The other day I noticed a rose had bloomed – finally! I planted “All My Loving” a couple years ago. The deer love it so much they will trample everything in the way to get to it, even reaching through the cage I had eventually placed around it.
[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]
“All My Loving” (Rosa ‘FRYrapture’) is a hybrid tea rose bred by Gareth Fryer (UK), introduced in 2011. In pictures it is a dense dark green shrubby sort of hybrid tea rose, and quite lovely. Mine has never had the chance to develop any such lushness. 😆 The deer just keep stripping it of leaves and buds, and eating tender new canes almost to the ground.
This year I finally gave up on aesthetic considerations and put a cage around it. I was rewarded with a single rose this summer. It’s the first time this rose has ever bloomed in my garden.
“All My Loving” blooming in spite of black spot.
Planted in 2022, four years later, one single rose – it’s not anything to brag about, really, but this isn’t about bragging, at all. It is a tale of resilience. In spite of being eaten by the deer, in spite of black spot, in spite of my very lazy gardening, in spite of trying and failing for fouryears, this rose kept on trying and finally bloomed. It’s a beautiful rose, too. Worth waiting for? I don’t know. I’m glad to see it bloom. It has a lovely fragrance. I persist in thinking about how I can provide it better protection from the deer.
… Some things are worth the effort, and the work, and all the verbs…
Anyway. It’s a metaphor.
I yawn and stretch and gaze into the hazy morning sky. Is it cloudy and overcast? Is it the haze of distant wildfires? I don’t know. I know it is Monday, and time to begin again.
Like, subscribe, comment… it’s a trap. The “hype cycle”, the outrage machinery, the click farming, and trying to get “engagement” from the bored and uninterested; it’s all part of monetizing our attention as consumers (of content). Pretty gross.
[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]
Add to all of that the pestilence of AI slop and enshittification and what have we got? Incentive to put down the device, step away from the screen and go outside.
On the trail at first light.
It’s a gray morning, overcast and cloudy. Looks like rain, but it doesn’t feel like rain. The forecast has no rain in it today. I set off down the trail as soon as I have enough light. (My replacement headlamp should arrive today or tomorrow.) I don’t mind the few quiet minutes waiting for daybreak. I spend the time, this morning, thinking about… Ozempic. 😆
I started on Ozempic in April, 2024, more than two years ago. I’ve lost some weight, sure, but I take it for my diabetes. I could stand to lose more weight, I’m definitely carrying around an unhealthy surplus (just being real). I’ve been improving my strength training a bit at a time, recently, with my Traveling Partner’s encouragement, which is helpful.
“Healthy” and “thin” are not synonyms. “Heavy” and “healthy” are not antonyms. It’s more complicated than that, but in my own case, I’m heavier than is healthy for me, and certain “features” of my brain injury complicate my impulse control and self-awareness. The Ozempic controls my blood sugar, reduces my interest in food, and eating becomes notably less gratifying, and the Ozempic profoundly improves my impulse control, generally (a very helpful side effect). I’m fortunate I haven’t had to deal with unpleasant side effects like nausea or constipation (only very rarely and not for long).
… There’s nothing shameful or embarrassing about taking appropriate medication for medical conditions…
I’ve never felt embarrassed, ashamed, or awkward about taking Ozempic, although I was very reluctant to try it at all. I’m often puzzled by the weird criticism of strangers regarding people using GLP1’s for weight loss, as if it amounts to “cheating”. (And I had to deal with that face to face with myself, before I was willing to try it.) Life isn’t a proctored exam. We’re each having our own experience. One person may find managing their weight (or their blood sugar) quite easy. Someone else may find it quite difficult. We are individuals. Ozempic may cause terrible life threatening side effects for one person, and no side effects at all for another. Keeping it real, though? It’s not anyone else’s business in the first fucking place. Take it or don’t; the choice is between you and your doctor.
…As with using Ozempic, talking about that is also a personal choice (stay out of the comments section 😆 the Internet trolls may be hangry – or jealous)…
I sit with my thoughts awhile, at a favorite stopping point. The trail is still mine. I love these quiet moments. This trail is very popular with dog walkers, though, and on such a mild morning there will no doubt be dogs tearing around in the brush and tall grass (because in spite of prominent signage with rules about keeping dogs leashed, people do as they please). Rude. It is the same disregard for basic consideration and manners that make people think it’s okay to criticize someone for following their doctor’s advice about their medication.
… Sometimes it feels like the idiots are winning…
I breathe, exhale, and relax. I’m in a good mood, on a pleasant morning. No reason to undermine that with cynicism or petty anger and disappointment with humanity, generally. 😆 Later, housekeeping, exercise, and some hang out time with my beloved. I smile to myself. Useful perspective. Why was I even thinking about any of that other crap on such a lovely morning? Oh, right. My weekly dose increases today (and for the foreseeable future). 😂 I’m facing it with some unnecessary trepidation. I shrug it off and remind myself to drink plenty of water.
See, that’s the thing, isn’t it? Nearly every challenge we face also has steps we can take to directly improve our experience, we just have to choose to take that step. “Do the verbs.” It is also necessary to be open to the possibility – and to allow myself awareness of the options available to me. Small steps. Choices.
I breathe the fresh summer air. It smells of mown clover drying in the sun, and summer flowers. I think about maybe going to a cafe that serves a particularly delicious Borgia mocha (a nice treat), then wonder if I can even be bothered? Maybe I’d actually rather head home and do laundry and clean my bathroom? How delightfully adult of me. 😆 I sit smiling, enjoying the moment. It’ll be time to begin again, soon enough.
I slept in. It was after 05:00 when I woke. The house was quiet. I got up, dressed, and left without rushing but as quietly as I could. I nonetheless managed to bang the bathroom door with my knee, but as I left the house still seemed quiet. It seemed likely my beloved may have slept through me leaving. Win.
[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]
The morning is gray, cloudy and overcast, and the dry meadow has a different scent as my steps crunch down the trail. My thoughts are looking back on yesterday evening’s stress and conflict. His pain. My pain. The various different medications we each take, some that are unfortunately very sensitive to changes in timing or dosage, some that don’t combine easily with this or that other medication. His PTSD. My PTSD. His perspective. My perspective. Each of us having our own experience of the moment. Sometimes conflict develops out of any one of these – or out of some mismatch in assumptions, expectations, or values, or out of fatigue or pure human cussedness. It’s all so very human.
… It’s also seriously vexing…
Our evening ended decently well, in spite of his irritation with me…or was it mine, with him? I take a deep breath and release slowly, something like a sigh, something like letting it go. We’re very human. Sometimes human is hard.
It seems trite to say I am “a work in progress”, but it is true; we are each continuously becoming the person we will be in some future moment, on some future day. We make choices. We take actions. We demonstrate our current skills. We make decisions based on our understanding in the moment. We endure the consequences of who we are now. Along the way, we become… someone. Hopefully we become someone just a little bit more like the person we most want to be, each day. As goals go, it’s a pretty good one.
I look out over the summer meadow dotted with ponds. Soon enough, the rain will return, the ponds will swell and become small lakes, and the meadow will become marsh again. There is seasonality in love, too, though it’s less clear precisely when or why the seasons of love change; these changes don’t show up on my calendar. I sigh to myself. I love my Traveling Partner on this whole unnecessary potentially unhealthy deeply passionate level that doesn’t make any fucking sense at all. When he’s angry or frustrated with me, I feel such indescribable pain. It’s likely the same for him; I can feel how much he loves me, and I see it everywhere around our home.
… Passion and devotion don’t necessarily equate to “healthy”. I could do better, and I have much to learn. Maybe that’s the point of it all, anyway? To learn, to grow, to become…
Somewhere else in the world (27 miles away, at home) my beloved wakes and pings me a greeting and my heart takes flight, as though I’m a teenager with her first crush. Crazy to love like this. I mean that as it sounds, potentially a sign of (or coming from) mental illness. 😂 I mean, as mental illnesses go, I’ll take being in love over any other for sure, but I’m not entirely convinced it isn’t actually craziness.
I smile like an idiot at the little birds keeping me company, perched on this fence rail. I feel pretty good. I got enough rest. I am in love. For now that feels like enough. I remind myself to take my time, and to do my best. I remind myself to listen deeply and to communicate understanding, and to be present. It’s a lot, and I’ll keep practicing. We become what we practice.
I breathe, exhale, and relax. I let some minutes tick by, sitting here with my thoughts and a heart full of love. It’s already time to begin again…
For now the sky overhead is quiet. Later, the annual air show will shatter the peace with a fun display of military might in the sky. Don’t misunderstand me; I enjoyed seeing the Blue Angels as a kid. These days it’s just very costly wasteful noise interrupting my ability to focus on whatever I’m trying to do.
[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]
I’m admittedly a bit of a buzzkill about air shows (noisy, wasteful), parades (traffic, crowds), fireworks displays (noisy, wasteful, crowded)… You may be getting the impression I dislike noise, crowds, and the chaos and expense of public celebrations, entirely. You would be correct; not my thing at all. I rarely even go to concerts to see artists I truly love. I don’t like the noise and the crowds. Hell, I don’t like it if the grocery store is busy enough to feel crowded. 😆
Most of my trauma has been at the hands of another person, directly. The result? I mostly don’t trust people with my safety, least of all my safety from direct harm by another human being! Viewed through that lens, it is probably not hard to understand why I am cautious about people and a bit averse to crowds. The noise sensitivity I live with (PTSD, head trauma) is its own thing, but we are interesting creatures built of systems, and it’s not easy to tease symptoms apart and assign them to this or that, independent of each other. That’s not really how we work.
I’ll endure the air show the way I generally endure such things: I’ll stay away from the event and associated traffic, and I’ll refrain from being a dick about my dislike of such things, and choose instead to just let folks have their fun. They aren’t hurting me, and the air show isn’t a personal attack on my peace. 😆 In fact, one of the best things I have gotten from practicing non-attachment is learning to embrace how very few things are ever “personal”. It’s a very impersonal universe, and it does not give a damn about one artist of middle-aged years living quietly between town and farm fields, I promise.
I set off down the trail at daybreak. I wasn’t sure this trail would be accessible today, with the air show going on. I had a plan B ready to go, if it weren’t. I’m grateful to be able to walk this familiar trail. It begins the morning well.
I reach my halfway point ahead of the sunrise. Looks like a cloudy day ahead. I yawn and stretch, and my muscles remind me that I’ve resumed strength training. It’s a healthy soreness, but still uncomfortable. I rub my aching shoulders and distract myself from the discomfort by scanning the underbrush slowly, looking for details I may have missed…or bunnies. 😂
The air is a little hazy, again, but the AQI is still in a safe range. The weather feels mild, and the cool of the morning hints at autumn. I stretch again, and look to the smooth gray sky overhead. The clock ticks on. It is a journey of miles and of moments. As with any practice, it’s about the verbs. I sigh as I get to my feet to begin. Again.
Daybreak comes, revealing cloudy skies. I walked to this spot rather unenthusiastically. I’m not in any sort of bad mood, just “feeling the weight” of it all. It is a subjective feeling, and it will pass. I pay it no particular attention, I notice it and let it go.
[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]
The stormy looking clouds gathered to the east probably don’t hold much potential for rain; it is summer; August in the Pacific Northwest, and a dry, hot one. The weather forecast says sunny today, hot in the afternoon. Right now the air is cool and mild and I regret not grabbing my fleece. My arthritis aches from my fusion to the base of my skull, finally completing a journey that began sometime around 1990, some 36-ish years ago, with the vertebrae immediately above the fused ones. Every year since, it has climbed a little further. About two years ago, I think, I developed arthritis in my shoulders and my collar bone (did not even know that was a thing). Last year I developed arthritis in my thumbs. Osteoarthritis sucks (any pain does, really), and it’s not really feasible to take enough of whatever pain remedy to really be “pain free“. Movement helps, but it’s more pain to have less pain. Vexing. I breathe, exhale, and relax. I let it go. Again.
Cloudy morning. The sky to the west is a smooth homogeneous soft gray, with occasional streaks of clouds drifting past. The work day is ahead. I’m fine with it. Maybe I just need some coffee to shake off this bland disinterest in this moment (or, if I’m being fair, any other). I’m fine, for most values of “fine”. As I said earlier, I’m not in a bad mood, just sort of sitting here glaring somewhat uninterestedly on this new day, which seems a bit unreasonable. It’s new, full of unrealized potential and so many options! I sigh to myself. My inner cheerleader is nowhere to be found.
I breathe, exhale, and relax. I take time for meditation. Who knows how I’ll feel after I begin again? Change is. Moments are fleeting.
I get a good morning greeting from my beloved Traveling Partner, and it puts a smile on my face that pain can’t stop. I stretch and get to my feet.
Evening Light 