Time Marches On!

And so we come to the end of another month. 

Numbers were good again. Did skip two workouts this month. One last Friday when we were in the emergency room all morning and one this Wednesday when my give a fuck gave up for the day. Sometimes it happens. But good overall. 

I had switched things up, did weights three days a week, lower body Monday, upper body Wednesday, mixed on Friday. Did cardio five days a week. Short session after weights M,W, F with longer stand alone sessions on Tuesday and Thursday. I'm going to be switching it up again next month, as is my way, but not sure just exactly how yet. That's a project for this weekend. 

Hit my writing numbers. Barely. I used one of the extra pieces I've been writing for the exchange with Dana one week and I literally forced out a story yesterday based on the first thing I noticed in the room. My cold hands. But to be fair I was always planning on using the Dana pieces at some point. I hadn't planned on starting that this early, but I really loved that story and couldn't wait to share it. It's rare that I love one of my own pieces for more than a day after I write it. Until a few years later when I stumble across it and have forgotten enough of it that I am surprised by how good it is. (I'm kidding, but only slightly, I write so fast that I forget what I've written all the time.)

Even with the challenge on the fiction, which it's SUPPOSED to be a challenge, I'm sticking with the at least 3 nonfiction and one fiction piece a week with an extra fiction piece to Dana. If for no other reason than to keep her writing as well. There are things I fully believe in this world and one of them is that it would be a crying shame if Dana stopped writing. Seriously, folks, she's REALLY good at it. For those of you who have been reading my blog long enough to remember a few years ago when we cross posted pieces we wrote off the same prompt you'll be doing the amen nod right about now. 

I read a majority of nonfiction this month sort of by accident. I had the standard auto/biography/memoir (All about ME! by Mel Brooks) and self help book (The Fifth Agreement) but the Fantastic Stranglings was also a memoir (it was nonfictionish, sort of an enhanced reality for him, very entertaining) Once Upon a Tome: The Misadventures of a Rare Bookseller. And there has been a little spring challenge going with Kindle and for March to get my reward I needed to read a book by a female author on their list and I happened to have The Secret History of Wonder Woman already owned so it would check off the read more books off my Kindle as well. So four out of 6 books were nonfiction. Not standard for me. And three were off my Kindle so that's good in that area as well.

Debating the Picture of the Day list. Not sure if I'm doing it this month yet or not. Sticking with Selfie Saturday. Even if sometimes I have to get creative like last Saturday when I didn't think Brent would really appreciate a camera in his face. I think I made it work. 

Extra things will be the house still. Got the re-inspection done and Monday we do the end of first year walkthrough. Then there will be some things that need done and hopefully I'm finally getting my extra cabinets installed. After all of that I'll be looking at FINALLY finishing the unpacking and getting some art on the walls. 

We also need to look into a cat/house sitter who will stay here so we can think about taking a vacation. Apparently Brent's gut feeling is that he could use one...

Be Prepared...

Her hands were so cold. 

It was spring and the sun was shining, but it was deceptive. The air still held a chill, especially in the shade. 

It was hard to believe that in just a few months that same shady spot would be sticky and miserable. That people would be fanning themselves, turing their faces this way and that, just trying to catch any sort of breeze. 

But not today, today her hands were so cold.

A pair of gloves would be good. But she didn't have gloves with her and now it was too late.

Planning was always a problem. What all do you need to bring with you? Nobody seemed to agree. And it seemed to come in and out of fashion. Pack practically everything you own became just grab a little money became just you. Nothing else needed. 

But gloves. Gloves were needed.

She would have liked to have more than that. Maybe some hot cocoa. A snuggly blanket. Her dog. But for sure some fucking gloves.

Cold hands, warm heart. That's what her mother used to say. Her mother always had cold hands. Raynaud's Syndrome. Her fingers would turn blue when she was chilled then bright red as they warmed up. Though they never got really warm. Just a little warmer than ice cold. But she would touch you with those freezing fingers and as you jumped away from the chill she'd laugh, Cold hands, warm heart. 

That was a woman who needed a pair of gloves. 

She remembered her brother wondering if her hands were finally warm when they cremated her. His wife yelled at him for being inappropriate.

But she wondered too. Had there been a moment where her mother thought, finally. Finally my hands are warm. 

She should have been cremated. It was her husband's family that was against cremation. Not hers, obviously. But her mother-in-law had talked her husband into a burial in the family plot. Such a lovely space, under the shade of a giant oak. 

They could have at least given her a pair of gloves. 

It's Rich...

I know this is kind of ironic coming from me but we really messed up in society when we started identifying with the dragons.

Talking to Katie on Sunday and we were talking about the tax cuts from the Trump years and how she assumed they had benefited us. I had to disabuse her of her thoughts of the kind of money we have. We have don't have to stress in line at the grocery store money, we don't have tax cuts for the wealthy money. We, in fact, had a GIANT tax bill that year even though we tried to mitigate it with withholding adjustments mid year. We are the middle class. Maybe upper middle class, but we are the tax bracket that pays for everything. 

And let me make this really clear, I don't mind paying taxes. I think a really healthy, functioning society needs taxes to be paid. I think the government should be providing certain goods and services on a wide scale to all of us and that taxes are how we pay for those things. But what I do have a problem with is that is not what my taxes seem to go to. My taxes are a redistribution of wealth and it pisses me off. 

And let's be REALLY clear here, the redistribution that is happening is upward. 

The wealth gap is insane in this country. I've written about it a lot because it really bothers me. That level of money breaks something in your brain and you no longer understand enough. Enough just becomes more. 

I like having enough. I've lived through times when I did not have enough. I like having a cushion to protect us from times when it might be harder than others. Either due to work paying less or items costing more or the dreaded combination of both. Enough and a little extra is great. I'm not saying that's a bad thing. 

But when enough is out the window and it just becomes more it's a problem. 

When you are hoarder and you are poor they make you a horror show television program. Oh look at how disgusting this is! You don't want to be this! When you are a hoarder and you are rich they make you an aspirational television show. Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous. Dream Houses of the Obscenely Wealthy. How many houses do you need? How many cars? How much money do you need in the bank, the stock market, the Cayman Islands? 

We praise people who make a lot of money with Airbnb or VRBO instead of shaming them for buying up the smaller more affordable houses making it more expensive for people to actually live in those areas. And you see it all the time. Lovely resort towns that depend on the service industry to keep them running and the people who work in those industries can't afford to live there. All the while there are 100 listings on vacation property sites of ENTIRE FUCKING HOUSES that are being rented out to vacationers. 

Airbnb started out as people renting a room in their house. Or maybe renting their house out while they were on vacation. Then it turned into people buying houses just for that purpose. Not for long term rentals, but just short term. Not even just buying a vacation house and renting it out while they weren't there. They can make back the mortgage and a healthy profit just over the peak tourist season in some places. Which they then turn around and use to buy more properties. All the while we have people living on the street. Because it's a cascade. You take inventory off the market and it increases the price of everything left. And eventually you run out of space that people can afford all together. But there are people still making a lot of money so it's fine. 

Because we don't understand what enough is. 

I get it, hotels are expensive. There isn't as much room. Maybe you like having your own kitchen to cook in to save you some money. But just understand that it's a lousy system we are encouraging. People in popular vacation places need someplace to live and if everything is going to investment properties that's a problem. 

We idolize the dragons. That's what dragons were in the old stories. They were hoarders. They sat on great big piles of jewels and gold. And they didn't have a use for it, it's not like they needed it to live, they just liked it because it was shiny. They just wanted it to have it. And they wanted more than any other dragon had. They were hoarders. 

And we've turned into a world that wants to be the dragon instead of the dragon slayer. 

We don't know what enough is. 

Busy Brain...

To keep on pace with my goals for this year and writing I really should have written yesterday. Didn't have to to make it, but it would have been easier. I'm trying not to go two days in a row without sitting down and writing something. Anything. Just words on the screen. That keeps me on the track to write more days than I don't. Technically I could skip three days in a row and then write the next four and I will hit more days than not in a week, but that give absolutely no wiggle room. So I try to make sure I'm sitting down and writing at least every other day.

And yesterday I didn't. 

It's not because I don't have thoughts to write about. It's because I have too many. And I'm tired so it's hard to wrangle them into coherent writing. Which makes them swirl more and add more random pieces as they go. So now I've got a tornado of thoughts swirling in my head and I'm having a devil of a time sorting out just one theme out to write about. 

So instead you get this. A brain dump session. 

Wrote out a few status updates over the past couple of days and then "yesed" the are you sure you want to leave without posting prompt. 

I try (and I know this might shock some of you) but I try really hard not to be disrespectful of other people's religious beliefs. I wrote recently how hard that is to do considering they use them to be disrespectful of me and mine. But I still try. So often when I'm just pissed as fuck and can't take it anymore I write a scathing status update, reread it for spelling errors and then delete it. 

Not because I don't believe in what I've written but because I don't think it will actually do any good. It's just me being an asshole and though I'm actually pretty good at being an asshole, it's not something I generally try to do. You can't asshole someone to your way of looking at life.

Most of you also know I stopped having gun debates after Sandy Hook. That was the point for me where I realized absolutely nothing is going to change. I cannot make people care about gun control if slaughtered babies didn't do it. But it's really hard when we hit another school shooting to not post something. Or to not argue with people who want to talk about mental health being the real issue. We have more guns than people in the United States, but sure, you go on ahead and think we have different mental health issues than the rest of the world and that's why this continues to happen. Or maybe they are right and it is a mental health issue. We have to be challenged to not see that the over abundance of guns is a problem. 

This morning I saw a post about taking a break from the news. Not just for a day or two when something awful happens and you can't take anymore coverage of it, but like an actual break. Cutting it off. And it was basically that you should only interact with things that are in your power to change. Anything else is just going to cause you stress that you can't do anything about. Which seems like such great advice. Except how do you know if there is something out there that you could change or you should be working toward changing if you aren't paying attention? 

I mean, I see a lot of posts from people that drive me up the fucking wall because they say things that are like little sing songy "I'm happy because I don't judge people who are different than I am." or "I love everyone and I don't care what your politics are." Or "You'd all be better off if you just went for a walk and listened to the birds instead of reading the tweets."

OH thank you! That's so fucking helpful! I mean, I'd love to have a dose of the it doesn't matter if people are different kool-aid to hand to the MULTIPLE legislators that are using people like my daughter as scapegoats for all the world's woes. And Oh my goodness how I'd love to love everyone except some of you are just fucking psychopaths who want to arm teachers with guns and take away their books. And that tweet thing, super clever, thank you!* It would be great if all there was to worry about is what the birds were saying instead of the people calling for the downfall of our entire social system. But, hey, at least you are happy. You know what they say? Ignorance is bliss and you are fucking blissful as all get out! No offense...

When my brain is busy and my body is tired it's hard to not lash out at people. It's hard not to post status updates that won't really do any good as far as changing minds. It's hard to keep moving forward with actual productive things instead of picking fights with the multitude of if not outright idiots out there at least myopic bliss filled people. I tend to get a little quieter. Or at least most posts that are sharing of articles or other people's thoughts than my own. A layer of protection. Not for me, for everyone else. 

I am a mean drunk. It's why I don't drink much. Even when I have a drink I have A drink. It's rare for me to ever go past two in a short amount of time. The only time I have three in a day anymore is when we are on vacation and they are spread out over a long amount of time. Or I am only going to be around Brent. Otherwise I just don't do it. Because I know I'm a mean drunk. So it's my responsibility to not get drunk and lash out. 

Being tired is like being drunk but with a lot less control. 

So instead of sharing my thoughts with the world right now, I'm limiting them to you (aren't you lucky?) and to Brent (he took a vow, he has to put up with it) and to my inside my head voice. Which I'm trying to make sure doesn't leak out of my fingers into a status update. 

Like this one:

We all have different family values.

Some people think a Drag Brunch on Sunday fits their family fine. Elaborate costumes, lip syncing to 80s dance hits, some truly corny jokes, and waffles. 

Some people think it's better to go to Sunday School at the church and learn about Lot and his daughters. You know the ones he offered up to be raped. Yeah, the ones who later got him drunk and raped him so they could get pregnant. 

It's all just a matter of difference in what we feel is appropriate for children to be exposed to. 

Are you sure you want to leave this page? If you exit now your post will be deleted.

Yes. Fucking fine. Delete it. Ugh.

*full disclosure, I made up the listen to the birds/read the tweets line and might use it in a short story at some point as well, so of course I think it's clever.

My Plan...

"Just pee."

"mumbles..."

"No, you can't get up. Your hip is broken. See? They've arranged that you can just pee. This will suck it all away."

"I can't I'm not there."

"You don't need to be there. Just pee. Right here."

This was the conversation on repeat yesterday. With the woman who needed to pee getting more and more distraught as the nurse calmly told her they had a device that would suck the pee out and her husband getting more and more frustrated that she wouldn't listen. 

Emergency rooms are not great for patient privacy. 

The woman who was in that room before the woman who needed to pee had abdominal pain. Lower right side. Some nausea. I diagnosed her with appendicitis and when she didn't come back after her scan I figured they took her right to surgery. The room on the other side was a possible concussion from her symptoms though she wouldn't say how she had hit her head so I am guessing also a possible case of domestic abuse. 

I never saw any of their faces but we heard a shifting array of medical conditions through the morning. There were also a couple of codes called out over the intercom including a very calm call to the stroke code area. I guess they didn't want to sound alarmed for all of us? Or maybe they deal with so many emergencies every day they don't get really worked up about it anymore. 

Since Brent wasn't an emergency emergency there were long stretches where we just waited for the next person to check on him. The intern came in, then later the doctor who was supervising the intern, but not together which I thought was odd. A few different nurses. The guy who came in to set up his IV port and do the blood draw. An orderly who came to wheel him away for his CT scan and then bring him back and hook him back up to all the monitors. Though he didn't put the machine on mute like the early morning nurse did so that was annoying for the forty-five minutes we waited for the next nurse to come in to check on him and to turn it off. Then the doctor again. Then the intern again. Then the IV guy again to hook up his antibiotics in an IV drip. Then we waited for someone to notice they were all gone and let us go home. 

The whole time listening to the coming and going of the rest of the ER. The moaning guy who came in while Brent was off getting his scan sounded really bad. Brent said that he saw the EMTs wheeling out a cart on his way back so we are guessing that was him. Brought in by ambulance and in bad shape. Also a few people who were loudly protesting that they were fine. Not sure why you are in the ER then, but I'm guessing you aren't really fine at all. 

But the one that stuck with me the most was the older woman in the next cubicle room who was so upset about having to pee. She broke her hip Wednesday they kept saying, so I am not sure why it wasn't until Friday that she ended up in the ER. She did not understand that because her hip was broken they would not let her get up. She didn't understand why her husband was there when he got there. She didn't understand why she couldn't pull the IV out of her arm, or why she needed to keep that arm straight so the drip would go in better. 

She sounded so lost. So scared. So bewildered. 

Her husband told the nurse at one point, "It's the dementia." The nurse replied, "Yes, we understand."

And, again, the nurse was amazing. She was the soul of patience. Before the woman's husband got there she never left her side. She kept her calm (as calm as she could) she repeated the pee line over and over. And even after the woman's husband got there she checked in often. They were still there when we finally were discharged so I'm not sure if they were going to let her go home that day or if she was going to have to stay. She was very much not in favor of staying, but I have a feeling with her broken hip she was going to be there.

And still not understanding why.

I thought about her husband, how frustrated he sounded, how long he probably has been dealing with this, though she lives in a care facility now. (The walls are basically non-existent, like I said, no medical privacy at all) I wondered how long he tried to take care of her on his own. If the dementia came on slowly or quickly. If she knew what was happening. If she is still worried about peeing the bed or if she finally was able to understand that they had put some sort of catheter in her that just "sucked the pee away." I also worried about it giving her a yeast infection, because old ladies are prone to yeast infections anyway. (I was diagnosing and second guessing all the doctors yesterday, it was a long day and I needed to keep my mind occupied so I didn't get frustrated at how long it was taking them to help Brent)

As I drove Brent home I told him, "If I suffer from dementia, and if it's a slow enough onset, I am going to find a death with dignity out. I just want you to be aware of that."

He was very quiet for a moment then, "I will be very sad if that happens, but I understand that would be your decision."

We agreed that no matter which way it went it would make him very sad.

But I never want to be the woman in the bed who doesn't understand her hip is broken and she can't get up to go to the bathroom. That is scarier to me than just about anything I can think of. 

Brent is better today than yesterday, by the way. He's not all the way to great yet, but he's better than he was and so we are counting that as a win.  

A Year Later...

Last year Katie came out to everyone. We had known for almost a year already at that point and I wrote about that time period starting here. But now we are a year into being fully out in the world. 

It's been quite a year. 

On one hand it's not been a big deal at all. More training our brains to not misgender our child accidentally. And for the most part we don't, but sometimes, to be perfectly honest, we still do. Mostly it happens when we are talking about something that happened when she was growing up. As you are recalling the memory that short cut in your head that stores things easily switches from she to he and you are mortified for a bit.

I also am having a hard time weaning "guys" and "dude" as gender neutral out of my vocabulary. It's just such a part of my speech patterns that I automatically use both. And then I think, "Shit" but I'm trying not to overly call attention to my mistakes because Katie has said that's worse so I just think, "you really need to say y'all" and then (as corny as this is) I practice in my head, Y'all, y'all, y'all. And then "you guys" comes out when I open my mouth and we start all over again. 

On the other hand it's been a terrifying year. You all have seen it happening. The steady march of the Christian Nationalists that are trying to completely take over our government and how they've made trans people, trans women in particular, their big bad scary thing they are fighting. I mean, I guess they could try to work on poverty, homelessness, lack of health care, or any of the number of real problems we have facing us right now, but this is easier for them, especially when they can couch their hatred and bullying into "won't somebody think of the children?" And it's not just anti trans bullshit, it's a creep of anti the whole alphabet family. So that's been terrifying. How quickly some states have become "off the list" as we say in our house. We won't be traveling there, we won't be visiting and we for sure won't be retiring there. 

I wrote about how when Katie told us, I instantly had a pit of fear opening up in my stomach. It's solidified into a solid black rock that I carry with me everywhere. I worry about her in Bend because Bend is barely purple. A lot of Eastern Oregon Red there. And right now the Red is for red hot hate. That's what is fueling that particular political party and that hate is pointed at my child. So I worry about her.

I know she is aware of the danger. One of the reasons she moved into her new apartment last year was safer sidewalks. She said that walking so near the road worried her because all it would take was a second for one of the trucks with their Trump flags to dart over and hit her. Understand that this is a real fear. Violence against trans women is extraordinarily high. It makes me furious and scared and I am learning to live with that feeling every day. Which pisses me the fuck off.

And in between all of that has been life going on. 

Katie is happier than she has ever been. And yes, part of me still kicks myself that I didn't realize she wasn't happy. That I wrote off a lot of her unhappiness to just being quiet. To being a bit more reserved than I am. But now she is coming into herself. She is more relaxed with her own space. She has friends that are supportive of her and that she is supportive of in turn. We tease her that she is running Katie's Home for Wayward Girls, but she has opened her heart and her home to a group of girls that needed someplace to go. The roommates, the coven, also her girlfriend. 

I know right? I've not had to share her with another woman before so this has been new. I got to meet her over the holidays, and I made her cry so that went well...

They are looking for a bigger apartment, the one she moved into last year is super cute and cozy and not meant to house 4-5 women all sharing one bathroom. I worry about the search. There are bigger places out there, sure. But will they rent to her? Will they discriminate against her? Will the vacancy they had listed suddenly become full when they come to look at the space? 

And that's part of my black rock of fear as well. She was playing life on easy mode before and suddenly jumped to hard. So as a parent I was on cruise control. I had done my job, raised my child, and they were out there handling it. Which still, my child is handling it. Good job, good friends, enjoying life. Just now there is always that drumbeat of fear in the background. I didn't prepare her for any of that. I wasn't prepared for that. 

On that first day I wrote about how lovely everyone had been. And for the most part that has stayed true. I dropped two people off my friend list for anti trans bullshit. One hurt a little, only because we had been friends since we were kids and I had a higher opinion of him than he proved worthy of. The second one was also someone I had known for awhile but I hadn't spoken with them for so long that when they sent me their anti trans bullshit note I had forgotten they were even on my Facebook friend list. Which they then weren't anymore. There is a lot of anti trans commentary on public posts and sometimes I read it, but mostly I don't. I can't do anything about the rampant ignorance and, honestly, not your fucking business, that runs through the world. I'd like to, but I can't.  

I've also answered a lot of questions from friends about trans issues. About how I handle things. How Katie handles things. A few just general what is being trans questions. And I try to give really honest answers. Sometimes the answer is that's honestly none of your business. But I don't mind people asking questions. I have always felt that if you know something that other people don't it's your responsibility to share that information. I HATE the "it's not my job to educate you" stance. Whose job is it then? Because there is a lot of misinformation out there. There is a lot of just flat out lying that is being done. If those of us who know better don't do our part the bullshit becomes what people think is the truth. So I try to do my part in places where I think it can make a difference.

A year later and she continues down the path of her new life. She's happier than she has ever been. We have a daughter who is happy, and that's what all of us say we want for our children right? We just want them to be happy. And she is. 

The Right Choice...

Remember last month when I was starting the Road to Recovery Part 3 and I was trying to figure out what problem I should focus on? I did finally settle on not doing that, not having one issue to try and work through and just seeing what I was thinking about that day.

Turns out that was brilliant. 

Thank you.

Okay, maybe not brilliant but definitely the right choice for me. It's been a good series. He's talked more about his recovery and all of the steps he's had to do to just get moving again, let alone trying to run. And it's been about more than that. It's been about ideas we have when we are younger that the world disabuses us of pretty quickly. Or sometimes slowly. It's been about listening to yourself when you are in pain, physically and mentally, and treating issues when they are small before they blow up. 

He was talking about that today in relation to physical pain, and working out through pain, and when and what type is growth pain and what type is you are hurt pain. He used a phrase that I really liked, "Pain whispers before it screams." Oh my gosh that's so good. (and yes sometimes it doesn't, sometimes it just comes at you unexpectedly, but let's stick with the areas where it builds)

I liked it because it fits so much with aging and the differences in dealing with pain that I have now vs when I was in my 20s. Now when I get a little niggling pain someplace I have to really pay attention, what is this? Is this getting better? Do I need to rest this for a bit? Brace it? Ice it? Heat it? What do I need to do to soothe it? When I was younger it was just a WORK THROUGH IT and move on. That is not an option now. Now if I try and work through something it lets me know pretty quickly that was a bad idea. Probably from years of working through it instead of taking care of it the right way.

I liked it because it fits with emotional issues as well. A lot of times we know there is something wrong. In a relationship, in a job, in just what you are doing in your day to day. It's just that feeling of something being off. Then the blow up happens. The fight or the break up. The firing. The breakdown. And you look back and see how you knew something was off but you were just ignoring it. 

Pain whispers before it screams. So good.

Another thing he talked about was being a perfectionist when he was younger. And how that tied into his religious belief that the world was a meritocracy. That if you are good, good things happen to you. And how you always had to strive to be the best at things. You needed to do the best all of the time to achieve greatness. He talked about how weird it was that he thought those things because his parents didn't. They exposed him to a lot of the world's religions and most of them talked about doing your best. Not being the best. And how things happen to all of us. And his mother used to tell him that you didn't need to do great things. What you needed to work toward was doing a lot of little good things that would add up. That by focusing on being great at one thing you would miss the opportunities the world would present you for a multitude of good ones. 

Oh I like that too. Fits in with The Four Agreements for me. Always do your best. Whatever it is you are doing, whatever it is you are presented with, do your best. A lot of little good things add up to a good life. And a good balanced life is better than a limited one where you are great at one thing and lousy at a lot of others. 

It matches up with my belief that perfect is the enemy of the good. (you've probably heard that a lot, it's such a good reminder) That if you are always worried about something being perfect you often won't even try things. You don't notice good things. You keep trying to hone and polish something that is already good enough. Wasting your time that you could be putting toward other things you enjoy. It also holds you back from trying new things. If you have to be perfect at everything you cannot fail. And it's incredibly rare to not fail when you are trying something new. 

And when he talked about believing the world was a meritocracy, that good things happen to good people. Oh my...that's one that I think a lot of us struggle with. The idea that there should be some sort of karmic justice out there. If you are good person you should have good things. If you are a bad person there is some sort of bad thing waiting to happen to you. But that's not the way it goes. A lot of really awful people have great lives. And part of why they are able to have those great lives is because of how awful they are. They don't hesitate for a second to take more, have more, shut out anything that doesn't serve them. And we wait thinking, SURELY something will happen to them. And it doesn't. Not always. 

Sometimes life bites them in the ass and we all feel a little better about it. But often it doesn't. And you have to be able to live with that idea. That bad things happen to good people. That good things happen to bad people. That even the idea of good and bad people shifts depending on who you are talking to. What their ideas of good and bad are. I mean...it's complicated. 

So I'm really glad I didn't have some sort of issue I was trying to work through. Something that I would be trying to shoehorn into the past 20 workouts with his chats. Because I was able to just listen each day and let what he was saying kind of wash over me and settle in where it needed to. 

Which, of course, made me think about daily life. How so often we are focused on our own issues and what we want or even need to be working on that we miss some really good stuff going on with others. 

It's been a good series. I guess the thing I needed to work on was that part of my yearly list of goals. Be the ocean. Let his words and messages flow with me. Find that space to just float along with him. 

It works.