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Lust for Life

December 14, 2025 //
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I woke with a song in my head, and a lingering recollection of strange dreams, rich with layers of meaning, hinting at the importance of living life, rather than merely enduring it or haplessly existing while someone else calls the shots.

… Thanks, Iggy Pop, you definitely know some things about living life…

Choose. It’s your life, live it. Don’t just stand there, do something. It is your path to choose, your journey to make, your destination to select, and your success to define your own way. You have a lot of power to create change. There are, of course, verbs involved. Go where you will in life, no one else will do the work for you… but don’t let that stop you from making the journey.

I reach the trailhead before daybreak and sit with my thoughts awhile. The Giftmas holiday season is, at least for me, a fairly introspective time. I think about where I am, where I’m going, how I’ll get there. I think about my relationships: personal, professional, familial, and now, in the 21st century, even the parasocial experiences that may shape my thinking.

Daybreak comes.

This morning I wait for the sun. Why not? It’s a choice that also serves to improve my Traveling Partner’s experience; he’ll maybe get to sleep in a bit.

When the sunrise begins, with streaks of magenta in a cloudy sky, I stretch and grab my cane to get started down the trail. No rain this morning, but the ground is soggy, and I see that the farm fields on the other side of the highway are becoming a shallow seasonal lake (which it does every year, once the rains come). It is a favorite resting spot of migrating geese and ducks.

It is a new day, and a new chance to begin again.

When I reach my halfway point, the sun is up, hidden behind heavy gray clouds. It was lovely to see the colorful sunrise. I sit on a fence rail at the edge of the marsh, listening and watching, breathing and being. Sometimes that’s enough. A “lust for life” doesn’t require an Iggy Pop level of energy (in my opinion), it’s more about will, and choice, and presence. It’s about being – and becoming. Living life is an active process with so many options and opportunities to choose that we may feel inclined to narrow them down somehow, even telling ourselves we have “no other choice”. That’s rarely true.

I sigh to myself, then correct my posture, and inhale the morning air more deeply, filling my lungs with it, as I fill my heart with this finite, precious, unrepeatable moment. I exhale slowly, letting go of everything that is not here, now, in this moment in which I’m existing. I repeat this exercise several times, feeling lighter, and free of baggage (which I admit, I visualize as having set down on the ground in a pile nearby). I hear geese calling, and see huge flocks taking to the air as groups, filling the sky overhead as they pass. They also have a path to follow. I find myself wondering if they have choices?

Tis the season. A season of migrating birds overhead, and queues in retail spaces. It is a season of sharing and of celebration, for many. For some it is a season of hardship, struggle, and grief. Sometimes tempers are short, and people impatient with each other, but also so very kind and willing to help. Human primates are complicated. I sit thinking about how to be the best person I can, with what I know now. I have more, better, tools and a clearer idea of who I am and who I want to become over the course of this mortal lifetime. I catch myself wondering what might be “next”, just as the rain begins to fall.

Fat cold raindrops spatter my glasses. There’s no cover nearby and I didn’t wear my rain poncho. Choices. Consequences. I get to my feet. I look down the trail toward my next destination. Some shopping. Laundry. Wrap some holiday gifts. Get ready for a new work week. Sure, it’s pretty routine ordinary stuff, but there is room to fit joy in there, and love, and even optimism. Choices. Choose wisely.

I head down the trail. It’s time to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, anger, anhedonia, Anxiety, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, inspiration, joy, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, The Art of Being, The Big 5, women, Words

Breathe in the Moment

December 12, 2025 //
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I sip my morning pod coffee in this hotel room. It’s been a strange break from some things that have been vexing me and wearing me down. I say “strange” because it hasn’t been at all (physically) restful. Not in the slightest. The pace has been fast and could have felt stressful. It didn’t feel stressful because I got a real break from being worn down, exhausting my resilience, day after day. There’s something to learn there.

Still a luxury.

I reflect on that awhile, sipping my coffee. How do I more carefully protect my peace? Preserve my energy? Care for this fragile vessel? How do I more skillfully set boundaries without creating conflict? These are important questions worth answering with some measure of experience-informed wisdom… I hope I find some.

I haven’t taken many pictures. I haven’t done any sightseeing. I haven’t even taken any walks through beautiful places, although I’ve been on my feet and walking from here to there, often. I don’t feel any heartbreak over that. It’s just a detail. I’m grateful for the rest I’ve gotten, in spite of the pace. Here, in this “strange place”, I have slept well and deeply, and even slept in, once. I feel rested.

I’ve gotten to meet and get acquainted with some amazing people on this trip. It’s been worth it.

I’m eager to return home to my Traveling Partner. I check for messages after I turn my notifications on for the day. I am not so eager to return home to drama, emotional bullshit, or the interpersonal friction of cohabitation. Humans being human. It’s often (mostly) nothing to do with me. I sigh to myself and reflect. I have enjoyed the solitude. I’ll soon be home to love… and also laundry, housekeeping, cooking, running errands, helping with whatever, and trying my best to find any time for myself to enjoy some quiet time when I can sit with my own thoughts, or read, or paint. I miss my Traveling Partner so very much. I don’t miss caregiving or housekeeping, drama, or emotional labor.

I remind myself that having the Anxious Adventurer move in was always temporary, and as with all things temporary, it will end. We’ve all agreed that he’ll move after the holiday season, nearer to Spring, when the weather is predictably safe to drive through distant mountains and isolated highways, to wherever his chosen destination turns out to be. I’d love for him to be able to stay in the area, he seems to like it, and it’s clear my Traveling Partner enjoys having him nearby and seeing him often. The cohabitation doesn’t work comfortably. I don’t think I’m even surprised,  when I consider things more deeply. It hasn’t significantly improved over the 16 months he’s been here, even with coaching and encouragement (and sometimes raised voices and frustration). I sigh to myself. Communication can be difficult. Accommodating each other’s needs, limitations, and boundaries can be hard. I already know I don’t prefer cohabitation – it’s a lot of fucking work. I can’t force either man to change his approach to the other, to listen more deeply, to make changes in behavior, to be more considerate, kinder, quieter, or be anyone other than they are. (It’s not my place to do so; they’re both grown-ass men, who ideally already know who they are and where they need to improve themselves.) I can set boundaries, myself, and do my own best to be the woman I most want to be, and to be accountable for my decisions and my actions, that’s it. We’re each having our own experience. I’m not inclined to allow these father-son difficulties so far outside my own experience dominate my thoughts, time, or to-do list.

… I’m also not inclined to sit around seething over it, if I can simply stay out of the way and let them figure it out. That’s not always possible; sometimes I’m invited to help, or reframe or rephrase in some heated moment. I breathe, exhale, and relax. That time is not now. I’m alone in a quiet hotel room, and it’s almost breakfast time. I miss my beloved Traveling Partner – and I know what matters most (to me). So… I let it go, at least for now. I’ve got this moment here to live.

I look around the room… everything is packed. Breakfast next, then the office for a couple hours and a noontime departure to the airport. On the other end of hours of airports and flights, I’ve still got the drive home…more solitude. I’ll fill up on it while I can. Soon enough it’s back to the familiar routine, and time to begin again.

I settle into a comfortable position. I have time for meditation before breakfast…

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Categories Allegories, anger, Anxiety, autumn, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, Frustration, gratitude, Healthy Living, Love, meditation, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Sleepless Nights, The Art of Being, The Big 5, women, Words

Read the Label

December 8, 2025 //
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I get to the trailhead as a drenching rain begins to fall. Weather reports have identified the system passing through as an “atmospheric river”, and the temperature is mild (almost warm), and the rain has been frequent and sometimes quite heavy (as it is now), but this won’t last and it’s still dark outside. I can wait for a break in the rain.

I consider reading the news as I wait, but my news feed is filled with obvious slop and clickbait. I have no interest in “mental junk food”. The content we consume (in whatever medium, from whatever feed or channel) really matters. If we become what we practice, then it seems both reasonable and likely that our media consumption will change our thinking over time based on quantity and frequency (“practice”) – and with very little consideration of the quality or truth or accuracy of the content. (I say “likely” , but it has been pretty well tested and demonstrated that this is the case.) It has been shown that if repeated often enough the stupidest lies may begin to be believed. Politicians and advertisers count on it.

Your attention (and mine) has real (monetary) value to platforms, apps, and media companies. Those clicks and views are worth so much that any strategy seems fair (remember Facebook manipulating users’ emotions by making algorithmic changes to see what kinds of content get more views and engagement? remember Cambridge Analytica?). This hints at the potential that any one piece of media content in any format may be poorly fact-checked, or deliberately false or misleading. Just for your attention. Your interests are not being served in any sincere way; you have to look out for those yourself.

I do my best to protect myself from time-wasting or potentially damaging content. It’s not reliably obvious sometimes and I’ve settled on some basic questions about articles and videos to help me sort it out (and am fortunate to be able to count on truly important matters to reach me through my Traveling Partner and friends who have shared values, even when I don’t look at the news at all). Here are the questions I use to evaluate quality content:

  1. Does it rely on a clickbait headline to get your attention? (I avoid these.)
  2. Is it fact-based with citations provided, or an opinion piece? (I avoid opinion pieces, for many reasons.)
  3. Who wrote it? What qualifications do they have on the topic? (I avoid AI “authorship”, and writers of poor quality or poisonous content.)
  4. Who paid for the piece? (Why did they want it written? How does it serve their interests?)
  5. What is the purpose of the piece? (Is it factually accurate? Is it seeking to distract or mislead?)
  6. Who gets the most benefit from swaying readers to this opinion or understanding? (Where are they geographically located? Is the topic directly relevant to the goals of some special interest? Is this made explicitly clear?)
  7. Is the piece filled with affiliate links or banner ads? (I’m just not going to be subjected to that, and will block the source, the whole channel or platform, if it is common strategy there.)

The quality of what we fill our minds and time with really matters. I’d rather rewatch episodes of South Park than waste my time on some affiliate link filled misleading clickbait AI slop. (South Park is often surprisingly deep and usually very socially relevant.) Sure, it can be tempting to reach for a piece of candy or swing through the fast food drive through… but it can’t be called nutritious or healthy. It’s a pretty good analogy. I sit thinking about it for a few minutes.

The rain stops. I grab my cane and throw on my rain poncho as I step out of the car. I stretch and breathe the rain-fresh air. Daybreak soon. I start down the trail.

I get to my halfway point. The trail is soggy and I am grateful to have missed stepping in the puddles. The bench I like to sit on is wet, but the rain poncho makes a dry place to sit. I sigh contentedly. I am feeling rested and unbothered, which is a nice change from recent mornings. I start to think about work, but it’s not yet time for that, and I let it go. This time is for me.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I give myself time to reflect with gratitude on the things going well – like having more of my Traveling Partner’s help around the house as he continues to recover and grow strong again. I feel so much more capable and effective with his help than I do struggling to try to get it all done alone. I’m grateful to have a job that pays the bills and grateful for the cozy and safe house we call home. As this or that aggravation surfaces in my thoughts, I throw an “and I’m grateful that…” on the end of that thought, and defuse my irritation with acknowledgement of some detail that has value, and for which I am sincerely grateful. (Example: the rent on our storage unit has gone up, again, and I’m annoyed to have to move all that stuff to somewhere more affordable… And I’m grateful to have many local options to choose from, even on short notice, making it feasible.)

I sigh a bit impatiently. I am legitimately annoyed to have to do a storage move on a tight budget right before the fucking holidays. There really are other (better) things I could be doing with my time, effort, and resources, but greed doesn’t take holidays – it exploits them. I inhale the fresh morning air, filling my lungs, and exhale slowly, letting my irritation go with my breath. Better. Circumstances are what they are, and we make the best decisions we can to deal with them.

Daybreak comes. The sound of HVAC units on top of buildings some distance away mingles with the sound of my tinnitus until I’m no longer certain which I’m listening to. It is a new day, full of new possibilities and opportunities, and new chances to make doing my best a little better than it was yesterday.

… I guess it’s time to get started on that new beginning. I look down the path as a sprinkling of rain begins to fall. I smile to myself in the darkness, and begin again.

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Categories 2024 Election, Allegories, anger, Anxiety, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, Frustration, gratitude, Healthy Living, inspiration, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, solo hiking, The Art of Being, The Big 5, War and News of War, Words

Friction

December 7, 2025 //
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The first hints of daybreak touch the sky as the rain starts again. I waited out the darkness, after getting to the trailhead early (so early). It was raining, then, and may be raining when I finally start walking. I don’t know. It’s not the most important detail.

Daybreak on a rainy autumn morning.

My mind is cluttered and full of chaos. I half-woke ridiculously early, to the sound of my aggravated Traveling Partner swearing about something (probably about being awake). Some brief time later, (minutes or seconds, I don’t know), he specifically wakes me to check on me. I get up to pee, just to be certain I could just go back to sleep and not have biology waking me prematurely in another hour or two. The next couple of hours pass restlessly; I’d fall asleep, be wakened by some noise or other, and drop off again. At some point I remember beginning, finally, to sink into a really deep sleep. “At last,” I remember thinking contentedly, “sleep. Real sleep.” I woke again, when my Traveling Partner went back to bed. Fuck. I knew I wouldn’t go back to sleep, even as tired as I was. I could feel my brain getting going, preparing for a new day, and I was suddenly aware of an owl hooting loudly somewhere nearby. G’damn it. I went ahead and got up, dressed, and left the house.

… How the absolute fuck is my sleep this g’damned bad even after all these years and so much careful practice, good sleep hygiene, treating my apnea, adding a  noise masking device to my sleep space… Part of me wants to be really angry about this – but part of me recognizes that the anger itself only further impairs healthy rest (for me). I let it go, but resolve to ask my beloved to please just not wake me when I’m sleeping unless there is some emergency. I’ve got to get some fucking sleep (and I know he understands, as someone with sleep challenges, himself). I rarely have the opportunity to go back to bed later on, and get that lost rest. Working a full-time corporate job really limits that potential.

This morning I’m very tired, my head aches, and my eyes feel gritty. I have errands to run, and a business trip to prepare for.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. The morning is a bleak foreboding gray. I listen to the geese overhead, and the tinnitus in my ears. This morning the tinnitus is so annoying that if I thought pithing myself with an ice pick might be helpful in a practical way, I’d probably do it. (Do not do that!!) My tinnitus definitely gets worse and louder over time as I lose sleep. I remind myself that tonight is another night, tomorrow another day; this will pass.

I sip the hot (now only warm) coffee I picked up at the gas station on my way out of town after filling the gas tank. It’s a genuinely bad cup of coffee, acidic and somehow vaguely sludgy. It’s still coffee. Who the hell knows how long real coffee will still even be available? Instead of pouring it out wastefully because it’s terrible, I sip it slowly, letting the caffeine (and the ritual of morning coffee) do its work. I stay in the moment, present, aware, sipping this coffee and appreciating that I have it. Dawn comes. A new day. I’m cross and tired and vexed by physical pain. I look down the trail irritably, aware that I’ll likely feel better on the other side of my walk, in spite of the lack of sleep, and I’m stupidly also managing to be annoyed about that (which just makes no damned sense).

… I try not to dwell on this fucking headache or my arthritis pain…

I look back over my writing, checking for spelling mistakes and incoherence. (Huh. I bitch too much.) I sigh to myself, impatient with my very human limitations. I stretch and grab my cane and my rain poncho. All I can do is my best, and that path begins right here, now, in this moment. It’s time to begin again, again.

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Categories Allegories, anger, Anxiety, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, forgiveness, Frustration, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, 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, The Big 5, women, Words

Dawn and a Hot Cup of Coffee

December 4, 2025 //
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I’m at the trailhead with a hot cup of coffee, waiting for the rain to stop. I’m a little cross and don’t feel well-rested. Sometimes that’s the way it goes for me. I’m not cross because I woke up early in spite of hoping to sleep in a bit. I’m cross because the noise that woke me was triggering, and I didn’t manage that sufficiently well to avoid also exchanging harsh words with my Traveling Partner before I left the house for my walk. I’m disappointed, and this makes me cross. It’s my beloved’s birthday and I want only good experiences for him.

… I can do better…

I’m not in any hurry, at least. I took off work today, and after my walk I will pick up the birthday cake and head home to enjoy the day. I’ve got time to sort myself out before the day really begins.

The soft sprinkle of rain that is falling isn’t really enough to stop me from walking. I’m enjoying the freedom to choose my timing and my experience, and waiting for a little daylight. I’m hoping to give my beloved time to get back to sleep for awhile, too. I meditate. I breathe, and let my thoughts pass by like clouds. “Nothing to see here”, it’s a quiet moment on a quiet autumn morning. It’s enough.

Yesterday was a strange one, and I reflect on it awhile. It was the sort of day when it seemed each attempt to focus on a single task was interrupted multiple times, with the end result that the one task I kept returning to never actually got started. I’d have to begin all over again each time I dealt with some distraction, and each time my focus was broken with a ping, a request for my attention on something, or some other thing someone else wanted done… I ended the day mentally exhausted, and feeling like my time and consciousness are not my own. It was super annoying. On the other hand, my Traveling Partner and I cooked dinner together, and that was fun, in spite of me being so tired I couldn’t easily tackle dinner without his help, and had to rely on the Anxious Adventurer to do cleanup after dinner. I went to bed early, too, and still woke feeling like I didn’t get any real rest.

A steady stream of headlights sweeps past, on the highway adjacent to the trailhead parking. G’damn, I’m so glad it isn’t me, this morning. I chuckle to myself thinking about my last visit with my Granny on the Eastern Shore. That would have been… 1995? Something like that. I was in my early thirties. She was some age between 65-75, and seemed ageless to me. I remember being surprised any time her response to a suggested outing or adventure of some sort was being “too tired for all that”. I definitely get it now. Fucking hell, life is exhausting sometimes. I “run out of spoons” much sooner these days, and things seem to require more of me than they once did. I often fail to account for self-care needs, beyond this quiet time in the morning, and my well-being and quality of life are slowly being more and more degraded by that. It’s poor planning, poor boundary and expectation setting, and also fairly fucking stupid – because I am aware of the negative consequences and also actually know better through direct experience. I could do better, and I’m going to end up paying a high price if I don’t treat myself better.

… I still, often, find it difficult to put my own needs high on my list, in spite of so much growth and progress. I should work on that…

I sip my coffee, struggling to rephrase my thoughts to avoid “should…” in favor of more emotionally healthy language. I don’t benefit from joining the queue of demanding voices pinging on my consciousness. I can do better.

The first hint of daybreak lightens the sky. I think of my beloved Traveling Partner hopefully sleeping at home. I sip my coffee contentedly, listening to the patter of raindrops and watching daybreak become the dawn of a new day, full of opportunity.

One mortal woman, limited capacity to do the verbs, limited opportunity to create change, limited ability to do more, better… I’ve only got so many spoons, and this brief mortal life to live. I sigh, still pressing myself to “do more, better”, aware that more often than not I am already doing my best. It has to be enough when we give all we have, but an unfortunate truth seems to be that sometimes it doesn’t feel like enough, and there’s no more to offer. Still… I guess “everything” is more than nothing, and as unsatisfying as that sometimes feels, it’ll have to do.

The rain keeps falling.

I sigh to myself and stretch as I get out of the car and pull my rain poncho, scarf, and gloves out of my gear bin. I can make out the trail now, in the predawn gloom. I’m so tired… and it’s already time to begin again. That’s okay; I’ll do my best.

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Categories Allegories, anger, Anxiety, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, Frustration, gratitude, Healthy Living, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Sleepless Nights, solo hiking, The Art of Being, women, Words
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