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

Spring Flowers

April 25, 2026 //
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It’s been awhile since I walked the marsh trail. I’ve mostly been staying closer to home, aside from an overnight trip to the coast – was that just last weekend?! It already seems like ages ago. My Traveling Partner woke me at 05:00, he was already awake. I got up, dressed, and headed for the trail. Lovely morning for it.

Lush green hues of Spring under a pink sky.

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

As I stepped onto the trail and started down the path, I found myself preoccupied with war, and fretting about American aggression, Israel’s genocide of Palestine, Russia vs Ukraine, and continued flare ups of violence in the Middle East, Africa, and beyond. How is this not a world at war? I mean, seriously? What the actual fuck is wrong with humanity that we still tolerate (and foster) this kind of stupid violent nonsense? Why do we keep putting violent racist misogynist assholes into positions of power in the first place? How have we not, as a species, made the clear and obvious connection between global violence and its actual perpetrators? I just don’t understand how human beings can still be so g’damned violent and hateful, with so much historical evidence that it is destructive and wasteful and unlikely to achieve good outcomes. Fucking hell we are some stupid motherfuckers.

… Also, fuck Pete Hegseth and his ilk. He embodies the problem quite specifically with his hateful words, his misogyny, and his racism. Listening to this fuckwit trying to claim war is peace is so ridiculously “Animal Farm” and “1984” I just can’t believe he isn’t being mocked openly by far more people. Fiction masquerading as real life. This guy? Definitely not gonna make it to the heaven he says he believes in. He should RTFM. 😆 I shouldn’t laugh, because it isn’t funny. It’s terrifying and disappointing, and sad.

Do better. Do better than Pete Hegseth for sure. 🙄

It’s not hard to do better than a guy like Pete Hegseth; don’t kill anyone today, don’t fire people because you don’t like them, or because they are women, or people of color, or don’t share your religion. Don’t cut people down to make yourself feel large. Don’t pick fights. Don’t try to take what isn’t yours. You’d think people would learn this shit growing up.

I keep walking, and notice the Spring flowers along the trail. Beautiful and sweetly fragrant and unaware of the world’s unpleasantness and chaos.

Small purple flowers down in the grass.

I am delighted and distracted by the flowers. They pull me back into this moment, here, now. I breathe, exhale, and relax. I let the world go, and fill my senses with Spring, grateful that there are no bombs dropping here (not yet). I walk on.

I see meadow flowers, blossoms waving in the breeze.

I walk, watching the sunrise bring a new day to life. I smile and keep walking. The breeze is sweet with the scent of flowers.

I pass bushes covered in clusters of fragrant flowers and stop for a closer look.

I breathe in the scents of flowers as I walk, grateful that I didn’t inherit my mother’s terrible allergies. She loved flowers, but generally couldn’t be near even scentless florist roses and carefully selected bouquets suggested to be low allergen. I love to get close to the flowers and inhale the intoxicating scent, and feel uplifted. There have been times when I really felt as if the fragrance itself was getting me high.

Fruit trees, too.

I pass by a place that was likely a homestead sometime in the past. There are very old fruit trees in a neat little row at the edge of the meadow, where the trail bends towards the river. They smell delicious. I run my hand over the bark. Plum? Pear? Apple? I take another close smell, and look at the blossoms. I’m not certain and don’t really feel inclined to make more effort to figure it out. I walk on.

A pleasant stop along the way.

I finally get to my halfway point. It feels further than I remember. 😆 It’s only been a few weeks since I’ve been here. I laugh at my foolishness without any particular concern or criticism. I sit awhile watching the sunlight change the shadows and patterns of light on the meadow as the sun rises. I don’t have the trail to myself today, but passing photographers and walkers just wave or say “good morning” as they pass, barely noticing me, really. It’s fine.

I meditate and enjoy the breeze and the little birds flitting about. A large plump robin lands in the leaf litter near my feet and digs around for tasty morsels, pausing now and then to consider my presence. She gives a loud bit of song and flies off.

It’s a pretty morning. I’m glad I let my attention shift to the lovely flowers and I sit thinking about my garden.

In my garden the first rose has bloomed.

There is much to do – weeding and planting and taking time to sip a cup of tea and just be. Pleasant and peaceful moments wait for me in the garden. I yawn and sneeze, and sit enjoying the sunshine awhile longer. I’m in no hurry. I can begin again anytime. It’ll be soon enough, whenever I get to it. For now, “now” is enough.

There are moments of peace and joy in spite of a world rather pointlessly at war.
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Categories 2024 Election, Allegories, anger, Anxiety, breathe, Despair, Free Will, gratitude, grief, Healthy Living, joy, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Roses, solo hiking, Spring, The Art of Being, War and News of War, Words

Perfection and Happily Ever After

April 24, 2026 //
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I started my walk on this beautiful Spring morning feeling rested and merry, capable and unbothered. The moment was as nearly perfect as moments ever really get. There’s no “but”, or “and then”, or “if only” – it was simply a lovely moment to be walking as the sun began to rise. I made a point of enjoying it as I walked.

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

I get to my halfway point still feeling pretty lighthearted and still enjoying the spring morning. The grass is dewy and the morning a little chillier than it has been. I’m glad I wore my cardigan.

A new day, with new opportunities to choose, and to practice, and to begin again.

I smile, sitting here quietly enjoying this solitary moment. My Traveling Partner pings me a loving message. It adds to my delight. I find myself thinking about fairytales and happily ever afters. I enjoy a good story, but damn “happily ever after” is an enticing notion that fucked my thinking up for years and years, provoking me to chase happiness, only to fail to ever be happy, again and again. It compounded my misery for a long time.

There is no “happily ever after”. It’s a trap. The Happiness Trap. It’s so tempting and damaging, someone (Russ Harris) wrote a book about it. A worthy read if you are stuck on that treadmill. I was, for a long time.

Happiness isn’t really something to chase, I eventually learned. Through patient practice I learned to build contentment and resilience, and like sleep catching up with a toddler, happiness eventually caught up with me. Happiness, though, is like a moment; it is fleeting. Its intoxicating joy doesn’t last indefinitely, and what remains when the moment passes depends a lot on the path I’ve chosen to walk. Once upon a time, a moment of happiness left behind only misery and disappointment as it departed. Now, happiness can come and go as moments do, and I relish the intoxicating bliss and let it go without clinging when the moment passes. I rest in contentment between moments. Mostly.

See, there’s also no perfection – and no potential for it. The path we walk through life isn’t paved and well maintained in any reliable way. There is no map. No user’s guide. No “training game”. We try things and fail. We learn from mistakes, which we make plentifully (all of us). We walk on. Life is imperfect. People, too. One of the best things I ever did for myself was to stop clinging to the bullshit idea that I could perfect anything, including myself. Imperfect is fine. Imperfect is real. Authenticity matters more than “perfection”. This doesn’t stop me from seeking to become the woman I most want to be, just stops me from being frustrated when even she is not “perfect”. Mistakes will be made. My results will vary. It’s a very human experience.

I watch the sun rise, feeling close enough to “happy” that the difference can’t possibly matter, and it’s enough. More than enough. We become what we practice. Practice savoring each small moment of joy, and refraining from clinging to moments as they pass, and I find myself feeling joy more often, and really feeling it, in the moment (not just noticing as it slips away). It’s nice. Worth the effort. Worth the practice.

Here it is, another morning. Another moment. Another chance to begin again. I breathe, exhale, and relax, and welcome the joy of a moment in springtime before I begin again.

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

Find It, Make It, Savor It

April 23, 2026 //
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I’m enjoying a moment of peace before work. The world is in chaos, or seems to be, but that’s not new, and it’s not here, now. This moment, here? Quite peaceful and lovely.

A Spring Wednesday, and a moment of peace.

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

I’ve been working on undermining years of carefully built “autopilot features” to more comfortably and reliably exist in the present, particularly when I am spending time with people dear to me. It is a mixed success with some humorous moments. Sometimes it’s not as funny, and my frustrated tears certainly make that clear.

It’s a choice to make this change, and a matter of resetting out-of-date coping skills. I keep at it.

My choice to walk my usual walk in the opposite direction somehow puts my “halfway point” in a different place. That’s fine. I don’t mind. The familiar views seem somewhat different, and I enjoy the change of perspective. I take a seat on a large rock, and look at the vineyard from a vantage point that is obscured by tall grasses, some of which I may be allergic to. The sneezing passes. I’m grateful for the pack of tissues in my pocket and not overly concerned with my now-stuffy head. That’ll pass, too.

I sit reflecting on recent conversations with my Traveling Partner. Love reflects us back on ourselves through less critical eyes than our own. I feel beautiful, because he sees me that way. I feel more capable, when he appreciates my efforts. Although this could be problematic if I were to be reliant on his opinions for my self-esteem, there’s real joy and new perspectives on myself when I see myself through his loving eyes. I know he loves me, because he also tells me hard truths with loving words, and I think about these and take advantage of his loving perspective to help me on my path. I’ve grown a lot in this relationship (he has too). I’m not giving up credit for the work I’ve done or the choices I’ve made – I am grateful for such a strong partnership.

This morning, I sit contentedly by the trail, with my thoughts. I feel centered and unbothered and at peace. No doubt this too will pass; that is the nature of moments. I’m okay with savoring this moment and enjoying it, however brief. There’s further to go on this path, and it will soon be time to begin again.

The fallen petals of cherry blossoms are in soft pink drifts at the edge of the trail. The color is pretty. I look at the drifts of petals for awhile, considering the variations in hue. I think about what choices I would make about colors if I were to paint these drifts of petals in pastels. White isn’t white, it’s more a very delicate pale pink fading to a cream color toward the soggy edges, and dappled with bold magenta in places where very fresh petals have fallen, between these extremes, a soft cotton candy sort of pink. What we see in passing is often more complex if we take time to look closely and study what is before us for awhile.

This peaceful moment was made by slowing down, being present, making choices, and taking time to enjoy things as they are. Worth it.

I get to my feet and brush damp pink petals from my jeans. It’s time to begin again, so I do.

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

What Path?

April 22, 2026 //
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I’m sitting at the halfway point on my walk, on a Wednesday morning, thinking about halfway points, and Wednesdays, and walking some other trail than this one. Maybe this weekend I’ll head up the road to the nature park, or into the foothills to test myself on some less traveled trail or abandoned logging road? I sigh to myself. Even the most familiar path can have strange moments. This one, for example, now detours around a bit of construction.

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

What path will you take? Depending on where you are in life, the reply may be “what path is even available?”. The world seems pretty crazy, and more and more people seem to take comfort within the very narrow world of their device, and the apps that feed continuous AI slop into their vacant expressionless face holes. I’m saddened by that; we have so much more potential.

I’ll admit that I’m frankly resentful of, and resistant to, every new observation that yet another company is shoving some half-assed AI or LLM tool into an application or device I had previously valued. Generally speaking, it reliably represents a degradation in my experience as a user. I look for work arounds, alternatives, and sometimes just give up on that thing entirely. I’m not interested in being forced into costly mediocrity in order to satisfy shareholder illusions about user adoption of enshittified tools, services, or platforms.

… I’d rather walk a different path…

I breathe, exhale, and relax. G’damn I’ll be glad when this administration is washed away by time, and our gerontocratic representation finally ages out of the workforce, if only through the finality of mortal human lifetimes. We are mortal creatures. Fucking hell, do better, People. You do realize we chose this? Choose differently, if you want different outcomes, right? We could start with taxing billionaires (heavily – make them give back to the society they exploited to gain their wealth, and make them do it in cash). Another good step would be to strictly require clear ethical standards for anyone elected to office and all judges, and enforce it. No loopholes. Create firm prohibitions against profiting from public office, at all. I sigh. I’m so over corruption and profiteering and greed.

“You wouldn’t say stuff like this if you were rich.” Maybe not. It’s unlikely I’ll ever know; I’m not the kind of person who does the sorts of things it takes to become wealthy. Pull on that thread sometime, really take a look at the history of some great fortunes. Get back to me later on the behaviors and actions of people who build great wealth, and how ethical they were.

Be here, now. Breathe.

I breathe in the Spring air. It smells of flowers and trees and mown grass and damp earth. I let go of my vexation with the path America seems to be on, and sit with this lovely Spring moment. Sometimes that has to be enough. Choose your path. I’ll choose mine. We’re each having our own experience.

My getaway to the coast last weekend really re-energized me and refreshed my sense of things. I needed that restful time. I could easily have enjoyed my leisure for days or weeks, even months. I don’t work for a living because I want to. 😆 I’ve got a long list of things I’d rather be doing.

I’ve made choices in life that brought me to this place, and these circumstances. It’s not a bad life. Honestly, it’s pretty good and I have a lot to be grateful for. I’m fortunate. There are opportunities to choose, or choose differently. I walk the path I’m on, doing my best to make good use of my skills and knowledge, to gain more of each, and to live well without doing harm. It’s fucking complicated, sometimes. I think about the many times the temptation toward greed has complicated my own life. Choices.

Squirrels chase each other around a tree, as I watch. It seems an appropriate metaphor somehow. I glance at my watch and wonder if I’m wasting my time. Anyway. It’s a Wednesday, a work day, and it’s time to begin again.

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Categories 2024 Election, Allegories, anger, Anxiety, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, Spring, The Art of Being, thoughts on AI, War and News of War, Words
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