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Sirens and Rain

October 19, 2025 //
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It is the wee hours, before 02:00, but after midnight. I’ll get back to sleep shortly. Noisy neighbors, rudely partying outside, in a rainstorm, well into the “quiet hours” indicated by the local noise ordinance. To be sure, a Saturday night, and they don’t do this often, but…they’re sure as hell doing it tonight, loudly. Fucking hell. We’re generally pretty chill about such things, but it’s too much, and quite unreasonable. I go out on the deck and ask them to keep it down. My Traveling Partner, still vexed by continuing noise some minutes later, finally has enough, and yells out the window, audibly angry.

… The noise finally dies down, some 15-20 minutes after we said something. I commit to bringing it up tomorrow, directly. Boundaries, people, consideration. Damn.

I hear my Traveling Partner turn in, again, in the other room. I prepare to do the same. The rain continues. Somewhere in the distance I hear a siren. Tomorrow is soon enough to begin again…

I went back to bed, and slept soundly and deeply, and woke later than usual by more than an hour. I dressed and managed to slip away quietly, without banging, clanging, sneezing, or dropping something to the floor with a crash. Win. Due to the time of year, and the dense storm clouds, it was still dark when I got on the highway, headed for this morning’s trail. The drive on a Sunday morning is reliably pleasant, no traffic.

I reach the trail at daybreak, boots already on because my casual wear soft slip-on shoes – an Allbirds knock-off – gave up on life a few days ago. I haven’t replaced them (yet?). The storm clouds overhead are beginning to break up along the eastern horizon, but it is also sprinkling. I chuckle to myself, thinking it might be nice if the weather would make up its mind, although I’m not actually bothered at all, I simply put on my rain poncho.

Actually, as I walked along contentedly to my halfway point, I noticed that nothing much is bothering me, presently, which is a nice change. I’ve been struggling a bit with my PTSD as the world seems to go crazy in a daft orgy of authoritarian cruelty and ignorant douche-baggery. I do my best to manage my symptoms when they flare up. It’s a lot of work, but I have better tools these days, and a more resilient, healthy partnership with a human being who loves me enough to give a shit about my mental health. I am emotionally supported, and more.

Yesterday was, as it turned out, the kind of day built on love and consideration, and my Traveling Partner and I moved through the challenges created by my bullshit with love and gracious good nature, generally. The evening ended with loving intimacy, and I felt profoundly cared for and nurtured, and thoroughly loved. I hope he did too. I sit on the fence rail swinging my feet like a kid, grinning to myself happily. Today has the added fun of brunch with a colleague who is local to me, and who is becoming more a friend than purely a professional associate. More reasons to smile, brunch and friendship.

My thoughts wander to my beloved Traveling Partner and his progress with healing and regaining more and more of his capabilities. G’damn I am so impressed and proud of him. He works at his physical recovery with dedication and diligence. He continues to make progress, and as he does, he continues to begin to do more and more of the day-to-day practical stuff he once took care of. Slowly the weight of the added workload that had fallen to me is being lifted, along with the stress that came of being unable to do all of everything every day. It’s not “about me”, though – I’m grateful to see him really doing better. I can’t describe my feeling of gratitude – and relief.

And it’s not raining! Small wins count, too.

I sit gazing out over the marsh, or the oaks that dot the hillside, listening to the wind blow, watching the trees bend to it, and observing the ripples that stretch across the pond (lake?) nearest to me. Migratory birds float on the water in small groups. Out in the marshy meadow I see a dot of color, as daylight comes. A tent? There is no camping permitted here, but this is a federal asset, and with the government shutdown, the gates are open 24 hours, and there are now two cars that seem permanently parked in the parking lot, one appears abandoned, the other, lived in. I feel annoyed by the cars, the tent, and the stupid shortsighted partisanship of our government.

I sigh and let that bullshit go; it’ll be there to consider some other time, and there is no reason to sacrifice my merry morning to it. I breathe, exhale, and relax, taking my time with meditation, so still and relaxed that a chipmunk climbs the fence to get closer with her curiosity, creeping up near to me, as I sit. I don’t have any of the sort of treats in my pocket that might interest a chipmunk… and anyway, common wisdom is that it is a bad idea to handfeed wildlife, or to take steps that could interfere with their natural routines. With that in mind, I just sit, still and quiet, enjoying her hesitant proximity. Delightful! An enormous Great Blue Heron flies past, low to the ground, heading to the water, startling the chipmunk. She darts away.

I think about brunch, and wonder whether it will go as planned? My new friend and I are both comfortable with change, and share very realistic expectations of such things. Either of us could cancel without causing hurt feelings, and we both deal with chronic conditions that make it likely that we might choose to, any time we plan something. lol I’m very much looking forward to brunch, but prepared to pivot to other things, should plans need to change.

I breathe the rain-fresh marsh air, deeply. It’s a lovely morning in spite of the rainy weather. The sprinkle begins to become something more like rain, and I’m grateful for my rain poncho. I get to my feet, ready to begin again.

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Categories 2024 Election, Allegories, anger, Anxiety, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, joy, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Sleepless Nights, solo hiking, The Art of Being, War and News of War, Words

A Long Strange Night

October 16, 2025 //
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I woke several times during the night. I never figured out why. Each time I woke, i returned to sleep relatively easily. My sleep was restless and disturbed by peculiarly realistic dreams. By the end of the night, it seemed I was dreaming that I was awake, and my alarm got to full brightness, overhead light shining like an artificial sun as I woke from that last dream, walking along a trash-strewn crater pocked “beach” watching a savage discolored sun rise slowly.

I dreamt of masked armed thugs on the streets of American cities. I dreamt of chemical attacks, drone strikes, and bombs dropping on already flattened neighborhoods, and neat carefully planned rows of… rubble. I dreamt of fleeing, of hiding, and of fear. I dreamt of nightmare cities blasted by violence. I dreamt of blood and sorrow. I dreamt of waiting breathless and anxious for the next shock. It was a bad night and when I finally woke, my face was strangely gritty with the salt of dried tears.

… I don’t recall the details of my dreams, now, only vague themes and sensations, which are already fading, and for that I am grateful…

PTSD is sometimes a literal fucking nightmare. Thanks largely to the violence, and vile horrors and bad behavior of the current administration, PTSD symptoms I haven’t had to deal with for awhile are flaring up and demanding my attention, and my most committed and loving self-care. More fucking verbs – as if I have time for this shit right now. I sigh, rubbing my neck, and my shoulders, as well as I can without having extra hands. I gently massage my temples, and breathe. My anxiety surges, then eases, again and again. I feel hyper vigilant and pointlessly uneasy. It is an ordinary morning in all regards, aside from my subjective sense of persistent dread.

… And I’m tired…

I head down the trail in the usual way, although I am in more pain than usual, and feeling wary and watchful in the predawn darkness. It is quite chilly – the coldest morning we’ve had since back in the spring. 38°F (about 3.3°C). I’m grateful for the warm hiking socks, and comfy sweater beneath a warm cardigan. I breathe deeply as I walk, enjoying the scents of autumn. There is a hint of wood smoke in the taste of the air; people have begun using their fireplaces as the temperature cools.

I think about work and fret about money, and the future, and mortality, and preparedness, until I realize I’m getting spun up over imagined disasters and things that have not happened, or are not real concerns in my actual life, now. I inhale deeply, and exhale slowly until my lungs empty, as if the exhaled breath could carry with it all of my stress and anxiety. Sometimes it does. I pull my thoughts back to here, now. This is where I am, and everything begins right here. Every change, every moment of progress, every journey to come, it all starts in this moment – and conveniently enough, it is always “now”. That’s a lot of potential to work with!

I get to a pleasing stopping point, hands warm enough for writing, having been jammed deeply into my pockets while I walked. I sit on a convenient bench and examine the horizon for the first hint of daybreak. I take a moment to recognize that it is not my experience in this moment that is driving my emotions; it is my emotions creating my concerns, and my subjective experience of the moment. I can change this! I focus on the details here, now, and my breath. I breathe, exhale, and relax. I meditate for unmeasured time, until an imagined soft chime coincides with a sense of “completeness”, and contentment. I’m okay. Anxiety is a liar. Emotions are not the totality of my experience, or of reality itself.

… It’s not personal, it’s just biochemistry and a human being human…

Trauma in life changes our brain even down to the hormones and chemistry of our bodies and emotions. I’m no expert, but I’ve tried to keep up on the science. There are ways to regain our joy, corral our volatility, and manage our emotions without stifling our creativity with drugs, undermining our humanity by becoming numb to ourselves, or allowing our good character to be compromised. It may require asking for help. It’ll definitely require a lot of practice – and probably some new practices and considerable change. I sigh to myself. So much change. So much practice.

I reflect for a moment on how far I’ve come over the past 15 years… it’s been quite a journey. I would not have dealt with a night like last night so well (and with such ease, relatively speaking) back in 2010. I’d have been tantrum prone, volatile, irrational, irritable, unapproachable, suspicious, guarded, and teetering on the thin edge between anger and tears, ready to blast some unwary associate or loved one unpredictably – and unable to talk about it, or sort out my own emotions from the real circumstances.

G’damn I am so grateful to be in a different place as a human being. All the work, practice, meditation, self-care, and therapy has been very much worth the time, effort, and expense. I walk a very different path now. I’m grateful that I do. I am grateful for the choices I made to change. I’m grateful to have a partner who loves and supports me.

Daybreak. Dawn soon. It looks to be a cold cloudy morning. No colorful sunrise today, just a dirty, pale, vaguely orange smudge along the edge of the eastern horizon.  As night becomes day, I get to my feet. It’s already time to begin again.

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Categories 2024 Election, Allegories, anger, Anxiety, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, Despair, forgiveness, Free Will, gratitude, grief, Healthy Living, inspiration, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Sleepless Nights, solo hiking, The Art of Being, War and News of War, women, Words

Like a Fingerprint

October 5, 2025 //
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I’m waiting for the sun, before I begin my walk. No particular reason for doing things this way, this morning. It’s just what I’m doing. The morning is dark, and it isn’t yet daybreak. I sit in the predawn stillness, my tinnitus is the loudest thing I hear. The overcast sky here at the trailhead is a peculiar dim dirty looking mauve, lit from communities and businesses below. Dark shapes of trees are silhouetted against the strange sky.

… Funny… I haven’t traveled far to get to this trail, but the sky is very different here. When I left the house, the night sky was clear and starry, and the full moon was visible above the mountains to the west. 25 miles away, here, now, there are only clouds.

Yesterday was… complicated and difficult, but it seemed clear throughout that my Traveling Partner and I were each genuinely doing our best under the circumstances. Dealing with pain is hard, and it can easily make it hard to also deal with each other. That sounds a little bit (to my own ears, at least) as though I am minimizing or making excuses. It’s more accurate to say that things weren’t actually all that bad, looking at it in the “rear view mirror”, from the perspective of a new day, and aware that the evening finished gently, together, cherishing each other’s good company. (Does he feel similarly? Perhaps I should ask…?)

…I nudge my thoughts toward gratitude…

I enjoyed yesterday’s shopping, and I’m eager to make the meals I’ve planned. When I’m not exhausted or struggling with one physical impairment or another, I greatly enjoy cooking. I enjoy connecting with friends and loved ones over a meal. I am delighted by how much my cooking has improved since 2015, and even more so since the pandemic. (Like a lot of people, I spent time in the kitchen as a fun distraction during the lockdown.) I’m grateful that my Traveling Partner was comfortable sharing his honest opinion of my cooking, and even more that he wasn’t merely critical, but also eager to be helpful, encouraging, and open to the necessary trial and error that resulted from properly learning to cook. I wouldn’t hesitate to invite people to dine with us. The kitchen is clean. Food storage is held to a high standard, and at long last my cooking is reliably something I’m proud of, and enjoy sharing.

I’m grateful, too, that my outing yesterday took me by a clothing store I like. 50% off fall sweaters? The timing was excellent. The new job has high potential to require me to come to the office a couple times a year – San Francisco. The “feel” of “casual” there is a little dressier than the Pacific Northwest. My tatty too-large frumpy cozy sweater isn’t a good choice for such things, so the timing was good, and the price acceptable. I was able to find three nice sweaters for work and a warm cardigan that looks more appropriately grown up than my soft gray fleece (which is branded corporate swag from my previous employer). I’d rock the swag from the current employer, but I don’t yet have any.

Daybreak comes, and I hit the trail, walking and thinking.

I can judge the new day on some limited view, or I can embrace it with gratitude and enthusiasm. It’s my own choice to make.

I get to my halfway point thinking about perspective. I consider the way the almost unique context of my individual lifetime has shaped (continues to shape) my perspective and my understanding. World events, personal trauma, day-to-day stress (and joy), all become part of the lens through which I see the world, and the context in which I understand myself. It’s like a fingerprint on “who I am”. I contemplate how “generational differences” in cohorts of human beings are defined (and influenced) by these shared experiences. I watch some geese drifting slowly across the pond nearest to me, and wonder whether such things affect other creatures, too? I find myself wondering what the “MAGA generation” – meaning Americans born between 2014 and 2028 – will be like as human beings? Who will their heroes be? What will matter most to them, culturally, socially, and politically? How will they change the world when their turn to vote comes?

I sit awhile longer with my thoughts (and my headache). In some little while, I’ll get to my feet and put another mile on my boots. Maybe I’ll be a better person today than I was yesterday? I’d like that. I’ll have the chance, as soon as I begin again. For now, this quiet moment of gratitude and reflection is enough.

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

Freedom of Speech

October 3, 2025 //
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Freedom is a funny thing. It only works when everyone has it – and by “everyone” I mean actual people, not corporations or PACs, or governments. But… that freedom doesn’t shield anyone from the consequences of their own dishonesty, or cruelty, or foolishness. It’s a safeguard against oppression, not a permission slip to be a jackass. You’re expected to pay for your own ticket on that ride.

I’m proud of the actors, creatives, and professionals taking a stand in favor of freedom of speech alongside Jane Fonda, as she relaunches the Committee for the First Amendment . I’m proud to share that commitment. Freedom of speech is one of our most important freedoms as individuals. Seeing it being broadly attacked, even to the point of soldiers deployed to US cities is horrific.

I strongly object to the government deploying troops against our own citizens (especially knowing it’s solely due to our current president’s petty hurt feelings over people not liking him, and disapproval of his terrible policies).

You know what else I object to? Genocide, and our government’s refusal to acknowledge it or make any effective move to stop it when it is committed by a nation viewed as an ally.

I also object to policy-making that undermines access to affordable healthcare, and the inequities in healthcare for women.

I object to unqualified cronies being elevated to leadership roles in government agencies, and I object to loyalty tests as criteria for employment.

I object to allowing billionaires to make decisions about government agencies that also happen to control the purse strings on contracts that benefit said billionaires.  Ethical conflicts of interest are a known problem, and I object to the crassness of our government looking the other way while the already-rich funnel taxpayer funds into their personal piggybanks.

Freedom of speech means I can share my opinion, right here, “out loud”, anytime. Freedom of speech means that the government, specifically, can’t silence me.

Speak truth to power. It matters. Um, yeah… but also? Maybe don’t go carelessly into cities being patrolled by armed troops ill-qualified for the job of keeping peace? Take care of yourself. It’s no mistake that this administration has rebranded the DoD as the Department of War, and has been aggressively seeking to drive out any service members of any rank that may be inclined to question obscene violence and acts of oppression against citizens. These are scary times. Stay safe – but not silent.

It was dark this morning, when I reached the trailhead. Foggy, too. A dense mist filled the parking lot and created a spooky scene.

Starting down the path before daybreak.

I quickly passed through the oaks on the illuminated stretch of paved trail, into the darkness. I walked with my thoughts, until I reached my halfway point. I sat and wrote, dark words, for dark times. I remember when the Berlin Wall came down… that feeling of hope, the feeling of a new world, of the end of the cold war. I’m disappointed, now., and sometimes frightened by where we appear to be heading.

Daybreak arrives shyly. The foggy morning keeps things dim, and gloomy looking. I try not to let it soak into my mood. It’s a work day. On the other side, a weekend. I inhale deeply, tasting the scents of autumn. Tuna casserole tonight? I smile at the thought of such a simple meal, wholesome, comfortable, familiar…easy. I breathe, exhale, and relax. I inhale, recollecting small moments of joy. I exhale, and let go of bullshit I can’t change. I relax, and bring myself back to this moment, surrounded by shadows and the blue gray of the fog as a new day dawns.

It’s a good time to take a stand for the things you believe in. It’s a good time to begin again.

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Categories 2024 Election, anger, Anxiety, art and the artist, autumn, breathe, Free Will, inspiration, Logic & Reason, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, solo hiking, The Art of Being, The Big 5, War and News of War, women, Words

Strange, Vile, Cruel

October 1, 2025 //
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It was raining when I reached the trailhead before dawn. I sat for a few moments quietly, waiting for a break in the rain. Eventually, I gave in to the temptation to scroll through my news feed and immediately regretted that obviously poor choice.

… People can be incredibly cruel, shortsighted, callous, petty, vengeful, stupidly focused on personal gain without regard to long-term consequences, and seriously strange. I don’t even need to give examples, you can see it for yourself, anytime, though I do recommend treating yourself with kindness and consideration, and that you limit your exposure to the fraudulent claims, boldfaced lies, and excessive trolling. It’s much, and can’t be healthy. … And also? Maybe do your own personal best to be a good human being, and a person of good character? It really does matter, every moment, every day.

The rain stopped, and I got out onto the trail, phone in my pocket, and walked to my halfway point before stopping. It’s barely daybreak and still quite dark. Another work day, but I’ve now cleared the 30-day hurdle, and I feel more relaxed.  I watch the storm clouds overhead shifting and slowly drifting across the sky, the lowest ones illuminated from below, the trees silhouetted darkly against them.

… I don’t have anything much to say about the government shutdown. I’m disappointed that the clowns we’ve elected treat governing as a weird sort of partisan game, instead of simply partnering with each other to efficiently run the fucking country, ensuring Americans are provided with the services they need, and agencies are appropriately funded so they can fulfill their roles effectively. Why the fuck is running the government a partisan matter in the first place? Do the damned job! How fucking hard does that have to be? I sigh to myself, then let it go for the moment. This is not the time.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. There’s a lot going on in the world, and a lot of that is unpleasant, or even horrifying. War. Genocide. Femicide. Fraud. Deceit. Assaults and kidnappings by masked government agents. Gross inequality. Child labor. The erosion of personal rights and freedoms. Legislated cruelty. I could easily spiral into despair, it’s that bad. Soon enough there may even be armed soldiers in the streets of the largest city near me, which is strange to the point of dystopian surrealism. If I let that shit become the entire focus of my experience moment to moment, it could destroy my perspective and my mental health.

I let that crap go and pull myself back to “here, now”. The sky is beginning to lighten. Daybreak comes. Here is a new day filled with new potential, new opportunities, and new promise – and a chance to begin again, to do better, to be the person I most want to be. Every day, we each get this chance to reset, to start over, to choose more wisely and behave more graciously than we did yesterday. Hard times or easy times, we choose how we respond to events and people. Our choices will determine a lot about the experience we go on to have. I think about that awhile.

My head aches this morning. I pay it little attention, it’s nothing new. My back aches, too. I shrug it off as “just arthritis”. My tinnitus is crazy loud, like a chorus of buzzing insects, unavoidable and annoying, but this too is just part of my experience. I try to pay it no attention; it seems louder and more aggravating when I focus on it. I’m not listing my aches and pains to complain, nor to one-up you on your own, I’m just pointing out how utterly ordinary these experiences are – for me, for other people, probably for you (most especially if you’re over 50). Deal with it or don’t, it’ll still be there. Letting pain shut me down would be worse than the pain itself, most of the time. I try my best to limit how often I allow my pain to determine my choices. I’ve got a life to live and shit to do.

A new day dawns.

The cloudy sky begins to turn blue and gray and the trail is visible without my headlamp. Details emerge from the darkness as it gives way to dawn. I’m surprised to see “someone” lounging in the vineyard between the rows. A few minutes later and I can see it isn’t a “someone”, it is a small herd of deer, resting together, a pair of does and their Spring fawns. As the morning light increases, I can see a young buck further down the row, quietly standing watchfully.  I am quiet and still. They pay me no mind.

I sit watching the deer, and the dawn. I fill my thoughts with gratitude for simple things that matter most. I reflect on life, the world, and being authentically the best version of myself that I can be.

…”Department of War,” I say softly, out loud, “Assholes.” The words come unbidden, and I am surprised to hear myself speak. On some level, I’m not surprised at all by the sentiment – I’m angry, and disappointed. We’re better than this – or, I thought we were. I guess maybe we’re not.

I sigh and pull my attention back to this moment, here, and the deer in the vineyard. Cars begin to arrive with farm workers. The new day is here. It’s already time to begin again.

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Categories 2024 Election, Allegories, anger, Anxiety, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, gratitude, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, solo hiking, The Art of Being, War and News of War, women, Words
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