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Choosing Change

June 17, 2024 //
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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…?

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Categories art and the artist, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, grief, health, Healthy Living, inspiration, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, The Art of Being, Uncategorized

Try Again

June 1, 2024 //
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Another morning, another opportunity to begin again, to be the person I most want to be, to practice the skills that are most likely to result in good quality of life and healthy relationships… another chance to “get things right “. My Traveling Partner is right, I can be pretty hard on myself. I do tend to conflate “behavior” and “self”. When I fall short of my own expectations of my “performance” in life, my self-talk can become quite negative and more than a little punishing (definitely unkind). Those qualities don’t make “measuring up” easier. I could do better…

…I need more practice…

…another morning for gratitude…

It’s cloudy this morning and my back aches with the likelihood of rain today. My head aches ferociously. My sinuses are a bit stuffy. My tinnitus is so loud in ears I don’t hear the traffic on the nearby highway without really listening to hear it, buried in the static and whine of the buzzing in my ears. The morning seems annoyingly noisy… but it’s all in my head.

I reflect on the past couple days. I find myself admitting I could for sure be more kind and patient with my partner recovering from surgery. I have been too easily frustrated or annoyed by his 100% understandable frustration and annoyance with being both injured and also recovering from a procedure that now has him further limited by pain and the need to rest and heal when he so earnestly wants to move around and get shit done. We’re very different people. I keep finding myself rather stupidly expecting him to deal with things as I might deal with them myself, and it’s not at all reasonable (see “We’re very different people.” lol) It’s not just stupid, it’s also rude. I remind myself to let go of assumptions and expectations, and just be kind, considerate, and available to help when asked. I can count on him to let me know when he needs help.

…But… It is a new day. It’s not really a “do over”. There are no “mulligans” in real life (not really), just new opportunities to begin again and do better – new chances to practice being the person we most want to be. It doesn’t eliminate any consequences of prior actions or words, though, and doesn’t resolve hurt feelings or make amends for damage done. All that? Totally separate. More verbs. Different practices. I  sigh quietly. Adulting is hard sometimes.

My Traveling Partner and I are fortunate; we trust the love we share, and it has proven itself many times. Feelings are feelings. We have our share of difficult moments, but the love is there and it endures beyond any petty bullshit or harsh words. We’re both human primates with noteworthy trauma histories and our share of individual baggage as a result, but fucking hell do we ever also love each other madly. I smile thinking about the enduring love we share. I watch the clouds shifting and drifting. The sun breaks through the cloud cover like a message of hope and encouragement.

It’s a pleasant morning for thinking about life and love, and how best to practice being the woman I most want to be. I sit with my thoughts awhile.

It’s also a nice morning to walk along the edge of the marsh. I breathe the Spring air deeply, smelling the scents of flowers. I reach down to lace up my boots, and prepare to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, anger, Anxiety, Brain Injury, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, Frustration, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Spring, The Art of Being, The Big 5

Let It Go

May 31, 2024 //
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It’s a new morning. I hit the trail at sunrise, hoping to “walk off” this headache, this backache, the pain in my neck, and my general irritation with the day (which hasn’t even had a chance to get started)… but, as is often the case, all those things “follow me” down the trail and linger in my awareness.

Every journey begins somewhere.

…I find myself dreading the day, and feeling a bit trapped by my circumstances and choices. I remind myself how illusory such feelings can be, and to let shit go – let small shit stay small – and I remind myself to practice non-attachment, and to be mindful of impermanence. In the meantime, my steps carry me down this trail…

Pretty words and aphorisms don’t create change. My experience changes when I change my thinking or my actions, and it often takes some time. It’s a process. It’s important to understand that changing my own thinking and actions doesn’t change anyone else’s; it’s important to choose change based on what I want from the woman in the mirror. We’re each walking our own path, each having our own experience.

For many years I twisted helplessly within one relationship or another  trying to be the person a particular partner wanted, and often lost sight of who I,  myself, want to be. I suspect that’s not an experience unique to me. I try to approach things differently these days. I work on becoming the person I most want to be, myself, for me, based on my own values and sense of self. Taking the raw materials I’ve got, chaos and damage and all the messy broken bits, and practicing the practices that move me along my path in a way that causes no harm in my relationships, and creates harmony and connection isn’t reliably easy (or obvious), but I keep at. Seems a worthy endeavor and life is better for it.

…I am for sure not “perfect”… (there is no “perfect”)

Just as I walk this trail one step at a time, I walk my path in life one step at a time. The nice thing about this is that when I stumble (and I do), I can begin again – one step at a time. I set my goals. I measure my progress. I define my success (and my failure).

It’s been a challenging couple of days, for me. Caring for my Traveling Partner while he recovers from an injury has some difficult moments, bringing me to confront some things I would like to do differently and with greater skill. Requires practice. He’s got his own path to walk, and I can’t walk it for him – and it’s a poor choice to take that at all personally. His path is not about me. It’s more effective to focus on what I can do to be a good partner and care provider, and to be alert for opportunities to do more/better – or at least not make shit worse.

…I gotta say, my results vary…

The weekend is almost here. These days that doesn’t promise any great amount of actual rest, at all, there’s just too much to get done, and pretty much every day I already feel very behind on basically everything, more or less all the time. I’ll make a list of “must do” items and add things my Traveling Partner has explicitly asked me to take care of, and do my best to work down that list, task by task, until it’s all done… if I’ve got it in me. Some days I manage it. Others I don’t. “Everything I can manage” has to be enough.

I breathe the fresh Spring air as I walk. It’s a beautiful morning. I exhale each breathe grateful to have another day ahead to practice being the woman I most want to be. Who is she? How does she interact with the world? How does she handle her emotions? What’s her self-talk like? I see her as kind, considerate, experienced, and able to calmly deal with most of life’s chaos without losing perspective. I see her as someone helpful and understanding, compassionate and concerned for the state of the world (and her relationships). I see her being willing to listen, and honest without being unkind. I see her as comfortable setting boundaries, and respecting the boundaries set by others. I see her as a woman of great joy and enormous capacity for love. She’s hospitable, generous – but not a “sucker”. She walks through life with purpose, confident her path is right for her.

…Gotta have goals! Helpful to have a sense of self, both as I am here/now, and also where I would like to find myself. I walk on with my thoughts…

…Breathe, exhale, relax… walk on.

The day ahead seems more ordinary and routine, as I walk. I find myself more able to avoid taking my partner’s recent temper personally (or my own) as I walk down the path. Most of these moments of ill temper are a byproduct of injury or pain, and the ups and downs of medication taken to relieve discomfort or promote healing. An astonishing amount of the medication we’re given pretty commonly also happens to be mind or mood altering, though people rarely discuss it as being so. Even OTC stuff often has profound potential to color our thinking or the lens through which we view the world. I remind myself to be more patient and kind about such things, and to try to let petty aggravations just… go. It’s not personal.  Hell, sometimes that shit is barely real.

I laugh to myself, thinking about my own moments of misplaced temper in life. No shortage of those. Perspective. I could do better. I keep practicing.

I also keep walking. I get to the bench at the turn around point and sit down to write for a few minutes. This is some of my most cherished time each day. These few minutes of self-reflection and writing help me focus on what matters most, and help me find my calm center, my sense of perspective, and my joy. Whatever else any given day throws my way, I’ve got this moment, pretty reliably. That’s something worth having. I savor it.

I breathe, exhale, relax, and take a moment to enjoy the Spring sunrise and the golden hues that filter through the trees. It’s a new day, and I’ve got the path ahead, and a chance to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, anger, Anxiety, Brain Injury, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, Frustration, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Spring, The Art of Being, The Big 5

Being vs Yearning

August 28, 2023 //
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I’m sipping my coffee and taking a break from reviewing an unexpectedly long list of new opportunities to consider. It’s a Monday, and for now the “new normal” in my work day is about looking for new work.

An earlier than necessary start feels consistent with an adult lifetime of working, and both gives me a leg up on the day, and an opportunity to slip out of the house well-before my Traveling Partner awakens. Ideally, this let’s him sleep in a bit, and that thought fills me with joy. (Human primates need to be able to rest even at the best of times, and we’ve both been ill for days and earnestly need as much rest as we can get.) Rest is not exclusively about sleep, though, and I make a point to take a short break from compiling job leads and catching up on various other job search tasks. I take a short walk around the block in the morning air under a soft gray rather featureless sky, then sit down to write – with a fresh cup of coffee.

I sip my coffee and sigh quietly out loud in this co-work space that will soon no longer be available. It’s hard to make a small business thrive in tough economic times. The shifting culture with regard to work, and whether that is in-office or remote work for many roles that lack a clear actual need to be “on site” for some legitimate business purpose, makes operating a co-work space a less than ideally secure business prospect in a small town, and the one I frequent is closing. For me, the convenience of a co-work space near to home has been a handy luxury that I appreciate – I’ll be sad to lose it.

I take a moment for gratitude – for this convenient space, and also for the ease with which I’ll be able to pivot to a different approach, a new routine, a new normal, after this final week in this quiet place. I’m fortunate. I’ve got a career that works well with remote work, and an approach to work that allows me considerable flexibility personally as to whether I work in-office or remotely in the first place. I’ve got a partnership at home that supports my freedom to choose from my options in the fashion that best suits me at the time, and a partner that “gets it” about why I might choose one thing or another. I enjoy another sip of my still-hot second cup of coffee as I reflect upon my good fortune, knowing it may not last, enjoying it while it does.

One of the challenges, for me, on life’s journey, has been finding myself distracted from “here and now” by yearnings for… something else. It’s not particularly helpful to become mired in what isn’t on this journey from where I am to where I will be later on. It’s a bit like trudging through ankle deep sticky mud; it may not stop me from making progress, but it will surely slow that progress considerably more than if I were simply moving forward on my path, step by step, with presence, care, and commitment. “Be here, now” is a powerful recommendation and reliably good starting point for a new beginning. “We become what we practice”, and there is a notable difference between desperate yearnings to become or to transform, and actual practices that result in authentic changes – and real progress toward a goal. Then, too, there’s the goal-less forward momentum of honest self-evaluation, freed from the constraints of the expectations and demands of others – which also grinds to a halt when I find myself mired that sticky mud of yearning to be something or someone else. “Yearning” hasn’t seemed to get me very far in life. It’s a peculiar sort of getting in my own way, by setting up the dream of something better, investing deeply in fantasies of that dream, and then… being frustrated that the dream never comes to life, all without noticing that the time spent dreaming the dream is at the expense of taking any actions to proceed down a path that could actually lead in that direction. Most peculiar. “Yearning” is interesting as verbs go; it seems to prevent actual action. I sip my coffee and consider it further.

…And here I am, at 60, still wondering what I want to be “when I grow up” lol…

…There is time to slow down, and enjoy the day. Time to write. To enjoy another coffee.

I don’t spend much time yearning these days. I don’t want for much. It’s less about “having it all” (hell, right now with no job and limited cash-flow and savings, I’m particularly alert to how finite my resources are), more to do with approaching life from a position of perspective, mindfulness, and sufficiency. It could be so much worse. I’m not yearning for fame or power or wealth. I’m content with living simply, with having enough, and I find adequate joy in the small things that work for me. I’ve got enough bullshit and baggage to work on without creating more headaches for myself by chasing other people’s daydreams for what I could have or who I could be. Yearning doesn’t fit into my day plan. LOL Still… Gnothi seauton. Self-reflection is a worthy endeavor. Getting lost in a labyrinth of yearnings seems less so.

I sip my coffee thinking about “being”. It isn’t always easy facing the woman in the mirror and some of her difficult questions (or painful accusations and burdensome disappointments). Reliably, however, I’ve found it far easier to make progress if I am making where I presently stand (and who I authentically am) as my starting point on any new beginning. Going from “here” to “there” is definitely simpler when I understand where “here” is.

…Funny thing… and a serendipitous coincidence… these themes are deeply explored in the sci-fi “space opera” that my Traveling Partner and I have been enjoying together while we’ve been ill. Babylon 5. Being vs yearning. Power and the consequences of seeking it. The corrupting influence of greed. The importance of love and compassion. Our very human journey of self, over the course of a lifetime. The heroic and the mundane, and this very human journey we call life. I’m sure immersing myself in the skillfully created fictional universe of Babylon 5 has done much to infuse my self-reflection with additional depth… posing new or old questions that very much want to be, if not answered, at least well-considered. So… I consider them. I consider me. I consider this moment in my journey, and where I presently stand with myself. I consider life and love and partnership. I consider what matters most, and how best to serve my mortal purpose.

I consider. I ponder. I muse. I wonder. I sip my coffee and prepare to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, inspiration, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Summer, The Art of Being, turning 60

A Studious Approach

July 13, 2023 //
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Interesting week so far, and already almost over. I finally “have time” to pause and reflect. My visit with my therapist yesterday was… eye-opening. Revelatory. Inspiring? I’ve got a lot to reflect on, is what I’m saying. I was even overcome with a fairly urgent feeling need to be alone, to be in a place/time with the freedom to reflect at great length and at leisure, and maybe talk it over with someone dear to me… but also quite removed from my direct experience. An old friend. Another woman. Someone with more lived experience.

Talking things over with my Traveling Partner the words sort of just tumbled out and a plan developed in the moment I spoke. I decided to take advantage of an opening on the work calendar to get some time away, alone. My plan is to drive down the coastal highway, see an old friend, camp for a night or two, and head home again.

Later today, unrelated other than part of my experience and journey, and one of the many things to reflect upon, generally, I see a sleep specialist. One I have not previously seen. It took almost an hour to fill out the sleep questionnaire. It was very thorough. As is so often the case, I find it difficult to fill out such forms; my answers are often don’t fit neatly into the “often? sometimes? never?” options provided. I’m always writing in the margins! I check “never” – then opine that it’s not actually never, just very rare. Or I pick “sometimes”, but feel compelled to explain that when it’s going on, it’s actually “often”. That kind of thing. Like… routinely. It’s hard to fill out forms. I’m not “typical”. LOL The answers I want to give are thorough, nuanced, and given context – anything less feels like I’m not able to share my experience correctly. It’s probably a bit much for the medical professional that has to read it. Still… I am hopeful as I prepare for the appointment.

Summery weather of late. I don’t mind. I’m in less pain, generally, when the weather is warm or hot, and quite dry. I sit for a minute, giving myself “room to just be” and paying attention to my body. Pain today? Yeah. Arthritis is about a 3 today… manageable. My headache? Just at this moment, in this specific position, for the time being… it isn’t a headache. Just a bit of tension in that left levator of scapula (or is it the supraspinatus? I’m not sure, honestly, I just live in this meat suit!). It all seems connected somehow… the shoulder pain, the neck pain, the headaches… a weird crescent of pain that feels as if I am balancing it between my shoulder and my ear somehow. Meh. I let it go. I’m okay-ish today.

I think about things my therapist said about things I’d said. I think about my relationship with the woman in the mirror. She deserves better than I give her. I could for sure do better, and I find myself considering the idea that I’ve maybe been “stepping through” a lot of self-care practices in a “tick the box” fashion, without genuine care and affection, just… getting it done. Surviving life, coping with trauma, but not really “being there for myself” in an honest emotional heartfelt genuinely loving way. Wild to say so. Annoying to be aware that this really might be the case even after all this time and work. It’s a journey, though, isn’t it? A process of discovery and self-discovery, of learning and growing, of getting from there to here to over there further on? The journey is the destination, and I suppose I could be grateful to continue to put one foot after the other, over time, and continuing to make actual progress. 😀

…I guess I’ll begin again… again.

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Categories Allegories, anger, Anxiety, Brain Injury, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, Frustration, gratitude, Healthy Living, inspiration, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Sleepless Nights, solo hiking, Summer, The Art of Being, turning 60
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