And a Side of Jupiter

October 6, 2026 //
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I could see the moon rising as I left the house this morning. It is presently a thin crescent, seeming to cup Jupiter in an unearthly embrace. It is rising in the eastern night sky. I try to get a picture from the trailhead parking lot.

[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]

Honestly, if I were using AI, the picture might have turned out a little sharper. 😆 It wouldn’t really be the picture I took, then, would it?

The crescent moon and Jupiter in the night sky.

Tuesday. I sigh to myself, grateful to face another day, in spite of my background irritation over the state of the world more generally.

…Rape is in the news again. How many times do we have to go over this shit? Damn. The ignorance and malice are astonishing and it’s hard to believe it just keeps coming up. I’m sure a lack of education plays a role in some sexual assaults, but I feel similarly certain that in most of them the perpetrator is very much aware of the terrible nature of their crimes.

I frown to myself in the darkness and sigh quietly. Some wounds don’t heal easily. (Or well, or… maybe ever. Yeah, it’s rough every time this shit comes up all over again.)

…A man or a bear?..

I have the trail to myself. There’s nothing much to fear alone out here. One individual man approaching would be enough to make me wary and put me on high alert, scanning for escape routes, weapons, and potential threats. Rape rarely seems to have any consequences for the rapist, even in the 21st century. It reliably has consequences for the survivor. That lost trust is a big one.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. It’s a mild autumn morning. I’m in a ridiculous amount of pain today. It makes me cross and gloomy. I’d very much prefer to just go back to bed, but it’s a work day, and I’m halfway down this trail…

… Shit. I forgot my radio, my water bottle, the returns that need to be dropped off, and also? I’ve used up my last tissue and I feel like I may be coming down with a cold. Right. “Okay, Tuesday, you’ve had your fun,” I think to myself.

Can we each simply commit to not being fucking vile today? I blow out my breath impatiently. I’m feeling a little overwhelmed (by life, by work), and overextended. Acknowledging the feeling is a necessary step towards resolving it, but doesn’t make doing something about it any easier, and I’m pretty certain it’s largely (if unintentionally) self inflicted.

I had a choice opportunity to relax at home, quietly, alone, last night and I fucked it all up by tackling some needful tasks that became hours of working. By the time my Traveling Partner had returned, I’d gotten a few useful things done, but hadn’t relaxed at all. My dreams during the night were filled with… more work. Passwords that hadn’t saved. Spreadsheets with strange errors I’d never seen before. Presentations that were openly mocked and files that wouldn’t open. I was glad to wake to a new day, even if it is a fucking Tuesday.

… The weekend feels so far away, in both directions…

I watch the moon continue her climb. It’s almost daybreak, almost time to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, anger, Anxiety, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, Frustration, gratitude, grief, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, The Art of Being, The Big 5, women

The Wayback Machine

October 5, 2026 //
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Music is funny stuff. It’s not just pleasing to the ears, it’s also a sort of a “time machine”, after a fashion.

[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]

I woke this morning with a song in my head, which persistently tried to carry me back to a moment on a hot summer day in Texas, in 1986. I’ve nothing to do there/then, and resist the pull of that long ago moment in favor of this one, here, now.

As I walk down the trail in the dark, I do manage to “change the channel”. My “inner playlist” cues up something a bit moodier, still tugging my attention towards the past.

Hmph. No time for time machines this morning. I stop on the trail and open a music app. I pick out a “mood resetter” and walk on. That’s better. In the darkness the beat powers my steps. I don’t have any experiences or emotions paired to this track, either, and my thoughts return to the moment I’m in.

… Sometimes “the Wayback Machine” is handy, other times less so…

I get to my halfway point and take a few minutes to relax in the peaceful predawn darkness. The weekend was a pleasant one. I sit smiling to myself, thinking about the time spent in the studio and time spent with my Traveling Partner,  and an excellent stir-fry on Saturday. Pleasant and ordinary and wholesome, and a beautiful memory worth savoring.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. It’s a comfortable routine at this point; get up early, walk, meditate, write, then begin the work day. I sit quietly under the starry sky. This feeling right here is one that I worked a long time to be able to experience. Worth it. Contentment and a soft quiet joy are worth making changes for, and worth all the practicing of practices.

… Your results may vary…

I sigh to myself. Contentment is an amazing feeling. Curious that we don’t talk about it more – we’re too focused on chasing happiness to notice more subtle (and potential lasting) emotions like contentment. I sit with my thoughts, watching a curious mist gathering. It hangs in a distinct layer above my head. Hints of daybreak appear. I stretch and get to my feet. Of course, it’s time to begin, again.

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Categories Allegories, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, The Art of Being, The Big 5, women, Words

Friend or Foe?

October 4, 2026 //
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I arrived at the trailhead. Not my usual, but I come here now and then on weekends. It was still dark when I arrived. There was a sketchy looking white van already parked in the parking lot, tucked back among the shadows. This area is day use only, and it’s strange to see another vehicle here when I arrive.

[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]

I park and grab my cane and my headlamp, and start down the trail. I’d only gone a short distance when I heard a sound that turned my blood to ice water in my veins. It was a hoarse sort of screaming. Cougar? Here? I’m not certain, but it’s definitely not a friendly or welcoming sound. It is clearly a warning. There’s too much legitimate potential for danger; I immediately turn back and quickly make my way back to the car. There are safer trails to walk before dawn.

I watch the sunrise begin in my rearview, bold hues of orange diffused in soft white fog banks, until I reach the trailhead of a familiar suburban trail nearer to home. It feels safe. No sketchy battered white van with the logo on the side faded and partially scuffed off and darkened windows. No sounds of a cougar screaming in the darkness, making her way to the riverbank. No threats at all. Just the soft woosh of the nearby HVAC atop the buildings here.

I walk thinking about safety, threat assessment, and what it means to live in a world surrounded by legitimate threats against one’s safety or survival. More than the momentary terror of a cougar on a trail, or the vague anxiety provoked by an unknown van parked in the shadows, I mean the real practical imminent threats that are part of human conflict (Palestine, Ukraine, Iran, others). Drones. Bombs. Bullets. “Is there anyone down range?” I silently ask myself, recalling so many visits to the firing range. (Is there anyone left who is not “down range” in these troubling times?) It’s not rare for whole nations of noncombatants to live in mortal terror, which seems pretty fucking horrible and entirely unnecessary.

… It’s easy to change my mind about a trail, the choices are less clear for people whose actual homes and communities are threatened by violence…

Hey, Humanity, I’m loving the whole “Earth” thing, and the flora and fauna are amazing. Great stuff. I’ve just got some notes… Let’s see, oh, right. Stop fucking killing each other! Fucking hell. The waste and expense are ridiculous, and compounded by lost resources. Can we not?

We could do better. I sigh to myself as I get to my halfway point. There is mist filling all the lowland places. Dense fog in spots near various rivers. I breathe, exhale, and relax. No bombs falling here. I am grateful. I hope it lasts. I yawn and watch a fat raccoon and her youngsters waddle quickly past me, across the trail, and down into the trees along the creek bank.

The morning is off to a weird start. I stretch, and sigh, and get ready to begin again.

Where does our path lead?
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Categories Allegories, Anxiety, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, The Art of Being, War and News of War, women, Words

In Between

October 3, 2026 //
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The foggy marsh trail feels like a liminal space, this morning. There is only “nothing” in the distance ahead of me, and behind me, and I walk along this portion of the trail in the predawn darkness with my headlamp on its dimmest setting to enjoy the sensation of being between moments.

[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]

It’s still dark on the foggy marsh trail.

Did you click on the picture, anyway? In spite of the not quite featureless darkness? This moment feels like a decision to click on something partially obscured from view. Life is defined by those decisions. We’re choosing our experience all the time.

I sigh to myself contentedly. The halfway point on this trail is near the Tualatin River. I can’t hear it, but the scent here is different than on the portion of the trail near the highway and the marsh ponds. The strange feeling of being between places or experiences persists. Is it the autumn fog or the moment itself? I can’t tell.

… Don’t feel like hearing me bitching about chronic pain? Skip the next paragraph…

I woke in pain. I’ve taken medication. Stretched before I headed down the trail. Did my PT stuff. Doesn’t matter, the pain accompanies me every step this morning and sneers at my meds. Today it is limited to head, neck, shoulder, and it is exceedingly clear that my neck is the source. I grimace, massaging my neck as well as I can. It’s not an especially helpful effort. I remember some things from the appointment with the specialist yesterday and try something he had recommended and demonstrated with me. It helps. It’s not perfect, but it’s definitely better. Better is good. An acceptable outcome.

New pastels arrived yesterday from a reputable brand with a long history (a characteristic I really value is that feeling of “legacy” provided by distinguished old brands). I hope to spend time painting today, pain permitting. I stretch and feel joints popping and pain easing a bit. I rub my hands slowly, gently. The arthritis developing in my thumbs vexes me. (How many more paintings are left in these hands?)

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I sit with my thoughts awhile. I am unbothered by the ticking clock of this mortal life, this morning. It’s Saturday and for the weekend, my life is not limited by clocks. That feels better than what seems reasonable.

Daybreak comes to the foggy marsh. I get to my feet, ready to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, art and the artist, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, The Art of Being

Yesterday’s Sunrise

October 2, 2026 //
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Yesterday’s sunrise was beautiful. Maybe I’ll paint that sky this weekend.

[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]

Every sunrise a new beginning.

I spent yesterday taking (Rx) drugs and wracked with pain, mired in irritability, working, and listening to Bauhaus, NIN, and The Stooges. Not exactly cheerful stuff, but infused with a dark moody energy that just seemed to fit. I was even wearing black, though the choice was unintentional.

… This morning is better, so far…

I enjoyed a quiet evening with my Traveling Partner, though I still don’t understand why he took a chance on my company last night; I wasn’t in a good place at all. We both made the necessary effort and it was a relaxed, generally pleasant evening.

This morning? New day, new beginning. I walk the familiar trail in the familiar darkness, grateful it is largely an external experience of circumstances – it’s still too early, not yet daybreak. Nothing like yesterday, when the darkness seemed to ooze from my being. I breathe in the mild autumn air. We haven’t yet had our first frost.

I breathe, exhale, relax. I meditate under the stars. It’s beautiful. I hear something loud, not too far away. The sound of impact, of things breaking, and a short time later, sirens. Someone else is having a bad morning today. Every one of us will, eventually. Very human. Our results may vary, whatever our circumstances or our practices.

“Maybe a shorter walk in the morning?” my beloved had suggested to me. It was a good idea. I sit with my thoughts another minute or two. Self-reflection is a useful tool for gaining perspective.

The sky takes on a hint of blue, and I stretch a gaze at the few stars I can still see. Short work day, and an appointment with a specialist later about this fucking headache, then the weekend. I hope to spend a substantial portion of it in the studio. I’ve got a playlist ready…

… I get to my feet, and hit play, before I walk on. “….Bela Lugosi is dead…” And it’s time to begin. Again.

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Categories Allegories, art and the artist, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, Despair, Free Will, gratitude, inspiration, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Moments, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, The Art of Being, War and News of War, Words
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