The Secret of Moments

February 3, 2026 //
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Each tick of the clock is its own. Each moment is unique and precious, like a breath, or a snowflake. They are fleeting, those ticks of the clock, and those mortal moments. Yesterday, around this same time, the morning was filled with chaos (household internet was down, my laptop had a brand new operating system on it, my work day was shortened by an afternoon appointment and filled with unexpected meetings), this morning this moment is peaceful, and rather mundane. Yesterday’s challenges are behind me, today’s are still ahead.

The time is…now.

With each moment being fleeting, and unique, and the tick of the clock ever ongoing, and our mortal lives filled with opportunities, choices, and changes, it can be easy to feel harried, or pushed around by circumstances, and forget to truly live those precious moments, and to make informed choices from a thoughtful perspective. I sip my coffee and think about that.

I think about the way my Traveling Partner calmed me down after I had hastened home frantically to sort out what had “gone wrong” with my new OS, and get back on track for work as quickly as I could. Hilariously, what had gone wrong was mostly the human being at the keyboard. lol Small details I didn’t recognize in their new form, and tools I was less familiar with, and in a moment of panic, I stopped understanding what little I knew. My partner was patient, and he is deeply knowledgeable of computers and operating systems, as if it is part of his DNA. In an instant, he had identified the issue, sorted things out, showed me where I had gone astray, and I got my day started. He’d already resolved the household internet issue. He’s good like that – and I’m fortunate to enjoy a loving partnership with a human being whose skills complement my own so well. In some other moment, he may have been the one seeking out my assistance with some thing he felt ill-equipped to handle.

I think about my appointment later in the afternoon yesterday, and the lasting feeling of calm loving support that had carried me through the day. Going to the VA often makes me anxious (and angry). The appointment was routine enough, just my annual thing with the VA: blood work, images, a consultation, updated prescriptions, another vaccine. The VA stresses me out most of the time. I dislike the stark reminder of my mortality on display, and I similarly dislike the facade of support for veterans also on display. Oh, don’t get me wrong, the employees at the VA (the doctors, nurses, clinical specialists, technicians, and cleaning staff) do their best for veterans every day against the terrible constraints they face due to lack of appropriate staffing, lack of required funding, lack of approval for this or that treatment for one condition or another – and the frankly performative “consideration” for veterans by our administration is grotesque and disappointing. It’s not the fault of the staff, but the hopelessness, cynicism and disappointment permeate the air at the VA – at every VA facility I’ve ever been in. It’s not a partisan thing, although this current administration is by far the most grotesque and horrifying in my own lifetime – every administration makes new veterans, and none actually wants to pay the full measure of the price to care for them. (And if veteran’s are not cared for, well then their lifespan is further shortened, eh? Less costly by far. It is quite Dickensian from that perspective.)

I sigh and sip my coffee. My appointment went fine. Images taken. Vaccine received. Blood drawn. Hell, I even capitulated to having a pelvic exam and a pap smear (probably my last based on current recommendations for women in my age group). Sexual health is important, even as we age. Anyway, it was fine. Only a moment.

Yesterday I was quickly wrapped in stress. This morning is quite different, calm and inviting. I smile to myself, enjoying this moment. And if it were a shit moment filled with stress and chaos? Well, I know it will pass. There will be other moments. It’s not an easy thing, letting small things stay small; it takes practice, and sometimes some help. I had watched a peculiarly timely video that touched on change and moments and resilience in a way I found useful. I’m glad I had; I needed those words of wise perspective and encouragement yesterday!

…Each time for the first time. Each moment the only moment. “Ichi-go ichi-e” – live your moments with intention, and presence! Show up for your own life. These moments are finite and mortal, and we have so few. Each having our own experience, walking our own path, we connect over briefly shared moments. I smile to myself. Crappy muzak in the background of a chain cafe on a work day morning, sipping on an utterly ordinary cup of black coffee – even this moment is precious. It is mine.

Sometimes it’s a metaphor – sometimes it is just a cup of coffee. 🙂

I smile and sip my coffee, reflecting on this moment, and other moments. The music plays on. The clock keeps ticking. Eventually, I’ll begin again, for now, I’ve got this moment right here, now. It’s enough.

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Categories Allegories, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, inspiration, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, The Art of Being, The Big 5, winter, women, Words

Stillness

February 2, 2026 //
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My tinnitus and an HVAC system somewhere nearby are the only sounds I distinguish in the predawn quiet. Even the nearby highway seems quite silent, although it is Monday, just past 06:00. The morning is foggy and mild and the winter weather that is pounding the east and midwest with blizzards and drifting snow is something I read in the news. We haven’t had much winter weather here.

The trail is wet with recent rain. A dense fog wraps me and obscures the details as I walk. It is chilly, but not really cold, and I’m feeling (mostly) over the cold that slowed me down last week. Colleagues who traveled last week are reporting in with reports of illness, and taking the day to recover. I guess I’m glad I didn’t go. I certainly enjoyed the time at home. My Traveling Partner has been doing pretty well lately, and we’ve been able to enjoy ourselves and each other more.

Today? Just a Monday. Half day of work, then the afternoon at the VA for my annual visit. I shrug as if I were saying it aloud. Sitting here at my halfway point with no view, before sunrise, just the fog and my tinnitus, I find myself quite unexpectedly deeply contented. This moment is mine. It’s not fancy, but neither is it noisy, troubled, nor complicated. I sit with my contentment, appreciating it as it is.

I sigh to myself, looking down the trail, as it disappears into the fog. Useful metaphor, I think. The wind changes direction, and the fog begins to dissipate. I smile, and stretch as I stand. Seems like a good time to begin again.

Seen and unseen, in the predawn darkness. (Different camera settings would have revealed more. Feels like there’s a metaphor there.)
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Categories Allegories, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Practices, solo hiking, The Art of Being, War and News of War, winter, Words

Hidden Gems, Hidden Scars

February 1, 2026 //
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I am recalling the excitement of buying a new album, after hearing something I really like that is new to me, or something from a favorite artist, that I haven’t yet heard. It’s often not the “big hit song” or the single on the airwaves that stays with me, memorable, favored, over-played for weeks. It is more likely to be some unexpected “hidden gem”, that speaks to me in a more personal way, found only because I listened with an open mind to more than what was obvious in front of me. I think about that for some little while.

It’s also true that a great many injuries don’t show on the surface, or leave an obvious visible scar that makes it plain that damage has been done, and may linger. These things sometimes erupt as strange quirks of character, or poor behavior, or coping mechanisms that outlive their usefulness. I think about that for awhile, too. It is sometimes very helpful too look beyond the obvious and to listen more deeply.

I have time for my thoughts this morning. I’ve definitely got a fucking cold (again), but I woke after many hours of unsatisfying sleep feeling restless and irritable, with a stuffy head. All I could think about was getting to my feet, out of the house, and onto the trail, just so my head might clear as I walked. I definitely did not want to hang about the house coughing and blowing my nose while everyone else is trying to get some sleep. I probably won’t actually walk…it was the noise of heavy rain falling that woke me I think, and I’m certainly sick.  I should not allow myself to become soaked or cold, and I can wait for the sun, enjoy a cup if coffee and write while the rain falls. Anyway, my sinuses drained and my head cleared some minutes after I started down the highway toward the trailhead. If I get a break in the rain after the sun rises, I might still walk; I always miss it when I don’t.

These are pretty stressful times, and it is hard watching America – part of it – working to become a fascist authoritarian dictatorship or dystopian oligarchy. It apparently makes me ill. Self-care is even more important in terrible times. This is also a hopeful moment in our history, seeing so many organize and protest and speaking truth to power. Wow. This too, all of it, will pass. Even our elected officials and their billionaire handlers are 100% mortal. No one lives forever. Evil governments do fall. I didn’t march or join a protest this weekend, though I considered it. (It would be irresponsible to bring contagion to a protest.) I wrote letters to my representatives, and emails. Complete inaction doesn’t feel like a good choice to me, not while we’re watching democracy burn, and the legitimate progress made since the dawn of the atomic age is being eroded with every injury to a citizen by armed, masked,  government thugs.

… And if someone tells you they are in favor of this administration’s policies because they are against all that “woke” shit? Ask them to define, in simple terms, what they mean by “woke”. I’ve been finding this simple question very revealing (and it tends to force people to consider the reality of the cruel policies being implemented with their support). Don’t let petty nastiness go unremarked upon – point it out and ask why it seems acceptable. Instead of laughing uncomfortably at cruelty, jokes, or mockery at someone’s expense – ask why the teller thinks it is funny.

What we see often depends on what we’re looking at – or for.

I sip my coffee feeling some better than when I woke. It’s still raining quite hard without letting up. A gray rainy dawn has arrived. I look out across the highway at the farm fields that in years past have been a shallow seasonal lake this time of year. This rain is welcome, we need it, but I wonder if it is too little, too late? It may be a very dry summer ahead. I think about camping and wildfire risks. (Yes, it’s a metaphor.)

The rain slows down some. The marsh trail tempts me in spite of the muddy soggy trail I know awaits unwary footsteps. I eye my rain poncho and my cane, conveniently next to me. I sigh to myself and wonder if it is a good time to begin again?

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Categories Allegories, anger, Anxiety, breathe, Despair, Free Will, Frustration, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, inspiration, Logic & Reason, meditation, Metaphors, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Sleepless Nights, The Art of Being, War and News of War, winter, Words

I Keep Walking

January 31, 2026 //
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I get to my halfway point on this favorite trail before daybreak. Most of the walk thus far was in the gloom of nautical twilight, and it is a foggy misty morning on the marsh. There was a full moon visible when I started, but it was quickly swallowed by the clouds.

We don’t always walk a well lit path.

I walked with my headlamp on until the faint predawn light became enough to make out the path, then switched it off and let my eyes adjust. A dumb idea on an unfamiliar or poorly maintained trail, but this trail is very familiar, kept well, and free of debris or obstacles, generally. My steps crunched along in the dim light. The moon broke free from her cloud prison briefly and in the meadow I saw a herd of deer standing. They disappear into the fog as the moonlight is obscured by clouds again. I kept walking.

By the time I reach my halfway point, I’m wondering again if I may be coming down with another cold or something? I feel like I’ve worked hard to get so far. There is no opportunity to shorten my walk now – it’ll be the same whether I walk on, or turn back. I recall waking during the night, drenched in sweat, somehow still feeling cold, feeling chilled and woozy as I got up to pee. The covers were clammy as I wrapped myself in them again, never really waking up completely. I feel mostly okay, just sort of low energy with a little sinus congestion, which mostly passes as my morning allergy meds kick in. I sigh to myself, sitting on this fence rail at the edge of one of the marsh ponds, swinging my feet like a kid. A passing raccoon gives me a sideways glance, but doesn’t take any real interest, going her own way.

I sit quietly with my thoughts for some while before I pull off my gloves and begin to write. Just sitting here in the stillness before sunrise, I feel my “batteries recharging”.

I breathe, exhale, and relax and wonder what it might be like to feel recharged and energized through companionship and community. Life must feel very different for people who crave the company of others, even needing it profoundly to enjoy life at all. Although I do recognize the interconnectedness and social nature of human beings as creatures, my awareness of connectedness and dependency doesn’t seem to change my need for solitude. This is rarely a problem for me, these days; I have accepted who I am in this regard, and it does nothing to diminish my affection for those dear to me, nor reduce their importance to me. I just also have to take care to nurture myself, and make a point to get enough time alone. Without it my mental health quickly begins to suffer and I have more difficulty managing my PTSD, and my emotions.

I like walking as a metaphor for making a journey, or progress, or growth, or forward momentum in life. I like walking. Giving it some thought, I am aware that I’ve used “going for a walk” as a source of needed solitude for as much of my life as I can remember. It can be g’damned difficult to find solitude in a world of social creatures. I find a solitary walk exceptionally reliable for finding a moment or two utterly alone.

A new day dawns.

Daybreak comes. The fog on the marsh fills the low places. I stretch and sit awhile longer. Soon enough I will have to return to the world and begin again.

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Categories Allegories, anger, Anxiety, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, The Art of Being, winter, women, Words

One of Twelve

January 30, 2026 //
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Well. January is almost behind us. One twelfth of the year, gone. By this point, many resolutions have failed, and a lot of people are losing (have lost?) the motivation to change that propelled their goal-setting. How about you? Are you still sticking to a plan, pursuing a goal, chasing a dream, or even slogging along at a practice that does not yet feel really settled and part of your day-to-day experience?

Me, I’d have to look back to see what I even thought about at that time when people are adopting some resolution for the new year. When I do, I find myself thinking about debt, and choosing change, the futility of most resolutions. I find myself recognizing that change is, and planning to make a reading list for the new year (which I didn’t get around to doing! LOL). Looking back on the month, I don’t feel any disappointment or regret – only a bit of astonishment at how busy it has seemed, and how quickly it passed.

…January already gone…

I sip my coffee, knock out the budget for another pay cycle. Exchange a few words with my Traveling Partner, who is already up for the day, himself. It is an ordinary Friday. Bills to pay. Grocery shopping to plan (and do). Prescriptions to pick up. Errands. Chores. Life. Ask me what I want to be doing today – I assure you it is not work. I’d so much rather put my feet up somewhere with mild temperatures and pleasant weather, a nice view of… something… and a well-made coffee, and simply be for awhile, at leisure, my time and my thoughts my own. No time pressure. No to-do list. No concerns. Just a sweet floral breeze, or the scent of the ocean blowing in from the shore, a cup of coffee and some solitude. I’d settle for a camp stove and an outdoor pour-over made from beans ground too long ago, surrounded by trees and playful chipmunks… or… here. Now. This moment isn’t that far off the mark. I’m sitting in a chain cafe, with my laptop open in front of me, enjoying my coffee with “an unseen friend” (that’s you). I smile to myself realizing how easily I could distance myself from contentment in this moment by yearning for some other rather similar moment that is not now. I chuckle to myself; a human being, being human. We can be pretty g’damned foolish.

So, I guess what I’m saying is – if that goal or resolution was really important to you, and you’ve already fallen to sloth or become distracted or lost focus…begin again. Just reset, and start over. Seriously. It’s your goal, you get to define success your way. You get to begin again, any time. Redefine the scope of your project. Change the timeline, change the milestones. Refine your approach. It’s yours to do your own way. You’re walking your path, not any other. Hell, maybe putting it down and reconsidering things completely is the correct next step for you? What is the end result you’re going for? How much work are you really willing to do?

…We become what we practice…

I sip my coffee listening to bad muzak, grateful that I’m not out in the darkness and the rain. (I do prefer to walk in daylight, sometimes circumstances present other opportunities. lol) Friday. The weekend is ahead. I haven’t made a lot of plans or anything – I’ve been making a point to get some rest each weekend, this year. It’s been worthwhile. I’ve made time to read – which I promised myself I would – and I’ve made time to play my favorite video game (I rarely play for long, and sometimes go many weeks without playing at all). I’ve spent more time in conversation with my Traveling Partner, and more time enjoying moments of solitude when the opportunity arose. I’m looking forward to camping weather returning, but seasons are what they are, and I don’t like camping in colder weather; sleeping on the ground aggravates my arthritis. S’ok, there are plenty of books to read and recipes to try while the weather is crappy.

It’s a good start to a rather ordinary day. I’m okay with that. I’m not seeking some spectacularly exciting life in which every day is a whirlwind of activity and drama. I’m happy when things are easy, and there’s very little friction or stress. I smile thinking about my elders, when I was growing up, and lazy summer afternoons relaxing with an iced tea or a cold beer on the screened in back porch, looking out over the hillside down to the creek, or gathering in the twilight to watch the fireflies come out. How is contentment not a goal for more people? Why are so many people working so hard to make their own experience more complicated, less easy? I don’t understand that, myself. I’m pretty nearly always looking for “easy”. lol

…I’m just saying, we can reach contentment through practice. Chasing happiness, on the other hand, is a losing race; that’s not how we find happiness. (I most often “find” happiness when it sneaks up on me through a moment of contentment.)

Don’t like where you’re sitting? Choose change. Make a choice, do the verbs. It’s your journey, you choose the route. On the other hand, if you are content where you are, comfortable with your life as it is, okay with your circumstances just as they are, then enjoy that without guilt or shame or awkwardness! Don’t let anyone tell you that you have to work harder to get to a goal you don’t personally value. No one has that kind of time to waste – our mortal lives are all too brief.

What a fucking year this is, already. I sigh to myself and let that go. I’m okay. No bombs dropping here, and I’m grateful. No masked ICE thugs in the parking lot here and I’m grateful for that too, although it is dismaying that I would even have to think about it. Work is work – and I’m grateful to have the job I do. Could be worse. Generally speaking, things are pretty good. I’m grateful for this moment of contentment, and this hot coffee, and the partner I will go home to later on, and the little house we share, and the modern conveniences we are fortunate to enjoy. It is enough.

I look at the clock. I’ll have time to get a walk around the muddy “fitness track” near the library after daybreak, before work. Convenient. That, too, is enough, and it’s time to begin again. 😀

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Categories 2024 Election, Allegories, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, inspiration, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, The Art of Being, War and News of War, winter, Words
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