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Watching, Thinking

July 30, 2026 //
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I’m already at the halfway point on my walk. It is some time between daybreak and sunrise. I’m watching the full moon sinking through the tangle of oak branches along the trail.

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

Streaky clouds begin to take shape as the sky lightens. I sit with my thoughts. I meditate. It is a gentle start to the day – until I start sneezing. Some meadow flower or tree pollen, dust, or spore, more than likely. I’m grateful to have shoved a travel pack of tissues in my pocket. I feel very human, and just a little grossed out by the time I’m over that. I sit contentedly watching the clouds evolve as the light changes. The sunrise is bland and not particularly interesting this morning, and I’m grateful for the new day, anyway.

Breathe, exhale, relax. Meditate. Write. Think. Repeat. It is a particularly pleasant morning.

Pleasant or not, the amount of pain I’m in this morning is ridiculous. It is very specifically osteoarthritis pain, and very specifically located at my spinal fusion and below it. This is new. Over the years more and more of the joints above my fusion (T12-L2) have become arthritic. The first year or two of pain in a given new area is the worst. After awhile it begins to blur with all the rest. I keep catching myself trying to flex or somehow move this area of my spine that does not move. It is futile and uncomfortable. I glare at the clouds thickening overhead. Rain? The pain says yes, or at least a strong maybe.

I sigh to myself and do my best to let it go. I accepted the pain a long time ago as a consequence of my actions. No regrets, I paid a high price for my survival and escape from domestic violence, and it has been worth that price and more.

I get to my feet, and rub my aching knee as I do. What the hell did I even do to that knee? I no longer recall. I sigh and stretch and look down the trail. Somewhere down the trail, around that bend, beyond this new beginning, is a whole new day. I wonder where this path will lead?

Ask the questions. Do the verbs.
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Categories Allegories, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, solo hiking, Summer, The Art of Being

Full Moon Setting

July 29, 2026 //
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Odd morning. Quiet. It’s fine. There’s a beautiful fat luminous full moon to greet me when I leave the house. It is slowly setting. By the time I reach the trail, it appears tangled in the tall oaks.

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

I try to get a picture of the moon as it sets. The composition is ruined by the placement of a streetlight relative to my angle of view.

There really is a full moon there.

I sigh to myself and just enjoy the sight of the full moon setting, before I set off down the trail.

I try again, zooming in closer.

The moon quickly disappears in the clouds as it sets. I start walking down the trail. Nice morning for it, clear skies overhead, mild, streaks of clouds here and there and a dense bank of clouds low on the western horizon.

I yawn as I walk, still shaking off the sleepiness of the night. I wonder if my beloved Traveling Partner managed to sleep through my departure this morning?  I hope so.

“Nothing to see here”, I think to myself as I walk.  I reach my halfway point and stop to write and meditate. Uneventful isn’t a bad thing, at all. I smile to myself. Breathe, exhale, relax; I make time for meditation. Finishing that, I take up my device and write a few words about nothing much on a pleasant, easy morning. I could skip it, but I don’t. It is a discipline, a practice, and also a means of reinforcing the frequency and utterly commonplace nature of lovely mornings such as this. It is far too easy to become mired in misery simply by not making a point to really be present for, and savor, beautiful quiet utterly ordinary moments.

…So here I am, doing the verbs…

…So many verbs.

The sunrise already comes later. I sit with that thought awhile. It’s not an uncomfortable thought. Change is. There is seasonality to life. It is a relatively comfortable morning, generally, aside from chronic pain that is, so far, mild enough to just ignore. I take notice of that, too, and make room in my awareness for it. It’s nice to be in less pain.

I sigh contentedly as I get to my feet and look down the trail. It’s a good time to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Practices, solo hiking, Summer, The Art of Being, thoughts on AI

About Impermanence

July 28, 2026 //
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Today is a new day.

I woke to my alarm lightening the room. I switched it off, turned my lights to dim, and sat up. I took a minute to catch my breath and “get used to being awake”. I got up, dressed, and headed out, seemingly without waking my Traveling Partner. Nice.

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

On the trail at daybreak.

The air this morning has almost a hint of autumn to the scent and the feel of the morning air. I yawn sleepily and head down the trail.

As is generally the case, the morning’s discord between my partner and I yesterday was resolved before lunchtime. We enjoyed what little time there was of the evening after I returned home from work, but it wasn’t much. He is working a job that is reaching the finishing stages just before delivery to the customer. It keeps him busy. It worked out okay; I appreciated the time with my thoughts.

I get to my halfway point thinking about Impermanence, and non-attachment. Both ideas contain useful perspective. Non-attachment makes an excellent practice. Impermanence is another way of observing that change is. I’m grateful for perspective and resilience, this morning.

… This morning, no tears…

I watch the sun rise. It is the time of year when the western states catch fire. Scary how much is burning this summer. For now, the winds are pushing most of the smoke east. Here the sky is blue – for now. The wind may change direction any time, it is in the nature of both the wind and of change itself to do so.

There is a song in my head this morning that seems relevant. I sigh to myself, thinking about changes.

Another day, another opportunity to be the person I most want to be. It takes practice – and changes. I breathe, exhale, and relax, and make time for meditation by this trail on this pleasant morning. Changes. It’s time to turn and face the strange. It’s time to begin, again.

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

Chaos and Heartbreak

July 27, 2026 //
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Emotions are messy. I could probably just stop there. We all have emotions. We all understand how easily our emotions, or the emotions of others we interact with, can complicate things. Hardly worth mentioning, I guess.

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

My morning is off to a difficult start. My emotions are in the way. I’m sitting by the side of the trail crying and feeling very much in doubt that the journey I have shared with my beloved Traveling Partner has many more miles in it and my heart aches from the weight of it. The tears make my eyes burn and blur my vision. I can’t see the trail.

Detail from “Emotion and Reason” 2012

The details frustrate both of us. It’s nothing to do with any sort of lack of affection. Nothing to do with violence. But it’s a vexing persistent problem for us and I’m frustrated and overcome with a feeling of futility.

…So I’m sitting by this trail crying…

He calls. We try to talk. It goes poorly; I’m trapped in my emotions. Angry. Hurt. Frustrated. Overwhelmed. Sad. He hangs up abruptly. Calls back. The clock on my phone mocks me; the minutes left to pull myself together for a new work day are running out. Panic begins to set in. PTSD rears its head. Now I’m fighting that too.

… The alarm for my morning medications goes off. I take them without delay to avoid forgetting and making things much worse later…

He calls again. I’m failing us. I’m choked up with uncontrolled emotions. My voice is hoarse. I’m congested from crying. I’m still panicked about being presentable for another work day. I can hear him trying to connect with me, trying to be calm and de-escalate the conversation, reduce the heat, reduce the drama, get to a place for calm conversation and connection. I’m struggling to breathe, choked by sobbing. I feel far away, in a waking nightmare of my own.

… This shit is hard. Too hard? Very human. Is love enough? Maybe it isn’t? Maybe it is. I don’t know. Right now I don’t feel like I’m enough. I feel defeated. Low…

I take a breath. I take another. I try to anchor myself in this moment. My tinnitus is crazy loud this morning. My head aches. Work emails begin pinging me. Fuck. There are after work errands to remember, a trip to the pharmacy… something else? Check the mail. Another breath. My sinuses are completely congested now, from crying. Crappy start to the day. No peace. I open a new pack of tissues, feeling peculiarly disconnected. I remind myself that “the way out is through”, and re-engage my emotions. The tears begin again. I can hear my heartbeat in my ears. Breathe. Exhale. Repeat. I guess the “relax” bit will come later. I hope.

I am filled with despair. I remind myself it will pass. Moments reliably do. I don’t know what is down the path ahead, but I guess I keep walking. We become what we practice. I didn’t do so well this morning. I remind myself rather halfheartedly to be kind to myself. To be kind to him.

My beloved reaches out seeking to reconnect and anchor to more positive details in our shared experience.

…I remind myself to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, anger, anhedonia, Anxiety, Brain Injury, breathe, Despair, Free Will, Frustration, meditation, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Sleepless Nights, solo hiking, Summer, The Art of Being, The Big 5, women, Words

Moody Shades of Gray

July 26, 2026 //
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Gray morning, overcast moody looking skies appear as dawn becomes day. No colorful sunrise this morning. I’m not fussing over it, just noticing.

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

I set off down the trail.

I got an early start, which suits me. I’ve got this trail alone again this morning. Bonus. It is a Sunday, and a good day to relax and do something pleasant and likely to “recharge my batteries”. Yesterday’s time in the studio was lovely. I’ll likely paint more today, while my Traveling Partner works.

My steps and my thoughts carry me to a favorite spot to sit and reflect. I stop awhile, surprised that there are no fishermen here yet.

A lovely spot to sit awhile.

Weird morning. My mind wanders. I think about my mortality without any particular anxiety, just curious what lies beyond. Nothing? Something? I guess I’ll know when I get there. The clock is ticking. I think about my Dear Friend, my mother, my grandmother…in one case I’m very certain she was ready; we spoke about it. I dislike the idea of dying unexpectedly and having no opportunity to prepare and to “wrap up my affairs”. What choice do any of us really have about the circumstances of our end? Maybe some choice, we can avoid accelerating our demise by limiting our foolishness… but that isn’t much personal control over such a final moment.

…Don’t mind me, the gray morning has infiltrated my musings, that’s all.

I’m disinclined to continue down the rabbit hole of mortality and my thoughts move on. Tomorrow, work. Today, housekeeping, and more painting, and probably a nap. 😆

The surface of the river is so smooth and calm this morning. It means little; that river is still flowing along (at something like 5400 cfs). It’s still a river. A fisherman shows up, and walks past me, and on down to the bank, tossing me a gruff “good morning” as he passes. I return the greeting, then get to my feet. Time to move along.

… Time to begin again…

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Categories Allegories, art and the artist, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, inspiration, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, solo hiking, Summer, The Art of Being, The Big 5, women, Words
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