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What Makes it “Home”?

April 27, 2022 //
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I’m sipping an iced tea. I took part of the day off due to lack of sleep and waking up on the edge of a migraine, and struggling with pain somewhere around my sciatic nerve, between my spine and my hip. Uncomfortable. Tired. I was not up for a day of heavy cognitive workload, and would have been irritable and error-prone. No one needs that shit. Not me. Not my colleagues. Not my Traveling Partner. Light duty – just the essentials – and an early out made so much more sense.

The day is an odd one. Not “sunny” or “rainy” in any definite way – certainly a considerable portion of both, without a theme or pattern to grab hold of. Spring in the Pacific Northwest.

…Damn, my Traveling Partner makes a wicked good iced tea, I must say… 😀

I’m very fortunate. Not just for the iced tea, but for this life, this job, and this house in the suburban countryside on the edge of a large-ish small town. I sip my tea and think grateful appreciative thoughts, reflecting on the distance traveled in this one lifetime. I’ve certainly had it worse at other times in my life.

I think about “home” – and how very much at home I feel here in this place, secure and safe and wrapped in love; it’s not just a building. It’s not just a place I reside. It is “home”. It’s not perfect. It’s not spectacularly large or unusually luxurious (beyond those luxuries my skilled Traveling Partner has added to enhance our comfort, ease, and quality of life)… just a modest little house in a commonplace suburban neighborhood. Still home. Our home. My home. It’s comforting to feel so settled and secure, here. I yearned for this for so long… I’m grateful that it has more than met my (probably ludicrous) expectations of what “home” could be.

This morning there was an attractive earth-tone pottery planter half-filled with soil in a stand by the front door. It used to have my creeping thyme in it. That thyme has traveled with me awhile (one might say “a lifetime” lol), and it was a small sort of big deal to plant it into the front landscape, in the flower bed, on the other side of a favorite rose, near the large river rocks that used to be in my aquarium as décor. Doing so left that planter mostly empty of soil, and definitely empty of obvious life. Today, I planted a geranium in it – one with showy leaves that will have merry orange and red flowers. I don’t think I’ve ever grown a geranium, before. It wasn’t that I disliked them, I just… never did. I’d thought to plant a begonia in that pot… but the plant I saw, that pleased me most in that moment was a geranium.

So here I am. Settled and at home, on a rainy-sunny day, sipping iced tea… smiling about a geranium in a pot by the front door. 🙂 These are the sorts of things that make “home” more than an address. I mean… sure, I could have had a geranium in a pot on my patio at some other place/time… It’s not even about the geranium, itself. For sure it’s not about the pot. I’ve had plants in containers for a long while. It’s the choice. It’s the ability to plant into my garden, just anywhere I’d like, and know that it is mine, and will be mine tomorrow, and the day after that, and next year, and on into an unpredictable future. At least for some unmeasured while. That’s enough.

What matters most?

…This is good iced tea…

It’s time to begin again. 🙂

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Categories Allegories, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gardening, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, inspiration, Love, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Sleepless Nights, Spring, The Art of Being

Staying Within a Budget

April 23, 2022 //
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I’m drinking water. It’s a sunny Saturday in April. The weather is mild and well-suited to getting outside into the garden. At least at the moment, I’m not “there”.

I’m fighting off a UTI, and I’ve been very fatigued recently, though I feel decently well-rested today (and since the antibiotics started doing their thing on this infection). I made a delicious scramble for my Traveling Partner and I to start the day on (he’s working, I’m… doing things that definitely require effort, but don’t “seem like work“). This antibiotic is best taken on a full stomach, so breakfast definitely made sense.

…After breakfast, I cleaned up the kitchen and did the dishes…

…I broke down a bunch of cardboard and took it out to the recycling bin…

…then started laundry (towels mostly)…

…then I made the trek down to the city to pick up a snap-together little garden shed to put all my gardening gear in, to get those items out of the shop space that my Traveling Partner needs for other things…

…then I came home (very cramped drive back, since that shed, even in pieces and boxed, barely fit in my car at all) dropped the shed off at the house, and headed out for some quick grocery shopping, and to return an item that didn’t suit the purpose for which it was purchased. Thankfully both tasks could be done at the same retail location.

By the time I got home again, it was lunch time – so I brought lunch home with me and sat down for a few minutes with my partner over a bite to eat between tasks in the shop. He’s got multiple projects in progress. I do my best to be helpful and supportive where I can.

…After lunch, I put the little shed together. Once completed, I asked my Traveling Partner if he’d like to help me decide specifically where to place it – he must have misunderstood my question; he came right out and put it where he wanted it. I’m cool with that; it isn’t heavy, this shed, but it is awkward, and it’s nice to have help. (I could have moved it into position, I’d just forgotten where we had talked about putting it.)

…Then I broke down the surprisingly large quantity of cardboard that the shed arrived in, and stuffed it into the back of my car for a trip to the disposal place next week; it’s too much to fit in the bin here at the house.

…Then I realized I was already feeling fatigued, and it’s not even 2:00 pm (at the time I noticed my fatigue, that is)… so… I sat down, here, with this glass of water for a few minutes of restful self-care. There’s still so much to do…

I had thought I’d spend the day weeding the garden and maybe painting… the decision to go get that little garden shed sort of threw that plan out, in that instant of spontaneous decision-making, and the discovery that there was exceedingly limited local availability of these specifically sized small sheds. I still feel the motivation… but for the moment I am wiped out. I need to give myself a proper break.

…Then…maybe…I’ll get a short walk in, out in the sunshine, around the neighborhood, checking out the progress of Spring in everyone’s flowerbeds along the way, and pick up the mail on the way back… I definitely want to do that; I’ve got new seeds waiting in the mailbox. They won’t do me any good there.

Soon the towels will be dry, and they’ll need to be folded and put away. There’s still plenty of weeding to do in the front flower beds… and my clean laundry (from days ago) has yet to be folded. “Fuck how am I already this tired?” I think to myself, drinking my glass of cool water. I know the answer; resources are finite. That’s it. That’s the whole truth of it. Whether we’re talking about acreage, or fresh water, or cash money, or our actual living life force expressed as our capacity to do work… it’s all dreadfully finite. It’s important to “stay within our budget”, but it’s not always entirely obvious that there is one…

…I felt so incredibly free and energetic – boundless energy and sheer force of will, on demand, at any hour, any day (pretty much) when I was younger. I’m thinking teens and 20s, when I make this observation. That kind of seemingly unlimited individual energy probably wasn’t as unlimited as it seems looking back on it. I do miss having just a bit more to draw upon, when fatigue seems to set in well-before I’ve checked off my to-do list, and before the afternoon can become an evening. Sometimes, a break to rest, to drink water, to sit for a moment with my thoughts, is enough to recharge for the next little while, and I get a few more things done. Yesterday, I even managed to push past my fatigue to prepare an excellent evening meal that we both enjoyed immensely… I wasn’t good for much after that. LOL I had “used up all my spoons”. I went to bed early(ish).

Today I tried to budget my energy – and my time – a bit more wisely. I don’t know that I succeeded at all… but if I stopped right now and did not one fucking thing more, I’d be pretty okay with that… but oh! there is so much more I do want to do today…

…It’s time to begin again…

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Categories Allegories, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gardening, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, inspiration, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, pain, Parables, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Spring, The Art of Being

Ungracious Prick

April 17, 2022 //
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I’m annoyed. Not my best look. I don’t like how feeling aggravated feels. When these feelings, so personal, crop up in interactions with friends or colleagues or loved ones, it’s worse. I guess I kind of expect strangers to be occasionally unpredictable, occasionally unpleasant, or antagonistic, or irritable. I suspect I don’t leave enough room for people close to me to have those moments, too. I feel reliably hurt when someone “comes at me” unexpectedly over something that seems, to me, to be inconsequential – or at least not worth all that negative emotional energy suddenly coming my way. It’s too easy to center my experience as what matters most. Hard to find the right balance of agreeable, kind, compassionate, empathetic, approachable… and do that while also managing skillful boundary setting, deep listening, and non-attachment. It’s a very human experience. I get mixed results.

…I keep working at it…

I take a breath, have a glass of water, and walk away from the moment. “Let it go,” I remind myself, “it isn’t personal; we’re each having our own experience.” Words. For an instant I feel myself resist – embracing those hurt feelings, and my initial flare-up of my own anger and aggravation feels so… important. At least momentarily. I have that “what about me?” moment. Very angst-y, very cross. Another breath. I let it go. Again. I sit down at my computer to work it out in words. (Thanks for listening.) I put on a video – rain falling on a country road. It’s the background noise I’m looking for. It tends to help push the tinnitus into the background; it’s loud today.

…My Traveling Partner comes into the studio with an ice tea for me. He glances at the title, and back at me, as he hands me the tea. “That’s nice.” he says. I think I detect a hint of sarcasm. I’m not certain. I’m a bit tone deaf to some of those conversational nuances (and it’s why I have worked at not using those sorts of things myself, with mixed results). I worry that he thinks I am writing about him. I figure he’s probably been with me long enough not to read into one of my titles what my intent – or content – actually may be.

…The iced tea is very pleasant, but with a hint of something… bitterness, maybe? He had said he did not like this batch. I don’t taste bitter very well (at all?)… and many people dislike bitter flavors if they are strong. So… maybe that’s it? Maybe there’s a metaphor in there somewhere? Something about individual perspective, and subjective experiences…?

I feel like a jerk when I take some small moment of discord as a personal attack. I guess that’s appropriate; it’s not ideal, and hinders pleasant social interaction. I contemplate whether an apology is due (usually, if I’m wondering, then yeah, it’s due)… and what, precisely, I am considering apologizing for – because that matters. Sarcastic non-apologies, or defeatist passive-aggressive attacks phrased as apologies are neither helpful, nor are they any sincere reflection of regret. I reflect for a moment on what it is I regret, from that moment, right now…

There is a bee, in spite of the chilly day, nosing around in the pear blossoms beyond the fence. I only see the one, and I wonder if the bee feels like it has happened upon amazing abundance… or is just doing bee things, unaware of it’s solitary moment in the pear tree? You can spare me the word of caution against anthropomorphizing the life of a bee. I get it; bees are not people. Well… I mean… they are not what we understand ourselves to be as people…but I’m not sure we truly know all there is to know about the consciousness of other sorts of creatures than ourselves. We barely have any fucking idea how we work, or what our consciousness “is”. lol

Chilly day. Tasty iced tea. Pleasant bite of lunch with my partner. A moment of human failure worth a word of regret. All part of this very human experience… I breathe, and get ready to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, anger, Brain Injury, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, Frustration, gratitude, Love, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Spring, The Art of Being

Making Change

April 13, 2022 //
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G’damn the world is a scary messed up place right now! Politicians legislate hate – instead of building a society founded on the noble principles they claim to espouse. Human beings killing each other – as though they have any right to take those lives. Sometimes it’s up close, personal, intentional – sometimes it’s as impersonal as a government taking what it cares to take. The lives lost? Human. Human lives. Wasted potential. Lost loved ones. Where is the “humanity” in that loss or that waste? We could do better. By “we”, I mean – you and I. I could do better. Couldn’t you?

“Be the change you wish to see in the world.” We’ve heard that. Read it. Said it out loud. Maybe have it on a coffee mug, t-shirt, or bumper sticker. What are you doing about that? Are you making a point to treat your partner(s), family, and friends better? Are you making a point to pay into systems that do real good in the world? Are you voting to improve the laws that govern your community? Are you taking time to lift others up? I’m not telling you what to do, or how to do it, or when, or whether, or anything like that… I’m just wondering, myself, sitting here, where to turn my attention, my dollars, my effort, and my time. I already know there are verbs involved.

I’m sitting here sipping a glass of clean water, feeling grateful to have the access to clean safe drinking water. Even in America, that’s not guaranteed. I’m fortunate. Fortunate to have pretty good city water. Fortunate to have a partner who is skilled, handy, and cares enough to add additional water filtration so we have water that “feels fresh” and tastes good, reliably available any time.

There’s a small bright yellow bird hopping about in the pear tree beyond the window. I practice safe garden practices that don’t put the wildlife at risk. My neighbors maintain those pear trees with care. Pretty – but also a lovely habitat for that little yellow bird. Fruit later. Habitat now. Choices make changes.

…Choices make changes…

My garden is coming together. The unexpected flurry of snow today doesn’t seem to be holding anything back, so far. I’m making a garden. Making change in this small landscape that is ours. It reflects the “make change” attitude my partner and I seem to be taking, generally. He’s in the shop, working on projects. Useful. Beautiful. I’ll be in the garden, on and off, pulling weeds, planting seeds, making change. Feed the family – feed the soul.

Lately I’ve been pretty blown away by my Traveling Partner’s willingness – eagerness – to “make change”. Our life improves thereby. Our partnership improves, too. Life feels pretty good here within the confines of our little corner of suburbia, here on the edge of agriculture, on the outskirts of small town living, not quite “out in the country”. I love it here… and still see opportunities for positive change. I could do better. Do more. Do differently. Sometimes it isn’t about big changes. Small strategic, sustainable changes are cumulative over time. Plant one seed – grow one plant. Plant a bunch of seeds – grow more plants. Plant those seeds with an eye for placement, and willingness to nurture them, tend them, watch over them… grow a garden. Feed the family. Feed the soul. Make change.

…I think it’s that simple.

I’ll be in the garden. Beginning again. Thinking about change.

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Categories Allegories, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, gardening, gratitude, Healthy Living, inspiration, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Practices, Relationships, Spring, The Art of Being, War and News of War

Ends, Beginnings, Pain, Love

April 7, 2022 //
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It’s evening. A bit after 6 p.m., not late. I had a third coffee… and had it in the afternoon. Needed a bit of a pick-me-up when I started running out of steam. Will it keep me up? No idea, but I’m rather inclined to think not; I still feel a bit… done. lol Not in a bad way, just fatigued. Sore muscles (physical therapy seems to be helping with my overall fitness quite a lot, and in any regard in which my relative lack of fitness was contributing to my pain, that has improved). I don’t mind sore muscles; steps toward a goal. Damn, though – tired and sore muscles? I left work a bit early. I’ve got tomorrow off and plans to see a friend. Feels good to make occasional plans that involve actual other humans. lol Yeah, I said it. 🙂

I got home to find my Traveling Partner at work on a variety of Spring-cleaning-themed tasks: cleaning and refilling the hot tub, & general tidying. After I got home, even going that extra step to finish up what he had started out on the deck, doing things like cleaning the grill, and the fire pit, and re-hanging the shade “sails”. I enjoyed hanging out on the deck with him. Occasionally lending a hand when asked, but mostly “staying out of the way” and relaxing with my afternoon coffee. It was fun. I’m still smiling.

Spring is already trying to become summer. lol

I stopped by a local nursery and picked up some kitchen herbs to add to the front garden. Nice splashes of green foliage with real usefulness. I looked over the blueberries there, but they weren’t great looking, and I did not splurge on them just because they were there. That doesn’t really work for me – and they would not have been varieties I really want for the location I have in mind. It can wait.

Dave Matthews is still singing love songs in the background. It’s music I definitely associate with this love of ours. We’ll be 11 years married, this year, and 12 years as lovers. I enjoy our enduring love. I smile fondly when I think of him in his shop, preparing for tomorrow’s work day. I sat down here thinking I’d play Minecraft… ending up writing, reflecting contentedly on a day well-spent, and looking ahead toward the days to come. Long weekend. I’d like to spend some notable portion in the garden. I’ve also got an errand to run. Routine weekend in most regards, simply pleasantly long, and suited to sleeping in and loving. Maybe a hike? Some time in the studio? Honestly, it’s enough to rest, and be.

I’ll definitely be glad when my muscles aren’t so sore; I’ll get right back to making them sore, again. That’s kinda the way it works to get from not-all-that-fit back to “fit”. I’m not even complaining. I’m not injured, it’s just sore muscle pain. It tells me where my muscles lack symmetry. It tells me where I’m a bit weaker and could use more work, done with care. It reminds me to keep at it; we become what we practice. If I want to regain my fitness, strength, and endurance, there are definitely going to be a lot of verbs and practicing to get there, and quite a few days with sore muscles.

It sounds like the dryer is finished… there’s a bed to remake before fatigue becomes exhaustion, and before evening turns to night. There’s a new beginning ahead. There are endings behind me. The love that has infused this day matters so much more than this little bit of muscle pain. 🙂

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Categories Allegories, breathe, Free Will, gardening, gratitude, Healthy Living, inspiration, Love, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, pain, Perspective, Practices, Relationships, Spring, The Art of Being, weight loss secrets
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