The Happiness of Presence

Just now walking into the gym I was feeling so present and, to be honest, so unencumberedly happy. It wasn’t a bouncy, "leap-around-off-park-benches-in-a-musical" happy. It was a happiness of presence. “I’m here. Right now. In this very moment.”

I realized a good portion of that is from my time off (my company graciously gives us the week between Christmas and New Year's off). Since last Thursday I’ve not been shackled by burdens of my job. No stress, no strain, no mental pretzeling to navigate. For the last five days I’ve done as I pleased when I pleased. I’ve had serious Me Time to head in any direction I choose. Read some, nap some, cook, eat, write, workout, listen to music, spend time with friends, etc. In doing so I’ve formed that perspective of distance I love so much. I’ve been able to see my job for the toxic environment it is and how it intertwines on my psyche and causes discomfort and anxiety. I've realized (even though I knew it already) that no one needs to live that way. It's not worth it.

That kind of presence is true freedom right there!

The Curiosity of My Bookshelves

I was putting some new books on my bookshelf just now. Afterward, I started rearranging some, all the Isaac Asimov together, all the John Irving together, all the Italo Calvino together, etc. Looking at the book shelves as a whole my reading interests run the gamut from science fiction and religion explorations to biographies and politics. 

I realized looking at all those books that I'm so glad I don't have to explain or apologize to anyone for my curiosities. 

The Holiday Blizzard and the Gift of Me Time

The first snowflakes of the "Christmas Blizzard" Elliot have started to fall here. In anticipation of it grocery stores have had the usual emptying out. People stocking up on everything from toilet paper to chicken breast have left the store shelves almost empty. The different reactions of people is interesting to me. While it's good to be prepared, for sure, there's no need to panic. Some people hoard items like it's the end of the world is coming.

Some, like me, greet the coming blizzard with a welcoming attitude. Due to the storm I cancelled traveling to see my dad. This is the first time in my life I've not been with family for Christmas. My Frenchie Rufus is traveling to Los Angeles with my ex to spend the holiday with his family. So I have from today until the end of the holiday weekend to myself.  While this probably sounds sad, I'm not sad at all. Sure, I will miss being with my dad and my dog, but the up side is I have lots of Me Time. I have several things I'm looking forward to: doing some blog entries like this, leisure cooking, finishing two of the books I'm reading, and doing some deep meditation sessions, to name a few. 

It seems the older I get these personal, Me Time inward journeys and activities get more and more rewarding. They help create a nice, centered, spiritual feeling within that I love.

The Message of the Trees

I've always had an affinity for trees. They are living creatures just as much and you, me, and every other living thing on the planet. When I take my walks I always touch as many as I can. I like to think they recognize my touch and welcome my acknowledgement of them. I call them our Silent Sentinels. I was sitting in a fast food drive thru one afternoon this past Fall. My sunroof was open and I heard the tree in this video rustling in the breeze. This tree was talking. Sending out its message for all to hear. They are a wise species with eons of insights to share with us. If we listen.

Empathy and the Mouse

A few nights ago I was taking my dog Rufus out for his last walk of the day. In the lobby of my building I noticed a teeny tiny mouse in the corner. Looking closer it was apparent that he (why I assign him male gender I don't know) was dead. After our walk I got a small box from my apartment and went down to get the poor little guy and remove him from the lobby. As I was walking down the sidewalk with the box toward the dumpster I came to the intersection of my two streets. I live in a very ecologically- and beautification-conscious neighborhood. It's not uncommon to see a neighbor with a 5-gallon bucket or grocery sack out picking up garbage, etc. 

But I digress. 

Neighbors have created small gardens in the square space at each of the four corners of the intersection where the right angle of the curbs meet the right angle of the sidewalks. Some have flowers, some have native prairie grasses. One neighbor made an herb garden at one corner, free for neighbors to use! In the Fall and Winter people leave the dead plants and leaves from the trees as cover for animals and for natural fertilizer in the Spring. Standing at the corner by one garden I realized this little mouse should be returned to nature. So I scooped some of the dead leaves and plants away and covered him up. I thought it was much more respectful than tossing him into a dumpster in a cardboard box.

Being the empath that I am, when I got back inside I got all choked up. Here was a little mouse minding his own business, living his life, and somehow he met his demise in my building's lobby. I felt so bad for him, but at the same time so good that I did something respectful for him in the end. It probably sounds silly, but for the rest of the evening I played more with Rufus than usual, held him a little tighter, petted him just the way he likes a little longer, and made sure he was all curled up and covered up at bedtime at my feet in the bed where he loves to sleep. I thought about that mouse all night and hoped he knew that someone cared enough to do something kind for him in the end. I've not shared this story with any friends. One, most wouldn't understand it. And two, most of them aren't attuned to the kind of empathy and compassion vibe enough like I am to NOT make fun of me for it. 

That little mouse was a wonderful reminder to me. We don't take time to care about anything. We're just a shitty species who thinks that everything here is for our convenience. That both angers me and disappoints me. I've decided in the Spring I'm going to commit to tending to one of the corner gardens in some way. A little beauty and love for my neighborhood, little critters, insects, and the plants themselves. My tribute to a tiny mouse that helped me not to forget a huge lesson.

The Loneliness of Meaning

Being an introvert and empath can be a lonely thing sometimes. I find myself now and then feeling lost, not knowing where to turn next or what to do next. Sometimes I feel that hole inside so strongly. Like this morning. I feel directionless. I feel so much of the gropingly desperate despair that's out there, all that forced adherence to what we as society have conditioned ourselves to. Right now it's all crowding in on me demanding my attention. I know what's fueling that, too, Suffice to say there are certain "empath triggers" that turn these deeper feelings of despair for humanity on, which in turn aggravates my introversion and empathic nature. Don't misuderstand, I enjoy being alone. I value my Me Time. Now and then, however it all seems desperate and well, pathetic. When I'm my dad's age, will I have spent my entire life alone? Will I have regrets about it? What will my life have meant? Will I have played it safe or will I have turned my back on conditioned society and gone my own way? Will it have been worth it? Today I honestly don't know the answer to those questions. I don't if there's even supposed be an answer. Probably not. The curiosity and pondering that seems to be inherent to humans is what really keeps us moving forward, isn't it? Perhaps I'm projecting in ways I don't need to. There's no need to ponder the future to the point of worry. Worry is a dividend paid to something that hasn't happened and may not. Fearful adherence, as I heard someone recently put it, is no good. But dammit, what does it all mean?!

Funny thing is, I know what the remedies for these times are. Writing, meditation, the gym, healthy eating, focusing on my conscious awareness, yoga, tai chi, or just great music filling up my living space. I've finally realized that in life the lessons never ends. It's an ongoing, lifelong thing. There is no destination, no arrival point, only stops along the way. I have to remember that.