Choices, Chances, Changes

November 4, 2026 //
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Wednesday after an election day Tuesday, so half(ish) of the nation is waking up to (predictable) disappointment, the other half to (premature) celebration. A smaller number may wake wondering whether or why it matters at all.

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

Me? I wake up groggy, exceedingly so. I manage to avoid making a lot of noise as I dress and leave the house, but I’ve got a nagging sensation that I forgot something, or forgot to do something… and as I walk the trail my thoughts are dominated neither by the election results nor by the starry sky overhead; I’m wondering if I left lights on.

… G’damn it, I sure hope I didn’t wreck my beloved Traveling Partner’s sleep!

The morning is quiet. I get to my halfway point and stop. The starry sky overhead delights me, although I only recognize a small number of constellations and visible planets. The night sky is quite beautiful. The autumn air smells of past rain and current dampness, leaves, and fireplace smoke. I inhale deeply and exhale slowly. I relax as I sit here.

I breathe, exhale, relax, and take time for meditation. I don’t practice meditation when I’m stressed out; I simply practice. Every morning and evening, and sometimes in the afternoon after work, are my “regularly scheduled” times for meditation. Yes, I sometimes also meditate when I’m stressed out, but isn’t that more akin to grabbing a screwdriver when you need one, than practicing a practice?

…It is the steady practice that makes meditation so effective for stress reduction…

It is a work day, but that time is not now. I sit under the stars on this mild autumn morning thinking about… Giftmas. It’s very much time to plan the holidays. It’ll be a quiet and modest year for it, this year. Minimal expense, maximum joy. (Or something like that.) Thanksgiving is less than a month away… I remind myself to order pie at the farm store down the road.

…Pleasant calming thoughts, apparently; I doze off while sitting here and wake with a physical jerk, probably a response to my head dropping as sleep began to overcome me. I’m still pretty groggy. I stand up – I’ve never been able to fall asleep standing up – and finish my writing on my feet.

A fog begins to gather, seeming to flow up out of the creek bed and pooling in low places as it spreads across the vineyard adjacent to the trail. Coffee will be a much appreciated luxury after this walk. I’m grateful for the mild weather. I’m grateful that although I am groggy and still struggling to shake off sleep, I’m not also struggling with vertigo or my headache. Physically, I feel pretty good this morning, and the touch of arthritis pain is manageable.

Mm… Definitely coffee next. I stretch and yawn, and turn my headlamp back on. It’s already time to begin again.

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

Exercise Your Franchise

November 3, 2026 //
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Vote.

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

If you are a US citizen, it’s election day. Time to exercise that precious franchise and make your voice heard. (Have you voted already? I have.) Please don’t waste your opportunity to choose.

The morning is dark, and surprisingly mild. A warning sprinkle of rain drops spatters the windshield of the car as I head to the trail. Fair enough; I’ll wear my rain poncho. I arrive at my destination, and not one additional rain drop has fallen, that I can tell. I shrug it off and stuff my rain poncho into my pocket instead.

I set off down the trail. The walk is uneventful. I reach my halfway point and stop for a moment of reflection. The heavy cloud cover makes the morning a dark one. I feel peculiarly alone.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. Good morning for meditation. I take my time. No reason to rush.

I sit with my thoughts awhile. I think about my right to vote. Sure, (white) women were granted the right to vote in 1920, but it would be 1965 before a truly inclusive franchise was provided, and even then (and now) there’s always some clown fucking with voting rights or access, generally out of racial animus or open misogyny. I vote. That seems the best demonstration of my regard for fuckwits who have no way to win without cheating. Women, people of color, indigenous people, and students have had to fight for their franchise again and again. Keep voting. Please don’t waste your hard won franchise. Choose wisely.

…Then, if you need to get the bitter taste out of your mouth, watch South Park season 8 episode 8. It has aged pretty well…

It begins to rain. There’s no rain in the forecast for today. I’m glad I didn’t rely on the forecast. I pull my rain poncho from my pocket and put it on.

I voted – and I have also been preparing for tough times. I don’t know the outcome, so I prepare for things to go very wrong, (in case they do). I remind myself to check the pantry and supply cupboard. I feel certain we’re out of a couple staples.

… I think about making chili for dinner…

I sigh to myself. Another day in America. I wonder what I really think about that, and remind myself to get some time alone with my thoughts, beyond this bit in the mornings. I know my beloved Traveling Partner will support that; he reliably does.  Maybe I just need more time in the studio?

I get to my feet, feeling inspired and introspective. Strange morning. I stretch and wonder how the elections will turn out and whether we will have a governing body of adults who genuinely see wise governance and creating a better nation for everyone who lives here as their obvious purpose? Probably not. Probably just another cohort of ineffective petty assholes serving special interests and beholden to billionaires. I sigh to myself and walk on.

… It’s time to begin again.

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Categories 2024 Election, Allegories, Anxiety, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, meditation, Metaphors, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, solo hiking, The Art of Being, The Big 5, War and News of War, Words

Something About Monday

November 2, 2026 //
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I’m awake. New day. New week, too. Halloween was jolly fun. It already seems like awhile ago, and I guess it was, for some measures of time.

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

I meant to spend more time in the studio yesterday. I chose mostly to hang out with my Traveling Partner while he built an antenna for our radios that could easily be deployed or taken down by one person. The weekend was generally a pleasant one, with some ups and downs.

I get to the halfway point on my morning walk still thinking about the weekend. G’damn I’d rather be sleeping right now. I sigh to myself, still grateful to see another day, even from this leading edge of morning. I rub my hands, as if to spread the heat of my arthritic thumbs to the rest of my hands. Chilly morning.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. November already. Did you vote? It’s time, eh? It really does matter.

The sky overhead is cloudy. No stars to see. The oaks are silhouetted sharply against the sky. Daybreak soon. I get comfortable on this rock adjacent to the trail. The discomfort that shifts me isn’t about the rock, and it would not matter where I choose to sit this morning; the discomfort is me. This mortal body has taken a fair bit of damage over the years. I carry the pain and discomfort with me, everywhere. I guess I should be grateful for the variety 😆. This morning, it is  something like sciatica, down my left leg, which is annoying, but nothing like the pain of my headaches.

…Oh, hey, no the headache yet today! Wow. That’s rare. I take a moment to really appreciate it…

“Tangerine Sunrise” 5″ x 7″, pastels on pastelbord, 2026.

I sit reflecting with some frustration on the dissatisfying creative work this weekend. It’s fine. Nothing like the extreme frustration my Traveling Partner endured working on the antenna project (which was such that it drove me from the house to do shopping that could have waited), but enough to be vexing. I contemplate the idea of reworking the piece I am most irked with. I rarely do “corrections”, but when I have it has resulted in some amazing art. I wonder why I fight that, then? The process of reworking a painting that has “failed” is useful (both in practical terms, and as a metaphor). Humans are weird.

… Sometimes we resist doing the thing we know works best…

A light comes bobbing down the trail. I turn on my headlamp to avoid startling the approaching walker. I rarely see anyone else on this trail so early. No dog, either. The stranger makes a point of shining their light right at me as they near. Oh, of course; a cop. There’s a sheriff’s station in the museum, so I’m not really surprised. I say “good morning” cheerfully. The officer lowers their light and replies “early to be out here, isn’t it?” I agree that it is early, adding that I enjoy watching the sun rise before work, and getting a walk in before the work day begins is a great fitness practice. He agrees, thanks me for my time, and urges me to stay safe as he turns to continue down the trail.

I get comfortable, again, as much as I can. I meditate. I breathe. I sit quietly listening to the sounds of an autumn Monday. I don’t know what’s next today. That’s okay, too. I get to my feet and stretch. I prepare to begin, again.

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Categories 2024 Election, Allegories, art and the artist, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, Frustration, gratitude, Healthy Living, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, The Art of Being

DST, Change, Distractions

November 1, 2026 //
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I woke feeling groggy and confused, unsure of day, date, or time. I spent the time getting dressed also trying to figure out the change to the clocks as I stared fixedly at my phone.

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

…Was it earlier or later? I couldn’t quite sort it out. I manage to dress and leave the house, feeling incredibly clumsy and more than a little stupid. I did manage to remember to take the bag of cardboard to the recycling bin. Small win, but it counts. The clock change reliably fucks up my morning routine for awhile, until I’ve readjusted. Again. G’damn it is frankly astonishing that anyone thought this would be a good idea.

We change the clocks forward, we change them back. The change is irrelevant to the length of a day. We’re just stupid like that.

Squirrel!!

I enjoyed some time in the studio yesterday. Nothing much came of it; two small pastels, one actually “bad” (to my eyes), the other… fine? Not what I was going for, but it’s “saleable”. I may rework them both. I’ve got another I chronically eye with irritation, from some time ago. Sometimes I sit for long moments eyeing “failed work”, contemplating how to “fix my mistakes”. My Traveling Partner made some interesting observations about yesterday’s work. He made good points about how best to revisit each, and made the observation that pursuing my craft will certainly mean failures now and then to learn from. Wise words.

… I appreciate feeling supported as an artist…

Last night was Halloween. Goblin hoards visited at regular intervals, mostly princesses this year, and a couple of large dinosaurs, and one or two Toy Story characters. There was also a tiny Hunter S Thompson, which struck me as strange and hilarious. We didn’t run out of sweets. It was a fun evening. I was glad when it was over, though. It’s a lot to deal with.

The fog on the trail is dense this morning. I walked with my headlamp on a dim setting and carried it in my hand, lower, and pointed towards the ground. The temperature is just above freezing, but cold. I’m grateful to have put on warm layers. I regret not grabbing my scarf and gloves from my gear bin. I was distracted by a rather large possum seeming to be approaching me as I stepped out of the car. I wasn’t frightened; I didn’t want rabies. 😆 It veered away quickly when it finally noticed me. Too late for my scarf and gloves, I was already headed down the trail.

The walk to this “halfway point” was spooky in the fog. I enjoy indulging my imagination with thoughts that somehow the world does not exist beyond the fog.

The beginning of this trail is partially illuminated by the streetlights along the edge of the parking lot.

“Already” the sky is turning bluer, grayer, and night is fading away. The fog obscures everything and muffles the sound of HVAC on the air museum buildings in the distance. I can’t hear any traffic, either. November 1st, All Souls Day, in the fog. Spooky indeed. If the ghost of my mother, my Granny, or my Dear Friend turned up, I would not even be surprised. I persist in hearing footsteps, but no one approaches. I think I hear conversation somewhere in the fog. Random noises remixed with my tinnitus, is all.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. Meditation in the fog “hits different”. That’s not a complaint. I stretch and watch the trees become more prominent in the strangely blue gray of the foggy dawn. Soon it will be time to begin again.

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

First Frost

October 31, 2026 //
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The car crackled as frost broke when I first opened the car door, this morning. It is an icy and cold morning as I start down the marsh trail. Foggy, too.

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

Days of rain and gloom in the mornings have given way to autumn afternoons, some mild, some unexpectedly warm, others drizzly and chilly. This morning we get the first frost here where I am, but the freeze warning for the 24-hour period made it clear colder weather would be happening, and the frost visible all around was a thin glaze of clear ice on bridges and overpasses, and “black ice” is an obvious risk this morning. I drove with caution, mindful to stay at safe speeds for icy conditions.

… Being safe is smart, even if tech bros and AI fanboys don’t understand that…

I am similarly cautious as I head down the trail. I am warmly dressed, appropriately for the weather, and I have my headlamp adjusted for best visibility in foggy conditions. It just doesn’t take much to keep safety in mind. The journey is more comfortable and pleasant when it is a safe one.

Am I “risk averse”? Damn right, I’m risk averse. I’ve taken my share of risks, and based on experience, I finding taking a safe path is generally the wiser choice. Will I take risks? Well, yeah. Sometimes the predictable risk looks manageable and the outcome worth that risk. I still favor a safe path when I’ve got one, in most circumstances.

I walk with my thoughts through the predawn darkness. Daylight Savings Time ends tomorrow. I’m not looking forward to the days of disrupted sleep and medication timing, but I get through it every year, even though the stupidity of DST leaves me bemused. Do people really think that changing the clocks changes the reality of diminishing day length as the season changes? Human primates, eh? So inventive. So imaginative. So willing to make dumb decisions because the idea seemed good at the time. Slow down. Choose wisely.

I get to my halfway point in the dark. It’ll be dark when I walk on, too. Not my preference, but I don’t think changing all the clocks to avoid darkness makes sense. I wear a headlamp instead.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. My breath mingles with the fog. I hear movement on the marsh… somewhere. I don’t see anything. There are no sounds that alarm me, but like the deer I keep a watchful eye. In the darkness, I rely more on sounds for threat detection. The morning is cold and quiet. The source of the noise emerges from the meadow grasses along the trail. Racoons. A large female escorting a group of smaller racoons crosses the trail, some of them playful, some adventurous, some of them stay close to her as the group travels. If one of them spoke to me in a human voice as they passed, “nice morning for it”, or some other polite greeting, I wouldn’t be surprised – but I also don’t expect it. It’s a strange foggy morning on the marsh before dawn.

I meditate awhile. I write. I reflect on thoughts and ideas and inspiration for new paintings. This quiet time is reliably my own, and I enjoy it. Later a manicure and maybe some studio time. For now I am here, now, and it is enough. I’ll walk on when I get too cold to sit longer; that’s soon enough for beginning again.

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