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

A Better Version

October 30, 2026 //
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Walking and thinking on a damp chilly autumn morning. A fog clings to the ground, and wraps the trees.

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

Interesting conversations with my Traveling Partner last night. Dinner together. Some videos. Nothing much out of the ordinary, it was a pleasant evening at home, in spite of being obviously impaired by pain, the both of us. When did I stop being able to easily “power through” and give a convincing impression of fitness? It seems recent? By the end of most days now, I just… can’t.

Still, there are better versions of me, and this is the idea that I’m giving thought to this morning as I walk. How to be the best version of myself moment to moment, in spite of pain, in spite of PTSD, in spite of brain damage, and in spite of aging. I’m not even looking for a cheat or shortcut. I’ll take the long slow approach, that’s fine. If this shit were easy the world would not be the festering shit pile of corruption and suffering that it seems to be.

… Hell, wouldn’t we all be better off if everyone at least gave a moment of their time to considering being their best selves? I can almost hear someone snap back “how do you know they don’t?”, and I know my response; look around you. That’s how I know. Gaza. Ukraine. Somalia. Rwanda. Yemen. Iran. Seems obvious more than a few people in power aren’t giving being the best version of themselves any thought at all. (When you vote, turn those fuckers out.)

So, I sit here at the side of this trail thinking about how to be the best version of myself. It matters to me. I’m not sure I’ll get there but I’ll be able to look back on a life well-lived in the attempt.

I breathe, exhale, relax. I meditate under a cloudy sky. The air smells of rain, fallen leaves, wood smoke, and petrichor. A lot of candle makers will charge you crazy prices claiming to be selling this scent. They never get it quite right. That’s the thing about the real experience of a scent or a place; any simulation, any fake, any artificial representation is going to fall short for anyone who has lived the moment. There’s something important to understand there, about artifice. I think about that awhile. Being my best self isn’t a “fake it ’til you make it” proposition. That doesn’t really work. Frontin’ like a player doesn’t make you a player. Dressing like a CEO doesn’t make you head of the company you work for. Playing make believe is…play. Becoming one’s best self is work and practice.

I inhale deeply and enjoy the sensation of exhaling. I visualize letting my stress go, exhaling it with my breath.

Wait, did I just dismiss artifice and play acting in one moment, then turn right around and use a visualization exercise in the very next paragraph? Yes, yes I did. Visualization, imagination, playing pretend, and even “dressing for the job you want”, all have a place at the table in life. Becoming the person I most want to be has some real work in it, and a commitment to practice over time. Lots of verbs. So much practice. No guarantee of success, and an implied promise of failure along the way. It’s hard enough just figuring out who we want to be. The work of becoming is its own challenge.

I get to my feet and stretch. I guess it’s as good a time as any to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, Anxiety, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, Despair, forgiveness, Free Will, gratitude, health, meditation, Metaphors, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, solo hiking, The Art of Being, thoughts on AI, War and News of War, Words

Life.

October 29, 2026 //
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It is quiet here at the side of this trail in the darkness. It is early, before sunrise. It is autumn, chilly but not cold. Everything around me is wet from rain during the night. The clouds are dense and the sky quite dark, no stars shine through.

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

I breathe in the chilly fresh damp autumn air, grateful to breathe easily, thinking my thoughts. The freedom to walk safely in the darkness in the wee hours is precious and I make a point to savor it. I have no reason to expect that I’ll always have such freedom. It’s a strange world, and very few things are truly lasting certainties. So, I sit here contentedly for a little while, just being. Grateful.

The night was a difficult one. I sigh to myself, from frustration, or impatience, or maybe because life itself is often difficult. It could be so much worse. I practice anchoring myself to this moment here, now. It is quite a pleasant one, and it happens to be the one I’m in. Handy.

I breathe, exhale, and relax.

I hope my beloved gets the rest he needs. It is hard on him too when I am having a bad night.

Yesterday was tiring. My annual wellness check with my GP was fine. I’m in good health for my age and considering my history that’s impressive (to me). I got my flu shot. Convenient. It’s a long drive away, though, and I was tired by the time I got home. I shared a quiet evening watching videos with my Traveling Partner. All very ordinary and happily mundane.

… I’ve been having bad dreams, more or less nightly, for awhile now. Dreams of war, of chaos, of having to “mask up” in response to some threat of chemical or biological warfare then discovering the chemical agent is inside the mask… Rough. Worse are the more abstract dreams. How the hell is a dream of a “rainstorm” of strangely sticky confetti a “bad dream”?! I have no idea. What does a dream of blood going down a drain actually mean? Lucid dreaming practices sometimes help me find my way out. Waking up is a reliable way to stop a bad dream, though it does not prevent them lingering in my thoughts, sometimes for days.

This morning I’m tired but clear headed. It’s enough to get by on. The weekend is coming. I am hoping to spend much of it in the studio. How do I most easily put a nightmare to rest? I paint its picture. It is a peculiarly personal way to exorcise my demons.

A sprinkle of rain begins to fall. I get to my feet to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, anger, Anxiety, art and the artist, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, gratitude, health, inspiration, Love, Menopause, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, The Art of Being, War and News of War, women, Words

Weird Weather, Still Walking

October 28, 2026 //
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I slept well, and struggled to wake easily. I slipped out of the house quietly, without waking my beloved (I think).

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

The rain was fell intermittently as I drove to the trailhead. The air felt colder than the thermometer says it is. It is a relatively warm 51F/11C, and experience suggests it should feel warmer than it does. The raindrops feel warmer than I expect. It’s very strange. I get to the trail, dressed for the rain, so of course it stops raining. I begin to remove my poncho, as if to suggest confidence in the cloudy skies. As I do, it starts raining again. I laughed and put my poncho back on before I headed down the trail towards the creek on the other side of the vineyard. Nothing to see, really, it’s still quite dark and only my headlamp to light my way. I see the rain falling.

My beloved pings me a greeting. I find shelter under the trees and reply. The morning feels bright and joyful – and it’s not even daybreak yet. 😆

A break in the rain (more of a drizzle, really) and I set off again. The rain taps the hood of my poncho. A gust of wind pushes me sideways, then I overcorrect and stumble the other direction when the wind dies away. A fit of sneezing almost knocks me off my feet, but I barely give it a thought – I’m way more focused on not pissing myself as I sneeze! 😂 I stop, stand still, and catch my breath, grateful for the brief pause in the rain, and the tissues I remembered to stuff into my pocket.

When I finally reach my halfway point, it has felt like an adventure to get this far. I take shelter under the overhang of the evergreens along the creek. My usual spot is out under the open sky on the other side of the trail, but it’s raining again, so I choose differently. I sigh to myself. I won’t linger long. Today clearly isn’t the day for that.

Yeah. Rain. It is autumn in the Pacific Northwest, rain is just part of the package. Movement catches my attention. A small group of deer are walking past. One mature doe is leading three others, younger and smaller. She looks at me calmly, as she passes. They head into the trees just beyond where I’m standing. The rain continues.

I sigh to myself and finish this, eager to pull my cardigan more tightly around me and jam my hands into warm pockets. Surely I’ll warm up as I walk? I’m already looking forward to a hot shower after work. Silly human primates, always yearning for something. I grin at my very human foolishness, and begin again.

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

What Weather?

October 27, 2026 //
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I had a restless night, but managed to get enough real rest to begin a new day gently. I woke from strange dreams feeling mostly pretty well-rested. I woke with a song in my head.

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

The morning is off to a comfortable start, although the song in my head hints at more. Likely nothing more than a busy Tuesday at work, but it will definitely be that.

The weather forecast a few days ago had suggested freezing or near freezing weather this week, and probably our first frost, around here. Not even close. The morning is mild and rainy, and feels almost warm. (Warm for the season, if not more generally.) I’m glad I put my rain poncho on. The morning is drizzly, and I am spattered with raindrops as I walk. Feels nice to be outside, actually. I breathe the autumn air deeply, and exhale slowly. I feel refreshed by each breath. I keep practicing as I walk; breathe, exhale, relax.

Shooting the moon.

I try to catch the moon as she peeks from behind dense clouds. I’m successful for some values of “success”. 😆 I’m fine with it. I keep walking, eventually stopping at my halfway point to write.

Over the years, as I have become more positive, more accepting, more adaptable, while learning the practices that would bring me so close to being wholly emotionally “well”, one of the most complicated challenges to emerge has had to be… being okay. Just that; learning to accept and enjoy the feeling of utterly ordinary days, pleasantly uninteresting moments, and the ordinary inconsequential mundanities of living well, has been complicated. I didn’t anticipate being emotionally well and enjoying fairly lasting contentment day-to-day might be more difficult than the process of getting there. 😆 Wild.

…Do you ever find yourself “starting shit for no reason”, or creating “drama” in the middle of a peaceful moment? Could it be that maybe you don’t feel ready to be okay after all this time…?

I breathe, exhale, and relax, watching the stormy clouds churning slowly as they sail across the night sky. It’s still awhile before daybreak. The moon has disappeared behind the clouds. I sit quietly, enjoying the darkness. I swing my feet and wonder what’s next? The year has gone by pretty quickly. 9 Tuesdays left after this one (in the calendar year).

I sigh to myself and get to my feet. Soon it will be a whole new year. Right now it’s enough to have this path (and day) ahead of me. The rain begins to fall more steadily. Time to begin (again).

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Categories 2024 Election, Allegories, Anxiety, art and the artist, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, inspiration, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Sleepless Nights, solo hiking, The Art of Being, War and News of War, Words
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