Posts Tagged ‘coloring meditation’

You’re So Busy

March 5, 2016

Yes I am.

But you call me anyway, ‘kay?

That was the last thing I was expecting tonight, I was just going to go grocery shopping after doing the deal and getting my ass to the church on time.

“Dear God, get me to the church on time,” was the mantra I was repeating to myself today at work.

I just knew where I needed to be tonight and I needed to be amongst my people.

It’s Friday, end of the week, and yet the beginning of the work, really, tomorrow I’ll get up earlier than I do when I have a work day, but there is much to do and places to go, people to see.

And I have a routine, a set of morning practices I like to do before I head out the door and maybe it seems crazy to get up 2.5 hours before you need to be somewhere, but that’s my deal.

At least for tomorrow.

Sunday I’ll sleep in.

Maybe.

Heh.

I texted a friend, coffee, tea, movie, hang out soon?

And of course we’re all both crazy busy and sure, but maybe in April?

Yup.

So.

Mister, I’ll give you a call, let’s do coffee, let’s ok.

Let’s just do it

Let’s just not worry about the homework and the work work and the recovery work and the life, let’s just let life happen.

I can always squeeze in another person to see for a cup of coffee.

Especially when they sparkle at me.

“What is wrong with guys, don’t they see how beautiful you are?” He asked me a year ago, sometime right after my ex broke up with me and I was saying something about a bad date and or not being asked out.

“You’re crazy gorgeous, and sweet, and you have the biggest heart, if I wasn’t dating someone, I’d totally be taking you out,” he said, giving me a sympathy hug.

Cue conversation tonight in front of Our Lady of Safeway.

He’s not dating anyone anymore.

I got the “we should have coffee sometime, well, I know you’re super busy,” he started to cut himself off before I even had a chance to respond.

“I am busy, but we should have coffee anyway,” I said, and touched his arm.

“Let me get your number,” he said, then we both realized that we had each other’s numbers already.

Hilarious.

Small world.

Nice to have a surprise at the end of my week.

Especially after the touch of turmoil yesterday.

It was almost like it didn’t happen, it, I’m being obtuse, the date, the not nice, and the amends.

But that’s how it works, when I do the work, and I clean up my side of the street.

I am absurdly grateful that I was able to come clean to my behavior and make the amends quickly and with some modicum of humility and clarity around my actions.

I woke up this morning in a restful state, actually having had forgotten to set my alarm.

When I looked at my phone to see when my alarm was going off I didn’t freak out to see I had slept five minutes past my alarm, nope I was just happy to be awake and not have any text messages on my phone.

In fact, I sort of forgot all of yesterday had happened until I had made the bed and was kneeling down to do my morning routine.

Holy shit.

My head has been quiet all morning.

No upset stomach, no tears, no drama.

onice to wake up with a fresh, new, clean slate.

And here’s the funny shit.

By the time I had sat down to write my morning pages, onto my second cup of coffee, washed my breakfast dishes, I was in my head about, hey, well, ok, maybe that wasn’t the worst, I could try dating via Tinder again, I mean.

I.

Um.

Fuck.

That is crazy ass shit right there.

I just am a sucker for punishment.

Then I thought, hmm, I think I am just trying to create something to divert me from a big school prep weekend.

Like I could sneak in a date in between doing the deal with my person tomorrow, yoga class, class research for a paper, writing said paper, writing another paper on Sunday, grocery shopping, cooking for the week, oh yeah, making sure I keep caught up on all my school reading–classes next weekend–laundry, recovery, and um, heh, getting my eyebrows waxed and a mani/pedi.

Sure.

I could fucking slide a date into that mix.

Well, maybe for the guy that peeped my number tonight.

I could squeeze in a quick cup of joe.

Ha.

But no, not going to go on some date with some fantasy person on a dating site.

I realized while I was on the app that one of the things I was doing was actually looking for guys that I might know and some how short cut to the chase.

But that’s not how it works, and it’s so much better in person.

I mean.

I am not stupid, the man tonight is interested.

Whether or not it actually happens, I can say without a doubt that there is interest and chemistry, oh, yeah, and he’s one of my people, which is always compelling to me.

And if you don’t know what that means, suffice to say, it means that we have a common language and solution to a spiritual malady.

So.

Instead of re-installing the app on my phone.

I did a coloring meditation instead.

How nice was that?

So nice.

Suddenly.

I stopped and got silent and just colored and the sound of the pencil on the paper, the sudden down falling patter of rain against the outside windows, the feel of the paper under my hand, the colors on the paper and how they spoke to me, this here, this combination of indigo and violet against a lush soft pink, reminds me of sunsets at Burning Man.

I was present and quiet and focused on just being in the moment.

Instead of being in fantasy la la land.

I was at home in my heart.

At my little sky blue table, super saturated tropical colors whirling out onto the page.

I lost track of time.

It was delicious.

And it helped me stay present all day long.

With the boys, with the family, with myself.

With my principles and life and love of self.

Knowing that there was only one other place to get to and having gotten there, seen friends, checked in, got accountable, claimed my fucking seat, and spoke my bit, I am all good.

Happy, joyous, free.

And wildly grateful that I have the option to grow and love.

Better.

Stronger.

Truer than the day before.

Grace.

To have it and know it.

Luckiest girl in the world.

Fucking believe it.

 

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I’m Done!

February 1, 2016

I finished all the reading for my next weekend of classes.

One weekend ahead of time.

I am absurdly pleased.

I just closed my Ethics and Family Law textbook and shelved it along with everything else that I read this weekend.

I do have a proposal that I did not get to, but whatever.

I have all week to do it and it’s a proposal, not a formal paper.

I have had some time to think about what I want to accomplish with it and I do believe I am going to do the meditative coloring.

I also thought about doing a guided meditation, I haven’t done a lot of sitting meditation, enough to know I can comfortably sit for fifteen minutes without bother.

I remember the first time I sat for three minutes.

I thought I was going to crawl out of my skin.

I thought I might leap out of my chair or rip my own hair out.

I was that uncomfortable sitting still in my body, in my own space, with my own thoughts to occupy me.

I thought my brain might actually eat me alive.

I have come a long way baby.

I can sit for up to an hour and have done so on a few occasions.

I have had years where I did a sitting meditation, in addition to my writing meditation, but I have to be upfront about that, it wasn’t more than a ten minute sit, often times just five minutes and I did it because the person I was working with insisted I do it as a requirement to work with her.

I wasn’t opposed.

I am not now.

But.

I think the coloring is a nice way to go about it.

I tried some last night to get the hang of it and it was nice.

I actually got some freedom from the rapidity of my brain and it was nice to get lost in between the lines and let go and play with color and just enjoy doing something that didn’t require me to think.

I plan on being up front with my professor and outlining what I currently do.

I thought, briefly about with holding some aspects of my spiritual practice so that I could “implement” it back in and go from there.

Some might call this efficient.

However, it felt a little like cheating for me and I couldn’t quite square the principle of honesty behind that action.

I prefer to be honest with my professor, to even go so far as to say that I have had resentments and needed to work them out, that, already, is spiritual progress for me.

I recognized that it was with myself that lay the problem, not with my professor, he’s not doing it wrong, he’s just not doing it the way I think, or better, thought, it should be done.

Anyway.

That’s all I have to do.

Write and send a one page proposal, outlining what I am going to do to deepen my spiritual practice.

Due by this Friday.

I’ll probably ruminate on it a little bit more then type something up before work tomorrow.

Just to have it out of the way.

I don’t have to start the actual practice of it until February 12th.

Which is also when my first paper is due.

I plan on working on that next weekend.  I will probably review the readings for the class, it was dense, really dense and not well written.  If the author used “implicit” one more time in a chapter to give gravitas to what he was writing I was going to look him up and suggest some creative writing workshops for him to expand his vocabulary.

It really is a pleasant feeling, though, to have all the reading done.

I also got to see my girl friend from my cohort.

She rode her bicycle out and I was grateful to get to show her my home space and we went for coffee and toast at Trouble Coffee and Coconut Club and then down for a walk on the beach.

It was deliriously windy out and the beach was fairly deserted.

It was like being sandblasted.

We did not stay long, but she got a taste of the glory of the beach and vowed to come back soon, although by a better bicycle route than the one Google Maps gave her.

Oof.

Any other city it probably makes sense, but in San Francisco, negotiating the hillier parts of the city, there really is a way to get from here to there and it does not involve riding the coastline.

When she told me her route I got sympathetic leg pain just thinking about it.

I have done some similar things when I was newly on my bicycle and found out the hard way how to navigate around the hillier districts.

The SFBC (San Francisco Bicycle Coalition) map is probably the best one to use for navigation, as it shows grades of streets on hills.

One block over can really make a huge difference.

Going up Polk to the Marina is a lot easier than going up Van Ness.

And probably much safer too.

I digress.

We had a great time.

No homework was really accomplished, although we did go over a couple of things on the syllabus for the next weekend and talked about the school, the program, and of course, our other classmates.

But mostly.

About ourselves.

It was sweet and I feel a strong connection and bond to her.

Partially because she really does see me and also sees me in a way, that although I don’t find flattering and sometimes I get upset with myself, I do have a vast amount of acceptance about, that being that I am in desperate need to control my environment.

“It’s a safety thing for you,” she said in her sweet, lilting, French accent, “I totally get it, and I see how often you do it, with everything in your environment.”

I have had lovers mess up the pillows on my bed to make me squirm or a friend purposely mess up a section of literature I have just set out on a table.

I have seen it, consciously, more and more as I accept myself more and more and learn, not always gracefully, to let go of the reigns and have new experiences.

I really do want them and I recognize, I must recognize, how brave I am.

I didn’t fold up, I didn’t collapse, I kept trying.

Sometimes doing things that I didn’t know better, stratagems that I learned growing up, self-defense mechanisms that worked really well at the time and then stopped, even though I continued to employ them.

I see things with a lot more clarity.

The writing daily has helped, the praying, the spiritual practices I employ.

My recovery.

Oh, all the wonderful things I get to do in the act of getting back to that place where I am allowed to be vulnerable, soft, sweet, and not in control.

Tender.

I opened the door.

I let in my friend.

I experienced intimacy.

And I got my reading done for school.

Winning.

Maybe I’m Not Supposed

January 26, 2016

To be on my bike tonight.

The thought went through my head as I tried to turn on the head lamp on my handle bars.

That’s funny, I thought, I just charged this up completely last night and it’s dead.

Huh.

No front light to get home with in the dark.

And it’s one of the few things I know I will get stopped for on my ride, no front light is an automatic ticket.

I thought well, if I get stopped, I’ll just say I have it, but it burnt out and I’ll be replacing it when I get home, sorry officer.

Things go through my head quickly.

I also thought.

Huh.

That’s a weird bounce to my front tire.

It feels flat.

Or, I should say, it landed flat when I pulled it off the hanger in the garage at work, there is a kind of thud to it.

But I had just gotten the tire repaired last week, and had put air into the tubes this morning.

It should be fine.

I didn’t even bother to check it.

I just assumed it was fine.

It was not.

Then.

Oh shit.

I wonder if I’m going to have the same issue riding home tonight that I did coming in this afternoon.

I had my crank slip.

Not once, but four or five times.

The first time it happened I thought my chain had broken, but, no, I looked down and my chain was still on and I back pedaled and the crank caught and there was pressure on my pedals and away we go.

Sort of.

It happened a bunch more and I thought, hmm, maybe I should pop into the bike shop and drop the bike off.

But then it didn’t happen anymore and I just sort of forgot.

Then I was working and it was busy with the being Monday and cooking–triple batch of pureed broccoli soup–and being with the boys and a field trip to Flora Grubb for a new plant for the house and dinner and baths and stories, and next thing you know.

It’s time to bust on out and I have some place I got to be and get me out of Dodge.

Except.

The light.

The crank.

The flat tire.

I put my foot down slowly and sure enough, the pedal slipped through without any traction, basically just spinning the crank, but not turning the hub and moving the wheel.

Then.

It caught and I rode off.

No light.

Flat tire, which I wasn’t yet aware of, slipping crank.

I got to the end of the block and knew I was not riding home, now my brakes feel funny.

Well.

Duh.

The front brake felt funny because it was squeezing onto a tire that was fast deflating.

I hopped off, squeezed the brake, felt the tire and realized, Houston, we have a problem.

Fuck.

I texted a friend.

Then turned around and walked back to work with the bicycle.

Messaged the mom and said I got a flat, opened the garage, hung the bike and called for a car.

I had no profanity involved.

I was pretty calm.

I wasn’t happy about the state of bicycle.

However.

I wasn’t stupid either.

It was really obvious I was not supposed to ride my bicycle home and for that I am grateful.

Maybe that sounds funny to you, but it’s just such a nicer perspective to take, it’s God’s way of saying, “you’re grounded.”

Grateful I didn’t try to force the issue by riding my bicycle further out.

Grateful I can take a car back to work tomorrow before work and deal with the bicycle.

I’ll roll it to the shop.

Which, gratefully, is only two blocks away from where I work, drop it off and not worry about losing pedal traction, or having a busted light, or a flat tire.

And so it’s a little money out of my pocket.

Better that than having had an accident tonight.

No thank you.

In other news.

My hair is hella big.

I took a shower this morning before work and that basically undid the blow out.

I have big, huge, blonde, curly hair.

It’s rather fun.

And it’s very me.

Not pin up sexy, as I was compared to yesterday by an old high school classmate.

Nope.

But sexy, nonetheless.

It’s fun to be sexy and it’s fun to have so much hair, even after a good clean up cut.

It definitely acts differently and is a bit tender, breaks pretty quick, but, it’s soft and curly and big and blonde.

Sexy.

So there’s that.

And.

I got the Applied Spirituality class down.

I received an e-mail with a video from the professor who is teaching it remotely from Mexico.

I have changed my mind about doing the sonnet a day.

Well.

I may still try my hand at writing a sonnet a day, but perhaps not for the purposes of this class, rather, just for me and perhaps one or two of you.

The professor talked about deepening my spiritual practice and the fact is, I write a lot, that’s a huge part of my practice.

This blog and then my morning pages.

I write twice a day, anywhere from 2-3,000 words.

Sometimes more.

I also write gratitude lists and I have a prayer practice morning and night (and often times noon, you may think I have a small bladder, but I may just be taking a moment to catch my breath at work and have a word with the powers that be to get me through the day).

I also read spiritual readers, practice, never perfectly, spiritual principles, and do sitting meditation two to three times a week.

One of the things that caught my attention was the professors acknowledgement of the spiritual realm often being one where there are not words that adequately describe the experience.

I have tried.

I know what he means.

I feel that there are times when I am with the spirit of the Universe, when God is writing through me, speaking through me, I am the conduit, the words are not mine, they are God’s, the ultimate artist.

And then there are times when I just can’t seem to get the “i” before the “e” in that one word and why won’t spell check autocorrect this, and what rhymes with cantaloupe and I’m not in commune with God anymore, I’m just putting words on the page.

Something not word dependent, even though I am going to have to write papers to express the experience and post them up to the class for review.

I came up with a different idea.

And I am thrilled.

It feels easier and quiet and I won’t have to worry about producing, although, I guarnatee I will do the work.

I am going to color.

In a coloring book.

Yeah.

Whatever.

Coloring is considered a form of meditation and I have some great coloring books and some awesome colored pencils and it’s a way to turn of my busy brain.

To let God in through a non-verbal, non-written medium.

Oh.

There will still be writing.

Don’t you fret.

There will just be something else as well.

More will be revealed.

It always is.

And tomorrow.

I fix the bike.

Again.

Gratefully so.


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