Balance and Renewal

March 20, 2026 //
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I woke groggy from a deep sleep, and couldn’t immediately recall why I had set my alarm on a Sunday.

… Only it isn’t Sunday at all, it’s Friday…

Right. I’m off today for the Equinox. I’m up early to see the sun rise.

Welcoming the dawn, taking a moment for quiet joy and reflection.

I made it to the trailhead in time to see the first hints of dawn begin to color the horizon. It’s a gray Spring morning, quite overcast, and smelling of rain and green things sprouting all around. The meadow and marsh are looking less brown. The trees are full of little birds, and squirrels are playfully sprinting past me in the grass as if I might chase them. After yesterday afternoon in the garden, I ache all over, and would not be chasing the squirrels even if I were inclined to do so, which I’m not.

I’ll be in the garden again today, later. It’s that time. There is so much to do! Weeding mostly, this time of year, and some pruning (which I finished yesterday). Early seeds, like peas, should have been planted months ago, but my fall laziness paid off in consequences; the garden was not ready for planting. After I catch up on all of the preparatory work, I’ll plant young starts and enjoy them every bit as much as watching seeds sprout. There are lessons to be learned in the garden.

A small brown bird stops on the fence rail next to me, rather close. I stop writing to avoid startling her with my movement. We sit together for a couple minutes, then she looks at me and sings a little song before flying away. A good omen? Perhaps. If you’re into that sort of thing.

I think about the world, and it’s a crazy terrifying mess. Not humanity’s finest moment, if we’re being honest, is it? I sigh to myself and come back to this moment here. The coming of Spring… only… Spring got here weeks ago. But it is the Equinox, for me that represents balance and renewal. I breathe, exhale, and relax. I take a few minutes for meditation. As I sit, a small herd of deer wanders by, all does. They watch me with soft brown eyes as they pass me one by one. They cross the trail, heading into the meadow towards the marsh ponds. They are not troubled by the state of the world.

I reflect on the lessons of deer and of gardening. Life has a lot to teach us, when we live it. That’s worth considering more closely. I smile to myself and to the plump robin rustling breakfast from the ground beneath the leaf litter at my feet.

I welcome the Spring and the dawn of a new day. It’s time to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, Anxiety, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gardening, gratitude, Healthy Living, inspiration, joy, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Roses, solo hiking, Spring, The Art of Being, War and News of War, Words

What Are You Looking At?

March 19, 2026 //
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I’m sitting at the halfway point of my morning trek across the marsh. It’s beautiful here, the day is young, and the sunrise was splendid. I feel fortunate to enjoy this moment.

Each time for the first time. Each moment the only moment.

(No AI was used to create or edit this content.)

I walked the trail wrapped in contentment, joy, and love. Simply mentioning to my Traveling Partner that I might like to explore using a bit of makeup to improve my appearance on work calls got me more support than I could have imagined. I grin to myself, swinging my feet as I sit on this fence rail listening to the sounds of life along the riverbank in Springtime. I smell flowers.

I once wore makeup a lot. That was a very long time ago. I stopped all that when I went to war. When I came home none of that sort of thing to do with appearances mattered to me at all. Life was too short, too precious, and I was for sure too broken to be bothered with any of that. I could have continued to wear my BDUs and combat boots indefinitely. I exchanged them for jeans and sweaters. After my divorce, I just wasn’t having any part of partners, or lovers, or frankly anyone else telling me how to look or what defines feminity. I am a woman. I’ll define feminity for myself, as I please, and the entire world can fuck right off. 😂

…No one else tells me who I am, that belongs to me…

…But… Aging being what it is, and spending so much time “on camera” in work meetings, I can admit that it wouldn’t hurt to take another look at what I can do with a little makeup, minimal effort, and little expense, to highlight my natural look without plastering over my face with some mask of acceptability. lol Tools are tools; they serve a purpose.

I watch little birds playing in the trees. Being present matters most. Life is not about appearances.

…Where we turn our attention largely determines what’s on our minds…

There is beauty in the world. Are you seeing it?

I think about appearances, and distractions. I think about the way media companies and tech companies seek to hold our attention, in spite of our own interests and desires. It takes an act of will to put that slop aside and turn one’s attention to what matters most. This only works if we have an understanding of what does matter most to us as an individual (which implies sufficient self-reflection and self knowledge to have that understanding). It’s not surprising to me that so many people just give up and dive back into their phones. (Although that does strike me as a terrible wasteful approach to human potential.)

What are you looking at? The sky? The tree? The little birds? Choose. The choice is yours.

Are you mired in despair, trapped by doomscrolling? That’s a choice. Put it down. Go outside. Read a book. Laugh with a friend. You are choosing, every moment. No books? Go to a library; they still exist. No friends? Meet real people in the world, interact with strangers, and open yourself to conversation. It may feel awkward. Your results may vary, but the verbs and choices are yours. Incremental change happens over time. Keep at it. Choose your path and walk it.

Not a bit of this “choose your path” stuff is “easy”. Choices are complicated. The menu of the Strange Diner is so much to take in. “Can’t” is easier than doing the verbs, failing, learning, and growing… But here it is, Spring. It’s a lovely time for growth and beginnings. Like learning to apply makeup again, as if for the first time, it’s often the decision to do it that is the most difficult part. Taking the first step feels hard. Maybe that’s a choice, too?

… Gnothi seauton…

… What will you do about that? It’s important. Who are you? Who do you want most to be? To whom have you obligated yourself, or given your decision making? Are you just mouthing someone else’s opinions? Are you living your life?

I think about it as I sit watching a new day unfold. I’m glad I took the day off for self-reflection and meditation. Later, I’ll be in the garden, clearing away the weeds and preparing the soil. Yes, of course it’s a metaphor – but I’ll also really be there, with my fingers in the soil, doing the verbs. That’s how practicing works.

It’s a journey. Choose your path wisely.

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Categories Allegories, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, gardening, gratitude, Healthy Living, inspiration, joy, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, Spring, The Art of Being, Uncategorized, War and News of War, women, Words

How Making Things Work Works

March 18, 2026 //
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[No AI was used in writing or editing this content.]

It is Wednesday. An ordinary day in all obvious respects. Today I did not drop any bombs on my neighbors. It was surprisingly easy. There is reciprocal communication on all sides; I wave and say “hi!” when I see them, they return my greeting. No bombs required. I’m quite certain that adding bombs to our interactions would not be at all helpful, and the destruction would be costly. Just saying, the whole “let’s drop some bombs” approach to diplomacy isn’t a particularly useful way of reaching accord with one’s neighbors. It seems, in fact, pretty fucking stupid, but here we are; fuckwits with too much power dropping bombs because no one is stopping them from doing so.

I get to the trailhead before daybreak, put on my headlamp and set off down the trail. I get to my halfway point in darkness and sit listening to the sound of the creek nearby, still full and fast from recent days of rain. No flooding, and most of the puddles on the trail are gone after a couple of warm Spring afternoons. I hear soft hesitant footsteps, something stirring in the brush. A deer steps out of the trees along the trail and slowly walks past me,  her eyes on me as she passes, then another, and then a third. They step down the trail a ways, before turning and disappearing from view.

I sit awhile with my thoughts. I have a lot to think about. I let the thoughts come and go like clouds, or the turn of an unread page in a book I’ve read many times before, skipping ahead to something better. I am choosing what to spend my time on, and where to put my attention.

I’m eager to get back to painting, if not this weekend, then after the Anxious Adventurer has moved out and I have my space back. The lack of creative work isn’t really about the space, though, it’s the environment. Initially, I was exhausted from caregiving and uninspired. This stopped me painting for about a year. The “emotional environment” became a more profound impediment, fairly quickly. It was an unfortunate harbinger that the living arrangement wasn’t going to work out long-term; I need to be able to paint in my own home. It wasn’t anything deliberate and there was no malicious intention, but there also was no willingness to be aware of the problem nor to address it. So. Here we are.

The wheel keeps turning. The clock keeps ticking.

One more work shift, then a long weekend for the Equinox. I hope to spend most of my time in the garden, preparing it for Spring. I may drive out to the coast for a day trip and some time walking the beach and listening to what the wind and waves have to say. I plan to continue my practice of specifically not dropping bombs or shooting people. So far it has been surprisingly easy to avoid. No idea why the head fuckwit in office is having so much difficulty with that, honestly. (One might be forced to assume that chaos, destruction and murder were explicitly the desired outcome. So incredibly vile and horrifying.)

I sigh to myself and watch the sky turn a deep blue gray as daybreak comes. I’m grateful for another day on which I can look into the sky without worrying about bombs or drone attacks; this place is not a target of bombs or drones (so far). I’m fortunate.

The clock is ticking. Where does this path lead?

The thought of my Traveling Partner sleeping at home brings a smile to my face. We’ve been enjoying each other’s company quite a lot, and as his recovery progresses, our intimacy is restored and the connection we share deepens. It’s lovely. It’s also another reason it will be good to “have our space back”. No ill will towards the Anxious Adventurer, and I’m grateful for the help he provided while he was here, but our lifestyles are not similar enough to make cohabitation easy, with regard to intimacy.

Change is.

I sit awhile longer. The clock ticks on. Eventually, it’s time to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, Anxiety, art and the artist, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, gardening, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, inspiration, joy, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, Spring, The Art of Being, The Big 5, War and News of War, women, Words

Preserving My Peace

March 17, 2026 //
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[No AI was used to create or edit this human content.]

Yesterday was a good day, a better than average Monday. I arrived home from work with a headache, an unfortunate result of working from a seat at the library where the afternoon sunshine was directly on my face. “A sunshine headache,” the sort of thing I find difficult to explain. Surviving head trauma can have some peculiar lingering consequences, and in my case those include this particular type of headache (which were much worse when I was younger but still occur in a dim fashion now). It didn’t last; I spent awhile contentedly doing my own thing in a quiet darkened room and it passed.

We often have the tools we need for the circumstances we find ourselves in.

For me, it was a pleasant evening. I am not certain what kind of experience everyone else was having. I managed to refrain from allowing concerns about experiences that are not my own to overcome my experience, and instead simply lived my moment. I slept well and deeply. The night passed uneventfully. I woke early, earlier than usual.

When I woke, I noticed my Traveling Partner was already up. I could have made assumptions about why he was up so early, but doing so could potentially lay the foundation for stress or misunderstandings. Instead I observe that he is awake and leave further understanding for later on, when I have more information. I dress and go through my morning routine, and head out for the day. On my way, I pass my beloved, in the open doorway to the deck, breathing the cool morning air. I say good morning. He returns my greeting with a few words of explanation. I depart without disturbing his peace, nor does he disturb mine.

All of this to say we are making choices. It’s not fancy or particularly complicated. We choose our words and choose our actions. We choose peace or we choose something else. Our choices definitely matter. We become what we practice. We create the person we are with our choices.

Who do you want most to be? How do you want to be remembered?

I sit at the trailhead, waiting for daybreak to come. It is a mild morning, and the warmer Spring days after so much rain have created slippery conditions on this trail, even on paved portions. Moss is growing over the trail in places. Fallen leaves, partially decomposed, are slick mats waiting to create a slip and fall accident for some unwary walker. I choose caution – and a bit of daylight. I reflect on choices and change, and preserving my peace under challenging circumstances.

I don’t look at the news this morning. Why would I? I already know enough about what’s going on to function in society. More would be too much. I’m taking “preserving my peace” pretty seriously. If asked, I would encourage our leaders to do the same; preserve peace. I doubt they would listen to me; they are making too much money off of war and enjoying the thrill of having so much attention. I find the whole mess distasteful and frankly crass. Humanity could do better.

Choose your actions and your words with care. They have consequences.

Daybreak. The first hints of the new day dawning reveal a stormy overcast sky. The forecast says the day will be warm, like yesterday. I look down the familiar path, feeling capable and prepared, and ready to begin again.

What will you choose? It’s your path to walk.
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Categories Allegories, anger, Anxiety, Brain Injury, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, gratitude, health, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, Spring, The Art of Being, The Big 5, War and News of War, women, Words

From Another Perspective

March 16, 2026 //
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Relationships matter [to human primates], and because they do matter, we become attached. Attached to individuals. Attached to our own expectations and assumptions. Attached to outcomes. Attached to ideas about people and about feelings about people.

Our attachments become entanglements, sticky snares of emotion, and sometimes heartbreak. Human is (emotionally) messy. We become what we practice, as individuals. We have no control over what others practice, nor over who they choose to become.

Relationships are complicated.

I’ve experienced a few things in life (and love), too many to list off the top of my head, and somehow there’s still more to learn. I ended my evening last night thinking about experience and life and love, and how fucking complicated all that is by itself…then layer on the additional complications of the other person’s experience, and what they mean to us, and whatever challenges circumstances may contribute (mental health, chronic pain, medications needed to treat this or that condition, still other relationships, it’s a long and varied list)… it’s almost miraculous anyone ever maintains a relationship with another individual longer than it takes to go “oh, hell no”. It’s a lot to take sometimes. We do it because we are social creatures, and we do it because it feels so good to “get it right”.

It’s tricky. People struggle and suffer, and sometimes the solutions that are available to ease some particular bit of suffering (for example, medication to manage ADHD, or depression, or pain) can really complicate a relationship. People often “don’t seem themselves” until they get their medication just right. Sometimes the person they become, and may be happy to be, isn’t who we want to be with. It’s not a “right or wrong” discussion, it is more complicated than that.

I’m fortunate that my Traveling Partner is very open with me when he has the hard work of new meds in front of him. I do my best to support him through such things as he has reliably done for me, more than once (and is doing presently). I know it’s not easy.

Inconveniently, this time around we’re going through it together, while we each have our own experience of “the new meds journey”. We’ve been through it before. It is perhaps my least favorite experience in a relationship, and I am deeply grateful and appreciative that we communicate openly with each other; every change, every adjustment, and the details of our subjective lived experience get shared. No surprises, aside from the very real effects of the medications themselves, initially. Could be worse. Not my favorite bit of any relationship, but I’m not also having to deal with mysterious bullshit stemming from poor communication.

I get to the trail with my head full of thoughts. I’m okay. I’m pretty well settled on the new medication that is managing so much of my pain, so much better. A larger portion of my chronic pain is neuropathic than I had previously understood. It was a good choice to change my medication.

I take a deep breath and blow it out as a heavy sigh. I write a few words before I start down the trail, hoping to let it all go and take my walk, present in this moment, awake and aware, comfortable in my own skin and unbothered. It’s time to walk on. It’s time to reflect on impermanence. It’s time to practice non-attachment. It’s time for meditation and self-reflection. It’s time to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, Anxiety, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, Love, meditation, Mindfulness, Moments, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, Spring, The Art of Being, The Big 5, Uncategorized, Words
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