here. Good luck, if you need this I hope it helps. Me, I feel… hopeful. It’s a feeling I really need right now, so that’s a win.

The work day can’t possibly end soon enough, but I feel on edge and stressed out, which isn’t ideal. Is it “all me”? It easily could be, and I try not to resist well-intentioned feedback from people close to me when they express their concern. I look around at the chaos in my studio. My wee library is in a pretty similar state. The house, in general, is quite tidy (after the Herculean effort my Traveling Partner put in just before I went to a work offsite in Palm Springs). I can’t “run from this” – it doesn’t solve anything to do so, it just worsens over time. And it’s funny, the chaos is telling – chaos in my environment nearly always signals some measure of internal chaos. I wouldn’t expect tidying up the external chaos to do anything much about the mess in my head, but… it often helps quite a lot. Like… a lot a lot. So I’m thinking maybe it’s a good weekend to mostly stay home, mostly tidy up, and spend time connecting with my partner. Talking. Touching. Laughing. Not just hanging out watching videos. Definitely not snarling at each other from another room. “Together” – present, and engaged, connected. Hard. We’ve both been irritable, lately, though I don’t think I know nearly enough about why that is (for either of us), and it’s hard to have a gentle conversation about it. Maybe if I can just do better, we can get past this? I say “maybe if I...” rather than “we”, because mine is the behavior I own, control, and make happen with the verbs I’m personally lobbing into the experience we share. The other half of “we” is on his side of every interaction, and I’m confident that he does also want to “do better” – but I can’t force that, control that, dictate that, or own that, so… yeah. I’ll be over here doing my best to do better, myself.

…Don’t wish me “luck”. lol Definitely wish me success – or persistence. I figure I’ll be beginning again quite a lot, and getting a ton of practice at not taking shit personally, letting small shit stay small, assuming positive intent, and being present, open, and kind. I don’t expect it to be “easy”. We’re probably both feeling emotionally hurt by things we’ve said to each other. We could do better. We could be kinder, gentler, and more aware of each other’s fundamental humanity. It’s not easy; we’re also each dealing with our own shit, and probably feeling pretty weighed down by that.

I take a breath and exhale slowly, evenly, and try to remember a time when I wasn’t feeling stressed. Any such recollection, hoping to savor that past moment, and reclaim a sense of it. It’s a useful exercise. Not a cure, but helpful. Hell, I find one such moment pretty quickly, then several more, and so many that are recent, and I start feeling lighter – this is just a moment. Emotional weather. Storms pass. I breathe, exhale, relax, and center myself in the context of a better feeling.

The physical pain I’m in is a bit much. Arthritis in my spine. I lift myself more erect; better posture sometimes means less pain. My neck aches. I do some of the physical therapy “moves” I was taught, sometimes they really help, other times they are at least a brief distraction. I feel the pain that lurks behind my jaw, and below my ear. I contemplate that fucking nodule on my thyroid and wonder if having it removed will help… I am grateful that at least the occipital neuralgia is not also flaring up. Pain makes everything else seem worse, more complicated, more stressful, less easy… I’m annoyed by pain. I look in my wee pillbox with today’s meds in it… have I got any more options? One last dose of an Rx pain reliever. I take it with some reluctance, but hoping for relief. If it helps, it helps. It’s okay to need, and to ask for, and to accept help. Sometimes it’s even necessary.

I take another breath and look at the time. I think I’ll call it a day – and begin again.

Summer is approaching. Mornings, here, are sometimes still chilly. Night time temperatures still fall well below 50 F/10 C. Things cool off before the sun warms them once more. Some afternoons barely hit 70 F/21 C. Pretty comfortable weather, generally, and very good for sleeping… I wake with the sun a lot of mornings in spite of that. Like this morning. It’s nice quiet time for reflection, though, if I wake thoroughly and don’t find myself stumbling groggily through the first hours of the day.

This particular morning I am sipping my coffee and watching the sky beyond the windows change color, hints of pale grays and strange blues give way to peach, lavender, pink, and hints of orange as the sun rises. Pretty. I think about the flowers in the garden. I think about my upcoming birthday (11 days away, now) and our planned camping trip (5 days!). I think about pain, and pain management, and these stiff contrary bones. I think about recent delicious meals, and how much I appreciate my Traveling Partner’s cooking, and how nice it is that he’s been doing more of that lately. Good times, shared. I think about that, too. No misery here. It’s a pleasant morning. I think about the weekend ahead. I think about spending time in the studio… which competes for my attention, alongside “time in the garden”, “time on the trail”, and “time off-roading with my partner”.

Planted these last fall, and I’ve already forgotten what they are, other than “pretty”.

I pause my musings long enough to really appreciate how fortunate I am to enjoy so much of this life, so thoroughly. “This too shall pass.” Good times are wonderful. Savoring them, and reflecting on them, is delightful and healthy. Healing. Still, part of the point in doing so is to ensure they become part of my implicit memory as well, and a well-spring of future resilience upon which I can call when times are darker, and life feels less rich and satisfying. Just keeping it real; my results vary. I have some rough moments here and there. You too? We all do.

I write less often these days. Not because there’s nothing to say, nor because I am wrapped in joy 100% of my time, nor am I, contrariwise, wrapped in misery. I’m just over here living life. I write less because, honestly, I spent much less time in solitary reflection, and less time forcing myself through practices to pull myself out of some messy emotional quagmire. I live. Breathe. Exhale. Relax. Succeed. Fail. Begin again. I try. I explore. I set boundaries. I yield to circumstances. It’s life. It’s not perfect, but it’s also quite a lot better than “just okay”. I sometimes feel I am on the edge of “thriving full-time”, which is pretty remarkable, considering the entirety of my experience.

I sip my coffee feeling my moment shift gears from “quiet reflection” to feeling filled with gratitude and love. It’s a nice start to a new day. I smile and think about my partner, at home, still sleeping. My heart beats with love.

It’s time to begin again.

Iced coffee (black) and a fizzy water (plain, cold) and a day of work ahead of me. I’m not even bitching, it’s simply where the day is, at the moment.

I slept rather badly. Couldn’t fall asleep, but wasn’t stressed about it. Minutes of meditation and daydreaming became hours, and when I finally had to get up to pee, I looked at the time. It was late. I’d be getting a nap at best, and that is what came to pass. I returned to bed and crashed hard, waking abruptly around 04:15, though I don’t know what woke me. I got up, dressed, and headed to the city for the work day. With the changing season, I caught the sunrise on the commute – it was lovely. Shades of peach and pastel pinks and oranges created an exciting backdrop for the blue of the shadow-side of the mountains out on the horizon. It was almost distracting, and I almost pulled over to watch the sunrise with my whole attention.

I’m doing my best to stay engaged. The work day is just beginning. I’m tired though, and my mind wanders, and I keep coming back to some communications challenges that persist for me (brain trauma is a hard one to beat for lasting challenges). I also keeping thinking about my garden.

I clearly planted something here, but I don’t recall when or what.

I’m thinking about a sunny spot in the front flower beds where two clean rows of… something… have now sprouted. I don’t recall what I planted there. I forgot to jot down a note in my notebook, too, apparently. It’s obvious I did plant something; those rows are too orderly to be happenstance. So… what did I plant? I sip my coffee and wonder, and then find myself wading into a metaphor…

…When I look at life as a garden, and consider the care, the cultivation, the practices, it all fits so well, and then… there are these seedlings that have sprouted, which I clearly planted… and eventually they’ll become something, but I don’t know what, and it’s hard to be at all invested in whatever they are. If I water them… well, they might be weeds, do I want to water and care for them? What if they turn out to be something noxious or undesirable? If I don’t water them… well… maybe they’re something unusual, fancy, expensive, or carefully selected with my garden’s lasting beauty in mind? What then? Will I have squandered precious resources?

I find myself still struggling with some things as a human being. Communication is one of those things. Specifically, I have a problem with interrupting. I work on it pretty aggressively, but still (often) come up short of the desired outcome – which is listening deeply and not interrupting people (any people; everyone wants to be heard). The “seeds” of this challenge were planted a long long time ago. The nurturing or care those “seeds” were given most likely either did nothing to reduce the likelihood I’d interrupt people as a chronic issue, or potentially made it worse, by whatever success as a coping mechanism it may have once had. This thing isn’t a fucking “seed” any more; it’s g’damned tree. It’s massive, and it’s branches shade so much of my experience interacting with others that it affects the entire garden, now. What the hell? When I did even plant this thing? How have I not been more successful at least pruning the fucking thing back to some sort of manageable size??

I sip my coffee thinking about what we “plant” in our lives that grow to vex us later. It’s not always a walk in a manicured rose garden, this thing called life. I’ve definitely got to be more diligent about “ripping out the weeds”… and also garden with more care, taking better notes, and making a clear point of being present in the experience.

…If nothing else, I most definitely need to begin again.