Archives for the month of: November, 2025

I’m at the trailhead, waiting for the sun. I could walk in the predawn darkness, but this morning I choose to wait for a bit of light. Daybreak comes, and I sit with my thoughts a few minutes longer.

One morning, one moment, unique and brief.

I am thinking about how differently two individuals (any two) can view the same set of circumstances (any circumstances) or even a shared experience. We are each having our own experience. We each view the world through the lens of our own perspective, further altered by the filters of our expectations and past experiences. As with cameras, the differences in our “equipment” (our education, our economic situation, our individual values) make some difference, too, but our “camera settings” – the choices we make, how skillfully we adapt to new information, our critical thinking skills and willingness to apply those – often matter more. A lot more. An affluent person with a great degree who comes from “a good family” can still be a heartless dumbass carelessly wrecking other lives, which is to say, rather obviously, that the photographer matters more, to a point, than the camera does.

When we view the world, or even some brief moment, we bring our baggage with us. We see the world through the lens and filters of our individual experiences and understanding, making us prone to some pretty fucked up errors in thinking. You do, I promise you. I do, too. They do. We do. There are no exemptions and there is no escape. We can only do our individual best with that shit, making a point to be kind, considerate, thoughtful, and reasonable. We can make a point to listen deeply – a whole other huge endeavor that requires learning and practice (and is super worthwhile). We can ask clarifying questions – and hear (and accept) the answers. We can assume positive intent, and understand that generally speaking, most people are doing their everyday best, or think they are, without any desire to cause harm. We can refrain from taking shit personally (it mostly just isn’t). None of this is “easy”, at least not at first, but it can all be done willfully and with practice it becomes pretty natural.

It’s on my mind this morning because I’m human. I’m prone to seeing the world through my own eyes and overlooking how many other potentially also quite valid perspectives there are, which others may hold. There is often more than one “right answer” to life’s questions. Acceptable behavior is very context dependent. Two photographers at the same location, taking a picture of the same bird, will get two different pictures. It’s the same bird. Neither picture could be described as “wrong” or “incorrect”, they are pictures of some real, lived, moment. (Let’s leave AI images out of this discussion entirely, since delusions are their own thing, related but not what I’m going on about this morning.) The point I’m making is that for practical, cognitive, and contextual reasons, we really are each having our own experience.

It’s pointless to argue that someone’s feelings in some moment are “incorrect”; emotion is very subjective. It is unhelpful to reject someone’s understanding of circumstances, even in those instances when it seems obvious they’ve gotten some fact wrong. Most people cling to their own subjective flawed understanding of the world, even when provided with facts to the contrary. Human primates are limited that way. Yelling other information at a human primate trying to force a shared perspective doesn’t generally work very well, either. Even if you were to pass your camera over to another photographer, position them precisely where you stood to “see things from your perspective”, they would still get a different picture of the scene.

I don’t have an easy solution to offer on the many ways our individual perspectives complicate our interactions with other individuals. Communication is a lot of work. Building community and nurturing healthy relationships is a lot of work. People often don’t listen to each other, and when they do they often don’t accept what they hear (or don’t make good use of the information). People are emotional creatures who persist in trying to put reason and logic in charge, in spite of clear evidence that emotion arrives to every party before intellect does.

I guess one path forward is maybe practice those listening skills. Gratitude, kindness, and consideration are great steps on a path to “common decency”, too. Accepting that your way (or opinion, or choice of religion) is not the only way, is a stepping stone further on the path. Hell, your way – the path you choose – may not even be the best way. You don’t know enough as one human primate to make that determination; it’s a big world and the menu of The Strange Diner has a lot of options. There is a lot to learn and experience in life.

Tis the season

I sigh to myself, thinking about recent days and moments of conflict or stress. Looking back it often seems so obvious what different choices could have been made in the moment with better results. I focus my attention on my own behavior; it’s the part I can control, myself. I practice letting go of lingering hurt feelings, reframing experiences through a different lens, and examining my “filters” for fallacies and thinking errors. I breathe, exhale, and relax. I improve my perspective and my understanding through self-reflection. I practice the practices that have helped bring me so far, already. Non-attachment. Gratitude. Meditation. Letting small shit stay small. Savoring small wins and simple joys, and giving disappointment, resentment, and anger less room to live in my head.

Practice is more than a word. Practice is a verb. “Do the verbs”, I remind myself.

The sun rises. The day begins. I see my path stretching forward, between the oaks and along the meadow’s edge. I’ve got my camera, and it’s time to begin again.

Seriously. Let go of FOMO. Fear of missing out drives some pretty crappy decision-making. Remember the instant craze for those Stanley drink cups, when they came out in colors? Yeah. I’m glad I passed on that foolishness. Why? Um… Simple…

Who really “won” in this FOMO craze?

Those cups are everywhere now. Most likely that was always the goal for Stanley – a product becoming a huge fad and selling well. Right? Profit. The fuss drove so much interest these things are now readily available at most big box retailers and discount chains. If you spent more than retail pricing on the reseller market when this product was a big deal, you overpaid.

Tis the season to do a bit of gift shopping, for many of us. Want your dollar to go further? Don’t waste your time on FOMO. Want your dollar to mean more? Spend it locally, on locally produced and manufactured goods. Buy imported items from retailers you know are committed to fair trade practices and supply chains free of human trafficking and child labor. Avoid goods produced in dictatorships, or by prison labor. Small details like that can really matter. Make this gift giving holiday one characterized by thoughtful consideration, and careful selection, and not quantity. Or don’t. It’s your celebration and I’m not telling you what to do, just offering suggestions. Just maybe be mindful that “Black Friday deals” aren’t actually about you, the consumer. They are about business, and selling more product.  Those big box and chain retailers don’t care one bit about you, the consumer, beyond the limits of your bank account, and they’d happily take all you have and give you nothing, if that were feasible.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. My good mood yesterday morning was thrashed within minutes of returning home from my walk. I didn’t want to vex my Traveling Partner with my irritability, so I grabbed my purse, turned myself around, and headed into the retail chaos of Black Friday.

I don’t generally shop on Black Friday, seeing it as a retail cash grab more than anything else (and I loathe the crowds), and often the things I want to give as gifts are not the sort of things that are most often discounted. Specific books. Specialty tools. Handcrafted goods. Locally produced specialty products (around here that could be wine, various farm-produced goods for kitchen or home, olive oil, spirits, blown glass, chocolates, or charcuterie). Something to keep in mind is that artisans and craftspeople often sell their work at the lowest price they can afford to, already, just trying to compete with low cost mass produced goods. So… Do you want to gift people dear to you with a lot of cheap poor quality items for a festive morning of unboxing followed by a bit of gracious depression when the reality of worth sets in? Maybe gifting a small number of carefully selected gifts that will be enjoyed for some time to come sounds more appealing? It’s your call, and I’m not criticizing or even suggesting these are the only options. (And I’ll admit that one gift high on my wishlist this year is cheap colorful fuzzy spa socks of the sort commonly found in dime stores and grocery stores; they’re my favorite for lounging around the house or sleeping. 😆) The unicorn we’re all hunting is “more for less”, I suppose. Enjoy the hunt!

I didn’t actually buy anything on Black Friday, aside from a non-holiday (also not discounted) tool item for my Partner’s shop. I didn’t even grocery shop. I just wandered around a couple of very holiday forward retail spaces, a little bored and very irritable. “Holiday blues”, maybe, or “the down” the day after having taken more pain medication than is routine for me, in order to push through the work of bringing the Thanksgiving holiday to the table; it matters less why I was irritable, than how I dealt with it, and whether I was successful at managing it. The day ended well.

Daybreak comes.

Today is a new day. I’m sitting at my halfway point on my morning trail walk, contemplating yesterday’s failures and successes, and making room for gratitude and joy. I’ll get some grocery shopping done on my way home, and spend the day decorating the Giftmas tree. There are already carols in my head, and I caught myself singing “Joy to the World” as I drove to the trail this morning. I notice, again, the dearth of secular holiday carols. It is a chilly autumn morning, clear and still, no rain, no wind, and the clouds are breaking up as they slowly move across the sky.

A woman, a moment, a sunrise.

I sit listening to the traffic on the highway on the other side of the seasonal marsh trail. I can see hints of the sunrise developing, through the trees. My tinnitus is loud, but I pay it no attention. Eventually, I may forget about it for awhile. The twisted oak branches, bare of leaves, make an interesting silhouette against the sky. I look for shapes and faces in the tangled branches, for fun. As daylight improves the visibility, I see a small brown bird seated on this fence rail, at the other end, paying me no attention at all, feathers fluffed for warmth, head tucked in a bit, eyes closed. Sleeping? I stifle my laughter, but still manage to shake the fence rail, disturbing my wee neighbor, who wakes, shakes her feathers, and flies off. I see the shapes of other little birds, sitting in the tree branches. (Sit still long enough, watching, and you will surely see some things!)

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I consider the day ahead. This moment here? Quite enough precisely as it is. I think of my Traveling Partner sleeping at home. I know he was up during the night, for some while. I hope his “second sleep” gives him the rest he needs. I’ve no need to rush home from my walk, and silently commit to giving him time to sleep undisturbed. Far from being any sort of hardship, doing so also serves my own needs; I enjoy the solitude in the morning.

I sigh to myself. My hands are becoming stiff in the cold. I finish my writing and get ready to begin again. It’s a brand new day.

I know. It’s the day after Thanksgiving. A lot of people will no doubt move on from the holiday, forget all about gratitude, and return to snarling about petty bullshit, or worse, they may return to lobbing petty bullshit at others. Unnecessary. Unpleasant. (Do better.) I sigh to myself hoping to do better, and to practice healthier practices than that.

It’s early. Daybreak. I’m out on the trail, content with my solitude, and enjoying the sight of colorful holiday lights that have appeared here and there along my path, visible from a distance, peaking through the trees. Today I’ll begin decorating for the Yule holiday, myself. My headache dampens my enthusiasm for the tasks involved but does not diminish my fondness for the results. This year, everything is “easy to get to”, but it’s in a storage unit nearby, instead of the attic crawlspace. Ease sometimes comes at a cost. “Worth remembering that,” I mutter to myself, aloud.

Our Thanksgiving celebration was lovely. The meal was a good one. The errors, mishaps, and compromises were few. The cleanup got done in stages, after dinner. There was no yelling at all, no moments of lost temper or profound vexation. Admittedly, it was not a perfect day; I managed to talk over my beloved Traveling Partner (or failed to listen while he was talking) a couple times, which predictably enough hurt his feelings. That’s rude and inconsiderate, and I understood the hurt. I apologized and did my best to avoid repeating the behavior. I sometimes struggle to give attention to more than one speaker or task at any given time, and don’t “multitask” particularly well (although I once thought I did). It is a limitation that causes me quite a lot of stress. I do my best to juggle and carefully manage competing priorities. My results vary.

A new day, a familiar path.

Dawn unfolds as a new, gray, and rather mild autumn morning. It’s been rainy. Last night was windy and some trees have come down, although few; it’s mostly broken off branches I see on the trail. It could be worse.

There are challenges ahead of me (aren’t there always?), and challenges behind me (no good ruminating endlessly over those!), but this moment, here, now? It’s fine. I’m okay for most values of “okay”, and generally speaking, life is pretty good. Every damned thing is too expensive, and costs continue to rise, but we’ve got enough and we’re getting by. It could be much worse. I’m thankful for my good fortune. I’m thankful for my Traveling Partner. Turning the page on a calendar by one day doesn’t mean gratitude is any less worthy, or less appreciated. I’m still grateful. There is no value in limiting our gratitude to one day of the year. Gratitude is welcome and useful all year long. It’s a good basic practice for building perspective and a positive approach to life, too.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. Sure, my results may vary, and it’s a very human experience, but each day I have a chance to begin again, to do better, to make wiser decisions, to treat others with consideration, compassion, and kindness… including myself. I get another opportunity to become the woman I most want to be. As dawn becomes day, I think about what that takes, and prepare to begin again.

It is Thanksgiving morning, before sunrise. Thank you for taking a moment to read this, and I hope you enjoy the holiday, if you celebrate it. Regardless, I greatly appreciate you; you give my writing direction and purpose beyond me simply talking to myself. I hope you get something more out of it than the passage of time.

I stepped out of the house into warmish spring-like air, everything rain-fresh and damp, this morning, the scent of petrichor still lingering. The street gleaming with reflected twinkle lights of newly added holiday displays delights me as I step to the car and as I drive to the trailhead.

This little town I call home is quiet this morning. No commuter traffic; it’s one of the few holidays that very nearly every American celebrates, and most folks will even be off work. Personally, I wholly disapprove of making people work on Thanksgiving, at all. You’ve got legit volunteers? Great. But… this is a day working people really should get to be at home with their dear ones. I often make my shopping decisions for the entire holiday season (and sometimes beyond) based on how businesses treat their work force with regard to Thanksgiving.

I get to the trail. Everything is soggy and very still and quiet. Daybreak is still almost half an hour away, but the sky overhead, cloudy, is peculiarly bright, illuminated from below. A soft sprinkling of rain begins to fall as I park, but a glance at the weather on my cell phone tells me it’s likely to pass shortly, and I decide to wait and write, and walk after the rain stops. I’m thankful for the technology that makes the decision practical and easy. I sit with my thoughts, listening to the patter of raindrops on the car. I’m grateful for the pleasantly mild morning.

I enjoy this holiday. This year it is a small gathering, family, three familiar faces around the table. Without the performance pressure of guests in attendance to ensure “best behavior”, family holidays can sometimes erupt in stress unexpectedly. I hope we don’t have to deal with that kind of emotional bullshit today. I honestly just don’t have any will to spend time soothing hurt feelings, particularly my own. 😂 It’s tempting to pull a page from my own mother’s handbook on family management and proactively state with some firmness that “there is to be no g’damned yelling or argumentative bullshit today – you will behave yourself or you will excuse yourself to pull yourself together and come back when you can be pleasant”. I chuckle to myself at the recollection, and wonder if that ever really worked? I suppose it may have. The only yelling or argumentative bullshit I recall at childhood Thanksgivings was between menfolk over politics, under the influence of alcohol, and the man who chose to start shit with my Grandfather could generally count on losing his place at the table, to eat alone in the kitchen, or at the children’s table. It was quite rare as a result.

I’ll spend most of today in or near the kitchen. There is no resentment, I enjoy the outcome as much as anyone, and I take pride in setting a good holiday table. It’s generally easier to do most of the cooking for such a small group than to work around other people also cooking. The kitchen is small. I’m not complaining, just pointing it out as a detail. This is a joyful celebration and a chance to recalibrate our focus on the things that are going well, and for which we’re grateful. It matters to be appreciative, and gratitude is a more rewarding and uplifting experience than anger, frustration, or resentment. Pettiness and emotional bullshit have no place at my Thanksgiving table.

This time, here, now, though? This is mine, and that’s important, too. This is a good moment for private gratitude and quiet thoughts. I listen to the rain, and the ringing and chiming, buzzing, hissing, of my tinnitus, and the HVAC on the roof of a building nearby. The morning still seems so very quiet and undisturbed. The thought crosses my mind that elsewhere in the world there is suffering, chaos, violence, and war… I allow myself to acknowledge that without being consumed by it. I’m grateful that there are no bombs dropping here, although ICE thugs have been snatching teenaged citizens from the streets, proving again that none of us is safe from encroaching authoritarianism. Scary. I breathe, exhale, and relax. Today is not the day.

Turkey roasted with carrots from the garden, stuffing, mashed potatoes and mushroom gravy, corn, some sort of green vegetable (green bean casserole? steamed broccolini?), homemade cranberry sauce, cocktails, pumpkin pie and whipped cream… This won’t be the fanciest Thanksgiving menu, and I’m not serving the biggest group I’ve ever hosted. It’s more elaborate than an evening meal generally is at our house, though, and definitely a celebration. I smile thinking about the meal and the merriment (and all I can say about that is that if I’m going to put all this work into the meal, the very least everyone else can do is be fucking merry, damn it).

The rain stops. I’m grateful for the break in the rain and the mild morning. I’m grateful for the well maintained local trail and the time, freedom, and safety to walk it at dawn. I’m grateful to have family to enjoy the holiday with, and help with things, and to feel so accepted. I’m grateful for my Traveling Partner, and all the things he does to improve our quality of life. I’m grateful to have the Anxious Adventurer’s help when he has it to give. I look down the trail, heart full of contentment and joy, and ready to begin, again.

I take a breath and stretch as I step out of the car. I wish you and yours a delightful Thanksgiving holiday, if you celebrate it, and hope the holiday season ahead unfolds with minimal stress and maximum joy – and no violence (nor any yelling). Be helpful when you can, and be kind and understanding even if you can’t be helpful.

It’s time to begin again. For this, too, I am grateful.

I started my walk quite early. Before sunrise. Before dawn. Before daybreak even hinted at a new day beginning. I walked down the dark trail, the circle of light cast around me by my headlamp bobbing and shifting with my steps. Nothing much to see besides wet leaves and an occasional slug. It is warmer than recent mornings. I walk with my cardigan open, in spite of occasional raindrops.

For me, trail walking is a useful metaphor for following a path in life. It has everything I am likely to need to more deeply contemplate this very human journey as I walk. I’ve even got occasional obstacles along the way, as in life itself. I walk with my thoughts. Tomorrow is Thanksgiving, and I’ve got a lot to be thankful for. Over time, gratitude has become such a natural practice that I often find an attitude of presumed entitlement to be… boorish and crude, astonishing and distasteful.

I smile to myself as I walk. I’ve come a long way on this journey.

I’ve changed a lot over the years. I don’t have much in common with the woman who left the Army at 30, bitter, damaged, and full of a poisonous diffuse rage waiting to find a target. Nor do I have much in common with the chaotic and bewildered young woman who joined up at 17, fairly certain she had no other reasonable prospects. I don’t have much in common with the woman who quit her job to paint full-time at 52, either. (She quickly discovered that although she loved to paint, she was pretty dreadful at the business of art, and returned to the workforce when her savings ran out.) I probably have a little more in common with some much younger past version of myself…13? 14? Idealistic, optimistic, hopeful, generally cheerful, eyes wide with wonder, and a head full of notions – now that’s a girl worth hanging out with for some giggles and good conversations!

Funny thing about that much younger version of me… she didn’t have many useful tools in her toolbox at that age, and her choices to “just walk away” when things got “too real” taught me a lot, although they were poorly considered, and fairly stupid decisions. Did abandoning everything and just walking away from my life ever fix anything? No, not generally, but once or twice it helped me turn a corner or make a clean break that legitimately served me well. It’s taking a sledgehammer to an annoying fly, though; imprecise, with far greater destructive potential than required. I still think about it, now and then, when life is at its most stressful… there’s freedom in walking on.

… Every morning, I lace up my boots and walk on. It’s a useful metaphor for change and for progress, and for following a path…

Do you ever think about just walking away from everything and everyone you know, and striking out on a completely new path? Do you consider how few and how small the practical changes actually need to be to thoroughly change your whole life as the effects ripple through the whole of your experience day-to-day? One small change, well-practiced over time, could be enough to change your experience of life, generally. That’s kind of a big deal… Useful.

…One step at a time down the path, I keep walking with my thoughts…

A brief rain shower passes by, enough to dampen my hair. I keep walking. I slip on slick leaves at the edge of a puddle, and slide a short distance before catching my balance. I keep walking. A steeper bit of trail slows me down a little, just where the pavement ends and the trail becomes muddy earth. I keep walking. I walk past vineyards and trees, and along the edge of a grassy bit of meadow, and along the bank of a creek. The trail is familiar, but there are new things to see most days – each moment and day are their own unique experience. Each walk, too, is its own experience, wherever it takes me. Wherever I take myself, this remains true, down any path I choose to follow; I am having my own experience, and I have the power to change it.

I’m grateful for the ability to walk these solitary miles with my thoughts. Grateful for the well maintained trails available to me. Grateful for the safe community and parks to walk through. Grateful, too, that I have the will to do the walking. It’s no small effort to go down the path, step after step, in darkness or daylight, morning after morning. I “treat myself” to a few moments sitting quietly at some stopping point to rest, reflect, and write. I’m grateful that I can, and that I do. Sometimes I still find myself thinking about “walking away from it all” when times are stressful and difficult, but I rarely act on flights of fancy, and a nice walk alone with my thoughts is generally enough to sort myself out and find acceptance and a suitable path forward.

Anxiety vexing me? Maybe a nice walk will help? Feeling angry and struggling to deal with it? How about a walk, and some time to reflect and gain perspective? Feeling blue or bitter? A lovely walk in the countryside could be just the thing to put me right. I prefer to walk away from a shitty situation… but the choice of trail or path I take doesn’t need to be some permanent departure from life, the world, or my circumstances. Sometimes I just need a bit of a break, a chance to reflect, and a walk outside in the fresh air.

G’damn, y’all, how fucking basic and mundane am I? I chuckle to myself, remembering a young woman of 14, and her daydreams of an adventurous adulthood filled with amazing experiences, lessons learned over time, and fantastic tales to tell. Sure, sure, I’ve seen some things, done some living and faced my share of struggles. I do manage to find some amusement in discovering that what I enjoy most is a stable, comfortable sort of ordinary lifestyle, without much excitement or drama. A pleasant walk and a good cup of coffee have turned out to be more meaningful and more worthwhile than an elegant fine dining experience, or some long-sought professional achievement. That realization drove a lot of my shift toward a focus on sufficiency and gratitude. Over time it has been profoundly helpful for soothing my stormy emotions, and improving my perspective on life, generally.

None of this is to say that my way is the way, or that this path must also be your path. We’re each having our own experience. Making our own choices. Walking our own paths.

The rain begins to fall more steadily. I pull my rain poncho from my pocket and pull it over my head. Daybreak comes with the rain. I get to my feet in the gloomy half-light of dawn. It’s time to begin again, and this path won’t walk itself.