Work can be done to temper the tendency to make rash moves that occur from an overworked nervous system. Acceptance of that tendency is necessary to achieve a balanced wholeness where esteem for self grows. Allowances for such a struggle means softening my approach to myself. It is OK…this is something to work on, but with gentleness and kindness, not a whip, club and bat.
In many instances my mind moves too fast and my body lurches ahead with it when what would provide more satisfaction is stillness and thought. Regret moves in adding a desperate futility that anything will ever change.
Fucking stuck with a PTSD brain makes this a reality that will not go away. Offering kindness to myself and acceptance of what is and why it is helps to make a happier soul who loves herself. Only then is one able to offer that same love and acceptance to others.
If one can’t accept their own frailties and shortcomings, how can you be tolerant with others’?
Death took its toll. The body slows as the spirit heals.
The loss of Molly struck deeply. The mind off in the distance, the body tired, it took a week before walking again. The fresh air calmed but my head bent in repose watching my feet. Finally looking up to greet the day my boots plodded on.
As the heart pumped, happy chemicals flowed invigorating a sluggish system. After the final round in the meadow my efforts were rewarded with a rest in the Adirondack chair. Life is once again met with love and anticipation.
Samuel, that sweet man, had tucked wire mesh over Molly’s resting place to keep deer from digging in the soft dirt. Sitting there breathing in, heart beats slowing, the silence of nature quieted the ragged places bringing them home.
Wear a coat of harshness or a one of furry warmth?
The daily goal as this body ages is to care for it in all spheres; arm exercises, walking, meditating, core exercises, and eating healthfully. Attention to the mind and spirit takes me to the studio for creative pursuits along with daily writing.
The reward for meadow laps is sitting in the Adirondack chair listening to the cold wind blow, the twitter of what few birds stay for the winter, and the water as it falls over the beaver dam; pleasures, but also a balm for weariness, a replenishment for the soul and a necessity for health.
Too often one of these isn’t accomplished, or another isn’t done right falling short, and the harsh voice begins to bang unless it’s met with a softer more realistic one. Listen to the soft voice, coax it out, let it grow strong.
Garden path stones, one of four to embed into the little garden path next spring.
Although attempts were made before the time change, my body will not adjust and at 5 am it is time to rise. So sweet it was to sleep till 6 before the bi-annual change of the clocks. Yesterday’s temperatures hit the mid 50’s and all day brilliant sunshine called me onto the porch several times just to sit and soak it up.
Sun beams came into the living room setting the Christmas tree alive with sparkle sending prisms upon the wall in a colorful dance. Putting up the tree a week early brought out the child to play and remember. Its colorful glow when I awake in the morning invites me into each day alighting the dark with a peaceful feeling.
My life is quiet in many ways others might judge as boring. Sometimes it feels restraining and a yearning arises for travel farther than the grocery store or mall and a larger circle of acquaintances. Then the reality of my challenges along with the freedom and ability to face them gently quickly dissipates the moments of despondence. And maybe it’s not others who judge, but me.
Push, push, push, do, do, do. There are things in a day to get done. Yet my body on some days resists and hurts. So disconnected to it and annoyed with its frailties, the tendency is to ignore it. Pushing through leaves me more disconnected by day’s end, confused, ungrounded and bereft. A great need swallows me voraciously looking for something to fill the holes where I’ve left myself.
Coming back to the moment and to myself is so simple and sounds easy yet for a person who has a lived her life with great disconnect it takes effort every time, and in every moment. Where are the eyes full of love and grace?
In the mirror there is only a tired ghost of a hard edged woman. When connections are made to the pathways of spirit, soul, body and mind, the reflection softens. The person looking back emits a light that is inviting, fluid and likable.
The tendency is to run, the work is always to stay.
Pumpkin spice coffee brewing, Christmas music softly playing, candles flickering, and decorations offering a gentle colorful sparkle, something still pulls at me on this dark morning the day before Thanksgiving.
You are you own entity. A life of leaning into others reality because there was no connection to my own has evolved. Looking within instead of looking to others for worth, acceptance and answers is a new way of being offering wholeness, groundedness, and autonomy. Yet it also comes with responsibility.
Instead of feeling bad about everything because essentially “I am bad,” one looks for where they really do need work and really did make mistakes. And not with an overwhelming “I am bad” mentality, but with a realistic view of themselves; that we all are human and are flawed, imperfect and often messy.
So look within and forgive because then you can forgive others for the same flaws that may look different but are very human.
As dawn approaches, only a soft haze in the horizon beyond the hill while all else is still and dark, the thought arises that you do deserve to have a day without self punishment even in spite of yesterday’s failures and flaws. More so, you need your own compassion holding mistakes in your hand like sea worn pebbles, investigating each one gently with curiosity and tenderness.
The heart constricts banded by a tightness learned in childhood. How does one go back and unwrap the wires that cut so deep? Embedded into the vessel they will bleed if removed. As each attack happened with no recourse of protection or love, the child decides she is to blame. As she grows so does the blame she takes upon herself. Her heart constricts with self-loathing not love. She extends softness to others but for herself…contempt.
It is a process, this practice of self love.