Nice Morning If You’ve Got The Time

April 30, 2026 //
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… And I do.

The morning feels a little rushed and also a little… uphill. I slept well and deeply and woke one minute ahead of my alarm. I was at the trailhead with the sun just peeking over the eastern horizon, the western sky streaked with peach and pink hues. Sunshine was already lighting the treetops when I really got started. (My allergies hit hard as soon as I stepped out of the car.) It’s certainly a beautiful morning, and a beautiful moment.

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

But for the allergies, this morning is as nearly perfect as most mornings can hope to be. My calendar feels full though and this feeling seeps into my awareness as “busy”. It’s not, actually. I’ve got a short work day ahead of a long weekend celebrating my anniversary with my beloved Traveling Partner (still a playful mischievous charming man after 16 years of sharing life and love as partners). I adore him. It’s a milestone worth celebrating. We’ve successfully exceeded my next longest romantic relationship, ever, and I think that may be true for him also.

The short work day feels a bit busy. It’s always busy as the month ends. It’s not actually a big deal. Coffee with a friend I don’t see often… A manicure… It’s not really “all that”, it’s just more stuff that shows on a calendar, and most of it weekend fun! I chuckle over my ridiculously variable sense of the flow of time. A lot of our stress as human beings is created in our own minds, and not really a true accounting of circumstances.

… I find myself thinking again that I’d like to return to a pen and ink to-do list, and “feeling busy” definitely reinforces that…

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I listen to the noisy robins and watch the squirrels play. I’ve got time for this moment, and I let myself slow down and lean into it. Presence is also a practice. This moment is enough, and making a point to savor it makes the recollection later much clearer and also more likely to positively influence my implicit sense of “how things are”. Handy. Useful.

We become what we practice. I definitely want to be a person who enjoys a beautiful moment, without rushing through it. I sit awhile longer, enjoying the sights and scents of a Spring morning.

It is a short work day, though. I sigh to myself, glance at the time, and prepare to begin again.

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

A Masterclass in Being Human

April 29, 2026 //
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Wow. Yesterday, though. It got off to a great early beginning, and crashed into chaos when the morning skittered sideways unexpectedly colliding with mental illness (mine) that is generally well-managed to the point of being mostly forgotten. With my Traveling Partner’s recovery making such good progress, I’ve been making adjustments to my HRT trying to find the sweet spot between effectiveness and timing/dosage. This went very wrong yesterday. I may as well have been an adolescent girl screaming at her mother with no justification, only hormones. Fucking hell.

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

I 100% lost my shit over nothing at all – a bit of very ordinary feedback and a request to check my breathing while I was on my device (curled over it uncomfortably and possibly holding my breath). On another day I’d have said thanks and corrected my posture. Instead I had a massive tantrum over it, which exploded into a PTSD meltdown and a complete loss of emotional control. It was ugly. My partner tried to deescalate the situation, but I had lost my fucking mind, like, for real.

Detail from “Emotion and Reason” 2012

We eventually got back on track, which was frankly mostly to do with him. I trudged through a miasma of fucked chemistry and feelings of shame for much of the rest of the day. (Being mentally ill can be seriously embarrassing.) In spite of eventually recognizing the role my hormones (both my own and the artificial kind) played in the mess I made, I struggled to regain my feeling of balance. It took most of an uncomfortable and frequently paused workday to get things right. Adulting is hard.

… Dwelling on regrets is neither healthy nor helpful…

This morning? It is an entirely new day with new challenges, and I begin again, feeling hopeful and pretty much okay. I send a note to my GP about changes I could potentially make to my HRT and seeking advice. I have an appointment with my therapist later today. I sigh to myself, and check those off my list. Too much chaos, and for some reason I am regretting ever giving up an analog to-do list on a legal pad written in ballpoint pen, illuminated in the margins with commentary and little doodles. Why now, I wonder? The idea is enticing, though, more visual, more tactile, and just maybe more effective (for me; your results may vary).

This morning begins with phone calls (business) that I never could have handled yesterday. I complete them, feeling a bit unsatisfied with the outcomes. It is a sunny morning, though, and a lovely day so far. I don’t rush through my morning walk, although I got a later start than usual. Yesterday really fatigued me, and I woke only 1 minute ahead of my alarm. I dressed and slipped away quietly, hoping not to wake my beloved. I sit at my halfway point at last and wonder if I should work from the library today, at least for the morning? Seems wise, and would avoid disturbing my Traveling Partner’s rest. After yesterday, I know he really needs it. I find it quite hard to do battle with my demons, myself, I can’t imagine how much harder it is for him.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I sit thinking about yesterday’s blog post, the re-reading of which in the afternoon was part of how I began to get my shit sorted out. I never imagined, when I wrote those positive encouraging words how much I would need them myself, nor how soon. Humans being human. Mental illness is a really hard challenge – and maybe at its most complex and vexing when we heal enough to feel well generally. It’s easy to forget – I know I want to forget it, and even more so when things are beautiful and healthy and fun. Especially then. This is a massive pitfall, and a set-up for failure.

I watch the glow of early morning sunshine light up the treetops. We each have to walk our own mile, eh? What we practice matters; we become what we practice. Choose wisely.

I sigh and glance at the clock. Already time to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, anger, Anxiety, Brain Injury, breathe, Despair, Free Will, Frustration, gratitude, Healthy Living, Hormone Hell, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Sleepless Nights, solo hiking, Spring, The Art of Being, War and News of War, women, Words

Another Day to Be and Live

April 28, 2026 //
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Breathe. Feel it? Lifeforce. Breathe in. Exhale fully. Feel the moment. Where are you now? What do you see when you look? What sounds fill the environment? Who even are you, when no one is with you, and no one is watching? Another moment comes and goes. Breathe, exhale, relax. Step onto the path that leads away, into the distance.

… Where does your path lead? You will decide. Choose wisely, and begin…

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

Spring is lush and green here, and the path past the vineyard and around the bend into the trees is strewn with soggy flower petals, blown to the ground and forming drifts at the edges of the path. I started walking at daybreak, quite possibly my favorite time to begin walking. No glorious golden sunrise this morning, instead heavy gray storm clouds fill the sky. Will it rain? Probably, but it isn’t raining now – and now is what matters when it comes to walking and the chance of rain.

Green and gray, and a path to follow.

I get to my halfway point and take a seat on a big landscaping rock that got dropped or placed in this spot some time long ago. I don’t always stop in this spot, but I usually consider whatever spot I do stop at to be “halfway”. 😆 It isn’t any sort of measured halfway point, it’s only the midpoint in my morning journey in the most approximate way. I stop, I write and meditate awhile, and I walk on. It’s the midpoint of the experience more than anything to do with miles.

…Your mileage may vary. 😆…

Your results, too, will vary. We’re each having our own experience. Each of us is walking our own path. We make our own choices. Experience the consequences of our own actions. We become what we practice. To a large degree, we really do “get out of it what we put into it”, as far as life goes. You’ll see so much more with your eyes open. Feel so much more if you heal from trauma and care for your heart with tenderness and consideration. Where does your path lead? What matters most to you?

… How much of the menu have you even considered sampling?

I am sitting quietly with my thoughts when a small brown bunny hops from the brush, hesitating when he sees me. He watches me warily, nibbling a bit of something or other with small purple flowers. Vetch, maybe? He seems to be enjoying it enough to disregard my presence. I sit quiet and still, watching him. I slowly (so slowly) switch from writing tools to camera. Just as I have the shot setup, he quickly hops away. Oh well, he was too quick for me. I guess you had to be here, in this moment.

I sigh to myself. Present. Awake. Alive. I’m grateful for the rather obvious lack of bombs or drones. It’s beginning to seem as of most other places in the world are dealing with some kind of violence. Nothing like that here, now. Just green grass and brown bunnies, and the occasional noisy robin. I sit contentedly for some little while. Soon enough it will be time to begin again. For now, I’ll just breathe, exhale, and relax.

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

Dreams and Allergies

April 27, 2026 //
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I woke up early this morning in too much pain to go back to sleep, the recollection of a lustful dream still fresh in my memory. I got up, dressed, and headed for the trailhead. I beat the first signs of sunrise.

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

My allergies are pretty bad this morning, and before I put a boot on the trail I’ve used a half a pack of travel tissues. It’s annoying, and I’ve taken more allergy medication to deal with that mess. The sinus headache is doing its best to ruin my mood, but I successfully resist. I sigh to myself, resigned to a stuffy head today, and grateful to have allergy medicine at all. It could be worse, eh? Trees? Probably.

The weekend felt beautifully long, and a bit like a romantic weekend away from the world, although in most practical regards it was an ordinary enough weekend. Plenty got done, and more than that, the close connection between my Traveling Partner and I allowed us to share with a loving frankness and gentle words and be heard on some things we’d been cautious about sharing at all. It’s nice to have it like that, and it isn’t an accident of circumstance; we work at that amount of openness together. I smile as I walk, feeling warmed through by love.

I walk with my thoughts, wondering at how visceral and real dreams can feel, and how readily emotions surface, shifting with the context. I’m getting sufficiently deep sleep to dream vividly and with depth and detail, as if living another life. I easily slip into lucid dreaming (and I am grateful to have the ability to do so). I wasn’t having such rich and vivid dreams while the Anxious Adventurer lived here; a portion of my mind was generally wakeful and wary, vigilant even through sleep. I have missed my dreams. It was an annoyance, but knothing I could have asked of him would have changed that. It was a PTSD response to the presence of a stranger in my living space that only surfaced when I slept. My sleep is definitely healthier now.

I pause my writing to respond to my Traveling Partner’s morning greeting. We both seem pretty merry and upbeat, which is a lovely start to the day. I decide on working from my preferred co-working location instead of at home, at least for the morning, just to avoid being an uncomfortable nuisance distraction with my allergies while my beloved is working (or sipping coffee and enjoying a peaceful moment). I don’t really feel like dealing with him having to deal with my allergies. 😆 That’s love, too. We make it a practice to avoid vexing each other with bullshit when we can.

Daybreak comes and goes. I watch the sun rising from my halfway point as I write. There’s a mist clinging in low places and the morning is a chilly one, although I haven’t paid it any mind; I’m dressed appropriately for a warm afternoon, with a cardigan thrown on for warmth on a chilly Spring morning. Not my first early morning. 😆

My thoughts become a jumble of dream fragments, allergies, and musings about metaphors, inconsequential but perhaps useful as a means of processing shards and snippets of thoughts into something more useful for later? My dream still stands out in my thoughts, lingering the way very real-feeling dreams sometimes do. I sigh and get to my feet to finish my walk. It’s a chilly morning and I’m starting to feel it. It’s a good moment to begin again.

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

Spring Cleaning

April 26, 2026 //
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Yesterday was one of those lovely days that refresh and deepen an intimate connection through serendipity and shared experiences. My Traveling Partner wanted to begin Spring cleaning, now that the weather was warm and mild, and we’d completed the rearranging of rooms after the Anxious Adventurer had moved out. It made sense, and I had no reasonable excuses to decline. So. Housekeeping together.

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

My beloved regaled me with stories of that aspect of military life that is cleaning. No servants for soldiers (or sailors) in these modern times, and we both have memories of tackling clean up as a group endeavor. Our recollections are very different. He recalls almost fondly the shared experience of cleaning work and living spaces with his Navy peers. My similar recollections of Army life are fraught with feelings of irritation, resentment, and sexual harassment. lol I held my tongue and enjoyed his stories and hanging out together. He kept the music coming, we took turns in some areas and supported each other when needed. It was honestly fun as hell.

G’damn I am glad to see him back to being his “usual” particular and playful self. He’s funny and forgiving, and relaxed, these days. He manages to balance being understanding and accommodating with also helping me gently push myself to do more better, when I’m able.

He’s sexy and funny, and he loves me, and we have history – shared and unshared – that ties us together with a depth that would be hard to describe in practical terms. “You had to be there.” We were.

There was this one moment, yesterday… A piece of music he’s played for me often. I… didn’t get it. Didn’t realize the significance. It’s strange that I didn’t listen closer sooner. I generally do. Yesterday I finally did. He was astonished, and a little hurt too, maybe, but as I listened, I realized how powerfully “us” (and me) this song really is, and we connected (again) over a shared moment. It became part of the soundtrack of love. I think back to where/when he first shared it with me. Even more meaningful in context. I played it for myself again quietly before bed, and again this morning.

Love binds us in the most beautiful way.

I walked with my thoughts, of love, of nearly perfect moments, of how good things can be – even housekeeping – together.

There’s more housekeeping to do. Neither of us have quite the energy and pure force of will to deep clean the entire house in a single day, even together. I’m okay with it; I enjoy the time I spend with my beloved. I spent a short time in the garden, too, and there’s still more work to be done there. The strawberries and blueberries are blooming. Will I get a good crop this year?

Love songs in my head and flowers in my garden.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. Meditation and a golden sunrise, later coffee with the Chaotic Comic, and it is a lovely morning. Strangely, all I can really think about is my Traveling Partner and the love song in my head.

… It’s strange…

The wheel turns. The clock ticks on. I’m grateful to share so much of this journey with this singular human being who is my Traveling Partner. I find myself wondering how many lifetimes we may have crossed paths and found love? It often seems too profound, too deep, to develop in a single lifetime. I breathe in the scent of Spring flowers. I watch the sun touch the tops of the trees.

It’s an interesting journey. I’m fortunate to have such good company along the way.

It’s a big world. Lots of options. Choose wisely.

I smile to myself. I’ve got a heart full of love and a mind full of daydreams. I watch the squirrels and robins in the morning sunshine. It’s a beautiful moment and I enjoy it awhile. I think of my beloved and my smile deepens. When I begin again, he’ll be there. It’s an amazing feeling.

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Categories Allegories, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, inspiration, joy, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, Spring, The Art of Being, The Big 5, Words
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