Archives for posts with tag: who are you?

Sometimes, regardless of your attempted attention to detail, your willingness to do more, better, your drive to improve and grow, or the hours of work and study you’ve put into being your best self, it won’t be enough (for someone, or for some circumstance). That’s frustrating (maddening), and real. It’s a harsh truth in life that while we’re walking our own hard mile one step at a time, someone else is also walking theirs, and conflict, confusion, or miscommunication can make just about any endeavor contentious and unpleasant. Humans being human. Some people are truly doing their best. Some people maybe not so much. It’s not really obvious which are which. There’s likely always going to be someone around who just doesn’t think you’re doing enough. There will be someone who thinks you’re doing it “wrong” (often simply because you’re not doing things the way they would). There may even be travelers along the way who earnestly hope to see you fail, though it will be rare for them to say so explicitly.

…We’re each having our own experience…

Points of view differ. Individual perspectives on shared events are sometimes at odds with each other. Personal values may not be shared. People are quite individual, and often we don’t even share the same understanding of the basic meanings of the most common words we use. Recollections of even the most recent events may be quite different among individuals who shared the experience. None of this makes communication easier, quite the contrary.

It can be helpful sometimes, I find, to be very open to the possibility that I’m incorrect. Mistaken. Flat out wrong. It’s helpful to really listen to what someone else is saying about their experience or perspective. This isn’t always easy; I may disagree. I may find my own thinking at odds with theirs. I may recall events quite differently. We may have different values, or place importance on different details. Being open enough to really listen and humble enough to accept that I could be wrong can make a lot of difference and create an emotionally safe environment to sort things out more easily. It takes practice (a lot), and I can’t honestly say I’m “good at it” (yet). I keep practicing.

All of this sounds good “on paper”, but it’s not “easy”, and it really does take a lot of practice, commitment, willingness to fail (and to begin again), and a steadfast refusal to take someone else’s emotions personally, and to refuse to internalize their frustration, anger, or criticism. Listen, yes. Hear them out, yes. Understand their point of view, yes. Be open and compassionate, yes. And refuse to allow their frustration, anger, or criticism to dictate “who you are”, nonetheless. Be the person you most want to be. Make room for them to be who they are, also. Becoming the best version of yourself, the person you most want to be, may bring you into conflict with people who are walking a very different path – their own path. Whatever you choose to do about that, it matters that you still live your values, take care of yourself, and treat people with kindness, compassion, and consideration.

…You’re probably going to fail, a lot…

Keep practicing. Savor the wins, however small. Learn from your mistakes, and avoid allowing them to bring you to despair. This shit isn’t easy, but it’s worthwhile. Change takes time. Time, practice, effort, commitment – and beginning again. Often. Sometimes it’s especially hard, like a barefooted walk on blistered feet down a gravel path. Sometimes it’s easy, like a firm level trail through a sun-dappled forest on a mild summer day. You’ll choose – sometimes poorly. You’ll face anger, frustration, disappointment, and grief. It’s not personal, just part of the human experience. Learn, grow, and walk on.

I sit sipping my coffee, re-reading these words. This one’s for me, from… me. I need the encouragement today, tomorrow, maybe always. It helps to reflect on what works, and to remind myself that it is a complicated journey. It is useful to consider missteps, and to learn and grow, and try again.

Keep walking.

Yesterday my sister messaged me to let me know a favorite aunt had died after a lingering illness. (COVID is still taking lives, people, be safe, be considerate, be vaccinated.) It seems like I’m now in a place in life when the losses come more frequently. We are mortal creatures. I will always remember my Aunt fondly. She opened her home to me more than once when I needed a place to heal. She was peculiar, and special, and interesting, and the first adult who would sit and talk with me for hours about all manner of things, into the wee hours of the morning. Some of who I am developed sitting by her kitchen table in Baltimore on summer evenings, talking about life, love, music, reality… I’ll miss her.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I don’t know what’s around the next bend on this path. I don’t know how far this path goes, or where it may ultimately lead. I don’t know how long this mortal life will last, or how many moments of joy I can wring from it along the way, nor how many tears I may need to dry from my cheeks. It’s a very human journey.

…It’s time to begin again…

New day, new beginning.

I’m watching the sun rise from my halfway point on my morning walk. It’s not exactly chilly, and today will likely be another hot one, but I am grateful to have worn this fleecy long-sleeved top. I’m comfortable as I sit here.

I made a point to have an expectation-setting conversation with the Anxious Adventurer yesterday evening. It went decently well, although I am certain I’ll be needing to reinforce a lot of very basic stuff with my well-intentioned (but sometimes surprisingly ignorant) stepson. It’s a process. Growth happens over time with persistence, patience, and practice.

It was clear some of what I had to say was hard for the Anxious Adventurer to hear in the moment. I felt for him; it’s a lot to learn and grow into when we uproot ourselves from what we know to embrace something entirely new. I’m sitting and thinking about two important things he communicated to me during our conversation. Firstly, he is suffering from a ton of self-loathing, which is sad to hear (a lot of us have had to deal with it, ourselves). He’s a rather human assortment of good intentions and poor decision making that seems pretty ordinary, really. Nothing especially hateful or disappointing. He added the second point, which is that he doesn’t have a sense of who he would ideally like to be, and that he lacks a clear picture of what that could look like (or what it would require to achieve). Rough. How does a person go from “here” to “there” without a sense of some sort of general direction to go?

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I take a moment to feel grateful for my sense of self, and my sense of purpose.

I sit with my thoughts and consider what tools and practices brought me face to face with the woman in the mirror, and allowed me to begin building a clearer picture of the person I most wanted to be. I think about the conversations and self-reflection involved in eventually learning to be my own best friend, to be the first one to really listen to myself, reliably, and to embrace the person I am as actually worthy. It’s been years of practice, of self-care and self-reflection, and of therapy… I can (and do) encourage the Anxious Adventurer to seek therapy, definitely. There’s so much of this fairly mundane shit that he could so easily work through himself, it’s hard to know where to begin with a suggestion… (I’m no therapist). I do dislike seeing my stepson suffer, but realistically he’s the one who has to do the verbs here. No map. No user’s manual. Life is messy and sometimes complicated. Being human can be so difficult to do well.

What matters most?

How did I get from there to here?

What practices are most likely to produce quick encouraging results?

How can I most helpfully foster growth and appropriate behavior without undermining the Anxious Adventurer’s agency or taking on work he needs to do for himself?

What exercises in meditation and self-reflection can I recommend that will help him understand his lived values, select the values he wants to live with real care, and sort out who he most wants to be?

I sit awhile longer with my thoughts and my questions. Soon enough it’ll be time to head back to the car and start a whole new week. My Traveling Partner’s surgery is now only a week away. There’s a lot going on in life. It’s a bit chaotic and rather demanding to adult at the required level. S’ok, I’ve got practices for this. It’s just a peculiarly busy time.

Most of the time, things are pretty ordinary.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. This morning’s sunrise wasn’t much to talk about, but it’s a new day nonetheless. There are practices to practice, and it’s time to begin again. I get to my feet with a sigh, straightening my stiff legs, and hit “upload” before I walk on…

It’s early, still. I’m at the trailhead and ready to walk a couple more miles in these boots. Soon. I jot down some notes, details of my thoughts as I made the drive to this place. Notes to guide a conversation with the Anxious Adventurer a bit later today. Problematic assumptions may have been made, and these require clarification, and a clear resetting of expectations. Boundaries need to be clearly pointed out, and reinforced. Household rules and day-to-day “standard operating procedures” need to be clarified. We’re all in this together, but it’s frankly not a democracy (at all), and it’s important we all have a shared understanding of some basic details regarding housekeeping, basic manners, and the practical requirements that everyone “hold up their end” without nagging or dropping a fuck-ton of additional emotional labor on me (or on my Traveling Partner). So… I make some notes. I know what I’d like to communicate. I know I want to maintain a comfortable, considerate tone, and that I have a further obligation to myself to avoid undermining (or renegotiating) my firm boundaries.

I sigh quietly to myself. I catch a frown as it develops, when I wonder “how the hell did I get here?” – I’m childless by choice. I for sure did not anticipate being in a position of having to provide “parenting” to what appears to be a grown ass adult. Another sigh, and I hit the trail with my thoughts.

A new day, a new opportunity to begin again.

The morning air is still and warm, hinting at a hot day ahead. It’s so quiet, the sound of my footsteps and my tinnitus are the loudest sounds I hear. There’s a police siren in the distance. Sounds of traffic on the highway along the edge of this protected nature preserve. No breeze. Somewhat humid. The feel of the air seems “heavy”, and I am reminded of summer mornings growing up in Maryland. I get to my halfway point before the sunrise and sit down on the convenient bench to meditate, reflect, and write, as I watch the sun rise.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. It’s a pleasant quiet morning. I savor the moment. There’s no reason to rush this; the moment is mine to enjoy.

I had an exceptional and excellent day with my Traveling Partner, yesterday. With his pain more skillfully managed (finally), and less chaos and stress generally, we comfortably relaxed in each other’s good company, talking and connecting, sharing, and really enjoying each other. It was a wonderful day enjoying the companionship of my best friend and lover, my Traveling Partner on life’s journey. We laughed and talked deeply and intimately. We shared the serious and the lighthearted. It was a great day, well-spent.

… Maybe today will be another like yesterday…

… Maybe it won’t be…

… What will I do with the opportunities ahead of me? What choices will I make? There are so many opportunities, so many choices. So much of my experience is within my own control…

I watch the lowland mist drift over the marsh as the sun rises into a shell-pink sky. I listen to birdsong. Beautiful morning. Beautiful moment. I sit smiling, feeling grateful for this sunrise (and so many others). I think about how far I’ve come as a person, and how much my Traveling Partner and I have grown, together. I think about the lessons I’ve learned over time, and what matters most (to me). I reflect on how best to communicate these ideas in words, and ponder what to share and what to keep for myself.

Self-reflection is a critical practice, for me. It comes with an interesting complication in the subtle distinction between reflection and rumination. Self-reflection is deeply informative and can guide my decision-making in a healthy way. I learn a lot through observation and self-reflection. Rumination, on the other hand, generally provides me with nothing productive, serving to reinforce thinking errors and “doom spirals”, and retraumatize myself with “ancient pain”, and internalized bullshit. Rumination masquerades as self-reflection, but doesn’t “do the work”, and doesn’t get me anywhere. I sit with that a while, and consider how best to communicate the distinction to someone struggling to find their own way.

Another critical practice for me is practicing a positive outlook, generally. I don’t mean faking positivity – that can quickly become toxic, in spite of the positive veneer. I mean to say I practice being authentically positive as much as I am able, and seek to minimize any tendency to bitch and complain “recreationally”, or for an effect, or for humor. Negativity is unpleasant, contagious, and corrosive in most social interactions. Time spent bitching about a challenge could be better spent on problem solving and action. I’m not a fan of forced smiles or inauthentic cheerfulness. I also don’t think the choices are “either/or”. I do my best to be positive, sincerely, and to be grateful, and aware that things could generally be far worse. It does take actual practice sometimes, although continued practice over time has truly changed my thinking and improved my overall outlook on life. Worth the effort.

The sunrise as a metaphor for incremental change over time.

I practice. I change. I begin again. It’s a journey, and the journey is the destination.

Choose your steps wisely. Select your practices with care. Keep practicing. Fail, and reflect, and learn, and begin again. Repeat as needed. We become what we practice. Who do you most want to be? What are you practicing? Will your current practices reliably get you to your goals? What needs to change – your practices, or your goals?

Seeking illumination in a sunrise.

I sit a while with my thoughts. Pleasant morning for it. Soon enough it’ll be time to head back up the trail and return home to enjoy the day with my partner. Soon enough it will be time to begin again.

Be kind today. Kind to the people you interact with; you don’t know what they may be going through. Kind to yourself; you definitely do know what you’re going through – give yourself some compassion. Being kind costs you nothing, and can make so much difference in the world.

Perspective

Be patient with people. They’re complicated and foolish, but probably doing their individual best.

Listen deeply, with your whole attention. You may learn something, and you’ll surely be giving someone something precious; we all want to be heard.

Encourage people. A moment of sincere encouragement can fuel a lifetime of achievement.

Practice being the person you most want to be. It may take time, but we do become what we practice.

Do good in the world. Our humblest efforts, and our smallest deeds, still add up to positive change. It all matters.

Breathe. Exhale. Relax. Do your best, and when you falter, begin again.

I’m relaxing after my walk, wondering if it may continue to rain today. It looks like it might. I’m thinking about the weekend, mostly quite a nice one, spent in the good company of my Traveling Partner. Father’s Day was Sunday, and I even managed to surprise him with a gift (that he also liked).

The weekend was interesting in another way. Chosen changes. Change is, and no amount of running from it (or insisting on standing still) will change that. Sometimes what makes the most sense is to choose change. It’s a useful way of guiding my journey in life.

Here’s an example; I am frankly pretty “over” my current smartphone. It’s an older one, still quite functional but becoming irritatingly “uncooperative” and vexing with each new update by my carrier or the manufacturer. (I get tired of having to go back and turn off a bunch of bullshit and bloatware every time there’s an update, too.) My Traveling Partner pointed out I’m perhaps overdue to move on to a newer (and not carrier-locked) device.

My current smartphone is “only” 5 years old… but that’s also pre-pandemic, 4 employers, and two addresses ago. lol In terms of technology, that’s a long time. We shopped together, talked about the options, and I picked out a replacement. It’ll arrive in a few days and then I can “move out” of this phone that is vexing me so often and move on to being vexed differently with a new one. lol I’m grateful to have my Traveling Partner’s expertise and help with this one; it’s the sort of change that really fucks with me in a multitude of little ways.

Another example of choosing change with self-care and personal growth in mind? Artistically I have been feeling a bit stalled and struggling to “find my voice” after losing my Dear Friend this year. I didn’t have an understanding of how grief would affect me creatively (this time), nor did I anticipate the ways my Traveling Partner’s injury might affect my comfort with being “distracted by” the desire to paint. I find myself unable to begin new work, too aware that he may need my help any time (acrylic paint dries quickly and I tend to “work wet”). Unable to finish old work, because it brings to mind interrupted conversations with my Dear Friend that now can never be resumed.

I just can’t get going “as things are”… and the more I thought about it, the more significant the medium I tend to favor seemed to be. I’ve worked primarily in acrylics for about 20 years. What if I could work slower… oil paints? No, too slow. Watercolor?Maybe…but… too wet? What if I could work slower without “working wet” at all…? Something I could easily step away from and come back to… I found myself also considering size. I generally work with canvases that are large-ish… not huge, but often “over mantelpiece” or “behind the couch” sizes… I had begun to work much smaller in recent years (a combination of convenience and physical limitations). I never replaced my big easel when it finally failed me. I rarely used it anymore. Large work on paper never suited me…but I started as a watercolor artist, working on paper, as a teenager. Is it time to scale back and return to older ways? I feel hungry for something new.

Continuing to reflect on what I’ve been doing artistically, what has inspired me recently, and what is most physically comfortable at this stage in my life, I found myself considering a big change… a change of medium. (That’s a bigger deal than I know how to communicate, and will come with a potentially very steep learning curve.) Pastels. That’s the “big reveal”, I’m planning to try pastels, and may return to working exclusively on paper (less storage space needed for completed work, too). It’s an exciting thing to contemplate.

I find myself in an interestingly “in between moment”, standing poised between who I’ve been and who I may become, at least artistically. It’s less a crossroad in life than a sharp bend in the path in front of me, beyond which I can’t at all see what is ahead. I’m okay with the uncertainty and the unknowns. I’m excited and eager to move forward, to move on, and to grow with new experiences and new knowledge. This change, particularly, percolates through my consciousness in an interesting way. I think of a snake shedding her skin. It’s a good metaphor for choosing change and the growth that can come of it.

…Pastels…? I would be more easily able to do plein air work when I go camping… less to carry, more compact, easier to clean up… I  sit with my thoughts awhile… The future is filled with potential.

I think about all the various artistic mediums I’ve tried, all the techniques, and the tools… I think about what worked for me, and why, and where I was in life for each of those things… I think, too, about practices more generally, and what has worked, and how much it has mattered to simply “try things out” to learn what really does work best for me. It’s an interesting journey.

There are new steps to take, and new skills to learn. There are new practices to practice, and old chaos to tidy up. There is old baggage to set aside, and old pain to heal. It’s a journey. A process. Incremental change over time doesn’t have to be all happenstance and wandering; I can choose change. I can choose my path, and choose my opportunity. I  can choose to begin again.

…It’s time…

…I wonder where this path leads…?