I don’t get out to Loyal Legion a lot, but I almost always like it here.
They’ve organized their tap list so it isn’t positively crippling to grok, even if they don’t go off the beaten path as Belmont Station or some of my other favorite taprooms in Southeast Portland can, and their menu is Generally Good. The old building with its cavernous room, three-sided bar stretching the length of it, and plush conversation booths with low tables are blessedly quiet on this last Saturday afternoon of the year.
I have a locally-made stout in my hand, words in my head, and a screen and keyboard in front of me. In some comforting ways, the world doesn’t change nearly as quickly as we think.
Something I’ve come to learn and love OR hate about myself depending on the day is that I seem to have turned into the guy that everyone tells everything to.
It’s the part of working on yourself that I think broadcasts to everyone around you. As you learn to become kinder and safer for yourself, you radiate that out and become kinder and safer for others, and others respond.
Part of it is that, barring imminent danger, I’ve developed a pretty solid vault. I don’t pass along what people tell me, even when someone else comes along and I find myself biting my tongue- “If I could tell this person what so-and-so told me earlier, it could make things so much easier.” I’m no one’s messenger pigeon though, and I’m not gonna break trust for something as trivial as those conflicts usually are (in the grand scheme, anyway.)
It’s not that I’m really good at keeping a secret- it’s that I often either quickly forget or say “you do you” and figure it doesn’t concern me. I’m not a snitch, but I’m also no schoolyard hero.
The bigger part of it is something my therapist described to me, an idea in Tibetan Buddhism called drala– an energy that can infuse people, places and even things that isn’t “good” or “bad”- it simply is, and all it means is “take a breath, you are safe here.”
Here’s a bit of news that might be upsetting to some of my readers- or comforting, depending on how you look at it: Nothing the universe does is personal. The world isn’t out to get you, “everyone’s” not out to screw you. The universe and the world are neither cruel nor kind, they just are– and thank God for that.
Understanding and acting on this won’t suddenly make life easier or more manageable either, but it will let you focus your attention, energy, and will on what you can do about it, rather than wishing it wasn’t so. Again, it’s not personal- the universe doesn’t care how you feel about it. It’s waiting for you to decide what you’re gonna do about it.
Dandelions don’t register an opinion about where those jackass humans put cement. They just grow. Photo by George Becker on Pexels.com
Having a “gratitude” mindset, a “gratitude” practice, or an “attitude of gratitude” can sound and feel a little weird. For myself at least, I like the idea of mindfulness a bit more just because being mindful inevitably involves being grateful- for everything, every moment, every unique second of your life- without leaning into overly humble-sounding BS.
Maybe it’s a bit of a linguistic trick, but follow me on this- it’s hard to take things for granted when you realize they won’t last forever.
No man is an island, Entire of itself. Each is a piece of the continent, A part of the main. If a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe is the less. As well as if a promontory were. As well as if a manor of thine own Or of thine friend’s were. Each man’s death diminishes me, For I am involved in mankind. Therefore, send not to know For whom the bell tolls, It tolls for thee.
John Donne
sonder [ son-der ] noun the feeling one has on realizing that every other individual one sees has a life as full and real as one’s own, in which they are the central character and others, including oneself, have secondary or insignificant roles: In a state of sonder, each of us is at once a hero, a supporting cast member, and an extra in overlapping stories.
Dictionary.com
It’s none of my business why someone is wearing headphones when they are walking around town, what they are or are not listening to, or why they chose to wear gigantic ones that look like a vintage glam version of a Korean War radio setup.
Especially when I take the bus or go to the supermarket, it’s hard not to notice mostly people my age and younger wearing large, studio-style over-the-ear headphones. I imagine they are a lot harder to lose track of than earbuds, might be more comfortable on the inner ear, and avoid the waxy grossness that in-ear headphones face. They might also be more cost-effective compared to earbuds for the time being.
More than anything though, I bet they help with overstimulation in noisy areas and visually broadcast to others “leave me alone.” I can definitely feel the need for that.
I tend to carry a small pair of off-brand earbuds around with me, but I don’t use them nearly as much as you’d think. In fact, except when I’m specifically trying to focus or I’m listening to an audiobook, I like hearing and connecting with what’s around me. Not for any grouchy, holier-than-thou, “put down your phone and touch grass” reasons either. Those opinions and the people who have them irritate me.
It’s because I’m a writer and a storyteller, and to tell good stories you have to learn to listen and find them first.
The Black Hat Baker 