I am reflecting on my “sense of self”, which I suppose is taking “self-reflection” to a very meta place. Definingly self-referential, and a bit like a funhouse mirror; I am lost in reflections and contemplating self-portraits I have done over time, most of them quite abstract. A friend – one of my dearest friends and among my most enduring friendships – reached out and asked to commission from me a self-portrait. An interesting commission, and I accepted it. I don’t know where this path will lead. Perhaps I am overdue to look at myself (and my life) through the lens of my own camera, my hand holding the brush poised over my own canvas? I am standing in a new place, seeing the world and my life through different perspective in a unique moment. I am at my most experienced, my most learned, my most positive – and my most fortunate. I am infused with love and a joy for living. This is not a place I’ve stood life for very long, ever, and here I stand – content and comfortable with myself. So. There it is.
The sky is still blue.
I sip my coffee and think thoughts of self. Who am I, now? Where is this path leading me? Who do I most want to be? How did I get here? I breathe, exhale, and relax. I think about colors, and I think about sunrises, sunsets, and the ticking of the clock. I think about my garden, and this sunny morning; I’ve planted seeds. What flowers will bloom, now? The morning sky is a delicate azure blue, again this morning. Same view, new day – new moment to be this human being. I think my thoughts awhile longer. There’s only so much time for that, and I enjoy it while it lasts. The clock is always ticking.
Nice break from the day-to-day, and I definitely needed it. Now it’s back to life, back to reality…. and, oh, hey, there’s a song for that. I add it to my playlist, queue it up, and sing along as I drive to the trailhead feeling grateful that I took today off to “reacclimate” to real life after I returned from the coast.
I slept deeply last night, the first really good deep sleep I’ve had in days – since before my trip to the coast. I rarely sleep really well in a hotel. I often sleep poorly at home. I don’t take it personally or fret much about it anymore; I have sleep challenges and I’m pretty accepting and real about it. Sleep disturbances have been “a thing” for me since I was a child. I’ve experienced multiple parasomnias, some of which persist to this day, and some that I seem to have “grown out of”, or recovered from with medication or therapy. I don’t think of them as “part of who I am” so much as relatively commonplace challenges I happen to endure. I’ve long since given up seeking a root cause or wanting to assign blame. It just isn’t about that. I’m generally grateful to sleep well and deeply. It’s quite a wonderful experience when I do.
Watching the traffic pass by, waiting for the sun
The morning is dark and foggy. I watch the traffic pass by on the highway and sit quietly with my headache (which is a 7 out of 10 this morning) and my tinnitus (which seems to be turned up to 11). Unpleasant, uncomfortable sensations on an otherwise pleasant morning. My head is filled with the remnants of surrealistic dreams of running down forested paths between festival tents and brightly painted caravans, and strangers doing strange things. I was playfully evading a group of my friends for some reason, and woke before I could figure out why some angry old man was hucking tangerines at me. lol
… How’s that for having nothing at all to do with reality?…
I breathe, exhale, and relax. I am vexed by this headache. I feel certain I have “things” to do today… but for the moment I don’t recall what, and there’s nothing on my list to guide me. What am I forgetting? Anything? Is it just that nagging feeling, unattached to anything real? I sip my coffee, and wait for the sun.
…Fuck this headache, though…
My Traveling Partner definitely missed me while I was gone. The reality of having me back home, in his presence, with all of my issues, and very authentically me, this woman that I actually am, wasn’t embraced with the same enthusiasm, or so it seemed to me. I’m sometimes quite frustrated by the sensation that the woman he loves so deeply may not actually be the woman I am. I’d love to be able to see myself through his eyes…both the version he holds in his heart when I am away, and the creature who vexes him so when I am with him. I wonder what I might learn about myself – or about my partner?
Daybreak comes.
The gate to the parking lot finally opens with a familiar rusty screech and a quiet clang. The timing has changed. I take note. Reality legitimately does not care about my expectations one bit, and it’s a useful practice to reset expectations with new information. I try to do it often.
It’s still early. Chilly morning. I’ve got a warm shirt on, and a comfy zip-up fleece. The sunrise is orange through the mist. I lace up my boots and grab my cane. Good morning for walking and for self-reflection, and a good morning to begin again.
I’ve spent the day relaxing in this quiet room, and providing my Traveling Partner with caregiving. It’s detail-oriented personal service work, providing care to this human being I love so deeply. Still, it has been a day with ample time for reflecting on life and love and what I have learned along the way.
Here are 61 lessons from my mortal lifetime thus far:
There’s always something more to learn.
Change is a constant.
Zest for life is closely tied to experiences of wonder and awe.
Self-care matters.
Meditation is an effective practice.
We become what we practice.
We each have the power to define success for ourself.
Setting boundaries is a self-care practice.
Our values are not what we say they are; they are what we live and practice.
Taking the time to do something well is reliably more efficient than having to do it more than once.
Anxiety is a liar.
Chasing happiness does not result in greater happiness.
Lust is mostly a matter of biology.
Savoring life’s small joys and making time for gratitude builds emotional resilience.
Human primates operate “emotion first”.
Our quality of life is more dependent on the quality of our relationships than the size of our paychecks.
Assumptions are not facts.
Expectations are not facts.
Opinions are not facts.
Beliefs are not facts.
The catchiness of a slogan has no bearing on its truth or usefulness.
Very few of life’s stressful moments have lasting impact.
I probably need to drink more water.
“Wealth” is relative.
The person who throws the punch doesn’t get to decide whether it hurt.
We are each having our own experience.
A lot of the crap that bothers us most is shit we totally made up in our own heads that has no actual basis in reality.
Self-reflection can help develop perspective.
Rumination can be really damaging, and tends to limit perspective.
The difference between rumination and self-reflection can be subtle.
Emotional intelligence has real-world value.
Getting enough rest is as important as drinking water, eating healthy food, and exercise.
Solitude can be rich, beautiful, satisfying, and nurturing.
Few people recognize their own confrontational, hostile, angry, or escalated tone of voice.
Forgiving someone is a thing we do for ourself, not for the person being forgiven.
People notice when someone isn’t paying attention.
Distracted driving is potentially lethal.
What we think we understand about human behavior isn’t reliably accurate, and can’t be assumed to apply to all people in every circumstance. It doesn’t.
People are people.
We’re all in this together.
The journey is the destination.
Your lived experience is yours. My lived experience is not yours.
How you behave when you think no one is watching will tell you what your values truly are.
Rationalizing poor behavior doesn’t make the behavior any better.
We feel our own pain the most.
Our ability to understand the world is limited by our perspective.
Being a dick to people is a poor practice with predictably poor outcomes.
Thriving and surviving are two very different experiences.
Reading is an incredibly useful skill, the benefits of which are multiplied by enjoying it.
Art is a way of expressing the things we don’t have words for.
Language functions by agreement.
Carefully defining the terms in a discussion prevents a lot of arguments and misunderstandings.
Apologizing without sincere contrition isn’t really an apology.
Apologizing while making excuses for how the offense is justified, understandable, or must be overlooked isn’t really an apology.
An effective apology is 100% focused on the person hurt and how they were affected, and 0% about how the offender feels about it.
Listening deeply is a powerful relationship building tool which takes time, practice, and effort to develop.
Hijacking a conversation to talk about yourself instead is rude.
Waiting for a turn to talk while someone else is talking is rude.
Interrupting someone while they are speaking is rude
Manners and civility are key to quality of life and cultured society.
Life is worth living.
It’s not science. These are things I’ve learned myself, over a lifetime. I’m not even saying these observations and learnings are “all there is” (what would you add?)… these are just a few things I’ve learned that continue to serve me well.
It’s your journey, up ahead. I’m over here walking my own path. May your path be smooth and the way ahead illuminated.
Thinking about a question of perspective, of sorts. I occasionally have experiences where it is clear that the understanding of me held by the person I am interacting with is very much not at all consistent with how I understand myself. I often wonder how that comes to be, and whether it is their misunderstanding (of me) causing the mischief or my own potential lack of awareness of how I present myself: how my behavior is received, and how the words I say are understood. Are they “speaking with a golem” of the woman I actually am that stands somehow between us? Is it me? Am I so thoroughly lacking in understanding of my words and actions in a practical way? Is it both? Neither?
…Am I the woman I understand myself to be, and if so, is that true only when I am alone, or also when I am interacting with others? If I am not she… who the hell am I? A construct of the expectations and assumptions of others? That doesn’t seem quite right to me, so I keep thinking about it…
I think about it during the commute to the office. I think about it over my morning coffee. I think about it while I bite my nails. I think about it as I walk down the hall to a meeting. I think about it in the break room. I think about it at my desk while I work.
I think about this question now and then – and today is definitely one of those times. I think about it without gaining wisdom or coming to some sort of reliable conclusion. I think about it…
It’s been a lovely relaxed weekend, filled with unexpected moments of delight and love. Pleasant. Restful. Even productive. I’ve enjoyed each lovely loving moment without reservations. I’ve found purpose and growth in the handful of moments that were less than ideally delightful. Hell, no hard feelings, either; it is probably an unreasonable fantasy (and an unsustainable reality, at best, and only occasionally, if ever) to contemplate a life of endless contentment and joy. Rain falls. Humans are human. 🙂 I value the opportunities to grow and to be more the woman I most want to be, although, sometimes, in spite of how the information reaches me.
It was a rainy autumn weekend, and I’ve no reason to complain about that.
Several times this weekend I’ve taken a moment to reflect on where I am, and where I seem headed, relative to where I began, and who I have been. It’s been an interesting journey.
The wintry wood beyond the deck inspires me to paint scenes of winter. Shades of gray. Whites. Blacks. Winter days. Winter nights. I let my mind wander, thoughts of paintings to come. 🙂
Evening Light 