I woke from complicated dreams feeling unbothered. They faded from my recollection before a memory of the details could form. I dressed and left the house, going back for my new headlamp, which I managed to forget in spite of the helpful note from my Traveling Partner.
[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]
I set off down the trail in the dark, my headlamp creating a well lit area ahead of me (or wherever I happen to look). It’s a much better headlamp than my old one. I’m not really surprised by that; my beloved recommended it to me. I smile to myself. I feel loved, with every step.
The humidity is 93% this morning, according to the weather app on my phone. Bleh. I feel it. It feels like other places I’ve lived… Maryland… Georgia… Alabama. Oof. I begin sweating before I’ve reached my halfway point. By the time I stop, I’m pretty damp. The air quality is some better today though, feels like. The temperature is mild and the air is calm. It’s a quiet morning. I sigh to myself and take a seat on a big rock. It’s not yet daybreak.
“Nothing to see here,” I think to myself. It’s not a criticism. I feel content and unbothered, and mostly pretty comfortable. Comfort is relative. I don’t escape the chronic pain very often at this point (hardly ever), but this morning it is a manageable 2 out of 10. I stare at the circle of light on the pavement just beyond the edge of my boots. Nothing to see there either really. I breathe, exhale, and relax. Nice morning for a quiet bit of meditation.
I rub my hands together, massaging my thumbs with particular care. I’d like to be painting and it feels unfair to be feeling arthritis developing in my hands. I find myself wondering if a paraffin wax heat treatment would help or only feel nice? I sigh out loud without meaning to, and notice that the air tastes a bit like fall, already. My mind wanders – maybe some time in the studio this weekend? That would be lovely.
I sit watching as daybreak arrives. I turn off my headlamp and let it hang from my neck. I’ll wait awhile longer, here with my thoughts, and then I’ll begin again. I can see the path ahead pretty well now. Here comes a new day. What will I do with it? I don’t know yet, aside from working. I hope I choose wisely.
Like, subscribe, comment… it’s a trap. The “hype cycle”, the outrage machinery, the click farming, and trying to get “engagement” from the bored and uninterested; it’s all part of monetizing our attention as consumers (of content). Pretty gross.
[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]
Add to all of that the pestilence of AI slop and enshittification and what have we got? Incentive to put down the device, step away from the screen and go outside.
On the trail at first light.
It’s a gray morning, overcast and cloudy. Looks like rain, but it doesn’t feel like rain. The forecast has no rain in it today. I set off down the trail as soon as I have enough light. (My replacement headlamp should arrive today or tomorrow.) I don’t mind the few quiet minutes waiting for daybreak. I spend the time, this morning, thinking about… Ozempic. 😆
I started on Ozempic in April, 2024, more than two years ago. I’ve lost some weight, sure, but I take it for my diabetes. I could stand to lose more weight, I’m definitely carrying around an unhealthy surplus (just being real). I’ve been improving my strength training a bit at a time, recently, with my Traveling Partner’s encouragement, which is helpful.
“Healthy” and “thin” are not synonyms. “Heavy” and “healthy” are not antonyms. It’s more complicated than that, but in my own case, I’m heavier than is healthy for me, and certain “features” of my brain injury complicate my impulse control and self-awareness. The Ozempic controls my blood sugar, reduces my interest in food, and eating becomes notably less gratifying, and the Ozempic profoundly improves my impulse control, generally (a very helpful side effect). I’m fortunate I haven’t had to deal with unpleasant side effects like nausea or constipation (only very rarely and not for long).
… There’s nothing shameful or embarrassing about taking appropriate medication for medical conditions…
I’ve never felt embarrassed, ashamed, or awkward about taking Ozempic, although I was very reluctant to try it at all. I’m often puzzled by the weird criticism of strangers regarding people using GLP1’s for weight loss, as if it amounts to “cheating”. (And I had to deal with that face to face with myself, before I was willing to try it.) Life isn’t a proctored exam. We’re each having our own experience. One person may find managing their weight (or their blood sugar) quite easy. Someone else may find it quite difficult. We are individuals. Ozempic may cause terrible life threatening side effects for one person, and no side effects at all for another. Keeping it real, though? It’s not anyone else’s business in the first fucking place. Take it or don’t; the choice is between you and your doctor.
…As with using Ozempic, talking about that is also a personal choice (stay out of the comments section 😆 the Internet trolls may be hangry – or jealous)…
I sit with my thoughts awhile, at a favorite stopping point. The trail is still mine. I love these quiet moments. This trail is very popular with dog walkers, though, and on such a mild morning there will no doubt be dogs tearing around in the brush and tall grass (because in spite of prominent signage with rules about keeping dogs leashed, people do as they please). Rude. It is the same disregard for basic consideration and manners that make people think it’s okay to criticize someone for following their doctor’s advice about their medication.
… Sometimes it feels like the idiots are winning…
I breathe, exhale, and relax. I’m in a good mood, on a pleasant morning. No reason to undermine that with cynicism or petty anger and disappointment with humanity, generally. 😆 Later, housekeeping, exercise, and some hang out time with my beloved. I smile to myself. Useful perspective. Why was I even thinking about any of that other crap on such a lovely morning? Oh, right. My weekly dose increases today (and for the foreseeable future). 😂 I’m facing it with some unnecessary trepidation. I shrug it off and remind myself to drink plenty of water.
See, that’s the thing, isn’t it? Nearly every challenge we face also has steps we can take to directly improve our experience, we just have to choose to take that step. “Do the verbs.” It is also necessary to be open to the possibility – and to allow myself awareness of the options available to me. Small steps. Choices.
I breathe the fresh summer air. It smells of mown clover drying in the sun, and summer flowers. I think about maybe going to a cafe that serves a particularly delicious Borgia mocha (a nice treat), then wonder if I can even be bothered? Maybe I’d actually rather head home and do laundry and clean my bathroom? How delightfully adult of me. 😆 I sit smiling, enjoying the moment. It’ll be time to begin again, soon enough.
For now the sky overhead is quiet. Later, the annual air show will shatter the peace with a fun display of military might in the sky. Don’t misunderstand me; I enjoyed seeing the Blue Angels as a kid. These days it’s just very costly wasteful noise interrupting my ability to focus on whatever I’m trying to do.
[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]
I’m admittedly a bit of a buzzkill about air shows (noisy, wasteful), parades (traffic, crowds), fireworks displays (noisy, wasteful, crowded)… You may be getting the impression I dislike noise, crowds, and the chaos and expense of public celebrations, entirely. You would be correct; not my thing at all. I rarely even go to concerts to see artists I truly love. I don’t like the noise and the crowds. Hell, I don’t like it if the grocery store is busy enough to feel crowded. 😆
Most of my trauma has been at the hands of another person, directly. The result? I mostly don’t trust people with my safety, least of all my safety from direct harm by another human being! Viewed through that lens, it is probably not hard to understand why I am cautious about people and a bit averse to crowds. The noise sensitivity I live with (PTSD, head trauma) is its own thing, but we are interesting creatures built of systems, and it’s not easy to tease symptoms apart and assign them to this or that, independent of each other. That’s not really how we work.
I’ll endure the air show the way I generally endure such things: I’ll stay away from the event and associated traffic, and I’ll refrain from being a dick about my dislike of such things, and choose instead to just let folks have their fun. They aren’t hurting me, and the air show isn’t a personal attack on my peace. 😆 In fact, one of the best things I have gotten from practicing non-attachment is learning to embrace how very few things are ever “personal”. It’s a very impersonal universe, and it does not give a damn about one artist of middle-aged years living quietly between town and farm fields, I promise.
I set off down the trail at daybreak. I wasn’t sure this trail would be accessible today, with the air show going on. I had a plan B ready to go, if it weren’t. I’m grateful to be able to walk this familiar trail. It begins the morning well.
I reach my halfway point ahead of the sunrise. Looks like a cloudy day ahead. I yawn and stretch, and my muscles remind me that I’ve resumed strength training. It’s a healthy soreness, but still uncomfortable. I rub my aching shoulders and distract myself from the discomfort by scanning the underbrush slowly, looking for details I may have missed…or bunnies. 😂
The air is a little hazy, again, but the AQI is still in a safe range. The weather feels mild, and the cool of the morning hints at autumn. I stretch again, and look to the smooth gray sky overhead. The clock ticks on. It is a journey of miles and of moments. As with any practice, it’s about the verbs. I sigh as I get to my feet to begin. Again.
Daybreak comes, revealing cloudy skies. I walked to this spot rather unenthusiastically. I’m not in any sort of bad mood, just “feeling the weight” of it all. It is a subjective feeling, and it will pass. I pay it no particular attention, I notice it and let it go.
[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]
The stormy looking clouds gathered to the east probably don’t hold much potential for rain; it is summer; August in the Pacific Northwest, and a dry, hot one. The weather forecast says sunny today, hot in the afternoon. Right now the air is cool and mild and I regret not grabbing my fleece. My arthritis aches from my fusion to the base of my skull, finally completing a journey that began sometime around 1990, some 36-ish years ago, with the vertebrae immediately above the fused ones. Every year since, it has climbed a little further. About two years ago, I think, I developed arthritis in my shoulders and my collar bone (did not even know that was a thing). Last year I developed arthritis in my thumbs. Osteoarthritis sucks (any pain does, really), and it’s not really feasible to take enough of whatever pain remedy to really be “pain free“. Movement helps, but it’s more pain to have less pain. Vexing. I breathe, exhale, and relax. I let it go. Again.
Cloudy morning. The sky to the west is a smooth homogeneous soft gray, with occasional streaks of clouds drifting past. The work day is ahead. I’m fine with it. Maybe I just need some coffee to shake off this bland disinterest in this moment (or, if I’m being fair, any other). I’m fine, for most values of “fine”. As I said earlier, I’m not in a bad mood, just sort of sitting here glaring somewhat uninterestedly on this new day, which seems a bit unreasonable. It’s new, full of unrealized potential and so many options! I sigh to myself. My inner cheerleader is nowhere to be found.
I breathe, exhale, and relax. I take time for meditation. Who knows how I’ll feel after I begin again? Change is. Moments are fleeting.
I get a good morning greeting from my beloved Traveling Partner, and it puts a smile on my face that pain can’t stop. I stretch and get to my feet.
Odd morning. I slept well enough. I woke on time. The morning seems ordinary, another Monday. Still, I feel rather out of sorts and vexed with something or other, but I have no idea what, or why.
[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]
I sigh to myself, waiting on daybreak to start my walk. I haven’t yet replaced my headlamp. Is that what’s annoying me? Maybe, but if so more likely as a larger concern with not getting shit done “in a timely manner”, and some vague sense of being on a metaphorical hamster wheel in life. Maybe it’s just my exceedingly annoying painful left shoulder, which is being particularly annoying and painful this morning? Also? Omg fuck the “aches and pains” of aging. So over that shit.
…So, yeah, I’m pretty cross this morning, but there’s no noteworthy tale to tell, or anything obvious to do about it. Breathe. Exhale. Relax. Don’t take shit personally…
There is so much to do that I feel like I don’t (or can’t) get to. I sigh to myself. I could do more, work harder, burn more energy in spite of pain… It gets tricky when I attempt to stave off resentment by improving my self-care. There’s a balance to strike. At least I’m sleeping. That’s something. We all need sleep to keep these fragile vessels in working order.
Daybreak comes. I’m always strangely relieved when it does, as if there might be some real risk that it might not. I stepped onto the trail, testing my stability carefully before I proceeded. I Checked that my trekking pole is adjusted correctly and securely. Steps on a path. Nice morning for walking. I let my eyes adjust and start down the trail.
We’re each having our own experience. I reflect on that as I walk. However many times I walk this trail, each walk is still new, and is a unique experience. Each other person who has or will walk this trail experiences it differently than I do. That’s a lot of experiences.
I stop at my halfway point. The new hotel being built next to the air museum is visible from here. For now, it is still an eyesore of construction in progress, it’s blocky form inconsistent with the architecture of the museum. It’s ugly and ordinary, another revenue stream for the owner(s). I’d rather have seen more vineyards planted, personally, but I wasn’t asked. 😆
I sit with my grumpiness and discontent. It’ll pass. That is the way of emotions and moments; they pass. I sigh to myself and think instead about driving my RC car this weekend, which was delightful, and I think about the pleasant time spent hanging out with my beloved, or working on my next painting in my studio. It was a good weekend, generally speaking.
… What the fuck do I even have to be cranky about..?
I shift my position and feel all the twinges of pain at once: the shoulder, the knee, the new arthritis in my thumbs, the old arthritis in my spine, the headache, and the occipital neuralgia. I laugh, an actual audible expression of genuine amusement. How is the pain not enough reason to be a bit cross this morning? I shrug it off, satisfied that I’ve got reason enough to feel the way I do. I proceed to get some kind of start to letting that go; there is an entire new day ahead, and there’s no efficiency to be gained by dwelling on pain. I’ll just do my best to…do my best.
I watch the sky lighten. A new day. A new chance to begin again. A new chance to be the person I most want to be.
