Archives for posts with tag: what are you practicing?

This morning biscuits are a metaphor. I haven’t made any, I’m just thinking about them. Fresh hot homemade biscuits right from the oven on a lazy spring Sunday morning, served with sweet cream butter, homemade fruit preserves of some kind or another – or several – maybe some lemon curd, and Devonshire cream – and plenty of coffee, or tea, sounds like just about the perfect morning munch, or lovely bite of brunch a bit later, or excellent accompaniment to a good lunch salad… I’m just saying; I like biscuits. (American biscuits… so… scones.)

Home made scones.

Home made scones.

How are biscuits a metaphor? Simply that there is nothing fancy about a biscuit, even the recipe itself is easy. Flour, shortening, liquid, mixed in the correct ratio, spooned onto a pan if you’re not up for rolling and cutting, and then baked – but the results are extraordinary when the ingredients are in the correct ratio, the steps followed in order, and the progress of the baking attended to mindfully.

Sometimes we take what is easy and make it harder. I’m not sure why, but I know I do, and have, and likely will again in the future.

I’ve got stacks of cookbooks, and a lot of biscuit recipes. Some of the recipes start things off by taking those simple ingredients and directing me toward very complicated steps. Some of the recipes are a simple tweak of the basic concept, but result in something very different at the end.

A biscuit done well can be the foundation of something amazing - like a grown up take on a breakfast 'ice cream sandwich'.

A biscuit done well can be the foundation of something amazing – like a grown up take on a breakfast ‘ice cream sandwich’.

The poorest pantry likely has the ingredients for biscuits; flour of some kind, water or milk, some sort of shortening, a leavening ingredient. Biscuits can be made simply, or with far fancier ingredients – they’re still biscuits, and the sort of thing that tends to be very available. Affordable luxury? A small investment in effort, a commitment to a good recipe, and having simple staple ingredients on hand can result in luxury, comfort, and contentment in the hardest times.

Everyone has tough times. In the toughest times, I’ve still been able to make biscuits. I’m trying to say something… about life, about love, about hard times…about the simple basics that we can get by on, when we make the choice to do so. Still choices, still verbs involved – but the list of ingredients may be quite simple indeed. (Check your pantry – are you well stocked on emotional staples?)

Today is a good day to do well on what is at hand. Today is a good day to follow a good recipe. Today is a good day to enjoy the simple pleasures that I know I can count on. Today is a good day to change my world.

My day is a bit like ‘Schrödinger’s Day’, today… I am in my own space, behind a closed door. Events on the other side of the door exist, but exist without context or definition; I just don’t know what’s on the other side of that door. Once I open the door, the day is what it is. Having not yet opened the door (well, since my last interaction with my traveling partner, who made this tasty latte in front of me) the day remains all potential, and unanswered questions.

I could make assumptions about what is on the other side of the door. Assumptions of any sort I might make would give me something on which to anchor decision-making about whether to open the door, certainly. There’s no reason to further assume that any such assumptions would be accurate. They’d be entirely made up within my own thinking, based on what I know historically about my experience, and then filtered through my baggage. Perhaps not ideal decision-making material?

I could eschew further in-the-moment assumption making, and go with ‘expectations’ of what is on the other side of the door. Expectations are assumptions I’ve made in advance, and planned around…not really any more useful for decision-making about whether to open the door. The outcome could be more stressful, too; assumptions that fail the test of reality can be frustrating, and cause me confusion and stress, but not on the same order of magnitude as when reality doesn’t ‘measure up’ to expectations. The disappointment that can carry with it sucks, and I’m not a fan of creating disappointment for myself. As experiences go, I prefer disappointment be a rarity, and that I not inflict it upon myself needlessly.

Being present in this simple uncomplicated moment gives me a chance to really consider that closed door, and what may be beyond it, and to practice some fundamentals of awareness, observation, and presence. It’s a closed door, nothing more. I am here, now, in this safe and quiet space, quite solitary, content, and safe. The specific experience I am having now is quite calm, relaxed, and pleasant; things on the other side of a closed door may not be relevant to me, at all.

It's worth taking a few moments to pause and reflect on a change in perspective, or a moment of growth. I am learning to spend more time on the good stuff.

It’s worth taking a few moments to pause and reflect on a change in perspective, or a moment of growth. I am learning to spend more time on the good stuff.

This may not seem like a big deal for many people, and quite naturally so, I’m sure. As a survivor of domestic violence, emotional abuse, and trauma, that closed door has often felt dangerous, threatening, limiting, frightening, powerful – and I cowered in fear behind the limited safety it offered from whatever was on the other side. Raised voices, angry yelling, slamming things, stomping (pretty much all the sounds of intense negative emotions) are fairly easily able to trigger symptoms of post-traumatic stress, for me. Reaching a place where that closed door is neither an enemy nor an ally, and is simply a closed door is a pretty big deal… I can open a closed door…or not. That’s simple stuff, as decision-making goes.

Today is a good day to make simple decisions to take care of me. Today is a good day to consider the hearts of others. Today is a good day to live well, to love freely, and to be kind. Today is a good day to change the world.

It’s been a lovely holiday so far, and I’ve got a few more days of holiday vacation ahead of me…and this odd day of work out in the middle of it. 5:00 am feels much quieter even than usual, this morning. I’m faced with the choice to write, or continue to meditate, enjoying the stillness without an obvious shared outcome. Many mornings it is a choice I make, but most mornings it doesn’t feel quite so willful and obvious. I suspect it is because I don’t have a clear topic in mind just at the moment.

I woke mostly pain-free this morning, but drenched in sweat and my morning medication has made me nauseous. Hormones. I know the hormone thing has the potential to make things suck, at some point, but that point is not yet now. 🙂 Even this small challenge doesn’t seem sufficiently noteworthy to really write about, at least not this morning, or not at the moment. Funny that learning to enjoy my experience has been such a complicated process in some ways…I’m glad I’ve come so far that a simple quiet morning is enjoyable, but not remarkable beyond the observation that this lovely quiet moment simply is.

I spend some moments enjoying catching up with far away friends, and preparing for the work day. The New Year is nearly here…

...Soon the ornaments are packed away for another year.

…Soon the ornaments are packed away for another year.

I woke earlier than I wanted to, again this morning. I found myself, moments later, musing over a tasty latte my traveling partner made for me how strange it is that not so long ago I was reliably the first person awake every morning, even on weekend days. There were hours of quiet solo time on weekend mornings, rarely seeing anyone else awake before 8:00 am; time during which I could not easily get started on chores, and music would be ‘headphones only’, while the household slept, quiet time for reading, for meditation, for creative thought. Things changed at some point, though I am unsure quite when, or why. Now, I’m not only not the first person up on weekend mornings, I am seemingly utterly unable to ‘sleep in’. It just isn’t there for me, right now; the common sounds of movement, conversation, cupboards, doors, drawers, and conversation just don’t permit it. (I’d have to be heavily drugged to sleep through all of it, and I don’t take those sorts of drugs these days; the side effects and consequences are not worth it, long-term.)

I woke feeling reasonably rested, though, and not excessively discontent at the lack of languorous sensuous waking up time – it’s been so long since I enjoyed that experience I have begun to doubt it exists in reality. I dragged myself out of bed, and managed to refrain from bitching about being awakened, again. Meditation, and a few still calm minutes matter, and make a difference; I managed to keep from bitching aloud about the unsatisfying experience. The morning’s irritating wake up was behind me pretty quickly, and I sat sipping my latte after meditating, and enjoying the charm and delight of the holiday decor, the tree and the lights, and the quiet beauty of a pearly sunrise.

I’m enjoying my second coffee of the morning, an ordinary Americano, an ordinary morning. The laundry is started. The dishes are put away, and the dishwasher set up for the day’s coffee cups, plates, and flatware. I took my time with my morning yoga sequence, and because although I woke with a nasty headache, and a measure of arthritis pain, I didn’t feel quite as stiff as I often do, I tried a fairly simple arm-balance, my first such attempt. I happily toppled over a couple of times, trying again, until I was certain of two things: this will be easier when I’ve lost a few more pounds, and this is also something that requires patience with myself, and more practice. I feel satisfied with the attempt, and proud of myself to have come so far at all.

A holiday scene, for lack of a better segue.

A holiday scene, for lack of a better segue.

This morning I am thinking about contentment and consideration. It is mere coincidence that they both begin with ‘C’, but having noticed that, I’m finding it hard to let go of it, wondering what other related things I can add to the list that also begin with ‘C’. (My thinking brain is jumping into the morning with real enthusiasm – and full of distractions. lol) The point of today’s exercise is not lists of words that begin with the letter ‘C’, however. Today I am taking time to carefully consider which of my actions and choices are genuinely considerate of the needs and experience of others, and which are being rationalized as ‘considerate’, when in fact they are actions and choices that are specifically intended to meet needs of my own, any consideration involved being a byproduct, not an intention, or matter of will. It’s an important distinction, I think, because I am making choices; it seems necessary that my intention be entirely clear, at least to me.

Most inconsiderate behavior I observe – whether my own, or someone else’s – seems pretty consistently, and fairly literally, ‘thoughtless’. That makes sense considering the very definition of ‘considerate’. Do I have the will – and ability – to make each choice a thoughtful one? To make each action intentional? To truly consider the potential outcomes of each choice, each action, in advance? How much potential for joy, delight, and nurturing do I lose each time I take an action, or say words, thoughtlessly? Mindlessly?

Mindfully treating the world well, really being a considerate human being, is a very big deal; much of what is amiss in the world, regardless of the cause, could potentially be mitigated, if not entirely resolved, if each of us were truly, sincerely, wholeheartedly mindful and considerate. I don’t think I’m wrong about this one…but I don’t know that I have words enough, or the intellect, to deliver to you inarguable logical proofs. I look out into the world, though, and I can’t help but wonder… Would kidnapping and raping as a tool of warfare be a choice a considerate human being could make? Could a mindful, considerate law enforcement officer choke an unarmed man to death by willful intent, and aware of the deliberate nature of that choice? Could protesters become looters, or nihilists, in the passion of the moment – if they were considering the outcomes of their actions with willful intent, and consideration of their fellow human beings who would be affected? Could business leaders still justify forcing employees to involuntary labor on Thanksgiving Day, if they were making those choices with full consideration of the needs of others, and the impact on the hearts, souls, and experiences of their colleagues were in the forefront of their intent? Could a healthy young woman getting on a train shove an older lady using a walker out of her way and take the last available seat, if she acted mindfully, with consideration, and intent? Somehow…I keep finding my way back to the thought that simple consideration could solve a lot of the petty ills of the world with great ease – and potentially also ease some very major nastiness besides.

Help me prove it? Today is a good day to be mindfully considerate of the consequences of choices and actions, of will and intent, and of the needs of both self and others. Today is a good day to change the world.

Saturday I bought a car. I didn’t write. Sunday, I spent the day on small creative endeavors and enjoying the company of family and a friend. I didn’t write, or manage my time sufficiently well to meditate. I also didn’t have any sort of meltdown, in spite of some small amount of anxiety about buying a car, Saturday. Monday, I worked. I didn’t write. Tuesday was more of the same, only it began wonderfully well in the loving company of my traveling partner, who drove me to work in the new car. I still didn’t write.

I’m not actually writing today… I’m really just observing the non-writing, such as it is. What’s up with this? Did I use up all the words?

This morning I woke anxious. Anxiety with a capital A, resting heavily on my chest when I took my first waking breaths, and settled into my guts and accompanying my every breath, every moment, every thought…it’s been awhile since I last felt it like this. More than likely it’s the work piece that has my anxiety resurfacing in this very visceral way…but there’s not much I want to say about it; I would rather feel it melt away, forgotten, than discuss it.

Tomorrow…Thanksgiving. That one’s a biggish deal for me; this year will be the first Thanksgiving I’ve gone out for dinner that I could have cooked at home. It feels a bit strange, but I don’t know whether it ‘matters’. Maybe I’ll write tomorrow?

Today…is what it is. The day will unfold whether I write or not. Today is a good day to take care of me; the words will take care of themselves.

Each time for the first time, each moment, the only moment...

Each time for the first time, each moment, the only moment…