Zoom Out

June 18, 2026 //
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The morning begins gently, if a bit earlier than I’d hoped. I dress, water the lawn, and head to the trailhead.

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

I started down the trail as the sunrise began, walking towards the west, counterclockwise on the loop that circles the vineyard. I walk with my thoughts, still processing an epiphany I brought back with me from my coastal getaway. Something to do with time management and presence and meeting my need for solitude and creative time “on the cheap” and more reliably (and without having to upend my routine every time I need to catch a breath or practice self-care more skillfully). I am grateful for the opportunity to “reset” my understanding of my Traveling Partner’s improved capabilities, too. I feel more easily able to simply enjoy him as he is, without constantly working to anticipate (or soothe) every need and every circumstance. It feels good to be able to focus on what I also need, again.

Zoom out, see a bigger picture.

My self-care “stall points” are pretty commonplace I suppose. I enjoy my beloved’s companionship greatly, and I am easily tempted into doing nothing at all aside from enjoying his company, which definitely prevents me from getting things done. I often attempt to counter this by jumping to immediately handle any task mentioned to me, to avoid forgetting it. The result is that I am constantly spinning from distraction to distraction without making room for what I need for myself, to be well and to thrive. It’s a puzzle. Stepping away and considering my life while a bit removed from it gave me a new perspective from which to compare, contrast, and evaluate. Useful time spent on self-reflection.

Zoom in, consider the details.

I reflect on my thoughts about better self-care, and being a better partner from the vantage point of my halfway point on this familiar trail. These aren’t new thoughts, not entirely, it’s more that they have resurfaced and gained my attention at a moment when I can give them deeper consideration. Useful.

I’ve decided to add two practices to my day-to-day routine, and resurrect another that I had dropped when life was too full with caregiving. The two new practices are rather simple and mostly about time management: firstly, I’ll take 15-20 minutes after work each day for solitude, (just sitting quietly and allowing my mental buffer time enough to clear out anything still queued up at the end of the day would allow me to feel more easily able to be fully present with my partner) and secondly, I’m going to begin committing two hours on the weekends for studio art. I’ll take the time from time I often spend just chilling on the couch with no purpose in mind and which could be better spent – and giving up a portion of the weekend to artistic endeavors sounds very nurturing, to me.

As far as a practice that got dropped being resurrected, I’m going to get back to practicing yoga. Healthy movement has lasting value and I definitely spend too much time just sitting. 😆 I can begin slowly and work around my injuries gently. It’ll be good for me. (And hey, better fitness will likely mean better sex, too! Win!)

I watch the trees become filled with light. The sun has crested the horizon and it is a new day. I have a new opportunity to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, art and the artist, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, inspiration, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, Spring, Summer, The Art of Being, weight loss secrets, women, Words

Finishing Touches

June 17, 2026 //
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I woke early, but after daybreak, and headed down to the beach to walk as the sun rose. The tide is going out, and as it recedes, rock formations and tide pools are revealed. As I begin, everything is in shades of gray, the foam crests of each wave seeming luminous on the opaque gray of the ocean. As I return, the sky is lit with shades of pink and edged with pale blue. There are gray clouds on the horizon. Feels cool enough for rain, but my bones say “not today”. I return to the room too early for a better coffee in town, and settle for the coffee in my hotel room. It’s enough.

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

I sit down at the table with my coffee and this lovely view, ocean waves below, sky streaked with pink and blue above, horizon beyond. I could sit with this view for days and never miss television or videos at all.

Another sunrise.

As I sip my coffee, I notice a detail on one of the new paintings that I am not ideally satisfied with, and since I still have all my pastels out, I get up and make some final changes. “Finishing touches.” I listen to the wind and the waves, and watch the tide recede.

…I’ve still got to pack…

An hour, minimum, to a better cup of coffee, or a bite of breakfast. I don’t feel like going out, then coming back to the room, though… I sigh to myself thinking about the packing. A shower. Reloading the car. I can feel my eagerness to return home beginning to replace my enthusiasm for this place. When I notice I’m lost in moments that are not now, I pull myself back. It is worth it to enjoy here, now, just as it is, awhile longer.

…I’ll be home soon, I’m here, now…

The waves approaching the shore appear quite a bit larger than previous days, and I find myself wondering whether it is an illusion. As if on cue a tiny man down on the beach below walks into my view. Assuming he is of average height, the waves are larger than they have generally been. They appear almost surf-able, aside from the flesh-shredding bone-breaking truth of the multitude of jagged rocks unseen, barely covered by the ebb tide. This would not be safe location for surfing, I suspect. I chuckle to myself; Oregon beaches are not known for being great surfing locations, as far as I know. Not my sport, though, and I know only that I would not myself be interested in surfing here, nor even swimming in that icy cold water.

I sip my coffee, watch the tide go out, and think about art. This has been a nice bit of time away. I’ve gotten some beautiful pictures, and a lot of inspiration for future work in pastels. I’ve gotten a few miles on my boots, and spent some time “hearing myself think”. I finished reading Jurassic Park, which was much better than the movie adaptation. I slept in. I took naps. I felt the burden and stress of work lifted from my shoulders and from my thoughts. I have had a chance to miss my Traveling Partner for a little while – and I’m eager to return home. It’s time to get “back to life“.

The sun begins to light the crests of waves further down the beach, but I know they’ll reach the section of beach directly beyond my window shortly. I put on a playlist with a good groove for dancing and packing things up. It’s time to put the finishing touches on this coastal getaway, meditate, and think about better coffee and a bite to eat.

Wind, waves, a ticking clock.

…I’m definitely missing my Traveling Partner. Of all my choices in life, the choice to travel through life with this particular human as my companion on this journey is probably one of my best. I grin into my empty coffee cup. It’s for sure time to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, art and the artist, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, inspiration, joy, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Spring, Summer, The Art of Being, women, Words

Can You Not?

June 16, 2026 //
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I breathe, exhale, and relax, and set aside everything else but this view and this moment for one minute. Just one minute of pure beautiful stillness, listening to the wind and the waves. How about it? Can you… not?

Taking just one minute.

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

One minute can feel unexpectedly long without any distractions. Why race through life’s finite precious moments at the speed of doom scrolling? Take a minute. Breathe. Slow down. Savor the moment. This one. The next. Each moment is unique and fleeting. Unrepeatable.

… Being present slows that ticking clock…

Another breath, another moment, another beginning. I reread the last few pages of the book I brought with me; I had fallen asleep reading last night, and I felt certain I’d missed something. I wasn’t wrong. 😆

I finish one last cup of coffee as I lay out my work space on the small table in this room. Spending a day painting nurtures something within myself that I can’t satisfy any other way, but there’s no need to rush. I can take all the time I need.

An easel and a view.

I sigh contentedly and take a minute to listen to the wind and the waves, and to gaze quietly out the window before I begin again.

Wind and waves and shades of blue.

I pause my painting to consider lunch. I settle for a cup of tea and a multivitamin, and return to my easel. The ocean has taken on a cloudy gray appearance and the shades of blue shift towards a troubled gray green. The gulls seem to like it, and they drift across my view surfing the invisible waves and currents in the air. It pleases me greatly to stare out at the changing view with my pastels in front of me. I add a hue to my palette. I remove others. I feel relaxed and unbothered and in my element.

… Given the time and resources, I might spend every day at my easel…

I sigh to myself happily, stretching and working the kinks out of my neck and back before I return to creative work. This fragile vessel needs a certain amount of care and maintenance if it is expected to endure hours at my easel, however delightfully those hours may pass. 😆

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I tape a fresh piece of pastelbord to my easel, and begin again.

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Categories Allegories, art and the artist, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, inspiration, joy, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Spring, The Art of Being

Pink, Gray, and Pain

June 16, 2026 //
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Some of the most useful “tools” in my self-care/mental health “toolbox” seem to be those to do with pain management, or which serve some other purpose, but also make it maybe a bit easier to manage pain. This seems odd to me any time I’m not in pain, but when I wake twisted with arthritis pain early on some morning, I’m grateful.

The view I woke to is no less beautiful because of pain.

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

I woke in pain to a cooler morning. The sunrise isn’t visible from here, but I see it reflected in the pink hues of the dawn sky over the western horizon. A distant bank of stormy looking clouds hangs above the horizon, a dark gray beneath fluffy white. The ocean reflects back silver gray like brushed aluminum, each wave reaching the shore crested in a curl of white. The ebb tide seems to sound different to me than the flood tide that will come later today, sometime in the afternoon.

…If the beach were just a little bit easier to get to from here, I’d already be headed down there to check out the tide pools before the day warms up, and while the beach is deserted. I hurt too much for that right now, and I want to paint later, so I sip my coffee and avoid exhausting myself…

Gulls fly by the window, calling to each other. A crow flies by. The morning sky continues to evolve. I sip my coffee letting the dawn sky and the beach scene beyond the window entice me with inspiration. Swallows swoop and dive just beyond the window. There are so many! The textured gray of the ocean holds my attention for a while, working out just how to capture that in pastels. Breakfast crosses my mind, and more coffee.

A beautiful view is sometimes enough distraction.

One of the most powerful pain management tools I’ve got doesn’t come in a pill. It’s distraction. Simply that; distracting myself from focusing on my pain prevents it from dominating my experience in the moment and frees my attention for other things. By itself, it may not reliably be enough to manage my pain, but it is useful, and it really does help to focus on other things, most particularly things that may evoke wonder, curiosity, awe, joy, or delight. I’m grateful for this beautiful view.

…I’m grateful for this solitary time…

I stretch and sigh to myself. Practices being what they are, there are things yet to do this morning to begin the day. Meditation. A walk (yes, even in this amount of pain, I just have to go to a beach access point that doesn’t involve endless stairs down a cliff to get to the beach) – my morning never feels quite right if I don’t get a walk in more or less first thing. lol My bones feel less stiff, and I know a hot shower will help more. I think about the day ahead as the view continues to evolve.

…Ooh, breakfast…

It’s as good a time as any to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, art and the artist, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, inspiration, joy, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, solo hiking, Spring, Summer, The Art of Being

Better Than Bad

June 15, 2026 //
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“Are we there yet?” What a strange journey. I sip my morning coffee looking out over the beach at the ocean. I woke to a lovely pearly dawn – and I slept in! What a treat. My first cup of coffee this morning is better than it was last time I stayed here. There is a new and very clean coffee machine in the room. It’s not fantastic coffee, but it’s not bad. I sip it carefully as it cools a bit, contemplating what it takes to make a truly exceptional cup of coffee. What do I even consider to be “a truly exceptional cup of coffee”? I sigh and let it go; as with most things, enough is truly enough.

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

The view I woke to this morning.

I think further about sufficiency, and remind myself that there are circumstances in which “sufficiency” is easily conflated with some compromise in cost or availability or timing that renders something wholly inadequate to the purpose at hand – in which case that isn’t “sufficient” at all, it’s an unfortunate compromise that does not work out well.

…We have to balance a lot of choices in this human life…

I sip my coffee thinking about tools, and how having the right tool for the job is pretty important. A poor choice of tool can ruin delicate work, or slow down completion of an important task. Living a life in which “sufficiency” is an important practice doesn’t mean making poor choices, it’s more about making wise ones. It’s an important distinction. Sometimes what is “sufficient” is actually a whole lot more in some way that I expect it to be. What is “enough” for me, in this moment or for this purpose, may not be “enough” for someone else, or for some other need, or some other time. It feels a bit like a moving goal post, but it is more to do with context and understanding.

…My Mazda is entirely sufficient for my own needs, but it made for a very poor substitute for a pick-up truck for my Traveling Partner’s work needs…

I listen to the waves crash in as I sip my coffee. Is it “sufficient”? Probably. Will I still go forth into the world for something better? Yes, I will. I’m not visiting the coast to experience austerity or seeking to limit myself solely to what is sufficient, this morning – I’m here to paint and to fill my senses with the wind and the waves, and my mind with inspiration. I’m not saying that requires a better cup of coffee, but I would enjoy one. Maybe with a freshly made bagel, down on the beach, perched on the end of some massive driftwood log, with a good view of the rock formation beyond my window, and shaded by the cliff that separates the town from the sea? That sounds pretty good. Definitely better than bad.

What will I find down on the beach?

Yesterday was hot. This hotel room does not have AC (it was built before climate change brought seriously hot days to the summers in this region). I had the window open to the cool sea breeze, but after miles of beach walking in the morning, the heat of the afternoon knocked me out and I napped on and off into the evening – and then still slept through the night! It was a delight to wake to the morning light flooding the room. This room has a nice angle and the light will be good for painting, a little later. I feel rested and alert and alive. I finish my coffee, and morning meditation. I sit awhile, letting my mind wander, listening to the waves.

Each time for the first time. Each moment the only moment. Ichi-go ichi-e. Be here now. Vita contemplativa. The clock is ticking – so what? Let it tick. There is time for “now”.

Give me a minute – in due time I’ll begin again.

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Categories Allegories, art and the artist, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, inspiration, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Spring, Summer, The Art of Being, Words
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