Tag: lifestyle

Re: Comfort

Discomfort is what I abhor. Some carry a cross believing that what pains us, gives us gain. Not me. Comfort and Joy could be a hymn I’d sing all year. I might get nasty looks though, which would make me feel uncomfortable.

I take medication to reduce persistent childhood anxiety. Back then I was more resilient, but now life is easier if I can access calm inner-harmony before blaming another. Yes, I know all about the ways to reduce stress without resorting to a prescription. I can often get out of a panic by using my breath training, or finding a place to meditate. However, when the wheel of fear keeps spinning in my head it’s hard to make a rational decision. My medication keeps me on an even keel. Sailing straight is actually a normal part of my personality, but into everyone’s life a little rain must fall, or even heavy seas, where we might find ourselves marooned. Avoidance is a good strategy, but not always possible.

My anxiety can prevent access to the better part of me. When we have pleasant thoughts, un-muddied by hamster-harried misgivings, we experience comfort. Sometimes I find comfort in music. I use the Youtube channel to let the melodies sooth my savage beast. Even a Super Being needs some creature-comforts.

Some people swear by a daily cup of coffee. That liquid medication can set the chemistry straight for a productive day of work or recreation. Meaningful relationships, even with pets, can make us feel comforted. I depend on my bride to be there for me when I need a comforting touch. When we bring comfort to another it feels mighty good. I admire the folks in my community who give their time volunteering in various ways. I’ve contributed that way through my lifetime reaping the quiet rewards of knowing I’ve made a difference to another. I also know it’s important not to override your own comfort in a good-samaritan way. Once, I took the overnight shift on a Help-Phone service. My involvement in this altruistic activity contributed to a sustained bought of anxiety that led to depression. Neither comfortable, nor healthy!

In my neighbourhood there is often the smell of cannabis in the air, which might also explain the abundance of food trucks. I’m neither a foodie nor a pot-user so I have find other sources to help me wind-down from upset. I have empathy for those who are without a place to feel safe. Being unhoused is the ultimate in discomfort. It bothers me that folks-of-means feel the answer to getting vagrants off the streets is though police action. I support the position that drug dependency is a health issue. I relate to policies of harm reduction because I know that addiction evolves exponentially, when comfort needs have not been met.

When I’m feeling cozy, my world is less scary. I don’t wish to take cold-comfort from knowing I have it better than others. As a global citizen, contributing to the well-being of all is a worthy aspiration.

Re: Perfect

Pronouncing this meaningful word can produce a wonderful shift in perspective. For example, when I write this essay I reread, edit and change many parts of its structure to perfect the final result. I am active in my pursuit of a readable piece of writing. Meanwhile, if I’m being honest, there are only a few times when I can say the result of this writing process could be called perfect.

I enjoy the act of perfecting something to a point. I admire those who have the discipline to achieve a top score in their fields. For example in the sport of gymnastics, I remember Nadia Comăneci achieving the impossible in the Montreal Olympics of 1976. It was such an unusual feat that the scoreboard wasn’t enabled to display a Perfect Ten. Her achievement still generates debate about athletic scoring to this day. There are philosophical arguments suggesting that if you remove the goal, by saying the highest level can actually be achieved, then you have done a disservice to the human impulse to strive. When I was a teacher, I liked to advise my young friends to; “Have a go!”, “Give it your best shot.”, or “Reach for the stars!” The beauty is in the attempt. The outcome will take care of itself.

Seeking perfection is a noble goal, sometimes achieved, but requires a devotion to daily practise. The fictional character Mary Poppins may pronounce that she is, “Practically perfect in every way.” Whereas most of us characters are mere mortals and prone to error. We wish to have a perfect life, a perfect body, a perfect performance report at work, or a perfect partner. I have agency for the first three in that list but the latter is more a matter of luck, which I have, praise be!

My life is not perfect, except if I say it is. Others might see that my standing in the world is to be envied. In this same way, I can get a rise in my heart when I hear someone describe their life with high notes of glee. I sometimes can create a perfect day, other times I just have the planets in my favour. Joy comes when I recognize that near-perfection is achievable, even when it occurs through a series of mysterious connections. Consider for a moment how we sometimes say, “This is perfect timing.” We are excited when things go our way. I used to think, after a run of bad luck, that I was somehow more deserving of a treat. I guess that might be how gamblers fool themselves when they consider the odds of winning.

If practise makes perfect then after much effort I trust we can tell ourselves that we shined for a moment, however brief. Each feeling of satisfaction over a job well done, is a moment in the sun, so I feel we are allowed to bask for a while. We don’t need someone to caution us about getting a swelled head, nor do we need applause. Just a healthy dose of self-satisfaction.

Re: Puzzle

Those items of furniture that look great on the small screen of your phone device arrive at your door in a single cardboard box. They could be from Ikea or a host of other quick and easy delivery companies. One of these arrived at my door the other day. My wife had been tracking it so I wasn’t unaware, just a bit fretful. The source of my anxiety was the basic puzzle of what we would have to go through if we didn’t like it. We would then have to send it back and what would that mean? These ancillary costs to my mental health are always on my mind.

I like puzzles generally. I feel smart when I can solve them. I love doing crosswords. My mind seems to expand in different directions when I work on a jigsaw puzzle (as long as there is a tidy place to put the assembly and I can keep my worry of lost pieces under control). One of my favourite things to build is a custom made cardboard box for the delivery of presents to my family far away. I measure and cut carefully to avoid wasted space in the parcel. The postal workers at my local depot always smile as they measure my package and report the payment due. Supporting these old systems and pastimes pleases me.

My former father-in-law loved the three dimensional wooden puzzles you can get at farmers’ markets of in craft stores. Being an engineer, he liked playing Jenga and pick-up-sticks. He tried to show me how to play Tetris on his computer once which made me nervous for a whole day afterward. I got revenge by buying him a Christmas present of magic metal rings that were supposed to detach and separate but never did in his lifetime. Pay back can be pleasing.

I think of myself as a puzzler. I enjoy having an enquiring personality. As I age I try to keep my two cranial hemispheres firing on all synapses. I tone my left side by writing daily; using language is the key here. My right hemisphere enjoys the spatial dimensions of thought so this comes in really handy when I have to put things together, like the bureau in that box by the door, that was waiting to be opened. ‘I have a project.’ I said to my self with encouragement.

Space was made and time was allowed for the task at hand. Out of the box came all the assorted pieces. Tools were assessed. I gazed at the instructions that were numbered for clarity.  I was building this piece of furniture in front of my 95 year old special mom. She saw my puzzlement over the parts displayed before her and said, “I know you can do it.” I asked how she was sounding so sure. She answered, “ Because you are good at crossword puzzles.”

I appreciated her puzzling connection yet heart felt encouragement. I began fitting the pieces together. It pleased me that her presence gave truth to the saying; Two heads are better than one.