Archives for posts with tag: you know it ain’t easy

I like the sound of the phrase ‘The Art of Being’. I find something contained within those simple words that hints at more than the practical details of practicing practices and the slow pace of incremental change over time; it suggests nuances of self and experience that exist beyond the logistics of resources and effort in practices. As lovely as it sounds, however, the Art of Being remains tangled up in practices that need practicing. As with being an amazing singer, or gifted artist, perhaps, the beauty of raw talent is a wonder that holds potential to be further improved upon with skill, craftsmanship, and experience…all things that come from practice, and possibly some coaching or education.

Sorting out ‘art’ from ‘science’, and taking those next steps from talent (or good fortune) to skill and craftsmanship, to design and engineering, is an experience of its own. It is the journey from awareness to real understanding. From “I’m doing it!” to “Of course, I’ve got this.” From asking questions to… understanding, or at least to the threshold of building real understanding. To be clear, I am still asking questions, and still approaching my circumstances and experience with a beginner’s mind in every  moment that I remain mindful to do so; there are still practices involved, still requiring verbs, will, and choice.

I am rereading the Four Agreements; a worthy starting point on any journey of self.

I am rereading The Four Agreements; a worthy starting point on any journey of self.

For me, now, the ‘art’ in The Art of Being speaks to an increased level of ‘ease’ within myself, and how I approach my experience moment-to-moment. It implies a heightened level of acceptance, of self-compassion, and self-appreciation. It implies a reduction in assumptions, expectations, and attachment resulting in an increased level of calm, contentment, and even merriment. I expect to find that someone skilled in The Art of Being will be emotionally self-sufficient, accepting of themselves and not inclined to take the emotions or experience of others personally, and to be so without doing emotional harm to others thoughtlessly or by intention.

I feel a bit as I do out on a long hike, checking my map for significant landmarks, intersections, places I’d like to stop, or turn toward another direction…I’ve got my eye on the next turn, the next goal, and the signpost I am looking for reads ‘The Art of Being’. I’m not discontent on this path so clearly marked ‘Practicing the Practices’, and it is an important part of my journey. This is, however, a journey; there is more life to live, more ground to cover.  I am my own cartographer, and I am placing an ‘x’ on this particular spot…right over…here. The Art of Being seems a good direction to head, a worthy goal, and a good place to find myself farther along the way. This is not a journey about destinations as much as it is about steps, and continuance, and walking on…

Taking time to consider the journey, to rest, to observe, to enjoy, all have value of their own; there is no need to rush life.

Taking time to consider the journey, to rest, to observe, to enjoy, all have value of their own; there is no need to rush life, now is lovely.

One of the challenges for me day-to-day is remaining committed to the practices that seem most effective, and not allowing myself to become distracted by old patterns, ineffective programming, and moments of distress caused by the clash between historical expectations and change over time. It is almost inevitable in the context of relationships that (because we are each having our own experience) I may occasionally feel a bit like some mysterious quantum particle – I’m not quite in the place I’m expected to be, as a person, but it isn’t obvious ‘where I’m at’ until a specific outcome is observed – but having made the observation, I may have already moved on to better things by way of that very observation, itself. Similarly, I may have a sense that I’ve ‘come so far’, only to observe that in some moment, the incremental change is far smaller than anticipated, at least right then. It’s hard to keep up with, myself. I continue to practice the practices that are most effective, and I am learning to set aside the expectations altogether and give myself a break from constant criticism, and demands, and enjoy the journey in my own good company.

I am using my current search for a live/work space to promote deeper understanding of where I am in life, now, as well as putting focus on ongoing challenges with attachment; investing willfully in my own needs feels powerful, and provocatively hints at growth to come, in an environment uniquely suited to me. Although it feels ‘overdue’, I don’t allow myself criticism of the relevant decision-making that put it off so long; each of those decision-making points in life have been important, and each one handled in the way that seemed best at the time, based on my understanding of events, and of self, in that moment. Regret and bullying myself over past choices drives stress, feeds attachment, and continues the sort of self-defeating beat down that impedes clear thinking in the present. Besides – I deserve better than that from me. When I treat myself badly, I also make it much more difficult to treat others well.

The weekend was pretty good. I enjoyed it a great deal. I had a couple challenging moments yesterday, both missed opportunities to more skillfully manage my emotional experience, and to more clearly express myself, both very illustrative of how much further there is to go on this journey, and how much value there is in love. Wonderfully, they were both moments, and moments pass, in fact – in the case of yesterday, both challenging moments passed by like spring showers, and didn’t linger. Progress.

There is more to do, and farther to go. There is life is to be lived, and there is pleasure to be enjoyed, and further progress to make. There is a woman I love, to smile at in the mirror. I’ve got practices to practice as I continue down this path, on my way to The Art of Being.

This morning biscuits are a metaphor. I haven’t made any, I’m just thinking about them. Fresh hot homemade biscuits right from the oven on a lazy spring Sunday morning, served with sweet cream butter, homemade fruit preserves of some kind or another – or several – maybe some lemon curd, and Devonshire cream – and plenty of coffee, or tea, sounds like just about the perfect morning munch, or lovely bite of brunch a bit later, or excellent accompaniment to a good lunch salad… I’m just saying; I like biscuits. (American biscuits… so… scones.)

Home made scones.

Home made scones.

How are biscuits a metaphor? Simply that there is nothing fancy about a biscuit, even the recipe itself is easy. Flour, shortening, liquid, mixed in the correct ratio, spooned onto a pan if you’re not up for rolling and cutting, and then baked – but the results are extraordinary when the ingredients are in the correct ratio, the steps followed in order, and the progress of the baking attended to mindfully.

Sometimes we take what is easy and make it harder. I’m not sure why, but I know I do, and have, and likely will again in the future.

I’ve got stacks of cookbooks, and a lot of biscuit recipes. Some of the recipes start things off by taking those simple ingredients and directing me toward very complicated steps. Some of the recipes are a simple tweak of the basic concept, but result in something very different at the end.

A biscuit done well can be the foundation of something amazing - like a grown up take on a breakfast 'ice cream sandwich'.

A biscuit done well can be the foundation of something amazing – like a grown up take on a breakfast ‘ice cream sandwich’.

The poorest pantry likely has the ingredients for biscuits; flour of some kind, water or milk, some sort of shortening, a leavening ingredient. Biscuits can be made simply, or with far fancier ingredients – they’re still biscuits, and the sort of thing that tends to be very available. Affordable luxury? A small investment in effort, a commitment to a good recipe, and having simple staple ingredients on hand can result in luxury, comfort, and contentment in the hardest times.

Everyone has tough times. In the toughest times, I’ve still been able to make biscuits. I’m trying to say something… about life, about love, about hard times…about the simple basics that we can get by on, when we make the choice to do so. Still choices, still verbs involved – but the list of ingredients may be quite simple indeed. (Check your pantry – are you well stocked on emotional staples?)

Today is a good day to do well on what is at hand. Today is a good day to follow a good recipe. Today is a good day to enjoy the simple pleasures that I know I can count on. Today is a good day to change my world.

I’ve started this one twice three four times now. I had a difficult night, and I haven’t been successful, yet, at putting it behind me. I must have awakened weeping a million times, once I fell into a restless troubled sleep, and the night lasted just about forever until I woke, about 5 minutes before the alarm would have gone off. Tears streamed down my face when I rose, and as I selected my clothes for the day, and while I stood in the shower. I don’t know that there is much to say ‘about’ it. I’m feeling the weight of years, and changes, and the slow, inconvenient process of aging in the context of relationships with much younger people.

Winter. It's a metaphor.

Winter. It’s a metaphor.

Over the past few days there have been highs and lows, the everyday, the sublime – in short, a very human experience. Why is this one, today, so hard? Why do I feel like ‘giving up’, right now? What is it, exactly, that I would give up on? I guess I should admit that it’s a pretty everyday, mundane sort of complicated human experience that is probably pretty commonplace – however alone I feel right now – and bitching about it (or crying) doesn’t actually help. It’s “The Sex Thing”, you see. Yeah – pretty personal stuff. Hard to write about, for me, with comfort and clarity…too many of my eggs are in this basket, metaphorically speaking; it’s caused me difficulties for a long long time. I love sex, and generally want more of it than any relationship provides. My sense of self is pretty entwined with my sexuality, too, which complicates some things, at this point in my life. My body – and mind – are going through some changes with this whole menopause thing, and sensations and emotions feel different, my body responds differently to touch, my chemistry has changed/is changing. I’d love to say ‘only the parts of my experience that are affected by my reproductive hormones are being affected by these changes’ – but typing the words immediately becomes comedy in my head. I’m a female human primate – what part of my experience isn’t affected by my reproductive hormones in some way? I don’t suppose I’m making things any easier to be in therapy for issues that developed around sexual trauma, domestic violence, and identity, while I am wrapping things up as a reproductively viable adult, either. The challenges and frustrations just keep piling up, until… I spend an eternal night weeping in my sleep, and wake feeling…

I feel like my heart is breaking.

There's often something beyond the obvious.

There’s often something beyond the obvious.

So. I woke early, and without difficulty, which is a nice enough start to the return to work for the new year. 2015. My traveling partner was sweet to me this morning, making me a tasty latte while I was in the shower. Detail by detail, I pick up the threads of my work routine. I’ve no enthusiasm for it, this morning. It seems likely to be a day I spend in the ladies’ room between meetings, splashing cold water on my face, and hoping to drag myself through it all with some measure of grace, and acceptance. On top of tears, I hurt. I’m not surprised – crying in ones sleep must be quite stressful, which would likely result in tense muscles, weird sleeping postures, and this wicked headache I woke with. I still manage to take care of me; medications taken on time, drinking plenty of water, choosing a morning yoga sequence with calming postures, and meditating. The water will matter in the most obvious ways, and it is the thing I would be most likely to overlook, so remembering to drink more water is a win, on a difficult Monday morning.

The first work day of the new year, and I’m feeling irritable and self-involved. I’m also committed to sorting it out and finding my way to a better place. Even in the midst of tears on a moody Monday morning, I recognize life’s joy and pleasure is within reach – if only I can raise my hand to reach for it. There’s will involved. Choices. Verbs. A commitment to change and to action is needed, and it’s not always easy.

I don’t do ‘resolutions’ to celebrate the new year…but I have goals, intentions, commitments – like anyone might. It’s a season of change, and hopefully of growth, too. In 2015, I am pointing will, choices, and action in the direction of being simply the most genuine person I have within me, while also learning to be the most kind, compassionate, reasonable, considerate, loving, and good-natured genuine person I have the ability to be…and since change is, and I am embracing it, it’s my hope that as the year progresses I can be more of those things over time. Which one of those qualities is most important to me? Being genuine. The rest will come with time – because the people in my life really matter to me, and I would treat them well. I will listen more, talk less, and make an active effort to make my default setting to take an agreeable tone in negotiations, and to live well, and pleasantly. From my perspective within myself, I don’t do ‘mean’, and I don’t do ‘bitchy’… but I know that isn’t necessarily the experience everyone has with me. I am hoping to reach a point as a being when I am a woman of whom others might say, themselves, in a firm way with conviction, “Oh, she doesn’t do mean, and she doesn’t do bitchy.”  That’s not intended to communicate that the opinions of others matter to me more than my own evaluation of self, not even a little bit, but how we treat others isn’t actually defined by our intent, or what we meant to do/say – it is 100% and entirely about how what we do/say is received by others. That was hard to come to terms with, initially, but it has been an important understanding to have.  (If you find yourself constantly suggesting, or commenting, that people should ‘grow a thicker skin’, or somehow be less sensitive, you may want to check yourself – could be you aren’t the person you’d like most to be.) I put a lot of thought and words around this one, because I value being treated well, and I want to treat others well, too – because it feels good to be treated well, and kindness, compassion, and taking a minute to let the other guy get a word in are basically free. They have great ROI.

I’m no longer weeping; my tears dried some moments ago. I feel calm. Resolute. Capable. Also wary. Cautious. Concerned. Uncertain. I also feel emotionally ‘cracked open’ and raw – being kind to myself today will be important; I can’t count on the world to be kind to me in my stead, and there’s much to do, and limited time for coaching others how to care for me – I’ve got to be prepared and able to do that for myself.

Walking a winter path.

Walking a winter path.

Today is a good day to get back to work – on me. Today is a good day to be kind to myself, and to the world. Today is a good day to make choices to be the best person I can, and to grow from the moments when I’m not so awesome, and improve on my personal best, each day. Today is a good day to notice that change is.

The morning is quiet. I sit here content, quiet, calm, and aware of the small knot of distant anxiety nestled just below my diaphragm. The last couple pleasant mornings have skidded sideways like a luxury car speeding down an icy highway; feeling good right until it was out of control, leaving me shaking and confused although things turned out well enough in the end. I’m not wishing the anxiety away, or fighting it; it simply is, there in the background, and I am aware of the potential it holds. Still, I am content now, and I feel still and calm now, and now is okay with me. I am enjoying the moment.

Between the cold weather, the rainy weather, and being bundled up and warm in the face of either or both, I haven’t taken many new pictures lately. I’m not sure whether that choice is about taking care with my camera (phone) or that I just don’t want to be colder or wetter. There’s a nice byproduct to that choice, though. I see so much as I walk, undistracted by the eagerness to capture some one thing I am seeing. I see more. Walking meditation suits me well, too, and is more difficult if constantly interrupted with photography. There’s something to think about buried in these observations…something about mindfully enjoying what I enjoy and being fully present…and the power of interruptions, that are also things I enjoy. I’m not sure where to take it, but I bet I would do well to consider this one further…

The lack of predictable, lasting calm in my experience concerns me. I have come so far that I can fairly easily see an Achilles heel I missed before; I am easily provoked by someone else’s intense emotional experience, however calm and content I am in the moment. It’s problematic for me – I’m human, and I live with other human beings. Intense emotions are part of that experience. However calmly I may be enjoying the day, the potential remains for someone to provoke me into reacting to their experience with such immediacy, and emotional force, that I lose my way, lose my moment, lose my joy… and suffer.  This seems like something worth addressing… I would like to reach a point where the irritation experienced by someone else does not put me on the defensive, frighten me, or cause me to try to ‘fix things’. I’d like to reach a point where another person’s anger isn’t terrifying, or able to override my own decision-making about what is good for me, or what action I take. I would like to reach a point where I can comfortably provide emotional support to someone in the face of their rage, hysteria, irritability, sorrow, or despair, without feeling sucked in, blamed, or thrown off course, myself. I’m not there, yet. This is not a journey that reaches a resting point with a sign ‘You Are Here’ to conveniently identify that I have reached my destination. It’s more like a walk in a strange wood – beautiful, sometimes, and other times feeling peculiarly endless, and a bit scary. I walk on.

Taking my journey on  my own terms, making my own way.

Taking my journey on my own terms, making my own way.

Today is a good day to blaze a trail through the unknown. Today is a good day to fearlessly explore the world within – a world that is largely of my own making, under my own control (where’s that damn manual…map…user’s guide…?). Today is a good day to be kind to myself, and to others, however little appreciation there is for the effort – not because anyone ‘deserves’ it, not because it is their ‘due’, and not because I am obligated to do so, but because this is who I am. (How do I know that? Because I choose to be.) Today is a good day to choose to change the world.

I slept in this morning, greedily immersing myself in more sleep after each moment of waking, until the morning light through the curtain, and the glow of the aquarium, had become too much to sleep through.  I crashed early last night, fatigued with hormones, hot flashes, emotional volatility and promise threat promise likelihood inevitability of largely unpredictable change future happenings. It’s been that sort of week.

It's still a journey. There's still no map.

It’s still a journey. There’s still no map.

Again, I find myself quite human. Indecisive. Fearful. Bolting from circumstances toward the unknown without patient and thorough consideration; traveling through life as a victim (again) instead of… well, whatever better options there are, and there are many (any of them would indeed be an improvement over panic).  Stress walks my PTSD down the aisle with my TBI and the resulting marriage, like many, is definitely not ‘made in heaven’.  In the middle of a terse conversation about entirely other matters, a partner observed in a frustrated tone that I could take a moment to show myself some compassion.

Well…yeah. Why wasn’t I?

This morning, over my coffee, contemplating recent events and conversations, thinking about needs, looking to understand ‘what matters most’ for me, looking to identify anything that could be tripping me up simply because it is unattended to… I read this in my newsfeed.  Purportedly an article about patience, it spoke to me on a deeper level, and although each and every numbered point is a reminder, rather than new information, the reminders were timely, and utterly relevant.  Meditation. Practice. Acceptance. Recognizing the infinitesimal line between the stories I tell myself, and what is – or may be.

There aren’t many things that calm me the way meditation can. How do I ever miss on that one? Still human.  I make choices, and in a brief moment on a sunny morning it can seem ‘no big deal’ to skip a few minutes of meditation… right? Free will… “I’m a grown up, after all”… “It’s such a beautiful day, and I’m in a great place…” “I just have to get this one thing done…” “It’s not like meditation is medication…”  My TBI already causes me a great deal of difficulty with building habits; not staying firmly committed is careless risk taking (for me) of the highest order.  My ability to show myself some kindness, some compassion, and to recognize my own needs and accept that meeting them is both critical and challenging, snuck off without my noticing and I dived into self-directed anger, resentment, disappointment with myself, berating myself for any decision that could have been hasty or in error, each moment of clouded judgment or poor reasoning… Yep. Still quite human. Still battling my demons, fighting my hormones, fighting the chaos and damage, fighting to go being enduring to achieve thriving. I sure don’t make it easy on me.

I do have ‘needs’, legitimate, non-negotiable, take-care-of-me, value-based, this-is-what-it-takes-to-thrive sorts of needs. Everyone does.  I have not always made it important to recognize and understand what those needs really are, beyond the survival basics, and it’s slow going learning what matters most to me.  I sometimes stumble on an issue, boundary, limitation, or need as an unexpected byproduct of some other event or decision-making; the undiscovered need becomes an unanticipated confound in reasoning that had seemed simple and clear, or becomes the thing that throws a beautiful plan completely off track. It’s inconvenient and inefficient to learn things in this haphazard fashion, and I rather pointlessly resent the crap out of it, wasting valuable time that could be spent understanding more that could be understood.

Patience is hard sometimes. Taking a step back and saying ‘this may not make as much sense as I thought it did’ can be very humbling. Looking into the face of an unmet need that has evolved over decades, as much because I have treated myself callously, and without regard for my own emotional wellness, hurts a lot. However much any one human being has ever hurt me, their efforts do not measure up to the pain and suffering I have inflicted on my own heart. That’s a hard thing to accept first thing on a lovely Sunday morning… but there it is.  How do I move on from the damage inflicted by others when I don’t allow myself to move on from the damage I inflict on myself?

For a few moments last night, I sat alone, still, bereft in my solitude, hurting, sad… frozen. I was immobilized by pain. The evening light began to fade… I sat quietly for uncounted long minutes, heart thumping evenly, breathing. Without planning it, I allowed my state of being to evolve from being emotionally paralyzed to a gentler place. Breathing. Aware. Letting the ‘weight of it all’ fall away.  I made room for my pain, for my confusion, for the simple basic needs of being human: resting when fatigued, comfort when emotional, healing when injured, sustenance, compassion.  I reached out to one partner, then another, open to healing, open to… being open.  Trusting and vulnerable.  They, too, are human.  We all understand the feelings of urgency, fear, need. We all make mistakes. We all struggle to make sense of out of our confusion.

Another perspective.

Another perspective.

I am standing on the edge of something…feeling a little as if the hike I took yesterday could have resulted in more clarity of thought than it did…wondering why it didn’t… feeling open, aware, trusting events to unfold as they will, for things to turn out in some fashion that allows for each of us to grow, to feel calm and secure, to discover and nurture ‘what matters most’ for our own hearts, to gently nurture and support what matter most for the hearts of others.

Today is a good day for calm, and  a good day for comfort.  Today is a good day to meditate, and show myself ‘a softer side’.  Today is a good day to be aware, content, and compassionate.  Today is a good day to change the world.