#lettinggo — Public Fediverse posts

I walk, or: Carrying less

A Sijo

sandals, Middle Eastern tan lines
earbuds playing Billy Joel;
the old words sound and sound right
yet their teenage listener has blurred;
midlife's now loosening its grip
I walk on, carrying less

Sijo?

A Korean verse form related to haiku and tanka and comprised of three lines of 14-16 syllables each, for a total of 44-46 syllables. Each line contains a pause near the middle, similar to a caesura, though the break need not be metrical. The first half of the line contains six to nine syllables; the second half should contain no fewer than five. Originally intended as songs, sijo can treat romantic, metaphysical, or spiritual themes. Whatever the subject, the first line introduces an idea or story, the second supplies a “turn,” and the third provides closure. Modern sijo are sometimes printed in six lines.

Let’s write poetry together!

When it comes to partnership, some humans can make their lives alone – it’s possible. But creatively, it’s more like painting: you can’t just use the same colours in every painting. It’s just not an option. You can’t take the same photograph every time and live with art forms with no differences.

–Ben Harper (b. 1969)

Would you like to create poetry with me and have a completed poem of yours featured here at the Skeptic’s Kaddish? I am very excited to have launched the ‘Poetry Partners’ initiative and am looking forward to meeting and creating with you… Check it out!

I walk, or: Carrying less

A Sijo

sandals, Middle Eastern tan lines
earbuds playing Billy Joel;
the old words sound and sound right
yet their teenage listener has blurred;
midlife's now loosening its grip
I walk on, carrying less

Sijo?

A Korean verse form related to haiku and tanka and comprised of three lines of 14-16 syllables each, for a total of 44-46 syllables. Each line contains a pause near the middle, similar to a caesura, though the break need not be metrical. The first half of the line contains six to nine syllables; the second half should contain no fewer than five. Originally intended as songs, sijo can treat romantic, metaphysical, or spiritual themes. Whatever the subject, the first line introduces an idea or story, the second supplies a “turn,” and the third provides closure. Modern sijo are sometimes printed in six lines.

Let’s write poetry together!

When it comes to partnership, some humans can make their lives alone – it’s possible. But creatively, it’s more like painting: you can’t just use the same colours in every painting. It’s just not an option. You can’t take the same photograph every time and live with art forms with no differences.

–Ben Harper (b. 1969)

Would you like to create poetry with me and have a completed poem of yours featured here at the Skeptic’s Kaddish? I am very excited to have launched the ‘Poetry Partners’ initiative and am looking forward to meeting and creating with you… Check it out!

I walk, or: Carrying less

A Sijo

sandals, Middle Eastern tan lines
earbuds playing Billy Joel;
the old words sound and sound right
yet their teenage listener has blurred;
midlife's now loosening its grip
I walk on, carrying less

Sijo?

A Korean verse form related to haiku and tanka and comprised of three lines of 14-16 syllables each, for a total of 44-46 syllables. Each line contains a pause near the middle, similar to a caesura, though the break need not be metrical. The first half of the line contains six to nine syllables; the second half should contain no fewer than five. Originally intended as songs, sijo can treat romantic, metaphysical, or spiritual themes. Whatever the subject, the first line introduces an idea or story, the second supplies a “turn,” and the third provides closure. Modern sijo are sometimes printed in six lines.

Let’s write poetry together!

When it comes to partnership, some humans can make their lives alone – it’s possible. But creatively, it’s more like painting: you can’t just use the same colours in every painting. It’s just not an option. You can’t take the same photograph every time and live with art forms with no differences.

–Ben Harper (b. 1969)

Would you like to create poetry with me and have a completed poem of yours featured here at the Skeptic’s Kaddish? I am very excited to have launched the ‘Poetry Partners’ initiative and am looking forward to meeting and creating with you… Check it out!

I walk, or: Carrying less

A Sijo

sandals, Middle Eastern tan lines
earbuds playing Billy Joel;
the old words sound and sound right
yet their teenage listener has blurred;
midlife's now loosening its grip
I walk on, carrying less

Sijo?

A Korean verse form related to haiku and tanka and comprised of three lines of 14-16 syllables each, for a total of 44-46 syllables. Each line contains a pause near the middle, similar to a caesura, though the break need not be metrical. The first half of the line contains six to nine syllables; the second half should contain no fewer than five. Originally intended as songs, sijo can treat romantic, metaphysical, or spiritual themes. Whatever the subject, the first line introduces an idea or story, the second supplies a “turn,” and the third provides closure. Modern sijo are sometimes printed in six lines.

Let’s write poetry together!

When it comes to partnership, some humans can make their lives alone – it’s possible. But creatively, it’s more like painting: you can’t just use the same colours in every painting. It’s just not an option. You can’t take the same photograph every time and live with art forms with no differences.

–Ben Harper (b. 1969)

Would you like to create poetry with me and have a completed poem of yours featured here at the Skeptic’s Kaddish? I am very excited to have launched the ‘Poetry Partners’ initiative and am looking forward to meeting and creating with you… Check it out!

I walk, or: Carrying less

A Sijo

sandals, Middle Eastern tan lines
earbuds playing Billy Joel;
the old words sound and sound right
yet their teenage listener has blurred;
midlife's now loosening its grip
I walk on, carrying less

Sijo?

A Korean verse form related to haiku and tanka and comprised of three lines of 14-16 syllables each, for a total of 44-46 syllables. Each line contains a pause near the middle, similar to a caesura, though the break need not be metrical. The first half of the line contains six to nine syllables; the second half should contain no fewer than five. Originally intended as songs, sijo can treat romantic, metaphysical, or spiritual themes. Whatever the subject, the first line introduces an idea or story, the second supplies a “turn,” and the third provides closure. Modern sijo are sometimes printed in six lines.

Let’s write poetry together!

When it comes to partnership, some humans can make their lives alone – it’s possible. But creatively, it’s more like painting: you can’t just use the same colours in every painting. It’s just not an option. You can’t take the same photograph every time and live with art forms with no differences.

–Ben Harper (b. 1969)

Would you like to create poetry with me and have a completed poem of yours featured here at the Skeptic’s Kaddish? I am very excited to have launched the ‘Poetry Partners’ initiative and am looking forward to meeting and creating with you… Check it out!

✮ An Ache That Pricks Even Thorns ✮

Subscribe to keep reading

Become a paid subscriber to get access to the rest of this post and other exclusive content.

✮ An Ache That Pricks Even Thorns ✮

Subscribe to keep reading

Become a paid subscriber to get access to the rest of this post and other exclusive content.

✮ An Ache That Pricks Even Thorns ✮

Subscribe to keep reading

Become a paid subscriber to get access to the rest of this post and other exclusive content.

✮ An Ache That Pricks Even Thorns ✮

Subscribe to keep reading

Become a paid subscriber to get access to the rest of this post and other exclusive content.

✮ An Ache That Pricks Even Thorns ✮

Subscribe to keep reading

Become a paid subscriber to get access to the rest of this post and other exclusive content.

The Robin, the Crow, and the Release

Learning to Let Go with an Open Heart

-a lived moment of impermanence and non-attachment.

The Nesting Story

The robins had started building a nest in our breezeway earlier this spring. Their first attempt fell, and when they began a second one, I asked my husband to brace it with a piece of wood so it wouldn’t collapse again. It felt like a small but meaningful act of care — a way of participating in the life happening around our home.

Friday, when the mother robin didn’t return for hours, I called a wildlife rehab center to ask how long to wait before intervening. I was ready to bring the baby in if needed. But by evening, the mama returned. Relief washed through me. The fledgling was in the yard, and we watched her tending to it, guarding it, guiding it. It felt hopeful, like things were unfolding the way they were meant to.

The Morning Of Loss

Saturday morning, around eight, I took my dog out. As I rounded the garage, I saw the two adult robins in the yard — the mother and father — and a crow nearby. The moment the crow saw me, it flew off, and the robins chased after it. I knew instantly what had happened.

I went inside and told my husband, “Not a good start to the morning,” as the tears began to flow. Some part of me wondered if I could have prevented it — if I had gone out earlier, if I had been outside already, if something could have been different.

But when I went back out to look, there was a pile of feathers. It had already happened. There was nothing I could have done.

Carrying the Grief

And still, I was heartbroken. Even knowing the natural cycle. Even understanding that crows have babies to feed, too. Even knowing that energy moves, transforms, returns.

I carried that ache with me into my lymphatic flow class with Darshak N Gala. My body was tight, braced, holding the events of the morning. But as we moved through the rhythmic sequences — the breathing, the gentle movement, the process of relaxing into the body — something in me began to shift. I could feel the emotional charge loosening, draining, moving.

The Body Begins to Soften

By the time we reached the end, Darshak offered an affirmation/prayer that landed exactly where I needed it. It helped me integrate everything I was feeling — the grief, the tenderness, the helplessness, the truth of the natural cycle. It was as if my body finally had permission to release what my mind had been gripping.

And in that softened space, the Buddhist teaching on impermanence rose in me — not as an idea, but as a lived truth. Everything changes. Everything ends. Everything returns.

Impermanence as a Lived Truth

As the truth of impermanence settled into my body, another companion teaching rose with it, non- attachment. It’s often misunderstood as not caring, but in Buddhism, it’s actually an invitation to love without gripping to let beings moments and seasons be what they are, even when we wish we could hold them in place.

Loving Without Gripping

Non-attachment doesn’t numb the ache of loss. It simply keeps us from collapsing under it. It teaches us to loosen our grip on what we cherish, not because it matters less, but because it matters so deeply that we allow it to move the way life moves, remembering that this didn’t erase the grief of the morning, but it’s softened its edges. It gave the ache somewhere to go.

As I moved through the rest of the day, I kept returning to the memory of that small pile of feathers in the yard, not with the same sharp ache, but with a quieter tenderness. The morning had reminded me in a way I didn’t ask for that life is always shifting, always moving, always becoming something else

What the Morning Taught Me

While I can’t protect every fragile thing, I can meet these moments with softness instead of bracing, I can let myself feel the ache without gripping it. I can let the teaching settle into my body the way the breath does, slowly, naturally, in its own time, and maybe that is the real practice, learning to stay open to the world even when it breaks your heart, trusting something, and you know how to soften around what you cannot change.

The Robin, the Crow, and the Release

Learning to Let Go with an Open Heart

-a lived moment of impermanence and non-attachment.

The Nesting Story

The robins had started building a nest in our breezeway earlier this spring. Their first attempt fell, and when they began a second one, I asked my husband to brace it with a piece of wood so it wouldn’t collapse again. It felt like a small but meaningful act of care — a way of participating in the life happening around our home.

Friday, when the mother robin didn’t return for hours, I called a wildlife rehab center to ask how long to wait before intervening. I was ready to bring the baby in if needed. But by evening, the mama returned. Relief washed through me. The fledgling was in the yard, and we watched her tending to it, guarding it, guiding it. It felt hopeful, like things were unfolding the way they were meant to.

The Morning Of Loss

Saturday morning, around eight, I took my dog out. As I rounded the garage, I saw the two adult robins in the yard — the mother and father — and a crow nearby. The moment the crow saw me, it flew off, and the robins chased after it. I knew instantly what had happened.

I went inside and told my husband, “Not a good start to the morning,” as the tears began to flow. Some part of me wondered if I could have prevented it — if I had gone out earlier, if I had been outside already, if something could have been different.

But when I went back out to look, there was a pile of feathers. It had already happened. There was nothing I could have done.

Carrying the Grief

And still, I was heartbroken. Even knowing the natural cycle. Even understanding that crows have babies to feed, too. Even knowing that energy moves, transforms, returns.

I carried that ache with me into my lymphatic flow class with Darshak N Gala. My body was tight, braced, holding the events of the morning. But as we moved through the rhythmic sequences — the breathing, the gentle movement, the process of relaxing into the body — something in me began to shift. I could feel the emotional charge loosening, draining, moving.

The Body Begins to Soften

By the time we reached the end, Darshak offered an affirmation/prayer that landed exactly where I needed it. It helped me integrate everything I was feeling — the grief, the tenderness, the helplessness, the truth of the natural cycle. It was as if my body finally had permission to release what my mind had been gripping.

And in that softened space, the Buddhist teaching on impermanence rose in me — not as an idea, but as a lived truth. Everything changes. Everything ends. Everything returns.

Impermanence as a Lived Truth

As the truth of impermanence settled into my body, another companion teaching rose with it, non- attachment. It’s often misunderstood as not caring, but in Buddhism, it’s actually an invitation to love without gripping to let beings moments and seasons be what they are, even when we wish we could hold them in place.

Loving Without Gripping

Non-attachment doesn’t numb the ache of loss. It simply keeps us from collapsing under it. It teaches us to loosen our grip on what we cherish, not because it matters less, but because it matters so deeply that we allow it to move the way life moves, remembering that this didn’t erase the grief of the morning, but it’s softened its edges. It gave the ache somewhere to go.

As I moved through the rest of the day, I kept returning to the memory of that small pile of feathers in the yard, not with the same sharp ache, but with a quieter tenderness. The morning had reminded me in a way I didn’t ask for that life is always shifting, always moving, always becoming something else

What the Morning Taught Me

While I can’t protect every fragile thing, I can meet these moments with softness instead of bracing, I can let myself feel the ache without gripping it. I can let the teaching settle into my body the way the breath does, slowly, naturally, in its own time, and maybe that is the real practice, learning to stay open to the world even when it breaks your heart, trusting something, and you know how to soften around what you cannot change.

The Robin, the Crow, and the Release

Learning to Let Go with an Open Heart

-a lived moment of impermanence and non-attachment.

The Nesting Story

The robins had started building a nest in our breezeway earlier this spring. Their first attempt fell, and when they began a second one, I asked my husband to brace it with a piece of wood so it wouldn’t collapse again. It felt like a small but meaningful act of care — a way of participating in the life happening around our home.

Friday, when the mother robin didn’t return for hours, I called a wildlife rehab center to ask how long to wait before intervening. I was ready to bring the baby in if needed. But by evening, the mama returned. Relief washed through me. The fledgling was in the yard, and we watched her tending to it, guarding it, guiding it. It felt hopeful, like things were unfolding the way they were meant to.

The Morning Of Loss

Saturday morning, around eight, I took my dog out. As I rounded the garage, I saw the two adult robins in the yard — the mother and father — and a crow nearby. The moment the crow saw me, it flew off, and the robins chased after it. I knew instantly what had happened.

I went inside and told my husband, “Not a good start to the morning,” as the tears began to flow. Some part of me wondered if I could have prevented it — if I had gone out earlier, if I had been outside already, if something could have been different.

But when I went back out to look, there was a pile of feathers. It had already happened. There was nothing I could have done.

Carrying the Grief

And still, I was heartbroken. Even knowing the natural cycle. Even understanding that crows have babies to feed, too. Even knowing that energy moves, transforms, returns.

I carried that ache with me into my lymphatic flow class with Darshak N Gala. My body was tight, braced, holding the events of the morning. But as we moved through the rhythmic sequences — the breathing, the gentle movement, the process of relaxing into the body — something in me began to shift. I could feel the emotional charge loosening, draining, moving.

The Body Begins to Soften

By the time we reached the end, Darshak offered an affirmation/prayer that landed exactly where I needed it. It helped me integrate everything I was feeling — the grief, the tenderness, the helplessness, the truth of the natural cycle. It was as if my body finally had permission to release what my mind had been gripping.

And in that softened space, the Buddhist teaching on impermanence rose in me — not as an idea, but as a lived truth. Everything changes. Everything ends. Everything returns.

Impermanence as a Lived Truth

As the truth of impermanence settled into my body, another companion teaching rose with it, non- attachment. It’s often misunderstood as not caring, but in Buddhism, it’s actually an invitation to love without gripping to let beings moments and seasons be what they are, even when we wish we could hold them in place.

Loving Without Gripping

Non-attachment doesn’t numb the ache of loss. It simply keeps us from collapsing under it. It teaches us to loosen our grip on what we cherish, not because it matters less, but because it matters so deeply that we allow it to move the way life moves, remembering that this didn’t erase the grief of the morning, but it’s softened its edges. It gave the ache somewhere to go.

As I moved through the rest of the day, I kept returning to the memory of that small pile of feathers in the yard, not with the same sharp ache, but with a quieter tenderness. The morning had reminded me in a way I didn’t ask for that life is always shifting, always moving, always becoming something else

What the Morning Taught Me

While I can’t protect every fragile thing, I can meet these moments with softness instead of bracing, I can let myself feel the ache without gripping it. I can let the teaching settle into my body the way the breath does, slowly, naturally, in its own time, and maybe that is the real practice, learning to stay open to the world even when it breaks your heart, trusting something, and you know how to soften around what you cannot change.

The Robin, the Crow, and the Release

Learning to Let Go with an Open Heart

-a lived moment of impermanence and non-attachment.

The Nesting Story

The robins had started building a nest in our breezeway earlier this spring. Their first attempt fell, and when they began a second one, I asked my husband to brace it with a piece of wood so it wouldn’t collapse again. It felt like a small but meaningful act of care — a way of participating in the life happening around our home.

Friday, when the mother robin didn’t return for hours, I called a wildlife rehab center to ask how long to wait before intervening. I was ready to bring the baby in if needed. But by evening, the mama returned. Relief washed through me. The fledgling was in the yard, and we watched her tending to it, guarding it, guiding it. It felt hopeful, like things were unfolding the way they were meant to.

The Morning Of Loss

Saturday morning, around eight, I took my dog out. As I rounded the garage, I saw the two adult robins in the yard — the mother and father — and a crow nearby. The moment the crow saw me, it flew off, and the robins chased after it. I knew instantly what had happened.

I went inside and told my husband, “Not a good start to the morning,” as the tears began to flow. Some part of me wondered if I could have prevented it — if I had gone out earlier, if I had been outside already, if something could have been different.

But when I went back out to look, there was a pile of feathers. It had already happened. There was nothing I could have done.

Carrying the Grief

And still, I was heartbroken. Even knowing the natural cycle. Even understanding that crows have babies to feed, too. Even knowing that energy moves, transforms, returns.

I carried that ache with me into my lymphatic flow class with Darshak N Gala. My body was tight, braced, holding the events of the morning. But as we moved through the rhythmic sequences — the breathing, the gentle movement, the process of relaxing into the body — something in me began to shift. I could feel the emotional charge loosening, draining, moving.

The Body Begins to Soften

By the time we reached the end, Darshak offered an affirmation/prayer that landed exactly where I needed it. It helped me integrate everything I was feeling — the grief, the tenderness, the helplessness, the truth of the natural cycle. It was as if my body finally had permission to release what my mind had been gripping.

And in that softened space, the Buddhist teaching on impermanence rose in me — not as an idea, but as a lived truth. Everything changes. Everything ends. Everything returns.

Impermanence as a Lived Truth

As the truth of impermanence settled into my body, another companion teaching rose with it, non- attachment. It’s often misunderstood as not caring, but in Buddhism, it’s actually an invitation to love without gripping to let beings moments and seasons be what they are, even when we wish we could hold them in place.

Loving Without Gripping

Non-attachment doesn’t numb the ache of loss. It simply keeps us from collapsing under it. It teaches us to loosen our grip on what we cherish, not because it matters less, but because it matters so deeply that we allow it to move the way life moves, remembering that this didn’t erase the grief of the morning, but it’s softened its edges. It gave the ache somewhere to go.

As I moved through the rest of the day, I kept returning to the memory of that small pile of feathers in the yard, not with the same sharp ache, but with a quieter tenderness. The morning had reminded me in a way I didn’t ask for that life is always shifting, always moving, always becoming something else

What the Morning Taught Me

While I can’t protect every fragile thing, I can meet these moments with softness instead of bracing, I can let myself feel the ache without gripping it. I can let the teaching settle into my body the way the breath does, slowly, naturally, in its own time, and maybe that is the real practice, learning to stay open to the world even when it breaks your heart, trusting something, and you know how to soften around what you cannot change.

Silence didn't teach me peace, it showed me what I carried.

The need to be productive, fear that quiet meant worthlessness, terror I was wasting my life.

What would you discover if you stopped being productive for a week?

#productivity #silence #lettinggo
#mindfulness #spiritualpractice #innerwork
#meditation #selfawareness #contemplativelife

Silence didn't teach me peace, it showed me what I carried.

The need to be productive, fear that quiet meant worthlessness, terror I was wasting my life.

What would you discover if you stopped being productive for a week?

#productivity #silence #lettinggo
#mindfulness #spiritualpractice #innerwork
#meditation #selfawareness #contemplativelife

Silence didn't teach me peace, it showed me what I carried.

The need to be productive, fear that quiet meant worthlessness, terror I was wasting my life.

What would you discover if you stopped being productive for a week?

#productivity #silence #lettinggo
#mindfulness #spiritualpractice #innerwork
#meditation #selfawareness #contemplativelife

Silence didn't teach me peace, it showed me what I carried.

The need to be productive, fear that quiet meant worthlessness, terror I was wasting my life.

What would you discover if you stopped being productive for a week?

#productivity #silence #lettinggo
#mindfulness #spiritualpractice #innerwork
#meditation #selfawareness #contemplativelife

Silence didn't teach me peace, it showed me what I carried.

The need to be productive, fear that quiet meant worthlessness, terror I was wasting my life.

What would you discover if you stopped being productive for a week?

#productivity #silence #lettinggo
#mindfulness #spiritualpractice #innerwork
#meditation #selfawareness #contemplativelife

How embracing the ‘Empty Boat Theory’ can help you keep anger and anxiety in check

https://web.brid.gy/r/https://www.upworthy.com/embracing-empty-boat-theory-explained-ex1/

How embracing the ‘Empty Boat Theory’ can help you keep anger and anxiety in check

https://web.brid.gy/r/https://www.upworthy.com/embracing-empty-boat-theory-explained-ex1/

How embracing the ‘Empty Boat Theory’ can help you keep anger and anxiety in check

https://fed.brid.gy/r/https://www.upworthy.com/embracing-empty-boat-theory-explained-ex1/

How embracing the ‘Empty Boat Theory’ can help you keep anger and anxiety in check

https://web.brid.gy/r/https://www.upworthy.com/embracing-empty-boat-theory-explained-ex1/

9 Practical Tips for Letting Go of What No Longer Serves You in a Chaotic World

https://www.conferencesthatwork.com/index.php/life-lessons/2024/06/letting-go

#LettingGo #Mindfulness #MentalHealth #SelfCare #Wellness #Meditation

9 Practical Tips for Letting Go of What No Longer Serves You in a Chaotic World

https://www.conferencesthatwork.com/index.php/life-lessons/2024/06/letting-go

#LettingGo #Mindfulness #MentalHealth #SelfCare #Wellness #Meditation

9 Practical Tips for Letting Go of What No Longer Serves You in a Chaotic World

https://www.conferencesthatwork.com/index.php/life-lessons/2024/06/letting-go

#LettingGo #Mindfulness #MentalHealth #SelfCare #Wellness #Meditation

9 Practical Tips for Letting Go of What No Longer Serves You in a Chaotic World

https://www.conferencesthatwork.com/index.php/life-lessons/2024/06/letting-go

#LettingGo #Mindfulness #MentalHealth #SelfCare #Wellness #Meditation

9 Practical Tips for Letting Go of What No Longer Serves You in a Chaotic World

https://www.conferencesthatwork.com/index.php/life-lessons/2024/06/letting-go

#LettingGo #Mindfulness #MentalHealth #SelfCare #Wellness #Meditation

What Did I Accomplish Today?

What is the 
measure 
of a 
good day?

Accomplishment 
can be a strange 
idol. 
It promises 
peace 
after one more 
task, 
one more sermon, 
one more song, 
one more post, 
one more 
finished 
thing. 

But then 
the day 
ends, 
and my soul 
still has to 
live 
with itself.

Here in the 
twilight, 
rather than 
asking
what I have 
done,
a better 
measure 
might be:

Did I become 
more free today?

Did I become 
less bitter?

Did I tell 
the truth?

Did I release 
what was 
not mine 
to carry?

Did I move 
even slightly 
toward 
love?

A clear mind 
and 
a better heart 
may be 
holier than 
a completed 
checklist.

So maybe 
my evening prayer 
is simply this:

Lord,
I release the day.
I release what I finished
and what I failed to finish.
Clear my mind.
Soften my heart.
Let me sleep as one who is loved,
not as one who must prove his worth.
Amen

Migraine, Perception, and Creative Flow

Living Inside A Migraine

When pain, perception, and medication reshape daily life

I’ve been dealing with a migraine for nine days. This isn’t just a headache—it comes with aura, Alice in Wonderland syndrome, and persistent vertigo with nausea. My perception gets distorted, my thinking slows down, and basic tasks become difficult. The medication helps with the pain, but it brings its own side effects, and overall, it’s been hard to function.

In the middle of this, something unexpected happened.

A Brief Shift in State

Unexpected focus and creative flow during disruption

While I was heavily medicated, I had a period of intense creative focus. For a few hours, I was able to paint with a level of freedom that I don’t usually reach. It felt like my usual mental filters were lowered. I wasn’t second‑guessing decisions or holding back. I just worked.

The result was different from my normal work—more direct, less controlled, but also more expressive.

This raised a question for me: what actually changed in that moment?

Changes in Perception

How migraine and medication alter access, not ability

Triptans, the medication I use for acute migraine attacks, act on serotonin receptors. They’re not psychedelics, but they do affect how the brain processes signals. Combined with the migraine itself—especially aura, which already alters perception—the overall effect is a shift in how I experience space, color, and thought.

That shift isn’t comfortable. Most of it is disorienting and unpleasant. But within it, there was a brief window where my usual patterns loosened. And in that space, creative work felt easier.

Access, Not Creation

The work was already there—the conditions just changed

It’s important to be clear: the migraine didn’t “create” anything. The creativity was already there. What changed was how accessible it felt. The conditions removed some of the internal constraints I usually work within—habits, expectations, and self‑editing.

That’s not something I want to rely on. The cost is too high. But it does point to something useful.

If a change in mental state can affect how I access creativity, then there may be other ways to reach similar openness without the physical toll. It suggests that part of my creative process is limited not by ability, but by structure—how tightly I control the outcome, how much I filter while working.

There’s also a broader connection here. Decades ago, I had experiences with psychedelics that shifted how I saw the world and myself. Those experiences helped me let go of a lot of fear and rigidity. I don’t return to them now, but the perspective they opened up has stayed with me.

That perspective has been important in dealing with chronic migraine. The pain itself isn’t optional, but my response to it isn’t fixed. Over time, I’ve learned to manage the mental side of it—how much resistance I bring to it, how I interpret it, and how I move through it. That doesn’t eliminate suffering, but it changes its intensity and impact.

The recent experience fits into that same pattern. Even in a difficult state, there was a moment where something shifted—not into relief exactly, but into clarity of a different kind.

For me, the takeaway isn’t about the medication or the migraine. It’s about access.

The kind of creative flow I felt isn’t something external that I need to recreate through extreme conditions. It’s something internal that I was briefly able to reach under unusual circumstances.

Openness and Letting Go

When the boundary between experience and experiencer softens

There’s also a quality in that state that’s familiar from meditation. It’s a kind of openness where the usual sense of separation starts to fade. Instead of feeling like an observer acting on an experience, there’s just the experience itself—no clear boundary between the one perceiving and what’s being perceived. In that space, the need to control or interpret loosens, and the work unfolds more directly, without the usual distance between intention and action.

Working with Pain

Perspective, resistance, and what can shift

Another layer to this is perspective. The difference between being overwhelmed by the experience and moving through it often comes down to how it’s held. I wrote previously about the Four Noble Truths and the Eightfold Path as a framework for navigating chronic pain from migraine and lupus. What stands out to me now is how practical that framework is—not as philosophy, but as a way of adjusting perspective in real time.

When The Pain Takes Over

A reminder that practice isn’t always accessible

Pain is present. That part isn’t optional. But the added weight—resistance, fear, frustration—can shift depending on how tightly I hold the experience. That said, this isn’t always accessible. There are moments when the pain takes over completely. Last night was one of those times. I woke up in the middle of the night in severe pain after my first medication didn’t work. I couldn’t find my stronger medication, didn’t have my glasses, and ended up searching through cabinets, drawers, and bags in a panic. I knew that without it, I might end up in the ER—where the treatment helps, but comes with hours of discomfort and side effects. I was overwhelmed, in tears, and scared.

In moments like that, there isn’t much space for perspective or practice. But experiences like this also make something clear to me: without meditation, without the framework I’ve built from Buddhist practice, I would likely be living in that state of panic much more often. My commotion woke up my husband, who came in—calm, steady, not caught in the panic I was in. He found the medication, and he cleaned up the mess I had made searching as I went back to bed. That contrast stood out. It reminded me that while I can’t always access those tools in the moment, they still shape how I move through these experiences over time.

Returning to Openness

Creative flow, meditation, and another way of relating to experience

It’s not easy to stay open in the middle of persistent pain. In those moments, it’s hard to remember that the pain will pass—that it isn’t permanent. Pain forces attention into the present, but not calmly or intentionally. It can narrow everything down to urgency and survival. At the same time, it can act as a kind of teacher. It shows where resistance builds, where fear takes hold, and how quickly the mind tries to escape what’s happening. When I’m able to step back, even slightly, I can see it less as something to fight and more as something that reveals how I relate to experience.

What I keep coming back to is this: the experience changes depending on how I meet it. Not completely, not all at once, but enough to matter. And in those moments of openness, there is less separation—and a little more space for things to be as they are.

I painted this over six hours while medicated for a migraine, drifting in and out of focus. The haze loosened my usual self‑judgment, and the work shifted into something more fluid and intuitive. It’s not complete, but the evolution itself tells the story.

Migraine, Perception, and Creative Flow

Living Inside A Migraine

When pain, perception, and medication reshape daily life

I’ve been dealing with a migraine for nine days. This isn’t just a headache—it comes with aura, Alice in Wonderland syndrome, and persistent vertigo with nausea. My perception gets distorted, my thinking slows down, and basic tasks become difficult. The medication helps with the pain, but it brings its own side effects, and overall, it’s been hard to function.

In the middle of this, something unexpected happened.

A Brief Shift in State

Unexpected focus and creative flow during disruption

While I was heavily medicated, I had a period of intense creative focus. For a few hours, I was able to paint with a level of freedom that I don’t usually reach. It felt like my usual mental filters were lowered. I wasn’t second‑guessing decisions or holding back. I just worked.

The result was different from my normal work—more direct, less controlled, but also more expressive.

This raised a question for me: what actually changed in that moment?

Changes in Perception

How migraine and medication alter access, not ability

Triptans, the medication I use for acute migraine attacks, act on serotonin receptors. They’re not psychedelics, but they do affect how the brain processes signals. Combined with the migraine itself—especially aura, which already alters perception—the overall effect is a shift in how I experience space, color, and thought.

That shift isn’t comfortable. Most of it is disorienting and unpleasant. But within it, there was a brief window where my usual patterns loosened. And in that space, creative work felt easier.

Access, Not Creation

The work was already there—the conditions just changed

It’s important to be clear: the migraine didn’t “create” anything. The creativity was already there. What changed was how accessible it felt. The conditions removed some of the internal constraints I usually work within—habits, expectations, and self‑editing.

That’s not something I want to rely on. The cost is too high. But it does point to something useful.

If a change in mental state can affect how I access creativity, then there may be other ways to reach similar openness without the physical toll. It suggests that part of my creative process is limited not by ability, but by structure—how tightly I control the outcome, how much I filter while working.

There’s also a broader connection here. Decades ago, I had experiences with psychedelics that shifted how I saw the world and myself. Those experiences helped me let go of a lot of fear and rigidity. I don’t return to them now, but the perspective they opened up has stayed with me.

That perspective has been important in dealing with chronic migraine. The pain itself isn’t optional, but my response to it isn’t fixed. Over time, I’ve learned to manage the mental side of it—how much resistance I bring to it, how I interpret it, and how I move through it. That doesn’t eliminate suffering, but it changes its intensity and impact.

The recent experience fits into that same pattern. Even in a difficult state, there was a moment where something shifted—not into relief exactly, but into clarity of a different kind.

For me, the takeaway isn’t about the medication or the migraine. It’s about access.

The kind of creative flow I felt isn’t something external that I need to recreate through extreme conditions. It’s something internal that I was briefly able to reach under unusual circumstances.

Openness and Letting Go

When the boundary between experience and experiencer softens

There’s also a quality in that state that’s familiar from meditation. It’s a kind of openness where the usual sense of separation starts to fade. Instead of feeling like an observer acting on an experience, there’s just the experience itself—no clear boundary between the one perceiving and what’s being perceived. In that space, the need to control or interpret loosens, and the work unfolds more directly, without the usual distance between intention and action.

Working with Pain

Perspective, resistance, and what can shift

Another layer to this is perspective. The difference between being overwhelmed by the experience and moving through it often comes down to how it’s held. I wrote previously about the Four Noble Truths and the Eightfold Path as a framework for navigating chronic pain from migraine and lupus. What stands out to me now is how practical that framework is—not as philosophy, but as a way of adjusting perspective in real time.

When The Pain Takes Over

A reminder that practice isn’t always accessible

Pain is present. That part isn’t optional. But the added weight—resistance, fear, frustration—can shift depending on how tightly I hold the experience. That said, this isn’t always accessible. There are moments when the pain takes over completely. Last night was one of those times. I woke up in the middle of the night in severe pain after my first medication didn’t work. I couldn’t find my stronger medication, didn’t have my glasses, and ended up searching through cabinets, drawers, and bags in a panic. I knew that without it, I might end up in the ER—where the treatment helps, but comes with hours of discomfort and side effects. I was overwhelmed, in tears, and scared.

In moments like that, there isn’t much space for perspective or practice. But experiences like this also make something clear to me: without meditation, without the framework I’ve built from Buddhist practice, I would likely be living in that state of panic much more often. My commotion woke up my husband, who came in—calm, steady, not caught in the panic I was in. He found the medication, and he cleaned up the mess I had made searching as I went back to bed. That contrast stood out. It reminded me that while I can’t always access those tools in the moment, they still shape how I move through these experiences over time.

Returning to Openness

Creative flow, meditation, and another way of relating to experience

It’s not easy to stay open in the middle of persistent pain. In those moments, it’s hard to remember that the pain will pass—that it isn’t permanent. Pain forces attention into the present, but not calmly or intentionally. It can narrow everything down to urgency and survival. At the same time, it can act as a kind of teacher. It shows where resistance builds, where fear takes hold, and how quickly the mind tries to escape what’s happening. When I’m able to step back, even slightly, I can see it less as something to fight and more as something that reveals how I relate to experience.

What I keep coming back to is this: the experience changes depending on how I meet it. Not completely, not all at once, but enough to matter. And in those moments of openness, there is less separation—and a little more space for things to be as they are.

I painted this over six hours while medicated for a migraine, drifting in and out of focus. The haze loosened my usual self‑judgment, and the work shifted into something more fluid and intuitive. It’s not complete, but the evolution itself tells the story.

Probably the ultimate #LettingGo song ever...

Blitzkrieg Bop (2016 Remaster)

• YouTube
• Invidious

#AlternateFridayMusic

Probably the ultimate #LettingGo song ever...

Blitzkrieg Bop (2016 Remaster)

• YouTube
• Invidious

#AlternateFridayMusic

Probably the ultimate #LettingGo song ever...

Blitzkrieg Bop (2016 Remaster)

• YouTube
• Invidious

#AlternateFridayMusic

Probably the ultimate #LettingGo song ever...

Blitzkrieg Bop (2016 Remaster)

• YouTube
• Invidious

#AlternateFridayMusic

Probably the ultimate #LettingGo song ever...

Blitzkrieg Bop (2016 Remaster)

• YouTube
• Invidious

#AlternateFridayMusic

The #AlternateFridayMusic cue is #LettingGo ...

"The Muse Song (You're Gone)" - by Node Music

https://nodemusic.bandcamp.com/track/the-muse-song-youre-gone

Just one of many such songs. This is the 2026 mix.

The #AlternateFridayMusic cue is #LettingGo ...

"The Muse Song (You're Gone)" - by Node Music

https://nodemusic.bandcamp.com/track/the-muse-song-youre-gone

Just one of many such songs. This is the 2026 mix.

The #AlternateFridayMusic cue is #LettingGo ...

"The Muse Song (You're Gone)" - by Node Music

https://nodemusic.bandcamp.com/track/the-muse-song-youre-gone

Just one of many such songs. This is the 2026 mix.

The #AlternateFridayMusic cue is #LettingGo ...

"The Muse Song (You're Gone)" - by Node Music

https://nodemusic.bandcamp.com/track/the-muse-song-youre-gone

Just one of many such songs. This is the 2026 mix.

The #AlternateFridayMusic cue is #LettingGo ...

"The Muse Song (You're Gone)" - by Node Music

https://nodemusic.bandcamp.com/track/the-muse-song-youre-gone

Just one of many such songs. This is the 2026 mix.

ASP / I won't let you go

YouTube
Deezer
YouTube Music
Invidious

#AlternateFridayMusic #LettingGo

ASP / I won't let you go

YouTube
Deezer
YouTube Music
Invidious

#AlternateFridayMusic #LettingGo

ASP / I won't let you go

YouTube
Deezer
YouTube Music
Invidious

#AlternateFridayMusic #LettingGo

ASP / I won't let you go

YouTube
Deezer
YouTube Music
Invidious

#AlternateFridayMusic #LettingGo

ASP / I won't let you go

YouTube
Deezer
YouTube Music
Invidious

#AlternateFridayMusic #LettingGo

#AlternateFridayMusic

The cue is #LettingGo

It ain’t no use to sit and wonder why, babe
It don’t matter, anyhow
An’ it ain’t no use to sit and wonder why, babe
If you don’t know by now
When your rooster crows at the break of dawn
Look out your window and I’ll be gone
You’re the reason I’m trav’lin’ on
Don’t think twice, it’s all right

Bob Dylan - Don’t Think Twice, It’s All Right

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1iHhWh9FtsQ

#AlternateFridayMusic

The cue is #LettingGo

It ain’t no use to sit and wonder why, babe
It don’t matter, anyhow
An’ it ain’t no use to sit and wonder why, babe
If you don’t know by now
When your rooster crows at the break of dawn
Look out your window and I’ll be gone
You’re the reason I’m trav’lin’ on
Don’t think twice, it’s all right

Bob Dylan - Don’t Think Twice, It’s All Right

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1iHhWh9FtsQ

#AlternateFridayMusic

The cue is #LettingGo

It ain’t no use to sit and wonder why, babe
It don’t matter, anyhow
An’ it ain’t no use to sit and wonder why, babe
If you don’t know by now
When your rooster crows at the break of dawn
Look out your window and I’ll be gone
You’re the reason I’m trav’lin’ on
Don’t think twice, it’s all right

Bob Dylan - Don’t Think Twice, It’s All Right

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1iHhWh9FtsQ

#AlternateFridayMusic

The cue is #LettingGo

It ain’t no use to sit and wonder why, babe
It don’t matter, anyhow
An’ it ain’t no use to sit and wonder why, babe
If you don’t know by now
When your rooster crows at the break of dawn
Look out your window and I’ll be gone
You’re the reason I’m trav’lin’ on
Don’t think twice, it’s all right

Bob Dylan - Don’t Think Twice, It’s All Right

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1iHhWh9FtsQ