Time to Reset the Operating System

May 15, 2026 //
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Sometimes it’s necessary to do a “reset” and update some settings. I gaze into the little strip of trees along the creek bank. It’s hard not to notice the apartment buildings on the other side. I sigh to myself, frustrated by this feeling of my consciousness being encroached upon. There’s a certain lasting fatigue that seems to linger even after a good night’s rest. I fight it unsuccessfully with sleep, meditation, healthy breaks from work, half-assed attempts at boundary setting… I need to “reset my OS” (metaphorically speaking).

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

I’ve got a room booked on the coast for the weekend, and a couple of meetings I can’t dodge between now and hitting the highway heading for a sunset ocean view. My Traveling Partner is right; I need a break, and I also need to reset my understanding of what he’s capable of, now. I breathe, exhale, and relax. Nice morning for it. I haven’t even packed yet. I rarely do anything so spontaneous. I chuckle out loud to myself, and hearing the sound, I am struck by how much it resembles my Mother’s laugh, and my Granny’s. I smile. I’m okay with that.

I got home last night after some quick grocery shopping, to discover that my beloved had cleaned the house more or less top to bottom over the course of the day. He’s clearly less disabled than he has been. I’ve got to stop behaving as if he needs continuous assistance with everything. It’s not true, and I am myself made of mortal flesh. I’d do well to recalibrate and adapt to the new normal. As I think the thought a wave of relief washes over me. I’ve worked so hard to care for him, and endured much. I’m due a bit of a break and he’s surely due the opportunity to simply be, without my constant worried fussing.

“Baby Love” blooming by the front door.

A simple question remains; will the damned deer ever stop eating my fucking roses?! Oh. “No.” The answer is no. 😆 But that’s not the question. The actual question is; can I get myself to slow down and care for myself, for real? Buy a couple new bras that actually fit? Get my hair cut? Maybe sleep in? Spend a day painting without distractions? Shop without anyone else in mind? It’s not at all easy to give up all the caregiving habits that were so much a part of the last two years. It is now necessary to complete the process of shifting gears again, back from steadfast accommodating caregiver to partner, friend, and lover. I am relieved and grateful… And I need a break to care for myself and update my thinking.

“Rainbow Happy Trails” blooming, too.

… And the deer will go on eating my damned roses, because they are having their own experience and care nothing about the circumstances of my human life…

“Whimsy” finally blooms for the first time since I planted her.

For real though, I’m glad I got some pictures of the roses in bloom yesterday, because this morning the flowers are all gone. I sigh to myself. Life isn’t perfect; it’s a journey. The journey is the destination. (And deer eat roses.) I’m not even bitching (well, maybe a little),  by most definitions, things are okay. Hell, I’m making a little weekend getaway to the coast happen on very short notice. That feels good even if the price of gas is still eye poppingly expensive. $5.33?? Are you kidding me with this shit? Ffs, take his toys away and put that senile old clown on a fucking time out. 😆

The sun rises behind me. A low mist in the vineyard hints at a cooler morning. It may be chilly on the coast. I remind myself to pack a warm sweater and wear my fleece. I smile, feeling light. It’s time to begin again.

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Categories 2024 Election, Allegories, Anxiety, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, Spring, The Art of Being, women, Words

Well Hello, Opportunity

May 14, 2026 //
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It is an ordinary morning, begun in the usual way, following a night of very sound and restful sleep. I woke feeling merry and grateful to have a comfortable bed and a partner with the thoughtfulness to adjust the thermostat when the weather changes.

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

All the way down the trail this morning, I thought about the weekend ahead. With my Traveling Partner’s encouragement, I am planning to take a couple days to rest (and maybe paint) on the coast. I’m rarely so last minute about such things, and I am delighted to have the opportunity, if I can make it work out. I walk with my thoughts, sifting through my recollections of various other similar short getaways. I have options. A rough plan begins to take shape… A short work day, a relaxed drive to the coast, an “early” check-in if I can get it, and an ocean view room from which to watch the sun set, sounds like a fine beginning. I sometimes surprise myself by being able to sleep in, at the coast. Is it the sound of the sea? The scent of the ocean breeze? I don’t know, really, but I’m happy to continue to study the phenomenon. 😆

I sit at my halfway point now, thinking about the weekend ahead. Painting or photography? Reading or writing? Meditation or beachcombing? Does it have to be either/or? I can mix and match. I grin thinking about times when I’ve packed for every possible option and found myself just napping, stargazing, and enjoying a bit of sightseeing instead of doing any of the things I had tried to prepare for. 😆 Human primates are weird.

… What do I really need most out of this time? I sit quietly reflecting on that…

What matters most? It’s a big question. I sit with that awhile. I decide to keep things simple, and open, and a very loose “plan” (so unlike me) and see where the journey takes me, for a change. Low effort, maximum rest. I’ve always got my sketchbox in the car, and my cellphone is more camera than phone in everyday use. I’ll bring a book and a change of clothes. It feels like enough. I’m only going for a day, framed by two nights.  It’s more about getting the restful quiet time than any agenda or itinerary. I’m not looking for an achievement.

I smile to myself, feeling easy. This feels somehow “settled” now. I shift gears to thinking about today. I remind myself to stop at the store on my way home from work. It’s not yet the weekend, and there’s today to be lived. I bring myself back to here, now, and draw in a deep breath of cool Spring air. Pretty morning. Cloudy skies but no rain, cool but not cold. I’m okay with this. I chuckle to myself; it wouldn’t change anything if I weren’t okay with it. Reality would just go on being real, at least with regard to the weather. The weather is not within my control.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. It’s almost time to begin the day. I wonder briefly how many of you read the layers of meaning or look for the lessons or metaphors? I smile to myself, unconcerned, just curious. I get to my feet and turn towards the sun. It’s time to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, inspiration, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, Spring, The Art of Being, Words

When Rain Falls

May 13, 2026 //
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This morning I woke aching, feeling a bit twisted, and wondering what woke me early. It’s raining. Simply that, nothing more. I don’t mind some rain, and the garden will love it. I ran my fingers through my hair, as I stood at the bathroom sink, a little bleary eyed, a little tired.

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

I got to the trailhead a little before daybreak. The sky was already light enough to reveal stormy sky overhead, no colorful sunrise this morning. I sigh to myself and get out of the car. Just a sprinkle now, the rain won’t slow me down.

Sometimes it rains.

I walked with my thoughts. Uncomplicated solitary time on a Spring morning. I walk. It’s enough.

I think about the upcoming weekend. My beloved Traveling Partner has suggested, multiple times now, that I take a couple days – the upcoming weekend – and get away for a couple days and really rest. He sees the strain and lingering fatigue I’m dealing with. I think about it. It does sound good… Too early for camping yet (for me), I don’t sleep well enough in the cold and damp to enjoy the experience of tent camping in early Spring. A room on the coast? A cabin in the mountains? A yurt at the edge of the high desert? I sigh to myself; I don’t want to spend money on myself right now. I’m being ridiculous. I would benefit from a couple days alone. My beloved wouldn’t suggest it several times, if it weren’t clear I need a break from the world.

I get to my halfway point still thinking about where to go, maybe, this weekend.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. The rain has stopped. I meditate awhile. I do find meditation a helpful practice for building resilience, finding balance, and maintaining a calm and centered experience. Lately it isn’t enough “all the time” to bring balance and peace when the world is so chaotic and stress-inducing. It’s s little little walking uphill on an icy surface. The residual damage of early life and young adult trauma, and latent mental health issues, weigh on me heavily these days, and really test the progress I’ve made. I look at my hands, and recognize that using them to gauge “how I’m doing right now” is pretty useful. They are neat, manicured, and healthy, no torn cuticles; clearly I’m okay, for most values of okay.

The break in the rain becomes a mist, then a sprinkle. I gaze into the stormy sky above. More rain? Oh, yeah. The sprinkle starts to evolve into a proper bit of rain. I get to my feet and pull my fleece close around me for warmth, as I take cover under the oaks, and finish my writing. Rain will fall. That’s just real. What we do about it matters more.

I sigh to myself, regretting that I didn’t grab my rain poncho this morning. I wipe the drops off the screen of my phone, complete this sentence, and begin again.

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Categories 2024 Election, Allegories, Anxiety, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, health, Healthy Living, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, solo hiking, Spring, The Art of Being, War and News of War, women, Words

The Weeds In My Garden

May 12, 2026 //
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My garden is not perfectly tidy, in manicured precise rows of flowers and shrubs. Not in real life, and definitely not metaphorically. lol I am a lazy rather haphazard, sloppy, somewhat careless gardener. It’s a problem, sometimes.

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

“Cranesbill”, a common weed around here. It’s a wild geranium.

“Weeds” and wildflowers share one differentiating characteristic; whether or not they are growing in one’s garden or lawn, or out in the wild somewhere. 😆 Cranesbill cropping up in the lawn is vexing, and I’ve been ripping it out of my garden when I see it, too. The other day I saw it thriving in a corner of a flower bed full of native wildflowers at the local university and it struck me quite differently. I’ve decided to let it thrive in my flowerbed, to attract native bees and pollinators to my garden. Maybe also in recognition of how many of my own “flaws” are more than a little dependent on situations and circumstances (or other people) to define them as such. It’s worth thinking about. Who do you, yourself, most want to be? What grows in your “garden”?

… It’s a good metaphor…

We become what we practice. The qualities we nurture in ourselves and in others tend to become the qualities that define our groups and communities. What path are you on? What are you encouraging in those around you? What weeds are you pulling out – and what wildflowers do you encourage? What defines the difference?

I sit at my halfway point on this trail. Quite likely a bit past the halfway point in my life, too. 63 this year. I breathe, exhale, and relax. I don’t get everything right all the time, but I know a beautiful flower when I see one, and I recognize a beautiful sunrise on a Spring morning. That counts for something.

Softly, as in a morning sunrise…

I sit with the moment for some little while, noticing that the cranesbill here along the trail hasn’t yet flowered, and wondering about the difference in timing between that and those growing in the university flowerbed. I think about the weeds in my own garden. Most of the weeds are lawn grass encroaching on the flowerbed or trying to survive in the raised beds where I grow vegetables (a byproduct of carelessly strewn grass seed by the Anxious Adventurer). Funny how much the location and circumstances matter to how weeds are defined. I think about it awhile.

The sun rises without any help from me. Another day begins. There are new choices and opportunities ahead, and new chances to tend my garden with care, considering each flower and each weed in context. Pulling the weeds keeps the garden tidy and beautiful – and yes, it’s a metaphor. It’s not always clear which are weeds and which are flowers. “Choose wisely,” I remind myself, and then I begin again.

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

I Had a Thought…

May 11, 2026 //
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… It’s gone now. If only I had had the foresight to jot down the thought when it occurred to me. I sit thinking about that for awhile; the ludicrous number of times I’ve had a thought that seemed worthy of further reflection, set it aside “for later”, and then lost track of it completely.

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

Weird world. It now costs almost $60 to fill my Mazda CX5’s gas tank with regular. Craziness. Everything costs more. Wages are worth less. Billionaires get richer. I have a doctor’s appointment later that I now regret scheduling. It’s not that I don’t need the medical care, it’s that I resent the time and expense required to obtain it. Somehow my actual health is a lower priority than shareholder profits for health insurers, and I’m pretty repulsed by that, on top of the cost and inconvenience. I sigh to myself and listen to my tinnitus ringing away in my ears.

It’s a beautiful Spring morning. I pull myself back to this moment, this place, sitting in the sunshine at the halfway point on this morning’s walk.

Blue sky and green oaks.

The sky is a clear cerulean blue this morning. I sit quietly, letting these precious solitary minutes tick by. I did a completely crappy job of “taking it easy” this weekend. My Traveling Partner needed help with this and that, and I was around. It’s hard not to offer to help, and harder still to decline if asked to be helpful for a moment or a task, and the weekend ended up consumed by those helpful efforts. I’m not mad about it, nor resentful – I’m also not well rested, nor did I get fuck-all done for “self-care”. I guess I’m grateful I didn’t hurt myself, and I got the laundry done, and some basic housekeeping along the way.

Here it is Monday. I’m not mad about that either. I’m a little annoyed about the doctor’s appointment though. I feel as if I just don’t have time to be bothered with caring for this fragile vessel at all. Fuck it – use it up! Only… there’s no way to simply get a new one. This is it. This is the mortal “vehicle” that has to carry me the entire distance on this journey. I already know I need to take better care of it.

I sigh to myself and fret over this incredibly commonplace challenge; taking care of myself, and taking time for myself, when it seems the world has other demands on my time and my energy. Adulting is hard.

My Traveling Partner gets it. He did his best to ask for my help only when he really needed it. He is encouraging me to get away for the weekend, next weekend. I’m thinking about it, but also struggling with myself to justify the expense. I breathe, exhale, and relax, and let all that go, again, to more deeply enjoy this moment in the Spring sunshine.

I sit awhile with my thoughts. I’m not going to rush the moment. The day will be busy enough later on. For now, I can slow down and just be. It’s enough. I’m grateful for this beautiful morning. I can begin again later.

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Categories Allegories, breathe, Free Will, Frustration, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, pain, Perspective, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, Spring, The Art of Being, Words
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