9.29.16 Trees dancing

Sometimes in life, if you're here long enough, and if you are given half a chance, 

you begin to relish the small moments. Of peace. Of loveliness. 

In the midst of what could be construed as your own personal storm.

And so I watch in the small oasis of trees, the small ecosystem 

in the midst of the shorn corn fields, as the wind picks up,

 as it sweeps across the land, and those branches, and then others, are stirred.

 As the contrast of their light under-leaf sweeps back and forth. 

Trees, dancing.

 

9.29.16 Someone, somewhere

Sandals, no coat, a little chilly, the crickets 
are like a complex symphony, blasting. 
No trees turning yet, half of the field shorn of corn. 

The skies filled with pale blue clouds, holding more promise of rain. 
For someone, somewhere.

9.29.16 Cool out.

One of the most useful things we learn, when we've been here for awhile, is 

if something tough is happening, cool out and wait. 

If there's no actual urgency , we lower our expectations, cool things out, 

and give ourselves a chance to digest what is happening. 

When we get out of the way and find a way to quiet, our tremendous 

underestimated inner resources come together, and without trying or

 analyzing, we begin the process of becoming clear.

9.29.16 Choice

     Some ways we are on some days are easier than others. That's just the way it is. 
     What we can do with it has a lot to do with choice. Seeing choice. Acknowledging choice. Lots of times we have this little game we like to play with ourselves. We like to call it "I HAVE no choice". 

     We list off all the actual choices, dismissing them as not good enough or not preferable or not just just what we want. Then we deride our poor selves in our poor situation, with no no choices at all.
     That doesn't mean it's easy or great at all, our choices . It's that funny thing that happens when a friend or anyone we converse with teases out what the choices are, just wondering.
     They ask about one, about another, and we bat them each away, as if we are suddenly really good at ping pong or something. Bam bam bam .
     I was talking with an interesting person at the little local store the other day. They were expressing concerns about the coming busy season. About the owners not responding to their request for additional staff. About the new extra seasonal order just put in and due in a week. About how in order to do their job in they way they really like , they don't get breaks or lunch .

     

     It was so interesting, because it happens to all of us. We become invested in doing a good job. Management won't or can't shift resources in a way that makes sense. They watch us still doing a good job, by taking up the slack ourselves. By stressing about it. By making the choice to continue doing a 'good job' even if it's not our responsibility, even if our job is safe, even if we don't really need the job.

     I asked the questions , and got it. Their choice. To feel stressed and overburdened and undervalued , in exchange for keeping the standard of doing a good job. I reflected on that with them. I asked if making that choice was ok with them. They laughed and said they wished it was different. I said I understood.

     Most days I find myself thinking I have to do this, I don't get to do that, and it goes on and on. As if my whole life is just happening to me. But that it exactly true. Sometimes I notice the ways I'm choosing to frame my experience. And then it all opens up. Into my choosing to deal with this health challenge like this. That financial matter like that.

     It's not that we are supposed to like our circumstances or our choices. It's just that we benefit from stopping ourselves from pretending we are powerless or choiceless , and begin taking the freedoms and responsibilities we do have, into our own hands.

9.29.16 I love men's clothing

I love men's clothes. Not because they're supposed to be mens. I grew up with five brothers. All the adults acted like that must be the worst thing. Never made sense to me, silly adults. My brothers and I were tight. 

I climbed trees and smashed around on my own and ran through mud and drove and drank hard as I got older. And went on adventures and slept outside for fun and was up for anything.

In an older more mature variation of a theme , in lots of ways, I still do. 

I throw on clothes and wash them and throw them on again. Pretty stuff is all kinds of wonderful, but I'm not real materialistic and I didn't try real hard to make lots of money and I don't really care that much. 

I think naming a female shirt a blouse and a male shirt a shirt, female underwear the diminutive panties and the male undies underwear, is all stupid crap. 

I never did see a big difference between my brothers and myself or my beloved and myself , except for maybe pregnancy and six years of breastfeeding. 

As we got older I got more worn out, and finally we scraped into that dreaded land of him doing outside harder stuff. But I get it and I can handle it. We still have things clear between us.

Tonight I see an LLBeans catalog has arrived. 

I peruse all the beautiful soft flannel shirts. The guy jeans and boots. Yum. 

My husband laughs. He's generally smitten, even with my round wrinkly self. 

He made me promise to stop stealing his clothes long ago. I loved those tightey whiteys til he got all hip with the fancy black legged deals. 

He got me a big thick Beans winter jacket one year that would not care if you rode it to hell and back. 

Love sometimes just is love is love.