Archives for posts with tag: what matters most?

It’s quiet early, but daybreak arrived before I finished my commute into the city. I’m sipping my coffee and watching the sun rise from the office. The big windows, and this corner seat, give me an amazing view of the changing colors of the sky. Looks like another sunny Spring day ahead. I smile to myself, enjoying the coffee and this moment.

A glance at the calendar reminds me it’s a short countdown to my next wee getaway to the coast for some solo time. I’m surprised that I’ve needed so many short breaks to maintain my emotional wellness over the past six months or so, but when I reflect on that, I guess it isn’t so surprising. I’ve had a job change, my Traveling Partner has had an injury (some months ago, now) that has required my continued assistance and support, as well as the picking-up-of-slack resulting from his reduced ability to do things around the house when I’m working (or, generally) while he recovers, and more recently the loss of a dear friend hit me hard – right in the emotions. So, okay, I need a bit of a break from life and routine and… effort. Not so surprising at all. I’m fortunate that I can take the break I need. I’m even more fortunate that my partner supports my doing so, and more generally supports my commitment to self-care (and has, himself, a personal commitment to my wellness as well as his own).

Calendar and clock remind me of all the many details of a planned work day. I sigh to myself, already chafing at the constraints of time and planning. The clock never stops ticking; what we do about that is what matters. I know I need a day or two without feeling “chased by time“, and I’m eager to enjoy a couple days of … no agenda. No plan. No specifics. Just sleeping, waking, breathing, and being. Meditating without a timer. Napping without checking whether it makes any sense to nap right then. Reading because it’s what I feel like doing in that moment. Walking on the beach without a goal or destination. Eating meals based on whim or curiosity without being concerned about what anyone else likes. Seeking awe in small details of the world around me, without chasing any particular experience or satisfying any expectations. Giving up the structure and routine of day-to-day life for a couple days, in favor of savoring each moment of existence as something of a personal adventure in leisure and relaxed joy.

…Oh, damn, that sounds soooo good…

In the meantime, I am counting down the hours with an eye on the clock and the calendar. There are things to do before I leave, and things to do to prepare to go, and … just things to do that need to be done. All very commonplace stuff, and nothing to be stressed about. No reason any of it should “weigh me down” or create a feeling of pressure… sometimes it does, though. Adulthood requires us, individually, to keep track of a lot of fucking details. This morning it was a gentle reminder from my Traveling Partner that I’d said I’d take the glass bottles on the counter to be returned or recycled, and hadn’t yet done so. Routine shit and I honestly just forgot; they’d become invisible to me sitting there, unless I was standing right there making coffee. Just a small detail that needed attention. They add up. I make lists. I do my best to keep on top of all the shit that wants doing. lol It’s a very human experience and my results vary.

The medical appointment that was stressing me out so badly was… fine. Productive. Useful. Promising. I’ve got to make some changes to medications I’m taking, and I’ll start a new one at the end of the weekend (yes, Ozempic), after I come back from the coast. I’m hopeful that small changes in treatment will result in big improvements in wellness – there are still verbs involved, and I’m not allowing myself to become overly eager and wantonly encouraged by the temptation of improvement in the form of a prescription; I’ve still got to do my part to skillfully manage my calories, the nutritional quality of the food I eat, the exercise I get, and on and on – details. Details that add up. I raise my cup to the sky, toasting the value of incremental change over time. I finish my coffee, and begin again.

I’m sipping a relatively dreadful cup of coffee this morning, and watching the sky slowly change from the dark of night to the deep blue-gray of the earliest moments of daybreak, and anticipating the new day ahead. It’s a Friday. I’m looking forward to the weekend. I am thinking about “forgiveness”.

I frankly find forgiveness difficult. Hurts hurt, and the damage done can be quite lasting. So often, at least for me, the lack of any indication of regret, contrition, and likely lack of any sort of apology, can make it super difficult just to let go of some transgression (major or minor), forget about “forgiveness“!

For a long time, I thought of forgiveness as something one gives to the person who caused hurt or damage, or delivered some insult. That felt… unbearable. Unjustifiable. It felt like a bullshit band-aid for an injury that would not heal any better for having provided it. Somewhere along the way I read something, or perhaps my Traveling Partner said it, to the effect that forgiveness isn’t for the person who has done us wrong, so much as it is for us, ourselves – a means of truly letting something go, and moving on in our own experience. It was expressed as a way to limit the amount of time someone who has hurt us gets to live in our heart or our mind rent free, continuing to hurt us again. Understanding forgiveness differently, as something I would do for myself, to ease the burden my own pain is for me, certainly makes me more willing to consider it – but I still find it a difficult practice.

The sun rise, this morning, begins with a streak of vibrant pink low on the horizon. The sky above has turned a steely silver-gray, bluer in places where clouds gather. I make a second coffee, and return to my desk to see the sunrise beginning to be reflected in building windows opposite the rising sun, deep blood red and orange. It’s a beautiful sunrise this morning. Another new day.

…Another opportunity to forgive…

Forgiveness is a practice. It does require practicing. We become what we practice.

My Traveling Partner suggested often that I would do well to forgive a particular ex. I found it hard to do so, in part because I did not feel at all understood by my Traveling Partner; he had his own experiences and baggage with that particular human primate, and these made it quite difficult to discuss mine with him. That feeling of “not being heard” by my partner, on a circumstance that we shared (in a somewhat superficial way, since we were each still having our own experience), made it incredibly hard for me to forgive my ex, even after my partner seemed willing to forgive her, himself.

My Traveling Partner is far more grown up and emotionally mature in this particular area than I am myself. He’s a definite fan of forgiveness. I can still hear myself, at 20-something, snarling to a friend “there are some sins even your God does not forgive,” discussing my bitterness and seething rage at horrors I had endured that I could not yet find myself ready to forgive, at all, and could barely discuss. I’ve grown since then, and it’s unlikely that I share much of who I am now with that wounded creature who was once me. I recognize the value in forgiveness, and the purpose it serves, I just still sometimes find it quite a difficult practice, in practice.

My Traveling Partner made mention of this particularly toxic ex recently. I don’t recall why, or what the context actually was, but I found myself curious and took at look at her web page. She doesn’t write much anymore, and I guess that’s no surprise; she once cautioned me discouragingly that maintaining a daily writing practice was “very hard to keep up” (which still amuses me, as a woman who has written more or less every day of my entire adult life, either pen & ink, or online, mostly without any particular effort required, and had done so since long before ever making her acquaintance). Her most recent entry was largely positive, expressing gratitude for being in a better place than she was some years ago. I found it interesting that I had no particular emotional reaction beyond “well that’s good see”, before moving on to things that were of far greater interest in the here and now.

She did a lot of harm. She did the harm she did by intent, and said as much at the time. I walked away from all that, but I carried some baggage for a long while and I stayed angry until… I don’t know when, actually. Some time ago, she – and the damage she had done – stopped being something that mattered to me at all. I no longer had the time or inclination to let her “live rent free in my head”, and I let all that go. In the process, I forgave her. I forgave the damage, the toxic bullshit and game-playing, the ugliness, the meanness, the lies, the violence, the narcissistic entitlement… all of it. Like a troll in a fairytale, she had no power over me, in life. I had turned the page on that story. Not gonna lie – I definitely don’t ever want to deal with her again (and hopefully I’ve learned enough to avoid similar people in the future), but forgiveness isn’t about forgetting, or excusing, or condoning, or permitting new hurts. Forgiveness is understanding with some measure of compassion that we’re each human, and each capable of some really shitty behavior – and letting it go, accepting the truth of what was, and moving on to something new and better. I wouldn’t want any part of having her in my experience now, but I also don’t grudge her finding her own peace or joy. Forgiveness lets me let her go, completely.

The sun is up. The sky is a soft blue. My coffee is warm and comforting. My heart is light. Forgiveness is still a difficult practice for me, but over time I’ve come to embrace it. I’ve forgiven those who have wronged me along the way. It’s been worthwhile to do so, although it doesn’t heal the damage done all by itself. There are still verbs involved in healing a wounded heart. It still takes time. It still takes work. It still takes a commitment to myself – and that’s where the forgiveness lies; I don’t benefit from continuing to use energy on hate and resentment and seething rage that could be more effectively used for healing myself, so at some point, it’s utterly necessary to “let shit go” and forgive those who have hurt me. They’re human, too, each having their own experience, wading through their own chaos and damage, and struggling with their own challenges. The damage they’ve done to me is a whole lot more about them than it ever was about me. Accepting that is an important step towards forgiveness.

…Forgiveness is an important step toward healing…

I finish my coffee and my thoughts. The sun is up, and it’s a new day unfolding ahead me. I smile, thinking about my Traveling Partner and the love we share. I feel relaxed and contented, and generally well; it’s a good beginning to the day. It’s already time to begin again.

I’m sipping my coffee and thinking about words.

Specifically, I’m thinking about the sloppy way headlines or thumbnail titles are often written, misusing words like “and” or “but” – they aren’t really interchangeable, generally. Same with words like “how” and “why” – these are not synonyms and have very different meanings in a statement or in a question. Headlines that profess to tell “why” something is happening, or matters to the viewer (or reader), for articles which actually only describe that it is happening and maybe how it is happening are distinctly (and irritatingly) misleading. Don’t get me started on headlines that use words to attempt to force the reader (or viewer) into making a shared assumption about something without ever actually proving that it is so. Damn I hate that shit. An example might be “Learn why doctors won’t prescribe this drug!”, for an article that never gives an answer to the question “Why won’t doctor’s prescribe this drug?” and also doesn’t actually support the (often completely bullshit) assumption that this is even the reality of the situation in the first place. It’s super common. “Clickbait” headlines are often rife with misleading nonsense assumptions and unanswered implied questions. Read with care. Think your own thoughts. Have your own (well-informed, supported by reality) opinions. Don’t take the bait.

…I have no idea why this is on my mind this morning, but it has been since I got in the car and headed into the city…

I sigh quietly to myself and sip my coffee. There’s nothing I can do about bad writing habits besides complain about them pedantically (in spite of my own bad writing habits), and since that achieves nothing aside from mild amusement (maybe), I guess I’ll just let it go. There are other ways to spend my time, and other things to think about. lol “…a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.” 😉

Yesterday evening was a “short one”, in the sense that the commute home was unexpectedly long (thanks, Union Pacific!) due to a train parked across multiple intersections in the downtown area, blocking traffic at rush hour. I was pretty well stuck where I was until the train moved, and then I was in the thick of rush hour traffic (which I usually miss by timing my departure such that I’m not in the middle of the worst of rush hour traffic). I grabbed cheap cheeseburgers on the way home, instead of cooking a meal (as had been my plan). I was tired – so tired – when I got home that the evening is mostly a blur.

I went to bed more or less at my usual time, but failed to lay out clothes for the morning, forgot that there was a planned internet maintenance outage last night that would affect my alarm, sort of “overslept” in the sense that I woke up precisely on time instead of early (I think a noise woke me?)… forgot to put my wearable on… left the house still half-asleep and if not actually groggy, for sure fucking stupid as hell. Confused. Strangely, I got to the office feeling awake, alert, and well-rested. I feel content, calm, and relaxed. It seems a good morning. My planned workload for today is something I enjoy, and which will occupy my time most of the time quite pleasantly. A good Tuesday.

Daybreak evolved into morning some time ago, though I’m not sure “where the time went” – no watch on my arm, but how can that even have anything to do with my “sense of time and timing”? It seems irrelevant. What a weird morning.

“Words matter.” I mean, yeah, generally… but maybe not these words, eh? Just some random nonsense, spilling out of a mind that woke strangely into a new day… and I’m being kind to say so. LOL Not my best work and yet here you are! Thank you for that. I appreciate you. I guess the point is simply to move on, be in the moment, present, here for it, and doing my best. If things go sideways, I can begin again. 😀

I woke ahead of the alarm, this morning. I got going and headed up the highway a bit earlier than usual, enjoying the lack of traffic. I’d love to say I drove mindfully, fully present in the moment, but… it wouldn’t be true. My head was still in the garden, after delightful weekend hours planting and planning, and putting to good use the seed starters my Traveling Partner had 3D printed for me, for such crops as will be planted later, in warmer weather.

2 of 4 seed starter sets (translucent covers not pictured), with re-usable inserts that separate into two sections for easy removal of tender seedlings for planting.

Much of the drive this morning was spent entirely in my own head, having imagined conversations with family and friends no longer available in life for such conversations, at all. I miss sharing the details of the garden and gardening with my Dad, with my Granny, with my dear friend… It’s okay, I guess, the conversations would be much the same as previous such conversations had been, and it’s easy enough to replay them in my head, and imagine sharing the new details of this garden, and this Spring. New roses. New herbs. New ideas. In a sense, it isn’t “new” at all, more part of a seasonal cycle that repeats each year, embraced by those that love it so.

New plants waiting to be planted.

I do share what’s going on in the garden with my Traveling Partner, and he’s a wealth of good ideas and insights, but whiling away endless hours talking about this variety versus that variety, or what specifically to plant in that corner over there isn’t really his thing, so much. lol I’m okay with that; we each have our own things to share and to do, and there’s always much to discuss about the things that interest us both equally. A passing conversation about the garden, a quick update, and a shared moment are quite satisfying, and I’m grateful to share them with him. I do miss the conversations with Granny about the various herbs, and the kitchen gardens and medicinal gardens of her youth. I miss the eager excited exchanges with my dear friend about garden plans and new roses, and her delight over pictures shared over the years. I miss my Dad’s amusement that what had been such drudgery for me as a kid has become something I truly love as a grown woman, and our conversations about the garden as a metaphor, and how we change and grow in life.

So, I drove into the city with my thoughts. It was a pleasant drive, and as I reached the city I found myself wondering what I need most to take care of this fragile vessel, right now? Do I need “down time” at home, in the garden, and more shared connected time with my Traveling Partner? I can easily make a strong case for that. Do I need “down time” in the form of a short getaway, a chance to fully immerse myself in my own thoughts, to read, to write, to paint, to enjoy the stillness of solitude? I feel that, too. I’m in a peculiar “in between place” with myself, and I’m not at all sure what will serve best to satisfy moments of restlessness or ease the internal chaos. I reflect on that and sip my coffee, as daybreak arrives, revealing a cloudy sky.

…Is it too soon for comfortable camping…?

…Can I get an affordable room on the coast and watch the tide come and go for a day or two…?

…Do I even want to be away from the comfort of home at all…?

…Every day away from home is a day away from my garden, and it’s Spring…

I sigh out loud, feeling mildly annoyed with myself. I’d email my dear friend and get her thoughts on it, but… she’s not replying to email, these days, and no longer answers texts. We are mortal creatures, and it’s damned inconvenient, sometimes. :-\

My thoughts bring me back to missing departed dear ones, far away friends, and fond memories of other times and places, other gardens. I sip my coffee as the dawn becomes day. I remind myself to bring up my “what to do about me?” questions with my Traveling Partner; he’s always got useful perspective and good ideas to share. I’m very fortunate to have a partner who supports me taking care of myself properly, and doesn’t grief me over needing time away, when I do. He sees me from a different perspective than I see myself, and I often find his thoughts quite useful for improving my perspective.

…I think of my Traveling Partner, hopefully still sleeping, and my heart fills with love. I’m very fortunate. I sip my coffee and finish this moment with gratitude and quiet joy, and thoughts of garden tasks yet to be completed. The work day stretches ahead of me, and the afternoon on the other side will be another chance to be in the garden for some little while. I smile, and get ready to begin again. 😀

Wild night. Plentiful, surreal, and rather lively dreams that seemed more like “real life” than dreams, with enough really strange stuff mixed in to be… remarkable. I slept deeply, but restlessly, and woke with my silent alarm just as the lights came on. Groggy. Feeling rather as if I were “running late”, simply because I’ve been waking so damned early for the past couple… days? …Weeks? I got through my morning routine, surprised to discover my Traveling Partner already up as I stepped into the living room, as I left. We exchanged greetings, and a sweet kiss good-bye.

…I feel rather as if I really “woke up” somewhere along the commute, more than half-way to the office…

I’m sipping my coffee, now, preparing my work for the day ahead. I almost forgot to take a few minutes for me, just to get my head right, and meditate, and take care of this fragile vessel. I put things on pause, and sit with my coffee, watching the storm clouds that fill the sky obscuring the sunrise, as daybreak becomes… morning. There’ll be no view of a sunrise today. lol I’m okay with that; it’s enough to enjoy a new day. Some mornings seem to remind me that “the clock is always ticking”. This is one of those. I breathe, exhale, relax, and give myself over to a moment of gratitude and presence. It’s enough to be here. Enough to be awake and aware. Enough to experience the small joys in a comfortable place to work, and a good cup of coffee. Enough to know that my loving partner and pleasant home are waiting for me on the other side of this work day.

Bits of blue sky peak out between fluffy gray clouds. I sip my coffee. It’s a very quiet morning, and the loudest thing I hear is my own tinnitus. There are few cars on the streets below. Most of the residential windows are still dark. There are no trash trucks doing collections, presently. No construction has started. Quiet. I enjoy these quiet moments. I sit with my thoughts awhile. The weekend is only one more work day away… I’m eager to be back in the garden, though the forecast is for rain. I’m unconvinced – on Sunday, the weather forecast indicated it would rain all week, and it most certainly has not rained, beyond a few scattered sprinkles, yesterday evening. lol So… maybe I will be in the garden? I love my garden as a metaphor for life (and for personal growth). I plant seeds, I nurture them as they sprout, I watch them grow and tend them with care… the more care I give, the more effort I put into it, the better my results. There’s something so simple (and so profound) to be learned from that… I keep practicing.

Yesterday evening, although I was tired, I walked through the garden, and looked for new seedlings. I’ve planted carrots and peas and radishes and salad greens (from seeds), and although that was done quite recently, the radishes at least should be coming up… “soon”. I spotted first one sprout, then another, then as my eyes calibrated to their shapes, I saw the entire row, and the chaos where El Gato had dug a whole (that I filled back in) – scattering the unsprouted seeds such that those seedlings are sprouting just every-damned-where. I’m okay with that bit of chaos. Nothing to do about it but enjoy it, really (at least, that’s my approach to such things). Spring is truly here. 😀

What have you planted in your metaphorical garden? How are you nurturing those seedlings? What do you hope to harvest? Can those seedlings even become that thing at all? Things to think about as you plan and dream… Soon it’ll be time to begin again.