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A Better Version

October 30, 2026 //
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Walking and thinking on a damp chilly autumn morning. A fog clings to the ground, and wraps the trees.

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

Interesting conversations with my Traveling Partner last night. Dinner together. Some videos. Nothing much out of the ordinary, it was a pleasant evening at home, in spite of being obviously impaired by pain, the both of us. When did I stop being able to easily “power through” and give a convincing impression of fitness? It seems recent? By the end of most days now, I just… can’t.

Still, there are better versions of me, and this is the idea that I’m giving thought to this morning as I walk. How to be the best version of myself moment to moment, in spite of pain, in spite of PTSD, in spite of brain damage, and in spite of aging. I’m not even looking for a cheat or shortcut. I’ll take the long slow approach, that’s fine. If this shit were easy the world would not be the festering shit pile of corruption and suffering that it seems to be.

… Hell, wouldn’t we all be better off if everyone at least gave a moment of their time to considering being their best selves? I can almost hear someone snap back “how do you know they don’t?”, and I know my response; look around you. That’s how I know. Gaza. Ukraine. Somalia. Rwanda. Yemen. Iran. Seems obvious more than a few people in power aren’t giving being the best version of themselves any thought at all. (When you vote, turn those fuckers out.)

So, I sit here at the side of this trail thinking about how to be the best version of myself. It matters to me. I’m not sure I’ll get there but I’ll be able to look back on a life well-lived in the attempt.

I breathe, exhale, relax. I meditate under a cloudy sky. The air smells of rain, fallen leaves, wood smoke, and petrichor. A lot of candle makers will charge you crazy prices claiming to be selling this scent. They never get it quite right. That’s the thing about the real experience of a scent or a place; any simulation, any fake, any artificial representation is going to fall short for anyone who has lived the moment. There’s something important to understand there, about artifice. I think about that awhile. Being my best self isn’t a “fake it ’til you make it” proposition. That doesn’t really work. Frontin’ like a player doesn’t make you a player. Dressing like a CEO doesn’t make you head of the company you work for. Playing make believe is…play. Becoming one’s best self is work and practice.

I inhale deeply and enjoy the sensation of exhaling. I visualize letting my stress go, exhaling it with my breath.

Wait, did I just dismiss artifice and play acting in one moment, then turn right around and use a visualization exercise in the very next paragraph? Yes, yes I did. Visualization, imagination, playing pretend, and even “dressing for the job you want”, all have a place at the table in life. Becoming the person I most want to be has some real work in it, and a commitment to practice over time. Lots of verbs. So much practice. No guarantee of success, and an implied promise of failure along the way. It’s hard enough just figuring out who we want to be. The work of becoming is its own challenge.

I get to my feet and stretch. I guess it’s as good a time as any to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, Anxiety, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, Despair, forgiveness, Free Will, gratitude, health, meditation, Metaphors, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, solo hiking, The Art of Being, thoughts on AI, War and News of War, Words

Life.

October 29, 2026 //
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It is quiet here at the side of this trail in the darkness. It is early, before sunrise. It is autumn, chilly but not cold. Everything around me is wet from rain during the night. The clouds are dense and the sky quite dark, no stars shine through.

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

I breathe in the chilly fresh damp autumn air, grateful to breathe easily, thinking my thoughts. The freedom to walk safely in the darkness in the wee hours is precious and I make a point to savor it. I have no reason to expect that I’ll always have such freedom. It’s a strange world, and very few things are truly lasting certainties. So, I sit here contentedly for a little while, just being. Grateful.

The night was a difficult one. I sigh to myself, from frustration, or impatience, or maybe because life itself is often difficult. It could be so much worse. I practice anchoring myself to this moment here, now. It is quite a pleasant one, and it happens to be the one I’m in. Handy.

I breathe, exhale, and relax.

I hope my beloved gets the rest he needs. It is hard on him too when I am having a bad night.

Yesterday was tiring. My annual wellness check with my GP was fine. I’m in good health for my age and considering my history that’s impressive (to me). I got my flu shot. Convenient. It’s a long drive away, though, and I was tired by the time I got home. I shared a quiet evening watching videos with my Traveling Partner. All very ordinary and happily mundane.

… I’ve been having bad dreams, more or less nightly, for awhile now. Dreams of war, of chaos, of having to “mask up” in response to some threat of chemical or biological warfare then discovering the chemical agent is inside the mask… Rough. Worse are the more abstract dreams. How the hell is a dream of a “rainstorm” of strangely sticky confetti a “bad dream”?! I have no idea. What does a dream of blood going down a drain actually mean? Lucid dreaming practices sometimes help me find my way out. Waking up is a reliable way to stop a bad dream, though it does not prevent them lingering in my thoughts, sometimes for days.

This morning I’m tired but clear headed. It’s enough to get by on. The weekend is coming. I am hoping to spend much of it in the studio. How do I most easily put a nightmare to rest? I paint its picture. It is a peculiarly personal way to exorcise my demons.

A sprinkle of rain begins to fall. I get to my feet to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, anger, Anxiety, art and the artist, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, gratitude, health, inspiration, Love, Menopause, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, The Art of Being, War and News of War, women, Words

What Weather?

October 27, 2026 //
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I had a restless night, but managed to get enough real rest to begin a new day gently. I woke from strange dreams feeling mostly pretty well-rested. I woke with a song in my head.

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

The morning is off to a comfortable start, although the song in my head hints at more. Likely nothing more than a busy Tuesday at work, but it will definitely be that.

The weather forecast a few days ago had suggested freezing or near freezing weather this week, and probably our first frost, around here. Not even close. The morning is mild and rainy, and feels almost warm. (Warm for the season, if not more generally.) I’m glad I put my rain poncho on. The morning is drizzly, and I am spattered with raindrops as I walk. Feels nice to be outside, actually. I breathe the autumn air deeply, and exhale slowly. I feel refreshed by each breath. I keep practicing as I walk; breathe, exhale, relax.

Shooting the moon.

I try to catch the moon as she peeks from behind dense clouds. I’m successful for some values of “success”. 😆 I’m fine with it. I keep walking, eventually stopping at my halfway point to write.

Over the years, as I have become more positive, more accepting, more adaptable, while learning the practices that would bring me so close to being wholly emotionally “well”, one of the most complicated challenges to emerge has had to be… being okay. Just that; learning to accept and enjoy the feeling of utterly ordinary days, pleasantly uninteresting moments, and the ordinary inconsequential mundanities of living well, has been complicated. I didn’t anticipate being emotionally well and enjoying fairly lasting contentment day-to-day might be more difficult than the process of getting there. 😆 Wild.

…Do you ever find yourself “starting shit for no reason”, or creating “drama” in the middle of a peaceful moment? Could it be that maybe you don’t feel ready to be okay after all this time…?

I breathe, exhale, and relax, watching the stormy clouds churning slowly as they sail across the night sky. It’s still awhile before daybreak. The moon has disappeared behind the clouds. I sit quietly, enjoying the darkness. I swing my feet and wonder what’s next? The year has gone by pretty quickly. 9 Tuesdays left after this one (in the calendar year).

I sigh to myself and get to my feet. Soon it will be a whole new year. Right now it’s enough to have this path (and day) ahead of me. The rain begins to fall more steadily. Time to begin (again).

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Categories 2024 Election, Allegories, Anxiety, art and the artist, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, inspiration, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Sleepless Nights, solo hiking, The Art of Being, War and News of War, Words

Sometimes, Just Go With It

October 18, 2026 //
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Oof. I slept restlessly, and woke often. I wasn’t sure why until I finally got up from the bed, around my usual wake up time, shaking all over, and feeling… “off”. It was a familiar uncomfortable sensation that woke me; I made haste to the bathroom.

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

I’m still trembling, a little. My nausea has been (hopefully) handled – Pepto Bismol for the win on that one. After a dreadful experience at McCarran International Airport (now Harry Reid Int’l Airport), I always have some tucked in my bag where I can get at it. One more reminder of human frailty, and even of our mortality; being ill in a hotel first thing in the morning (or during the night, which I guess this is, as it is still quite dark outside). I fight the vertigo the way I fight the nausea and the diarrhea; I don’t “fight it”. There is literally no point in trying to “fight” such things. Recognize them, acknowledge them, and deal with them as they happen. What other way is there? Oh sure, OTC remedies, that just makes sense, but it’s not the sort of thing to wish away, argue with, or defy.

I sign to myself, resigned to the annoying limitations of this “meat suit”. In spite of the trembling and the cold sweat, which suggest I’m not yet done with this (where the hell did it come from??), I make coffee. It’s not great coffee, this morning I don’t even care at all. I’m just getting through this.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. Coffee? Really? Maybe go back to bed…? It’s not yet even day break, and I don’t think I’ve even slept more than an hour at a time. Why? No idea, and I’m not going to get spun up over that. It is more likely than not that my restless night was due to precisely what woke me – feeling ill. It just took awhile. I sip my coffee, grateful for the cheap-ass little single serve drip coffee machine. This one is quite clean and works well. The coffee is as good as the quality of the original beans, and having been ground sometime in the 70s (maybe not, but they are stale). It’ll do. I may yet lay down again, and maybe sleep. I decide to try my luck a bit, and cross the room to take my morning medication. I daringly leave behind the small trash can I’ve been carrying “just in case” since I woke. The room feels much larger this morning than it did yesterday. lol

Another breath, another moment. So far so good. I mean, for most values of “good” and all values of “so far”. It could be a lot worse. I look out the patio door. How is it still so very dark? I look at the time on my phone more carefully. Oh. It’s two hours earlier than I thought it was, and definitely still “night”. I laugh quietly to myself, and just go with it.

It’s been a worthwhile bit of time away to reflect and to paint. I sit quietly for a few minutes, not doing much, mind mostly empty. I’m looking forward to being home. I’m looking forward to beginning again, only… not just yet. I decide to lay down awhile. Maybe I’ll sleep? I open the curtains and the patio door (enough to let some fresh air in). I’ll wake when I wake, and then I’ll begin again.

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Categories Allegories, Anxiety, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, health, meditation, Metaphors, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Perspective, Practices, Sleepless Nights

Who Were You Then?

October 16, 2026 //
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Lovely start to the day, today. Coffee with my beloved Traveling Partner before I headed to the trail to get a walk in before work.

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

I walked in the predawn darkness contentedly, on the edge of humming a little tune, but I can’t quite find the melody. I smile and keep walking. I’m okay for nearly all values of “okay”, and better than that for many more. In a word, in this moment I am content and happy. I walked along enjoying it without asking why. Doesn’t matter why.

I think about the woman I was in 1995. Why ’95? That was the year I walked away from a nightmare, and the year I lived alone for the first time, fully independently. It was a peculiar transformation and it took me awhile to catch up with myself. I spent that year beginning the search for the woman I wanted most to be. It’s taken a long g’damned time to get from there to here. By the time I reach my halfway point (on this walk), I’ve mentally drafted a letter I wish I could send back in time to that earlier version of me.

Continuity of memory is strange. It tends to suggest I am that woman I was then. I doubt that’s really true. She was reckless. Irresponsible. Angry (so very angry). She was prone to disrespecting boundaries. She had no clear sense of purpose, and her goal setting was shortsighted and exceedingly practical. Her path was not yet her own choosing. Shared memory connects me to her, but I am not that woman I once was. Probably a good thing, actually; she was headed for destruction.

Daybreak begins. The starry night sky gives way to shades of gray.

She could have done better, or been a better person. I guess so can I, even now. I sit with that for a little while. Later today, therapy, and a manicure. It is a Friday. I think about the weekend ahead. I think about beginnings and I think about love.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. A new beginning starts right here. A chance to be my best self, a better partner, a better friend. I like beginning again. Each day is a new experience, a new chance to choose and to do better… a new opportunity to love and to walk my path. It’s enough.

I breathe the autumn air deeply. It’s already time to walk on, and begin again.

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Categories Allegories, anger, Anxiety, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, gratitude, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, The Art of Being, women
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