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Drowning in the Details

October 14, 2025 //
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G’damn life feels too busy. Appointments. Meetings. Calls to make. Errands. Laundry. Household upkeep. Caregiving. Working for a living. Self-care. Sometimes doing the needful feels like an unreasonable amount of work, and this year I’ve rarely found myself able to make time for painting, gardening, reading, or writing (aside from this one sliver of my day early in the morning, when I can indulge myself in solitude and write these few words). I’m exhausted at the end of most days, barely able to stand by the time I take those last steps down the hall to bed.

… I feel like I’m working three or four full-time jobs…

Each morning I get up and do it again. Each day, I get my ass to work. Each day I tackle the errands on my list. Each day I give as much of myself as I can to caregiving tasks, and housekeeping chores. Each day I compromise on some detail of my self-care – because I just can’t do everything, and something has to be put aside for another day.  I’m grateful to enjoy the life I do. I’m grateful to have such a strong and loving partnership. I’m annoyed with myself for griping about how much work life is, when I’ve got it so good, generally speaking. For sure there are people who have it far worse and would happily trade places with me.

I’m tired, I guess. I’ve sustained this for too long. I do make attempts to treat myself a bit better than I often do, but it’s not uncommon to return from a camping trip, or a day spent in solitary meditation, to a whole new list of errands to run, or chores that need doing. I almost immediately use up any reserves I may have built. It seems neverending… because it mostly is. It’s life, and there’s a lot to do.

… It’s only Tuesday…

I sigh quietly to myself, sitting at the halfway point on my morning trek around a favorite local trail. It’s still dark. I don’t mind. Is it my preference to walk in the dark? No. It’s the time I have, though, so it is the time I walk. I feel fortunate to still have my legs under me, and that I can still walk these trails on my own. That’s something worth a moment of appreciation and gratitude; it wasn’t a given that things would turn out so well after I broke my back in the early 80’s. There was a real chance I’d never walk again, at all. I’m deeply grateful my surgeries turned out so well. I keep walking.

I sit with my thoughts awhile. I can remember how difficult it was to understand how fortunate I really am. Understanding my relative privilege and general good fortune in life was hard – complicated by a deeply subjective perspective on life that focused on the trauma, the chaos and damage, the lifetime of hurt and anger. For a long time I was “trapped in the mire“. Resetting my own expectations was a complicated journey of its own. I keep working at it. It’s too easy to resent how much fucking work life requires for that to be “the right answer” (or even a right answer). I breathe, exhale, and relax. I’m grateful for this simple practice (meditation) that does so much to give me the calm and resilience to just keep at it, day after day after day. It’s not “everything”, and life still needs a lot of real work to “run smoothly”, but… it’s something, and mostly it’s enough.

The sky has lightened a bit. It is a deep charcoal gray, barely lighter than the darkness of night, but now I see the treeline silhouetted, where moments ago was only darkness. Meditation and self-reflection work that way for me; slowly illuminating my way, over time. Worthwhile, reliably restorative practices that bring a sense of balance and perspective are few – and worth the effort to cultivate them.

I sit watching the horizon. Daybreak soon. It’s almost time to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, Anxiety, art and the artist, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, Frustration, gardening, 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, The Art of Being, War and News of War, Words

Feeling the Chill

September 13, 2025 //
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I slept in. I got to the trailhead after daybreak. No colorful sunrise, the morning is misty and gray, and a little chilly. Fog obscures the meadow on the other side of the highway, as I park.

Not much of a view this morning.

I head down the trail contentedly, feeling rested and ready for the day ahead. It is the weekend. I walk with my thoughts, and the sounds of distant traffic and geese on the marsh. The meadow is brown and waiting for the autumn rain to come.

I get to my halfway point and take a seat on a nearby fence rail looking out over meadow and marsh, enjoying the stillness and the misty morning. I breathe, exhale, and relax, taking time for meditation and reflection, and making room for a moment of gratitude. There’s real joy (for me) in the simple pleasure of a moment of contentment and quiet. I savor it. The world being the place it presently is, it doesn’t do to waste a moment of contentment and joy by overlooking it.

I’ve got a project today, that fits into the needs of hearth and home, and also the garden. I am planning to tidy the garden shed, which is crowded with this and that, and no longer the convenient solution it was intended to be. I won’t need to work around the oppressive summer heat, it is a cool day, making me glad I delayed this project a couple weekends. I may even be looking forward to it.

Perspective on a moment.

From my pleasant vantage point, I sit with my thoughts a little while, reflecting on the day ahead. I feel fortunate to enjoy such moments. Grateful. I breathe the morning air deeply, filling my lungs with fresh air, and my heart with fond appreciation and gratitude. The mist begins to thicken and envelope me. I watch the trees around me beginning to fade into the mist with child-like wonder. As the mist becomes a proper dense fog, the sounds of distant traffic are muffled and begin to be lost in the din of my tinnitus.

Grocery shopping, first, then my project and time spent hanging out with my Traveling Partner. Tomorrow, all the usual housekeeping stuff, preparing for a new week. My anxiety about being laid off, and then of being in a new job, has died away completely. Things feel pretty routine and ordinary. It’s a good feeling.

I sigh contentedly, and get ready to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, Anxiety, autumn, breathe, Free Will, gardening, gratitude, Healthy Living, joy, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Practices, solo hiking, Summer, The Art of Being, Uncategorized

Creating Order From Chaos

August 25, 2025 //
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In spite of the heat I spent some time in the garden yesterday (before it got too hot, in the cooler morning hours). I happily watered and weeded, and reflected on the chaos that has arisen over weeks of hot weather, busy work days, and other shit that just had to get done. Time is a limited resource, and so is the energy I’ve got available to get things done with.

I found myself doing what I tend to do when I observe chaos creeping further into my day-to-day experience; I made a list. I took some notes. I contemplated the varying levels of urgency and the considerations driving that.

The chaos in my garden.

There are peas dry on the vines ready to harvest for next year’s planting. There are carrots ready to harvest, and favorite salad greens that bolted in the heat (may as well harvest those seeds, too). The deer were haphazard with their “helpful” pruning of tomatoes, but I’ve still got a few tomatoes ripening, hidden in the greenery. Thirsty roses want deeper watering, and need a bit of pruning. There is so much weeding to do. Work had gotten busy, and I had gotten tired with other every day tasks on top of that, and I fell behind on several of the things the garden needs to thrive and be beautiful and productive. Our choices have consequences. Now I’m faced with those; I put my attention on work (for a job that I won’t be doing any longer) and let the garden go a bit wild, and the weeds remind me that my own choices allowed them to thrive.

I’m neither mad nor frustrated. The garden manages to be lovely regardless, and I enjoy my time spent there, even on a muggy summer morning before the heat of the day sets in. There are roses blooming at the edge of the lawn (at least one of which does not know the meaning of “winter” and will likely bloom all year) and it delights me to pause along the walk to see them there in the sunshine, drops of water glittering on the edges of colorful petals after morning watering.

“Baby Love”, blooming in the summer heat.

I spent the day contentedly creating order from chaos. I find it a useful practice for reducing background anxiety and stress. Chaos in my environment tends to result in chaos in my thinking. Tidying things up, clearing out clutter, and working down a list of tasks that need doing has proven to be a really good practice for managing my stress and anxiety. When those tasks are specific to supporting my own needs as an individual, it also feels like self-care. Conveniently enough, there nearly always seems to be something to do that meets those needs. lol Laundry. Dishes. Hanging up the various pairs of earrings that have managed to find some random resting place here or there in the house. Putting books away. Filing paperwork that has stacked, waiting to be filed. Dusting. Pulling weeds in the garden and from the flower beds as I pass by on my way to some other task or destination. It quickly becomes a form of meditation, when I stay engaged with the task and present in the moment, and don’t allow myself to “wander off” in my own head.

All along the way, task by task, hour by hour, there are moments of wonder, delight, and beauty that turn up to be savored and enjoyed. A colorful display of flowers. A lingering romantic hug with my Traveling Partner. A beautiful blue sky. I make a point of really enjoying these (and so much more) whenever they occur. Another sweet way to reduce stress and anxiety; really being present for moments of joy and beauty and savoring them. It matters so much to allow myself to be delighted, even for an instant.

A colorful display of flowers in the summer sun, at the grocery store.

I am never too busy to enjoy something beautiful. (I find myself wondering when I’ll next be in the city… maybe I can work in a trip to the art museum?)

Change can feel so incredibly chaotic. The loss of familiar routines feels disruptive. Managing the stress and the anxiety that can come with change can feel overwhelming – until I break things down into smaller pieces, and create order from the chaos one task at a time. Breathe, exhale, relax – like any practice, there are steps, and I’ve got to do the work myself to experience the results (otherwise, we’re just having a conversation about it, eh?).

I sip my coffee as the sun rises. I won’t be watching that from this office window much longer… Change is. Jobs end. We are mortal creatures, and however tightly we cling to some experience, or person, or moment, we will face the reality of impermanence sooner or later. The plan is not the experience. The map is not the world. Reality will be what it is without regard to our thoughts or feelings about it. Practicing non-attachment has tended to make me more practical about change – and chaos, and I no longer take such things so personally. I’ll take a new breath, and I’ll begin again. Really, what else is there to do?

For now, I sit with the quiet, and this good cup of coffee, and I look over what needs to get done today. I make a plan. I smile when the thought of my beloved Traveling Partner crosses my mind for no particular reason; he is a steady presence in my life whether we’re in the same room or not, and I am grateful to be so loved and supported. I reach out to a friend via email wondering if they have time to get together for a coffee sometime soon? It’s the relationships that matter most, in work and in life.

A hazy dawn, a row of birds gathered on a powerline.

I sigh to myself, feeling this contentment and practicality like a firm foundation beneath my feet. I’m okay right now, for nearly all values of okay, and that’s enough. The future is unwritten, and I can’t see where this path leads… but this feels like a good place to begin, again.

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Categories Allegories, Anxiety, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gardening, gratitude, Healthy Living, joy, Logic & Reason, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Summer, The Art of Being, The Big 5

Lighting Up The New Dark Age

August 11, 2025 //
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I’m sipping my coffee on a routine (for most values of “routine”) Monday. I consider checking the news feed for whatever might be genuinely newsworthy, but decide against it; I don’t feel like wading through the bullshit sponsored content, partisan lies and ill-intentioned spin, and clickbait intended to grab my attention while some unknown other grabs my data. None of that shit rises to the level of “news”, and I definitely don’t need to be told (again) that billionaires are self-serving, or that “the government” is corrupt.

There’s a “heat warning” for this area, over the next day or two. This is a type of weather warning that did not exist when I was a kid. This kind of heat, in a lot of places around the country (and the world) did not exist when I was a kid. For me, personally, this defines “climate change” – the heat. Hotter summer days and more of them, in an area that once laughed about summer’s lack of warmth in “June-uary” and enjoyed fairly frequent drenching rain, even in summertime; there’s a lot less laughter about that, now, and a lot less summer rain.

I’m finding the outcomes of the terrible (and cruel) decision-making of the current US administration pretty disheartening, and thoroughly objectionable. From refusing to regulate AI or protect creator IP, from censorships to tariffs, this government is succeeding… in bringing about a new dark age. What to do about that, though? I sip my coffee and think about how to bring the light of the world to the dark future unfolding right now… I probably sound overly dramatic. Still, here we all are, eh? So…what to do? I have some thoughts…

  1. Read (and buy) actual bound books written exclusively by human authors. Talk about them.
  2. Consume content (while the internet is still available at all) created by human creators. Share that.
  3. Enjoy, support, and buy real (original) art created by living human artists – and buy it, where you can, directly from the artist(s).
  4. Learn practical skills and buy the tools required to do the things. Especially skills that don’t rely entirely on electricity, internet connectivity, and the existence of the power grid – people with useful skills always have a place within their community. Learn to make things.
  5. Be curious and seek information (ideally from vetted sources with reliably recognized expertise).
  6. If you have land (even enough for a small garden, or containers on a patio) grow food – particularly heirloom varieties unburdened by patents, or reproductive restrictions.
  7. Connect with other real human beings in IRL places as frequently as you can – and have real conversations about real world concerns and circumstances, and current events and find common ground together. Yes, even with strangers.
  8. Practice good self-care – for yourself – and practice kindness and compassion – for the rest of the world.
  9. Spend your limited financial resources in your local community on goods and services made by local people, wherever/whenever you are able (or can afford) to do so.
  10. Explicitly communicate your expectations, your “wishlist”, and your “demands” or dissatisfaction to your elected representatives – even if they are not of your party or don’t share your beliefs. Do it often.
  11. Lift each other up. (There are already more than too many people and agencies out there in the world tearing people down.)

Don’t let your voice be silenced. Consider your options, and do your best to make choices that will tend to create the world you wish to see. Don’t let your fears or insecurities, or your petty biases or hostility to this or that cause or belief system cause you to become a monster that you can’t face in the mirror each morning (or, you know, don’t become a monster at all). Choose, each day, to be the person you most want to be, regardless of how vile and terrible the world around you seems to be becoming. Who you are is about you, not them. Do you – for you.

I guess the tl;dr is… don’t just bitch about the shit going on around you, make choices that are different than that, and speak truth to power. (I say that like it’s easy – it is not; it requires constant effort and practice.)

I breathe, exhale, and relax. The landscapers are already mowing this morning, likely due to the extreme heat expected later. If ICE showed up right now and started hassling those landscapers… would I take any action? Would you? It’s a worthwhile thought exercise. You should probably know what your values really are, there. What would you want of bystanders if ICE came for you? (Because, you know, at some point they may – we’re living in dark times.)

Where do you really stand in this new dark age? Here’s a test of your values and ethics that you may find interesting… a simple thought exercise. If you were offered a job (just a salaried job, no guarantees for continued employment) for millions of dollars in annual salary, with the explicit understanding that the results of your work would be directly responsible for putting thousands of people in poverty, reducing the quality of life of many millions of others, and likely result in a notable number of actual deaths…but you would be lifted out of poverty (for as long as you held that job) and live in comfort with your family, debt free with the world’s goods at your fingertips – would you take that job? I don’t need to know your answer – but you do. Are you one of the good guys, or just another self-serving asshole prepared to destroy the world so you can have a [fucking yacht, or Lamborghini, or whatever your symbol of fantastic wealth happens to be]? It’s an important question, and whether you answer it in words or not, the consequences of your actions and choices will tell the world what your values really are.

Yeesh. So grim and grounded this morning. lol I sip my coffee grateful to have a moment of time to explore thought exercises, and questions of ethics and values. The whole picture of my own adult life has not been characterized by wise ethical decision-making, or consistently living my values well. It’s been a very human journey, and when I set off down this path I not only didn’t know where it was leading me, I didn’t have a clear understanding of who is this “woman I most want to be”, in the first place. I suffered from a lack of honest self-reflection, and a lack of useful questions to light my way. Sometimes I still find myself “wandering in the dark” – and there are certainly those among us who would greatly prefer that we all “wander in the dark” without finding a sense of ourselves or understanding what we value, and what we want to see in the world. It is sometimes possible to vanquish those monsters simply by shining a light on the path.

I finish my coffee hoping to succeed in being my best self today. I’m grateful to have the opportunity to do my best on another day. It’s time to begin again…

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Categories 2024 Election, Allegories, anger, Anxiety, art and the artist, breathe, Free Will, gardening, gratitude, Healthy Living, inspiration, Logic & Reason, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Summer, The Art of Being, The Big 5

Cultivating a Beautiful Garden

August 7, 2025 //
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I have a garden. I find it a useful metaphor in life… for life, love, and living well. These things take real work, and benefit from planning, and a consistent effort to practice healthy practices, like the garden does. There are choices to be made regarding what to plant, where, and how to tend the garden through changing seasons. These requirements are basic to living well, too, and the lessons I learn in my garden are handy for living my life. I sip my coffee and think about my garden from the vantage point of my desk, on a completely ordinary Thursday morning.

…I’m not in my garden right now, but I kinda wish I were…

I learn a lot from my garden, practical things that guide my future decision-making like learning that timing, placement, and careful choices can really make a difference in the outcome. An example? I planted hollyhocks in front of the kitchen window, but behind a small Japanese Maple. They finally flowered this year, for the first time, and revealed what a terrible location that is for them; they grow taller than the rain gutters – or the little tree. lol

It matters where something is planted.

I’ve learned, in the garden, not to take planning too seriously. The plan is not the experience. Sometimes there’s joy to be found in an impulsive moment. A potted geranium purchased on a whim can become an eye-catching moment of beauty that brings real joy each time I pass by.

An impulsive choice can become a moment of beauty.

Choices have consequences. It’s not always obvious what those consequences will be. Something as small as an herb in a 4″ pot can become a “delightful monstrosity” that encroaches on the lawn, falling well outside the confines of the flower bed, and requiring constant pruning and attention to keep it within boundaries. Setting healthy boundaries is a useful skill, in the garden and in life.

It’s easy to misjudge the outcome of a choice. The consequences are non-negotiable.

In the garden, I’ve even learned that life isn’t always “about” me; we’re all in this together, each having our own experience. Every bird, bee, spider, worm, and visitor to the garden plays some part in the beauty of the garden.

It’s not always about me.

By far the biggest lesson I’ve taken from my garden is that I’ll rarely get more out of it than I am willing to put into it. The effort I make often determines my results. I harvest what I plant. My harvest is larger or smaller, depending on how skillfully I tend my garden, and how wisely I’ve chosen the cultivars I’ve planted. Timing matters, and seasonality too, but the thing that reliably matters most is the time I spend tending the garden.

The results in my garden are tied directly to the work I put in.

There’s no rushing the garden, really, and no real “short-cuts” to avoid the work required, or the time it may take to find some specific plant or variety that I most yearn to see in my little garden. I may know what I want (or think that I do), but lacking availability I may be tempted to compromise and settle for something different… or “less”. Are the things I want most worth working towards? Are they worth waiting for? (Sometimes they very much are!)

I once saw I rose that I instantly fell in love with, growing as a cascade of bold orange fragrant miniature roses that spilled over a short wall, covering it in beautiful blossoms. So pretty! I’d never seen an orange rose that I liked so much, and I really wanted that one in my garden…but it wasn’t part of my plan at that time, and years passed. 33 years, actually. I missed my opportunity – the nursery where I saw it closed. The breeder of that rose died. I moved, and moved again, and often did not have a garden at all. Then, I had a little garden and my own little home, and I searched high and low for this one rose that I wanted for so long… and found it.

Some experiences and moments are worth working towards, and waiting for.

Another thing I’ve learned in the garden is that there’s going to be bad weather now and then. There’s going to be rain. There are going to be storms. There may be damage to clean up. Sometimes things don’t work out ideally well. I’ve also learned that storms pass. The garden, and its near-infinite ability to recover from harm and continue to grow is a powerful metaphor for resilience, and a lesson about impermanence and the value in practicing non-attachment.

There are going to be rainy days – but they won’t be all the days.

And, like it or not, my garden teaches me to be humble. I can plan all I want, and I can do the work the garden requires in order to thrive. I can enjoy the fruits of my labor and find joy in the garden. In spite of all that, sometimes – without regard to my efforts and commitment and sense of purpose – the deer show up and eat my garden. It is what it is. So many lessons. So many changes of season in a lifetime. So much weeding and watering and sweat and work… and still, the deer may eat my garden.

Sometimes things don’t work out as planned. Sometimes the deer are going to eat the garden.

I smile and sip my coffee. The metaphors of camping and hiking give way to the metaphors of the garden. Tending the garden of my heart isn’t so different from tending the garden in which I grow my vegetables, herbs, and flowers. There are verbs involved, and my results vary. Sometimes I’ve got to begin again – and my choices (and the effort I make) really do matter. 😀 I smile to myself thinking of my Traveling Partner, and the work he’s been getting done in the shop lately. I find myself wondering if he takes life lessons from the shop, in the way I do from my garden?

…In a more practical way, I find myself planning to be in the garden this weekend, or even after work today; there is work to be done (isn’t there always?)…

I breathe, exhale, and relax. It’s a new day. Dinner on Tuesday included tomatoes and onions from my garden. I find myself wondering what may be there for tonight’s dinner? I think about the weekend ahead. I think about love. The clock is ticking – it’s time to begin, again.

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Categories Allegories, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gardening, gratitude, Healthy Living, inspiration, joy, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Roses, Summer, The Art of Being
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