Shades of Blue and Green

June 12, 2026 //
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I head down the road to a welcoming quiet trail along the Willamette River, singing a favorite rather poignant love song out loud, acapella, and probably off key. Doesn’t matter, what matters is the meaning of the heartfelt words. Love is perhaps the most human and humbling of experiences.

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

… But what do I even know? I’m just one woman living a mortal life…

I watch the sun rise as I drive to the trailhead singing love songs badly on my birthday. I arrive at this beautiful place, with my thoughts and my baggage, and hoping to do a better job of being the woman I most want to be without compromise or regret in the year to come.

Every dawn is a chance to begin again and to make the choices to be (and become) the person we most want to be.

I start down the trail and immediately find myself facing a choice. That’s often how things go. We make a lot of choices in life. Many of those will turn out to have been poor choices, once we’re further down the path life takes us, sometimes it’s hard to know when we make the choice. Ideally we learn from the experience and do something different next time. Doesn’t always work out that way… it’s a very human experience.

Go left or go right? It’s a simple choice, and either way this trail will bring me back to this place. Yes, it’s a metaphor.

I walk on. Does it matter what my choice was? Sure, it matters. My perspective will change based on my choice. I’ll see the world and my own circumstances quite differently perhaps. I walk on down the trail with my thoughts, enjoying the blue sky overhead and the many hues and shades of green. The meadow smells of Spring flowers: clover, blackberries, wild cucumber and wild carrot, various meadow flowers for which I lack names.

A robin on a fence post.

Snails, rabbits, robins, squirrels, chipmunks, a small fast lizard, a garter snake, bluejays… I stay alert as I walk. This beautiful place is home for a lot of creatures. This is a pleasant beginning for my birthday. I’ve taken today off, and also three days next week. I’ve got two of those planned for a bit of solitary time on the coast, the rest I will spend with my beloved, as much of it as he has patience for. It will be time well spent, it generally is. He’s smart and funny (and having his own experience). I’m grateful for the time we share in this too brief mortal life.

I find a pleasant spot to stop awhile, to write and to reflect on the year that has passed and to contemplate the year ahead. I could do with less chaos and turmoil. Less sheer willpower pushing me to complete tasks and more thoughtful self-care would be good, too. Doing a more skillful job of listening and loving would be a good choice, with less waiting to talk or being pissed off about dumb shit.

You know what is harder than practicing mindfulness? Living mindfully. You know what is more complicated than living mindfully? Loving mindfully. The amount of vulnerability and openness required is…much. The patience, kindness, and compassion involved are hard to overstate. The listening. The acceptance. The self-awareness. All of it takes practice. I fail a lot. I begin again over and over. I keep practicing. Incremental change over time is something I know I can count on, but it can be slow.

… And the clock is always ticking…

It’s about the journey, though, these precious mortal moments aren’t obstacles, they are the main event. I sit watching the sunlight change the green hues of the forest and the shrubs along the trail with seemingly infinite variety. There’s something to learn from sunlight through leaves. The trees and shrubs are what they are, it is the light that tranforms them. I sit with the thought awhile.

Shades of green on a Spring morning.

Three dogs run up the path, chasing each other playfully and darting in an out of the meadow, chasing each other, and the small rabbits hiding in the grass. A man approaches on the trail. “They’re friendly!” he calls to me. He’s loud. I’m not interested in conversation. I wave but don’t speak. I’m annoyed by the dogs being unleashed. The park signage is quite clear that dogs need to be on a leash, here. This man chose to behave differently. He doesn’t even have leashes with him.

… I find myself thinking about behavior vs feelings, and behavior vs intentions. We make so many choices in how we behave. I consider my own choices and behavior. How can I do a better job of reliably choosing the best behavior, moment to moment? This is worth considering.

A little while later (must be that time of morning), a woman approaches with three dogs, leashed. They are quite large, and well-behaved. They walk calmly alongside her. She stops occasionally to let them check out the scents along the trail. She waves politely as she approaches, but doesn’t break the beautiful stillness and quiet with loud greetings. I wave back. There is discipline and intention evident in her behavior and that of her dogs.

People making choices.

I watch to see which path the dog walkers will take. I’ll go down a different path, when I resume walking. I’m making choices, too. I breathe, exhale, and relax. It’s a nice morning for meditation, and a nice morning to begin again.

I wish myself a happy birthday, and let my thoughts wander on as the sun rises through the shades of blue and green.

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Categories Allegories, Anxiety, Brain Injury, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, inspiration, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, Spring, The Art of Being, The Big 5, Words

A Hint of Fog

June 11, 2026 //
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The morning mist caught me by surprise. No reason it should, I suppose; the temperature warmed in the wee hours after several cool Spring days, and today is expected to be hot (27C/80F). Tomorrow is forecast to be even hotter, and there is an extreme heat advisory.

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

The sunrise began with a ferocious heat-threatening diffuse orange. Pretty, although I’m not looking forward to the heat or increased wildfire risk. I remind myself to drink plenty of water.

Beautiful sunrise, hot day ahead.

The mist clings to the low places, gathering in near the rivers and creeks mostly. It envelopes me as the trail turns to wrap around the vineyard, leading me down closer to the creek that runs adjacent to the trail. As I walk I wonder if maybe I should have worn a fleece or my cardigan? It’s not hot yet. 😆 I’m chilly, in spite of walking.

I get to my halfway point and stop to write and reflect. It is Thursday. (Already?) Tomorrow is my birthday, 63. (Already?) I’m taking a few days off, an entire week. My Traveling Partner is in the middle of an important work project. He encouraged me to consider fucking off for a couple days, and I make plans for a couple nights on the coast. It’s nice to have that kind of freedom. I feel very loved. So far this is an extraordinary birthday celebration. Yesterday he gave me another book – and I’m thoroughly delighted – Barbara Walters “How to Talk With Practically Anybody About Practically Anything”, which I’ve wanted for a long time. It was a surprise that it is also a first edition in excellent condition.

There is so much more to find within the pages of a book than mere words on pages.

… I’ve got a lovely stack of books to read…

…63?

I don’t “feel my age”. I’m not sure I gave much thought to what being 63 would feel like, though. I feel more or less as I’ve always felt. The feeling of age or aging only hits me when I notice my capacity for manual labor is less than in my twenties, or I happen to take a longer look at my hands. “Aches and pains” don’t signal age for me; I’ve lived with serious chronic pain since my twenties. There’s some gray in my hair. Arthritis that was limited to my damaged spine for a lot of years turns up in my joints now, too. But, generally speaking, 63 feels like any other year. I will probably enjoy it every bit as much as I’ve enjoyed 62. 😆 The clock is ticking, but mostly I don’t notice.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. Pretty morning for meditation. The morning sun lights the trees along the trail. The mist begins to thin and fade away. There’s a whole new day ahead, then my birthday.

I happily contemplate a couple days on the coast as the weekend wanes… I’ll set off early, after I water the lawn in the morning. I’ll pack light, maybe bring my pastels, and load the car the night before. I’ll be gone just as the sun rises, probably, and I know my Traveling Partner will miss me – that’s part of the point. Having that chance to miss each other prevents us taking each other for granted, over time. I anticipate the joy of walking miles of beach in the cool morning breeze, and enjoying an iced coffee at some choice spot to sit and listen to the waves caress the shore, and the gulls calling to each other overhead. There’s a fantastic bagel shop near a beach I like, and I look forward to a fantastic bagel on the beach. It’s the kind of small delight that I savor. They add up to an immense quantity of joy, over time.

I smile contentedly. The best part about a couple days of solitary time away is returning home to a cozy life filled with love. I’ll never be wealthy but I feel rich; I have love.

I take a deep breath of the cool morning air and taste the scent of flowers. Summer is coming. I look down the trail amazed by how far this journey has taken me. 16 years ago I could not imagine being actually happy, like, at all, ever. I figured settling for surviving my life would be the best I could do. I’m grateful to have given myself a chance to continue on. I would not trade this life as it is for any other. My first real glimpses of happiness left me more confused than appreciative; I was ignorant of real lasting love, and certainly had no skill at being happy when happy moments turned up. It took practice just to accept the possibility of happiness. There was still so much chaos and damage to sort out. So much to learn about love and loving. There’s still more to learn even now. I’m okay with that. The journey is the destination and I’m traveling in very good company.

I glance at the time and the clear blue sky. It’s time to walk on. It’s time to begin again.

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

On Seeking Enlightenment

June 10, 2026 //
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I woke from a strange dream to the light of my morning alarm. In my dream, I was standing in the morning sunshine in front of a favorite cafe from many years ago and very far from where I live now (I didn’t notice that, it was a dream after all). A sport car pulled up next to me, convertible top down, and it was full of old friends. “We’re seeking enlightenment,” someone called to me, “get in!”

I stepped towards the car and as I did, it became a bus, and I stepped on board. The door snapped closed and I realized I hadn’t had time to get my coffee… and I woke.

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

…Seeking enlightenment…

Enlightenment isn’t likely to be found on a road trip with ones friends… but it could be, maybe. That’s the thing, isn’t it? One can endlessly seek enlightenment and never ever find it; it isn’t an external point on a map, or available as a option on a luxury getaway. People who say they’ve found it, generally haven’t. It’s not available as a course, although it’s often packaged and sold as though it could be purchased. Read all the books – it may not be enough. Follow any holy seeming teacher – it may not result in the knowledge you think you’re seeking. As with happiness, it doesn’t do to chase enlightenment, because that just isn’t the way to achieve it.

… I didn’t say (and don’t claim) that I know the way, nor that I have become enlightened. I’m not here for that. I’m just thinking about a strange dream.

As I walk down the trail this morning, I think about the friends I saw on the “bus to enlightenment” in my dream. No one from my childhood at all. A couple of soldiers who deployed with me during the war, seated in the back of the bus, neither of whom exist in this mortal life now. Up front, dear friends from my Fresno days, and a friend or two I made later on, in other places. The thing they all shared in common was that I consider them all to have been very close and dear friends, but it’s been many years since I’ve been in touch at all. I think about that as I walk. History. Proximity. Perspective. I keep walking.

Morning light

… I may never find enlightenment, but I’ve enjoyed the company of some extraordinary travelers along the way…

I feel fortunate to have enjoyed so many good friendships, and occasional moments of epiphany that felt very much as though I had been “illuminated from within”, however briefly. It has been enough. More than enough, I’ve been very fortunate.

I watch the sunrise illuminate the oaks. I sit at my halfway point on my walk, and perhaps in life (if I’m lucky), reflecting on enlightenment, and wondering how many of the travelers on the “bus to enlightenment” are now deceased? At least two, maybe more, I haven’t stayed in touch, and it’s possible I would not have been told. A grim shiver runs up my spine. I’m glad I woke. I’m not ready to ride that bus. Not yet.

I breathe, exhale, and relax, and remind myself to reach out to old friends while I can. The clock is ticking. I look down the trail. It curves away into an unknown moment ahead, just around that bend… and it’s time to begin again.

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

Something About Perspective

June 9, 2026 //
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My morning is off to a weird start. I woke to my alarm – rare, I’m usually up earlier. I had forgotten to lay out clothes for today, so had to pick something before I was quite awake (the result being that my earrings don’t seem right to me for the outfit I’m wearing). I left the house feeling rushed, but it had been raining through the wee hours and watering the lawn this morning was unnecessary, so my timing wasn’t off by more than minutes. Perspective and subjective lived experience continue to collide.

Rain clouds wrap the distant hills.

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

I woke with a poignant love song in my head. It’s the sort of song that can haunt my thoughts for days. It carries so much more meaning and heartfelt understanding of love than some trash pop song. I walk hearing the refrain in my head, grateful to love and be loved.

There’s a strong breeze blowing. Feels like it’ll probably rain more. My bones ache everywhere that arthritis has settled in, and fuck you if you’re perceiving that complaint as a sign of aging. 😆 My arthritis developed in my spine before I ever saw my 30th birthday. It’s been more than thirty years of this shit. (It has worsened and spread with age, over the years though, that’s real.) I could definitely do without being able to predict a rainy day from the way my bones feel, in favor of less pain. Weather forecasting is not a worthy trade off, and not usefully accurate.

I walk on down the soggy path after standing a few minutes at my halfway point. Everything is soaked. No dry place to sit. I walk a bit. Stop. Write a few words. Walk on. It is a different perspective on a Spring morning. It is quite chilly, too. I’m grateful for the warmth of my birthday sweater. A good choice for a chilly rainy morning. I keep walking.

The rain starts and stops, as if uncertain what the day holds, like the pattern of my steps. I don’t know what the day holds either. 😆 Bits of blue sky show through the clouds here and there, and the breeze through the tops of the oaks sounds like ocean waves. The tree tops seem to wave good morning as I pass. For these mature giants to toss about in this effortless seeming fashion, though, implies a real world hazard – branches may break unexpectedly and fall. It happens enough to feel like an ordinary risk, there are downed branches on the trail here and there, but it would be pretty serious if one fell on me.

I happen upon a partially sheltered rock dry enough to sit on and stop for a few minutes. I still feel as if my timing for the day is off somehow. It isn’t, at all. Clear awareness that the feeling and the reality are not aligned makes my anxiety flare up briefly – until I remember how very subjective an individual experience of life and “reality” actually can be (and often are). It’s a nothing moment and my anxiety recedes, slinking away into the background as if ashamed of the half-assed effort.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I take a few minutes for meditation, and to finish up my writing. I break out in a sneezing fit, because of course I do – can’t have a proper Spring morning without allergies, eh? I’m laughing at myself, because I really expected the rain to rinse all the pollen from the air. That’s what comes of holding on to expectations. I’m glad I stuffed a pack of tissues in my pocket. My last one – I pause to add them to my shopping list for my next trip to the store.

I get to my feet to finish this walk and get on with the day. It’s already time to begin again.

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

Living, Loving, Learning

June 8, 2026 //
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I woke early, but later than usual. I didn’t sleep deeply through the night, but I got the rest I need and I feel pretty good aside from a predictable amount of arthritis pain; I woke to a rainy Spring morning, no surprise. I reach the trailhead delighted that the rain is still a sprinkle that won’t slow me down.

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

… What an excellent weekend…

My beloved gave me a couple more birthday gifts and I’m feeling so loved by this twist on a birthday celebration (instead of gifts all at once on the actual date that is my birthday, a gift every day of the 12 days leading up to it). It’s been lovely to receive some books, too – one replacing a book lost when I left an ex, one to instruct me on the basics of chess, others that I’ve been wanting very much to read. Books are an amazing gift for anyone who enjoys reading. I make a neat stack of the books I haven’t yet read. They’ll be properly shelved once they are read, one by one.

New software for my operating system. 😆

Seriously, I really like books. I read. I definitely find it more useful to read from bound books. Reading on digital platforms and devices doesn’t seem as effective for learning or comprehension, somehow, at least not for deep learning. It’s more a quick lookup resource suited to answering a question or finding information. From there, if I’m interested in a deeper dive, I go to bound books.

As I walked I reflected on the books that have meant most to me over the years. I have most of those, on one shelf or another. My books are among my most cherished possessions.

There’s more to life than what can be found between the pages of a book.

I get to my halfway point still smiling. The sprinkle of rain threatens to become more then gives up. It’s an ordinary enough Monday. I smile thinking about the weekend. I got in some lovely miles on beautiful trails. I enjoyed them so much I’m planning to make each of these my routine on the weekends for some little while, maybe through the summer.

… Variety and novelty keep things interesting…

The sun rises, shining golden through a gap in the clouds, and illuminating the oaks along this trail. Pulling my attention back to here, now, and this moment.

It’s a pretty good moment for a beginning.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I enjoy a few minutes of meditation. I feel calm and capable, and ready for the day. I sigh contentedly, feeling a momentary (and entirely temporary) feeling that it never has to be more complicated than this. Feels good. It’s not a feeling that lasts, and I’m okay with that. Emotions are impermanent. As with moments, they are brief and often pass very quickly. Love is one of the few that tends to hang around, if made welcome. My heart fills with love and gratitude when I think of my beloved Traveling Partner. I feel fortunate to share so much of life’s journey with him.

Take it at your own pace. Incremental change over time adds up. We become what we practice, however slowly.

I sit awhile thinking about change and this personal journey that is one human life. There’s been much to learn – and somehow that never really changes. There’s always more. This adventure isn’t about mastery at all. It’s more to do with endurance and becoming something more over time than who we were at the start. This journey changes us. That’s the point. The journey is the destination. Where does your path lead? Is that where you want to go?

What you find along the way may depend a lot on what you’re looking for (or at).

I take a deep breath and exhale slowly, tasting the hint of rain on the Spring air. It’s time I got going. The clock is ticking and this path isn’t going to walk itself. 😆 I stretch and get to my feet. My next steps are waiting.

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