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It’s a choice to make this change, and a matter of resetting out-of-date coping skills.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

Skill, Talent, Practice

April 21, 2026 //
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It is a rainy morning. It wasn’t raining when I left the house, but it clearly had been. It is raining now, as I sit parked at the trailhead, waiting for a break in the rain. Sort of. I’m less waiting than taking time to write and meditate before I walk. Seems likely to be a poor morning for sitting quietly along the trail. 😆

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

Some long while ago I made a note to myself about the perplexing puzzle (for me) that is boundary setting:

Every boundary we set, however healthy, is an obstacle to the person being advised they may be encroaching on a boundary. That’s just real. It is what it is. We either set healthy boundaries – and respect those ourselves – or the world walks over us.

I made that note years ago on a scrap of paper that I later tucked between the pages of the book I was reading at the time. It was a meaningful and relevant observation in that moment; the boundary I was setting was simply that I was reading and did not wish to be interrupted for chit-chat by my then partner (now ex). I found the note recently, while moving things around on bookshelves, when it slid to the floor, a reminder from a past version of myself that this has been a challenge for me for a long time. Brain damage, cPTSD, and a lifetime of anxiety-driven “people pleasing” mingling to form a persistent bit of chaos and damage. It’s been difficult to “fix” while living it.

I’m grateful that my Traveling Partner is aware of (and alert for) this problematic bit of code in my operating system. He is quick to take note if I am exhausting myself trying to tackle every casual request in an instant, or frustrating myself by walking over my own reasonable boundaries. He reminds me to put myself first, often, and to practice good self-care. He respects clearly set boundaries with genial acceptance. But… The boundary setting is mine to do. It’s up to me to manage my boundaries, to respect them myself, to provide kind reminders when needed – before I’m frustrated, before resentment develops, before I might become likely to snap at someone I care about. It’s basic communication. I have to do the verbs. I find boundary setting uncomfortable. This is one small part of the legacy of trauma and abuse that I’m still dragging with me through life.

Working on this crap is hard, not gonna lie about that, but protecting and nurturing healthy agency is worth the effort required, and I’ve got a partner who truly enjoys me at my whole, healthy, and sane best, even when I set a boundary. I’m much better with boundaries these days, and finding the scrap of paper with the note written on it (from sometime before 2010) is a meaningful reminder that this is something I’ve had to work at for a long time.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. Basic communication skills are something human primates still have to work at to develop those fully. We’re not born as great communicators. We learn as we go. We practice what works – and sometimes what works in the context of trauma and unhealthy family dynamics is not at all healthy, nor particularly functional, outside that dynamic, in the larger world. I still struggle with some of this. Still dragging along some unnecessary baggage. I sigh to myself and imagine setting down a heavy suitcase with busted wheels, scuffed and worn and shabby looking. I imagine letting a heavy backpack slide from my shoulders to the ground. I visualize unpacking them both, and chuckle to myself because this thought exercise actually gives me a real feeling of relief in the moment.

I have no native talent for communication. I work at building my skills in this area – and have done so for years (with considerable success), and I practice what I learn about healthy communication. I improve over time. I’ll continue to work at it until it feels easy and natural. That seems like a better choice than continuing to endure being poor at basic communication. 😆 I have choices. I make choices. I practice. I improve over time.

How many times have I stood in this place, and faced my limitations aware that I have so much further to go? Doesn’t matter at all. The journey is the destination. We become what we practice. Incremental change over time is an effective approach to changing who I am and becoming who I most want to be.

I notice that the rain has stopped. I grab my cane and my rain poncho, and begin again. This is my path. Walking it requires me to do the verbs. 😄

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

Ripples and Reflections

April 20, 2026 //
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Self-reflection is not a five minute exercise that reliably results in some sort of personal transformation. It requires time and repetition. I’m still processing the weekend, and it’s already Monday. The shift back to the work routine comes with the sound of grinding gears, metaphorically speaking.

Sometimes illumination comes as a flash of insight, sometimes it comes in waves.

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

This morning I am thinking about my (possibly excessive) reliance on habits and routines so well established they amount to a sort of “autopilot”. Very efficient, cognitively, but my partner has pointed it out more than once as potential problem, because autopilot doesn’t “read the room”, nor does it have the capacity to listen deeply, respond in a considerate way, or adapt quickly from an emotional perspective. Not mine, anyway. It’s better at driving the car than being present.

Efficiency and being “productive” get a lot of emphasis in our excessively work-focused culture. Funny thing though, reading articles about end of life regrets or quality of life recommendations from elders, it’s rare that anyone ever lauds work, and regrets are commonly to do with missed opportunities to connect with friends and loved ones. Autopilot is better for work than for relationships. Autopilot is not mindful, present, or self-aware. It is a tool with limited value.

For a brain damaged teenager trying to master the basics of driving a car safely, there’s a certain limited value in putting a few things on “autopilot” (check both ways before turning onto the street, stop completely at stop signs, use the turn signals…) but a grown woman seeking to build or deepen a romantic connection with a beloved partner, autopilot is not only inappropriate, it’s ineffective. It’s also…rude.

I walk with my thoughts, grateful for a partner who loves me enough to communicate what doesn’t work for him in an honest way. It’s hard to hear, when I’ve been a jerk, but being open to hearing honest boundary setting and feedback also gives me a chance to reflect on my choices and consider new ones. Autopilot improves cognitive ease, but improving cognitive ease comes at a cost. I sigh to myself. Choices. We become what we practice.

Deep listening, openness, consideration, being present, and emotional intimacy are among the most challenging practices; doing any of them well requires attention and self-awareness, and a willingness to be “in the moment” with another human being, awake and aware, no shortcuts. No autopilot. Another sigh as I pause on my walk to gather my thoughts, write, and reflect. I definitely need to make some changes. I feel comfortable with my sense of what those changes need to be.

Sure, autopilot is more efficient. I go faster, get more done, but the tradeoffs come in a combination of silly mistakes made in haste, and a shallow superficial presence that lacks real connection. It’s not really a difficult choice, just a ton of practice to do. There are verbs involved. Understanding isn’t enough. Recognition isn’t enough. There’s real work involved in slowing down and being really present – and also setting clear explicit boundaries and expectations when I am not available for deeply connecting, or for paying attention to something different than I am doing in some moment (these may be the hardest things for me to learn to do well).

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I watch a gray dawn become a new day. Seems like a good one to begin again – with changes. Change is.

Sometimes the path takes an unexpected turn. Follow it? Choose another path? It is a choice.
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Categories Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, Logic & Reason, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Spring, The Art of Being, The Big 5, women, Words

More Than a Happy Place

April 19, 2026 //
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I sipped my first coffee, feet up, sitting by a cozy fire, watching the light change with the gray coastal dawn. The view to the west is layers of gray and soft blue. For me, this place is more than a delightful destination to get away for a little while; the ocean symbolizes a relentless force of reality that compels self-reflection and forces me to face myself as I watch the waves roll in. There’s no arguing with the ocean. It represents a resilient nature indifferent to external storms, even in the midst of them. Obstacles are washed away, or, like driftwood, piled on the shore, visible, removable, and easy to avoid. The ocean is unyielding about her boundaries, and for me she provokes deep thought, and a presence that I find I must linger with.

…The views from this hotel are spectacular…

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

I pour a second coffee. The coffee machine here is quite clean, and the coffee must be fresher than usual (for a hotel); it’s quite good. I sit watching the waves. The tide is going out. I am surprised by a deer ambling up the steep slope just beyond the window.

It’s worth it to slow down and observe what’s going on, even when nothing seems to be going on.

She looks at me through the window, pauses to nibble some tasty plant, and ambles on.

Two of the women most dear to me (and most significant in my own life as a woman), loved the sea and seaside places. My Dear Friend and my Granny have ended their mortal lives some time ago, but when I am at the seashore, I feel them with me. It doesn’t matter whether it is the rocky coastal beaches of the Pacific Northwest, or the marshy edges of the Chesapeake Bay, or the kitschy seaside towns that tourists flock to each summer. I love being by the shore, too, if only because it connects me so deeply to these two women, who are so much a part of who I am myself. Sometimes when I most need to be alone, I am taking that time to “talk with my ancestors” in a way I find difficult to describe. It sometimes seems funny that I never feel my Dad’s presence in such places; his are the forests and meadows. The ocean seems to me to be a very feminine sort of energy. I find myself wondering if sailors feel that way, too? Theirs is a very different relationship with the sea…

Fisherman early in the morning.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I feel well and whole, and capable. I feel comfortable in my skin and grounded in the goodness of my life. I’ll head home eagerly to see what my Traveling Partner has done while I’ve been gone. He is, himself, a force to be reckoned with, and as his abilities return he is capable of moving mountains (and definitely furniture). Certainly, he moves me.

For now, it’s me and this beautiful expanse of beach, and this gray ocean under a cloudy sky – and another cup of coffee. I’ve got plenty of time to begin again, a little later.

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Categories Allegories, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, inspiration, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Practices, Relationships, Spring, The Art of Being, women, Words
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