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Birdsong and Breezes

July 6, 2025 //
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I “slept in” (for some values of sleeping in), and drove to the trailhead with the sun in my eyes. No traffic. Lovely quiet drive. No pressure, no stress. I walked down the trail eagerly, feeling rested and fit. I hear (and see) robins, jays, finches, sparrows, and swallows. I listen to their calls and songs as they flit about their business in the meadow. A smallish owl perched very still atop a fence post startles me when he opens his eyes and turns his head as I pass; I thought he was part of the fence post! When he takes off and flies past me I get a better sense of his size (not “small”!)

…I keep walking…

A favorite spot to linger in summertime.

I get to my “halfway point” and take a seat on a fallen branch in this copse of oaks. I feel “surrounded by nature” though I’m an easy walk back to the trailhead parking lot, and the adjacent highway. I love this spot for a brief getaway from “the world”. Sunshine, blue sky, birdsong, breezes, meadow flowers…it has everything I want on a summer morning, except my Traveling Partner’s good company and a good cup of coffee. There’s something to understand there about wanting, yearning, seeking, finding, and… sufficiency.

What is enough? Once upon a time, I felt as if every moment had to meet every need and fulfill every desire. That’s a pretty shitty and unsatisfying way to live; nothing can ever measure up to such feelings. Worse still, I wanted so much. I wanted “happily ever after”, and every waking moment felt like failure, regardless how much joy and delight might actually be available. I couldn’t feel the good in my life because I was mired in chronic disappointment. Things didn’t change much until I stopped chasing “happiness” and began to cultivate contentment. Contentment is so… achievable. Turned out to be a useful stepping stone to moments of profound happiness, too, and because I wasn’t chasing happiness, I could really enjoy it with my whole self when I happened upon it.

I sit with my quiet thoughts awhile, listening to the various birds singing their songs. Some I easily recognize, others I’m less sure of. Here too, a lesson; curiosity and wonder leave plenty of room for learning and growth, where “certainty” tends to close that door with a bang. It’s hard to learn when we think we know. “Don’t be too sure” seems like very good advice. I’ve learned to embrace uncertainty and joy. I grin at a little bird approaching me very closely. I don’t bother trying to get a picture, I just enjoy the moment, instead.

The sun is warm on my back. I feel wrapped in contentment and quiet joy. My Traveling Partner pings me a good morning. My heart feels light. I get to my feet to finish my walk, and begin again.

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

Summer Dreams

July 5, 2025 //
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I’m sitting in the sunshine as the sun rises. Pretty morning. My walk to this point has been quiet and pleasant. There was no traffic on the highway, either. If the folks in my neighborhood are a representative sample of Americans in the area, most folks who were going somewhere this weekend are gone, and those that were up late firing off various fireworks and noise makers are probably sleeping in; that shit was still going on at midnight.

A misty morning at the trailhead.

I’m enjoying the quiet and the solitude. Somewhere in the distance, I hear an occasional car pass by. My tinnitus is crazy loud this morning, and my back aches ferociously. I breathe, exhale, and relax, pulling my posture more upright. Changing my position doesn’t ease my pain in any noteworthy way, but slumping carelessly definitely tends to make it worse. Choices. I grumble silently to myself; everything seems to require a fucking effort. lol I laugh at myself for resisting the truth of it. Yes, surely things require effort. That’s just real. I sigh to myself and let it go. There’s no use fighting the effort required to do things. The best I can do is to make wise choices about what I am doing and where I’m putting my limited resources as an individual (even down to the effort involved).

Halfway “there” is just a point along the way. The journey is the destination.

…Fuck pain…

I sigh to myself and smile, thinking about yesterday. Nice evening. The Anxious Adventurer made lemon bars. Tasty. I made (a fairly simple, summertime) dinner. Nothing fancy. We enjoyed it together as a family. The weather was fairly mild and not hot, and we had turned off the AC, enjoying the natural breeze through windows open wide to the summer air.

I’ve no clear agenda for the weekend. Routine housekeeping stuff I guess. I sit watching the little birds at the edge of the meadow. I think about old friends and try to distract myself from pain. Maybe it is a good day to get out into the garden? There’s laundry to do, too. I chuckle at myself when I find myself daydreaming about doing housework as I sit here in the sunshine visualizing this or that task I know I am likely to do on a Saturday, and wondering what I can actually accomplish in practical terms. I’d rather sit with my feet up in the garden, sipping iced coffee and ignoring the tick of the clock, but time is a precious and finite resource and I have things to do. Another sigh breaks the stillness.

What next? I don’t know, yet. I’ve got options to consider. Choices to make. I’ve got my own path to walk. For the moment I am content just to be here, now, enjoying the morning sun without attachment to any particular outcome. Later, I can begin again.

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

Here, Now, and There, Then

July 4, 2025 //
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The sunrise was a bold assortment of hues of pink and magenta this morning, rays of color flaring from behind streaks of pink clouds edged with mauve. I watched as I drove to the trailhead.

A new day, a new perspective.

…I wish I’d slept in…

I yawned through the first half of my walk, feeling sleepy. I feel like I could easily enjoy a nap, though I slept well and deeply and woke rested this morning. Doesn’t matter, and I keep walking.

I reached my halfway point happy to pause, but wishing there were a hammock conveniently nearby. lol There is not.

I sit watching a small herd of deer crossing the meadow. They have two fawns with them. It’s that time of year, and I know I’ll be seeing the fawn that has been keeping the local doe coming back to my garden again and again. Soon they’ll move on for the summer, and my roses will get a break from being nibbled at.

4 of July. My Traveling Partner has some work he expects will keep him occupied for much of the day. I’ll busy myself with tidying up the deck for cooking, later. The groceries are on hand. No errands to run that can’t wait (none that I recall right now), just a pleasant holiday weekend ahead, available for relaxation, good food, and fun.

I sit awhile watching the new day begin, and thinking about summer times past. The things I miss most about childhood summers are fireflies, thunderstorms, and leisure time (which seemed so endless then, it is hard to imagine now). There are no fireflies in this part of the world, and thunderstorms are quite uncommon. I’m managing to get sufficient leisure time, generally, but it doesn’t feel like those endless days of summer from my childhood. I sigh to myself, grateful for the three day weekend.

A little yellow and black bird hops quite close to me and sings a little song before flying away. I don’t even try to get a picture. I already know he’s too quick for me.

I get to my feet. Another yawn. It’s already time to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, inspiration, joy, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Practices, solo hiking, Summer, The Art of Being

Starfish and Coffee

July 1, 2025 //
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I’m sipping an iced coffee and readying myself for the day ahead. I’m also browsing the pictures in the “gallery” app on my phone, and enjoying pleasant recollections of my recent day trip to the coast. I am thinking about goals and intentions, and forward momentum, and how different an object on the horizon looks compared to what I may see up close when I arrive at that destination – and how easy it can be for something along the way to distract me as I travel.

The horizon, a distant smudge. How far away is that?

I sigh out loud and rub my neck. My headache was with me when I woke this morning. It’ll probably be with me all day. Doesn’t matter, really, and there’s not much I can do about it. I breathe, exhale, and relax, and let that go.

A destination, a goal, and idea – what does it take to get there?

It’ll be another hot summer day, today. I’m okay with that. I’m grateful for the air conditioning that makes that a comfortable idea, at all. I’m fortunate to have that luxury available to me, and I sit with my gratitude for some little while, thinking about other times and places when I was not so fortunate.

Where we thought we’d like to go may be less achievable than we anticpated, or require more of us to reach than we planned. It’s okay to change our path – or to work for our goal. The choice is ours.

I feel a little tired before the day even begins, which surprises me, until I realize that there is this subtle awareness in the background of my thoughts of a world in chaos: genocides, acts of war, terrible cruelty, lives lost, lives wasted, and terrible people doing terrible things. Is my fatigue simply the unavoidable awareness wearing me down, or a sign that I am fighting that awareness too much with too little positive result? I think about that awhile, too, and ponder the critical need for skillful self-care. What do I need from myself this morning to nurture this fragile vessel and this valiant heart?

When I take a closer look, I am sometimes surprised by what I find. Definitely look closer (it’s a metaphor).

…For starters, I would do well to drink more water than coffee on such a hot day, eh? (I remind myself to get some water when I finish this.)

…Maybe make a point of getting up from my desk every hour and stretch or walk around a bit rather than sit here hyper-focused on work that absolutely can wait on a wee break. (I put a couple break intervals on my work calendar and mark myself “busy” for those, and set reminders so I don’t forget.)

…My mental and emotional health will benefit from reconnecting with distant friends, and checking in with those dear to me who are nearer, too. (I smile and think of people I enjoy and who are dear to me. I’m grateful there are so many.)

I sip my coffee content to have a forward path and some idea what sorts of things will nurture me and lift me up, that also easily fit into a busy work day. It’s a start. More often than not, a beginning is enough to get me going – if nothing else, it’s where I begin (again). 😀 That’s enough. The clock is ticking… it’s time to get on with it.

Big or small, we choose what we put our attention on – and our choices matter.
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Categories Allegories, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, inspiration, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Summer, The Art of Being, War and News of War, weight loss secrets

Time Travel

June 30, 2025 //
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I drove in to the office this morning baffled by how much the air felt and smelled of summer – but not necessarily my expectation of this summer, here, now. It felt and smelled like some long ago summer in a different place, at a different point in time, in another life. I was transported back to muggy childhood summer mornings in Maryland, near the Chesapeake Bay. Swim lessons. Lazy afternoons at Grandmother’s house, sipping ice cold rootbeer on the screened in porch, listening to the fan turn. Early mornings outside under the clear blue sky. Afternoons curled up with a book, in front of the air conditioner in my bedroom window. Pool parties and barbecues. Nostalgia triggered by the warm summer morning and air scented with summer flowers and mown grass. The recollections this evoked were clear and sharp and seemed more real than the commute itself felt in the moment.

I breathe, exhale, and relax, and move on from the moment of nostalgia to face the new work day (and week). It takes me a few minutes and an additional cup of coffee to gather my thoughts and feel more organized – being away for a few days can do that. lol Generally speaking, though, things are already quite routine and ordinary. Suits me fine.

The office ventiliation is already working pretty hard, and soon I’ll have to close the blinds on these big windows to prevent this small space from becoming uncomfortably warm. S’ok – I expect it from summer days. I smile, thinking of my Traveling Partner at home. I miss him – we’ve had quite a few lovely days just being together recently, and I enjoy that time we spend together very much. I yawn, unexpectedly tired – tired? Am I actually tired, or just feeling relaxed? I look out the windows into the clear blue summer sky. It’s a good day to laze in a hammock in the shade, sipping iced tea and trying again to read Proust. lol That’s not what is on today’s agenda, though; there’s just me and this work in front of me, and it’s time to get on with that. It’s time to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, breathe, gratitude, inspiration, meditation, Moments, Perspective, Summer, The Art of Being, Words
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