Something for Me

September 19, 2026 //
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It’s a foggy morning. On the other side of a short list of errands, I’ll head to the coast for a few days for some solitary time, painting. I’m eager, but not anxious. There’s no hurry. I planned with care and stayed mindful of my current capabilities and limitations when I did so.

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

I’m sitting at a favorite trailhead, waiting for the gate to open. A short walk will be enough this morning. I want to leave myself enough energy at the other end of the day to easily enjoy hanging out with the ghosts of Claude (Monet), Vincent (Van Gogh), and Peter (Max). I’ve already got my pastels packed up, ready to load into the car.

… Definitely eager…

When the time came to end the work week and pull my head out of the spreadsheets and tool portals, yesterday, I found it difficult. I’m definitely for sure over that, already! My thoughts now are of colors, hues, shades, tones, and the challenges of bringing light into pigment, and giving life to an image on paper. I am expanding into the sense of self that feels the most me. It’s comfortable and familiar, and natural; there’s no need to mask anything or operate from some pretense of whatever is defined as properly professional this year, for this or that industry. It may take hours to really sink in, that the next three days are wholly about where inspiration might take me. This is my time.

I breathe, exhale, relax. Some things don’t change. Some practices have value no matter what may be on the calendar. Meditation. Writing in the morning. Enjoying a pleasant walk. We become what we practice. Taking myself to some other physical place to paint doesn’t change what I need to do to care for myself, manage symptoms, and preserve my emotional resilience. I reflect on the successes and failures of various practices over the years. They don’t all work out, and there’s been some trial and error to “finding my way”.

… Shit… I already miss my Traveling Partner and I’m not even gone yet! 😆 Well, I knew that would be a thing. I adore him. We’re deeply connected. Our lives are intertwined. I feel obvious “separation anxiety” when we’re apart – but there is value in the reminder not to take love for granted. We get the benefit of perspective from a chance to miss each other, and reconnect more deeply when we reunite.

So much of life is about love and loving.

At the halfway point of my walk, I sit with my thoughts of my beloved, sleeping at home. I could have set things up to take off for the coast at first light. I didn’t set up my plan that way specifically to run these couple of errands and take the time to hold each other a moment before I go, and do some little things to make him more comfortable and less inconvenienced by my absence. This doesn’t just feel like the right thing to do for him, it meets needs of my own, to support my partner. Without these courtesies, I’d be distracted the whole time I’m away, wondering about his experience, instead of living mine.

… I think about that for a little while…

Daybreak comes. The fog muffles the sound of traffic on the highway adjacent to this nature preserve. The darkness lifts slowly, revealing more fog, and the dark silhouettes of the grand oaks on this hillside. It seems a good setting for self-reflection and meditation. Inspiring. Lately I have been feeling so deeply inspired to paint, it spills over into other things. I’m looking forward to giving in to it for a couple days.

Daybreak comes.

I hear voices, approaching from up the trail. When they come into view, I wave and call out a good morning greeting, to avoid startling two photographers, approaching preoccupied with their conversation and their gear. They return my greeting and walk on past, towards the photographer’s blind out on the marsh. It’s a good time of year for it; migratory birds are passing through, and the weather hasn’t turned shitty yet.

I sigh to myself and bring my thoughts back to my own experience. Here. Now. Nice moment to be. I sit with my thoughts a short while longer, finding it a luxury to do so. I consider my pain, and pain management. Look over my shopping list one more time, before admitting to myself that it’s probably time to begin again. I smile like I know a secret, as I get to my feet, stretching.

… Travel tissues! I add them to my list and get going.

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Categories Allegories, art and the artist, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, inspiration, joy, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, Summer, The Art of Being, The Big 5

How, Though?

September 18, 2026 //
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Choices or routines? It’s almost either/or, but for the fact that even routines are choices.

… This morning I “overslept”…

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

My walk this morning is shorter, and fully in daylight. It’s still morning, still early, and I watch the sunrise develop on the eastern horizon as storm clouds from the west move to “meet the sun halfway”. I reach the halfway point of a shorter walk, and stop to write fewer words. (I meditate, too, but set a ten minute timer.)

Did I fail to set my alarm, or turn it off during the night? Doesn’t matter. I’m here, now.

No reason to take any of this at all personally, or to let it stress me out. I’ve already “caught up with” my timing.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. It’s already time to begin again!

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

We Made This

September 17, 2026 //
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This world we live in – we created it. Together, all of us. It’s a strange thought, isn’t it? Every choice, every action, every mistake, every great new idea; it is through us that we make our world. Choose wisely, eh?

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

This morning I read that Peter Max had died. Monday it was. There’s a little less color in this world with his passing, but realistically, the colors he juxtaposed on canvas (or on envelopes), were not enough to render the world as beautiful as he saw it. I wipe away a single tear with a sad smile and think of Van Gogh for no particular reason.

…I offer them both a silent salute, raising my water bottle to the starry night sky, before I head down the trail…

I rub my hands together a bit for warmth as I reach my halfway point and take a seat for a moment or two. I think of Monet’s failing eyesight, and feel the pain in my thumbs. He kept painting. No doubt I will too, for as long as I’m able.

I sigh to myself feeling the threads connecting my work to theirs. These are more pleasant thoughts, generally, than contemplating the mess humanity has made of the world. Artists and makers know, perhaps more than most people, we are creating this world we live in, all of us, together. So, what are we choosing to make? Is this really what we want? Can’t we do better, relatively easily? I think about that awhile, watching Orion slowly rise in the eastern sky. He’ll vanish from view when daybreak comes.

What exactly are you doing to make the world a better place? I mean the easy stuff, close to home, like treating your partner and family well, and being helpful to a friend, a neighbor, a stranger of another ethnicity. I mean the somewhat harder stuff, too, like speaking truth to power, like standing firm on explicitly calling genocide “genocide”, even if doing so seems to be at odds with national pride or political interests. I mean the obvious stuff, like picking up trash, and keeping things tidy, too. It all counts. It adds up. We could do more, and better.

I think about the weekend ahead. My beloved Traveling Partner programmed the marine traffic radio frequencies into my radio, so I can try listening to the shipping traffic while I’m on the coast. I grin to myself, feeling very loved.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I meditate on gratitude and wonder. I reflect on painting inspiration as yet unfulfilled. I reflect on love and prematurely experience a pang of wistful loss and absence – I will miss my Traveling Partner (I always do). He is my beloved, my muse – why not just paint at home? Why not bring him along? It’s honestly this; I need some solitary time to thrive, and more than that, my passion for my partner is both deeply inspiring, and also an incredible distraction. 😆 When he is near, I will reliably choose his company over most other things, however needful, urgent, or pleasant, those things might be. (It’s admittedly not ideally emotionally healthy, and I am frankly unconcerned.) Since I need to paint and write to be emotionally and mentally well, this sets up a bit of a self-care conflict, internally, so vacations and getaways with my partner are quite a separate thing. This has worked for us. Your results may vary.

I breathe in the autumn scented air. I watch a brightly lit farm machine moving back and forth among the vineyard rows, a way off. Earlier a heavily loaded, slow, quite long freight truck pulled through, on the narrow agricultural access road that cuts through the vineyard. It’s bright colorful lights made a merry display as it bounced slowly along. There’s a hint of sweetness in the air… grapes? Am I imagining the scent?

It’s a lovely beginning to a new day. I slept well. I hope my beloved did too. I think about dinner later – leftover enchiladas. It’s not fancy but the company and conversation will be excellent. My partner is working on a new (work) project. I hope he has a fantastic day working on it. I’m eager for him to tell me more, over dinner.

We live in the world we’ve made. Let’s make it a good one, for everyone. We can begin again. We can do better.

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Categories Allegories, art and the artist, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, inspiration, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, Summer, The Art of Being, The Big 5, thoughts on AI, War and News of War, women, Words

Breathe In, Breathe Out

September 16, 2026 //
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I’m perched on this bench in the gloom of predawn darkness, just before daybreak. The world seems quiet, from here. I could pick up my phone and eliminate the darkness, and wreck the peace of this moment immediately. I like the quiet, and choose to enjoy it, instead.

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

I’m tired this morning. The last handful of nights have been interrupted. I sigh quietly. It could be worse. My anxiety used to wreck my sleep over a ticking clock, or the quiet drip of a faucet.

My relationship with sleep has been problematic since childhood. Sleepwalking at 3 years old became, over time and additional life experience, nightmares, night terrors, sleep paralysis, exploding head dreams, and insomnia. I could probably clean up on a sleep disturbance-themed bingo game. My difficulties with sleep peaked with an aversion to sleep that eventually developed out of the terror of domestic violence. That was a lifetime ago, in another place, and in the context of a relationship that is long gone and behind me. (I’m grateful to have survived.)

Sleep disorders and difficulties with sleep are pretty common for people.

In still another relationship, a threesome of us cohabitating, my sleep was commonly wrecked by OPD (Other People’s Drama). My two partners argued (loudly) often during the wee hours of the night, and the way the floor plan was designed sort of funneled all of the sound directly towards my room. When I complained,  I was told firmly that my sleep problems were my own problem and to deal with it. Rude. Also unkind, unsupportive, and one hundred percent without any regard for their actually terrible behavior, yes, I get that. The view from here is very clear. 😆 I knew the relationship wasn’t going to work, in the long run. We weren’t all on the same page about the sanctity of each other’s sleep.

… One nice thing came out of that; I got an aquarium, and enjoyed nurturing a thriving planted freshwater community tank for many years, that looked amazing in my apartment after I walked away from that unpleasant situation.

… One necessary thing (urgently so at that point) also developed out of my difficulty sleeping, and the degradation of my mental health that progressed quickly from that point; I got into therapy, and began making real progress (such that I did walk away from that abysmal and destructive relationship). My sleep improved quickly from there.

I already had the keys to unlock good sleep “in my hands”, once I was in a safe environment. My current Traveling Partner (and longtime friend) had pointed out to me early in our relationship that my anxiety and frustration about not sleeping was making my insomnia worse, and as I went without good quality restful sleep longer and longer, everything else got much worse, too. What if I could give up the stress about not sleeping and start with being okay with being awake? I would lose the same amount of sleep maybe, but wouldn’t my overall experience be much improved? He definitely turned out to be right about that.

These days, my sleep is not sufficiently poor to bother getting up and doing anything, but for a long time it was, and I did, and that worked out nicely. Even when I was short on sleep, that was no longer compounded by seething fury, resentment, anxiety, or fear of consequences, although I might still be cross about being tired, my days were less affected. It was a major improvement.

These days? Oh. Yeah. My Traveling Partner was right about my apnea, too, and I sleep with a CPAP mask. It has made a huge difference in my quality of rest and ability to actually sleep. (If your partner is griefing you about your snoring, get a damned sleep test, stop being a dick about it, and don’t make them endure a decade of poor quality sleep over your refusal to accept that your snoring is a problem. I promise you it is.)

…My beloved is right about a lot of things. 😂 It can be a little irritating sometimes…

One other suggestion? Don’t make your wakefulness during the night everyone else’s problem. Find something to do, quietly, and let the world sleep. It doesn’t improve anything to disrupt sleep environment of others in your life, and doing so will generate anger and resentment over time. Seriously. If you are seething with frustration, anxiety, dread, or anger during the night, you are compounding the problem of poor sleep with negative emotions that can linger, or worsen your outlook on life needlessly. It doesn’t help you, or anyone else. Learn to calm yourself, then tackle the issue of difficult sleep with a calm mind.

… Definitely don’t wreck a peaceful night with a lot of loud bullshit or drama for fucks sake (anything one might wish to discuss contentiously can wait for the light of day, I promise), literally no one benefits from that, and it is exceedingly unpleasant…

I breathe, exhale, and relax, grateful to have benefited from my partner’s wisdom.  I’m tired this morning, after several nights of interrupted sleep, but I’m in a decent mood anyway. Progress paying off.

I meditate. Write awhile. Breathe and exist on a chilly autumn morning, grateful to see another sunrise. Gratitude is a very pleasant feeling. I lean into it, embrace it, immerse myself in it; it is an excellent start to the day. The dawn sky is a delicate seashell pink. The dark green trees silhouetted on the horizon are edged here and there with hints of autumn, gold and rusty red.

I get to my feet, looking down the path as I stretch. It’s a good time to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Sleepless Nights, solo hiking, Summer, The Art of Being, women, Words

Compassion and Listening Deeply

September 15, 2026 //
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I learned something over the past couple of days. Well, I mean, I had a moment of epiphany, in which a thing (or two) clicked into place and I had an “aha!” moment of wonder and delight that almost caused me to be an ass, when my partner definitely expected me to be listening. Deeply.

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

So, for context, I’m pretty shit at listening deeply with great care and focus. Brain damage is a bitch. No doubt it’ll be a lifetime of practice to get even close to the goal of deep listening routinely without internal reminders and distracting silent admonishments. I’ll get there, maybe. I’ll keep practicing.

I’m definitely a considerate and caring person, with a soft spot for friends and loved ones and a desire that they not suffer needlessly, nor most especially over something I’ve done or said… Which, put that way probably illustrates a critical limitation I am still working through, rather more obviously than I would have intended. I feel a bit pained to read those words and cringe a bit. The thing is, I reason most clearly through analogy and metaphor and understanding shared experience, which is all well and good in the abstract, but…

… When someone is experiencing acute pain of some sort, they really don’t want to hear that you understand completely because of some experience you’ve had that you’re now eager to share. Frankly, I’ve probably lost some friends with that shit. Although my intentions were good, my effort to connect and heal and nurture or comfort just resulted in someone feeling less well understood and possibly quite annoyed. Not an ideal way to approach listening…

…For some reason, it really clicked last night. My Traveling Partner was going through some shit I really really do understand only too well. I started to share my experience, to communicate understanding, and demonstrate compassion… and it was like a bright light. I got it. After all this while. Shut up and listen, let the other person say what their experience is like. Ask about that. Listen more.

Holy shit. Is it that simple?? Maybe not. Whatever would be that simple?.. but it’s sure better than being an ass and talking over someone trying to share their experience with tales of some other experience they definitely don’t care about in that moment. They want to feel heard. So…um… listen.

… Listen…

I sigh to myself. I really hate when stuff I struggle with turns out to have a very simple “problem statement” that makes sense and brings clarity. Not because I don’t find value in that, it’s just a bit embarrassing to find myself on the receiving end of yet another such moment of clarity, after so much struggle, and have it sound so simple. Now the trick will be to make use of it.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. The night sky still surrounds me. It’s quiet out here on the trail this morning. Not yet daybreak, and a head full of thoughts already. I didn’t sleep well. My sleep became very restless and disturbed after multiple interruptions. I woke irritated and although I am not groggy, I’m also not well-rested. (The weekend is so close, I remind myself, hang in there… there’s a long weekend of deep restful sleep waiting for me.)

I grabbed coffee at the gas station while I filled the tank. It’s fairly dreadful gas station coffee, only slightly better than “waiting at the tire place coffee”, which can substitute as cleaning solvent I’m sure. I’m enjoying the feeling of the warm cup in my hands more than I’m drinking it – my stomach will thank me. I sip it as it cools, and my brain catches up as the caffeine starts working. Doesn’t seem so bad, after my brain realizes this is coffee.

… It’s still pretty bad, but drinkable…

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I meditate, and reflect. I write. After some little while,  I’ll finish this walk and begin a new day. Hopefully I can maintain some resilience and enjoy the day in spite of being fatigued. It’s a good goal. I’ll refrain from taking shit personally. I’ll let small shit stay small. I’ll refuse to drink poison. I won’t take bait. I’ll focus on being the woman I most want to be. That’s got to be enough.

With all that in mind, I begin again.

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Categories Allegories, anger, Anxiety, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, gratitude, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, Summer, The Art of Being, The Big 5, women, Words
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