Independence Day

July 3, 2026 //
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I breathe in the sweetly scented summer air on this trail between a vast meadow of clover and the broad silent river on the other side of a strip of trees and brambles.  Beautiful morning. Sunny and cool, for now, some heat in the forecast later.

No AI here, only a human being and a camera phone.

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

I woke this morning feeling recovered from whatever sickness laid me flat yesterday afternoon. It was a delight to water the lawn at daybreak and to watch the sunrise as I drove to the trailhead.

Sunrise by the river.

I sit on a rock near the river, enjoying the mild summer morning. It’s beautiful. I don’t need more than this right now. I listen to birds singing and chirping. I take a couple pictures, wishing very much that the pictures could also capture the scents. Wildflowers and clover. Nice.

… I let my mind wander contentedly, feeling free…

Weeds or wildflowers? It depends on your point of view.

When I say I don’t use AI to write my blog, I’m very serious. Another kind of freedom worth celebrating. No AI editing the pictures. No AI generated images. No AI authorship or editing. No choices to turn over my thinking to an algorithm or LLM. No AI research. My spelling mistakes and weird grammar and syntax are my own. My limited knowledge is my own. My thoughts are my own. My lived experience is real and human and messy. I’m okay with all of that. I don’t think my position on AI is at all unique; I get more comments and friendly feedback about my AI disclaimer than any topic I actually write about. I feel amused – and vindicated.

I keep to the path I’m on; there’s real freedom and independence in saying “no” to the AI slop and unnecessary “tools” being shoved into every app whether it’s helpful, or desirable, or not (“not” seems generally to be the case). I don’t need it. I don’t use it.

… AI is not capable of understanding the human experience…

A small bird sings to me for a few minutes.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. The scents of summer wildflowers fill the air. It’s a lovely morning. I feel free. That’s worth celebrating.

Free your mind. Live your life. Go outside.

I think about the day ahead. I’ll fly my drone. Fold some laundry. Maybe paint. Read awhile. The day is mine to live as I choose. I hope I choose wisely.

Happy Independence Day. Live free.

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Categories 2024 Election, Allegories, art and the artist, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, inspiration, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, solo hiking, Summer, The Art of Being, thoughts on AI, War and News of War, Words

Rested and Eager

July 2, 2026 //
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I woke gently after a good night of deep sleep. I woke surprised to be awake, and surprised that it was only minutes until my alarm would have brightened the room. I got up quietly, hoping to avoid waking my Traveling Partner, and slipped out of the house and watered the lawn before I headed for the trail.

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

A new day, full of promise and opportunity. Don’t waste it

It’s a chilly morning. I walk down the trail marveling at the vapor of my breath, like a child, and watching the sun illuminating the oaks as it rises. The sky is a beautiful blue, clear and cloudless. I walk with my thoughts. I’m eager for the long weekend ahead. Eager to paint and feeling deeply inspired. My eagerness to paint competes with my eagerness to fly my new drone, although I chuckle to myself every time I think about my drone, because I also think about South Park, season 18, episode 5, “The Magic Bush” (a hilarious and rude cautionary tale about drones and “drone hobby enthusiasts”).

I grin happily as I walk on. My very first drone is cute, and rested so lightly in my hand after I unboxed it and inspected it with care. It arrived rather late in the evening last night, and even if it had been all charged up, I was already too tired to take it out for a flight. Today is soon enough. I’m pretty good at waiting. 😆 I satisfied myself in the moment with the excitement of its arrival and busied myself with charging the batteries and the controller.

…New experiences slow that ticking clock…

I reach my halfway point and stop awhile. I breathe, exhale, and relax, and enjoy a solitary moment on a peaceful summer morning. I’m looking forward to some studio time this weekend. I’m looking forward to hanging out with my partner. I sit in the morning sunshine feeling grateful and anticipating a pleasant long weekend.

I don’t much care that this particular long weekend is thanks to the 4th of July holiday being observed on Friday the 3rd. Trump and his clown car of corrupt cronies and billionaire sycophants have largely ruined the holiday with their grotesque (and extraordinarily unsuccessful) partisan spectacle of wasted taxpayer dollars. I have no interest in celebrating the walking obscenity that we elected to office, I’m just hoping we manage to salvage our democracy from the wreckage when he’s gone. Still… I do enjoy a long weekend. There’s that.

I sigh to myself and shiver a bit. I should have grabbed my fleece, I think to myself. The sun is warm on my back. The contrast makes my nerves tingle. I check the flight map on my device… Would I be able to fly here? I’m delighted to see that I would be cleared to fly here. (I’ve always wanted to see what is beyond the trees on the far side of the vineyard.)

I sit with my thoughts, composing the view as if to paint it. It’s a pretty scene. I feel relaxed and unbothered, grateful for the lovely moment. It’s a promising beginning to the day. I stretch and sigh when I notice the time. Already time to finish this hike and begin again.

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Categories Allegories, art and the artist, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, inspiration, joy, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, solo hiking, Summer, The Art of Being, Words

Bad Coffee, Pleasant Morning

July 1, 2026 //
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I woke early. So early. My Traveling Partner was awake and trying to go back to sleep. I dressed and slipped out into the early morning darkness, headed for a favorite trail, barely awake.

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

As I pulled out of the neighborhood, it occurred to me that I maybe wasn’t quite awake enough to drive or to be out in the world. 03:30 is too early for most places to be open. I stop by the gas station, fill up, and get a cup of coffee.

… Quite possibly the worst cup of coffee I’ve ever had (and I’ve had military coffee). We’re talking about a cup of coffee so bad it was the taste that woke me up, not the caffeine. 😆 I’m not even complaining, mostly just laughing. I’m awake, and wasn’t that the point? I force myself to drink it before I start down the trail.

It is another gray rainy looking morning. A Wednesday. Nothing remarkable about any of that. It is the beginning of an ordinary day. I’ll work from home. I am expecting a package. I yawn and briefly wonder what else the day holds? I’m not sure I care, beyond my package and my paintings. I’m eager to be in the studio again. I feel inspired by recent hikes on lovely trails.

The sky brightens as the sun rises, unseen behind the dense clouds. I chuckle to myself; I’ve been sitting here awhile. I’m fine with that – it’s my time, to use as I wish. I watch the clouds changing shape, pushed by air currents I neither feel nor see. I watch them change colors as the sun rises. Bits of blue sky peak through here and there. Another yawn. I haven’t yet fully shaken off sleepiness in favor of a new day.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I meditate and consider the day ahead. I add items to the grocery list that were overlooked yesterday. I take a deep breath of the mild summer air. I brush off the chronic, persistent feeling of having forgotten something. I nearly always feel that way, but it rarely reflects the truth. Baggage.

I start thinking about a better cup of coffee, and beginning again… The day awaits! The clock is (always) ticking.

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Categories Allegories, Anxiety, art and the artist, Brain Injury, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, Frustration, gratitude, Healthy Living, inspiration, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, Summer, The Art of Being

Not Bad, But…

June 30, 2026 //
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I was up too early. It is another gray day. I’m tired, and I’ve got a headache I would describe as “my third eye hurting”. I’m tired. I walk the loop around the vineyard, and I’m back at the car before dawn.

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

So… I nap in the car awhile and wake to heavy gray clouds and a stormy forboding sky.

Say hello to a new day.

I sit up, groggy and a little dizzy, surprised to have actually slept. I take my morning medications with a swallow of cold black coffee left over from yesterday. I yawn and stretch. The morning seems unremarkable. I’m fine with that. Another day.

…I’m grateful… but I’m also thinking about coffee 😆

It is a payday. Later I’ll do all of the budget stuff. Pay bills. Buy groceries. Ordinary mundane activities. Routine. Unexciting. I’m fine with that, too.

I sit listening to my tinnitus and the HVAC on the roof of a nearby building. Robins hop about, singing their cheerful song. I take time for meditation. I eye the gray clouds overhead. Looks like it might rain, later.

I sigh to myself. I really want coffee. I stretch and yawn, and decide on a course of action. I click my seatbelt into place, and get started on this new day. It’s as good a beginning as any.

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Categories Allegories, Brain Injury, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, gratitude, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, solo hiking, Summer, The Art of Being

Between Too Much and Not Enough

June 29, 2026 //
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I almost didn’t bother with writing this morning. I’m not having a bad morning, neither is it particularly good. It’s just a morning. It is a gray, overcast, mild, somewhat cooler morning than one might expect for a summer Monday. “Nothing to see here,” and nothing much to say about it.

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

Hell, I’m not even complaining really, just noticing. I have no particular enthusiasm for this moment, and I take some bit of comfort in its underlying impermanence. Moments are fleeting. They pass.

I sit at the halfway point on this morning’s walk fighting a feeling of ennui and vague disappointment that lacks any objective point. My physical pain is vexing but commonplace. My tinnitus is loud and distractingly unpleasant, but hardly out of the ordinary for me. My headache is no worse, but also no better, and I can’t be bothered to deal with it at all. Nothing I do seems to change it. I sigh to myself. I’d complain about this crappy morning, but it’s honestly fine. It is a Monday, and not all that bad. I’m just struggling with a weird mood fed by strange dreams and interrupted sleep.

…All of this bullshit is purely subjective, and very human…

I frown at the gray sky overhead and think about the path I’m on, the life I am living, and the woman I most want to be. I think about change, and I think about “doing better”, and I reflect on brain damage and on character. I think about practice.

… I’d rather be painting…

I sigh to myself and watch the clouds capping distant hilltops, seeming almost to become hung up in the trees as the clouds continue to drift by. Yeah, I’d totally rather be painting. Or sleeping. I sit puzzled by my utter lack of enthusiasm for the day. Oh, well. It’s not as if moods are any more permanent than moments. I’m not “stuck” here so much as finding myself here through happenstance. It’ll pass at some point.

Another sigh. I get to my feet mildly annoyed with myself, and prepare to finish my walk and begin the rest of the day. I’m open to change, I’ve just got to get started and begin again.

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Categories Allegories, anger, Anxiety, art and the artist, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, Summer, The Art of Being, The Big 5, women, Words
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