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Seasons, Cycles, Milestones

December 26, 2025 //
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Giftmas comes and goes. It was delightful. I sit with my thoughts for a little while, waiting for the sun, or perhaps for the rain to slow to a sprinkle. This particular Giftmas is one to remember fondly, for sure; it was lovely from the first sip of my morning coffee to the last quiet moment as I drifted off to sleep. “No notes.” I wouldn’t change a thing about the holiday this year, even if I could.

The delights of this particularly good Giftmas holiday reminded me how little it is about the money being spent. This is a holiday season of limited resources for many people (including us), and we kept our budgets pretty minimal for this gifting holiday. More went into shared experiences, and far less into individual gifts. That’s okay, too. It was a fantastic holiday. (I hope yours was, too.) It was enough, and felt incredibly warm and connected and satisfying. Joyful.

… And it’s on to the next one; New Year’s Eve and day are coming up next, and only days away. Different celebration, different meaning and different milestones to observe. This year, as with every year of my adulthood, I’ll take One Hour for myself, at some point during the day, and I’ll honor the holiday by taking down all the holiday decor and putting it away again for another year. I find that it symbolizes change and renewal beautifully. It’s my way.

The rain stops. It’s still dark, and my boots hit the pavement with an unexpected splash; I am parked in a slight low spot, and step directly into a puddle in the darkness. I shrug that off, hopping quickly to dry pavement without soaking my boots through. Wet feet make an uncomfortable walk. I take my time, appreciative that for the moment, my feet don’t hurt. (I’ve been dealing with a flare up of plantar fasciitis for a few days.)

I thought about the holidays from this in between moment, as I walked to my halfway point. Capella (I think) is bright in the night sky, visible in a break in the clouds. I marvel silently over the gifts that stand out most in my recollection, some of which are promises of future delight (an interesting spice blend in a really cute little tin comes to mind), and others that will provide lasting comfort and joyful recollection (ooh, fuzzy warm spa socks!). Coloring books. (Yep, I’m a grown woman and an artist of many years experience – I still manage to be thoroughly delighted by a selection of cute coloring books.) lol I feel fortunate to share the holiday with people who get that what matters most is something unrelated to money. It’s the connection, the warmth, the sharing, and the sentimental fun of it all, far more than anything to do with a pricetag, I think.

… For a moment I wonder about what the person who won the more than one billion dollar Powerball prize on Giftmas Eve may have felt, somewhere in Arkansas (definitely a life-changing amount of money)…

The clock keeps on ticking, the wheel keeps turning, as the seasons change, and each milestone in a single human life is reached, then recedes into memory. This journey is the destination. How many steps (and practices, and changes over time) went into getting to this moment, and this beautiful holiday? So many. You may not be where you want to be in your life, right now, but you can choose to walk a path that may get you there – no guarantees that once you reach one goal or another that you will still see that outcome as “what you want” once you have achieved it. We’re somewhat more complicated than that, and we tend to “move the goalposts” as we play the game. There’s no map. No user’s guide. You choose your path. You define what success looks like. You do the work. Your life, on your terms – if you choose to accept the responsibility.

I sit at my halfway point watching the stars overhead twinkling brightly. It barely feels like winter here at all. The atmospheric river that brought the rain also brought these very mild temperatures. Like most things, it’s not likely to last. Winter will bring its icy blast at some point, but for now I enjoy the mild morning. I breathe, exhale, and relax, and take a few minutes in the predawn stillness for meditation.

Daybreak comes, the sky begins to lighten, I begin again; this path isn’t going to walk itself!

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

Joy and Wonder

December 25, 2025 //
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Merry Giftmas! 😁

What a beautiful morning to wake up to, plump stockings laid carefully on favorite seats, the tree lit and merrily keeping watch over the wrapped gifts, stacked to look plentiful in a season of limited resources. I even slept in! (Though I am still first to wake, somehow.)

… I don’t recall that I’ve ever slept in on Giftmas morning…

The rest of the house still sleeps. I put on soft holiday jazz, and make a cup of coffee. I look out on the morning…gray and rainy looking, here. I open the door and breathe the cool fresh air.

“…we wish you a merry Christmas, and a happy new year…” I smile listening to the music. An unhurried, relaxed Giftmas morning? Wow. It’s like a gift all its own.

Later, things will be busy with unwrapping gifts and sharing oohs and ahs of appreciation and delight, then, later still, family phone calls, brunch… and dishes. 😆 I’m not bitching; all the things we want most to enjoy require something of us in return. “You gotta pay for your thrills,” an old friend long ago used to tell me (and I miss you still, Trouble.). I know there are definitely verbs involved – and choices.

I sit with the quiet, joyful and content with the moment just as it is. I can begin again later.

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Categories breathe, gratitude, inspiration, joy, Love, meditation, Moments, Practices, Relationships, The Art of Being, winter, women, Words

A Plan With a Convenient Twist

December 23, 2025 //
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When I originally planned my holiday time, it was with consideration of being new in my role, leading a team through a very busy season, and expecting I might still be scrambling to finish some holiday task or another. As it has turned out, my team is stronger than I knew and capable of getting the job done when I’m unavailable. I’m also finished with the holiday preparation. I don’t really need “more time”, but I did get quite sick after I returned from traveling for work. Turns out my plan to work half days this week (and taking the Eve and Giftmas Day off entirely) is a much appreciated adjustment to my work schedule as I get over being ill. Convenient.

Yesterday after work I focused on self-care. I feel a bit more better this morning than yesterday morning. The first thing in the morning congestion and coughing didn’t last as long, and my sinuses required fewer tissues. Small win, but still worth appreciating. I’ve got another short day today… for which I am deeply grateful. I may not actually have an entire work shift in me, quite yet. I am at least able to get a walk, and add a mile or two on these boots before the work day begins. The walking seems to help clear the congestion in my lungs.

The morning is another mild one. It rained more during the night, but for now the cloudy sky is only that. The trail is dotted with puddles. Slippery leaves are scattered here and there. I walk carefully, with my cane keeping me steady. I breathe – as deeply as I am able – filling my lungs with the rain-fresh “winter” air of the Pacific Northwest. Everything smells clean and fresh and healthy. Holiday lights on apartment balconies shine through the trees from across the creek that meanders past this section of the trail. The morning is quiet and dark. Daybreak won’t come for another hour.

“Morning! Coming up on your left!” I hear,  behind me, the voice of a stranger. Another walker – the older gentleman I spotted a few mornings ago. “Nice morning for it,” I reply as he approaches and begins to pass me. “I hope I didn’t startle you, Miss, I tried not to.” He sounds friendly and not at all threatening. We walk abreast momentarily. He shares that he’s seen me walking in the mornings and admits that it inspired him to walk more.

Turns out he’s the night security guy for the construction site on the other side of the parking lot, and began getting a walk in at the end of his shift, on this trail so convenient to the job site. He wishes me a good morning as he walks on ahead (at a faster pace on longer legs). I return his well wishes, grateful to have my solitude returned, and appreciative of a stranger’s consideration. Nonetheless, as I walk I feel for the knife in my pocket, and move it to my left hand, keeping my sturdy trekking pole in my right hand for balance. Oh, I’m not any sort of intimidating character or threat, nor am I inclined towards violence, but I’d take advantage of a lifetime of suppressed ancient rage to make an attacker rethink their life choices by defending myself, in order to enjoy another mortal day in the arms of my beloved Traveling Partner.

My hyper-vigilance is aroused by this passing stranger in the darkness, which seems unsurprising. I don’t take it too seriously; I’ve come a long way over the years, and this won’t wreck my day. It barely qualifies as “triggered”, and mostly seems useful, reasonable, and manageable. I keep walking, until I reach my halfway point and stop for a moment, to meditate and write.

Even in the darkness, sometimes there is light.

The sky has a familiar faint glow of the light of human communities reflecting back from the clouds overhead. I enjoy the silhouettes of trees and buildings and partially defined shapes of things that seem less obvious. I sit with the quiet, breathing, exhaling, relaxing, and filling up on the feeling of peace and stillness of the moment. I enjoy the feeling of being free to take my time. I enjoy feeling unrushed, unharried, and unbothered.

… Happy Holidays, however you celebrate the season…

I smile, remembering that I need to pick up a holiday pie, later this morning (then find myself wondering if I’m supposed to pick it up tomorrow… and suddenly wonder what day it even is? (Then double-check the date). I chuckle to myself. A human being, being human. A soft sprinkling of rain begins to fall. Predictable. No surprise in rain falling here, this time of year. I pull my folded rain poncho from my pocket, where I had shoved it as I got out of the car “just in case”, and put it on. The rain stops. I’m grateful to be prepared.

A small herd of deer steps shyly from the trees and walks across the trail into the grass at the edge of the vineyard, a short distance away. They are aware of me, but don’t seem concerned. I watch them. They watch me. When the rain begins again, I stand and stretch, and the deer walk away slowly, down the grassy strip along the path, before veering more deeply into the vineyard. I turn the other direction, looking down the trail towards the too-bright lights of the construction site around which the trail eventually wraps. (I wonder how this trail will change after that hotel is finished?)

I sigh quietly, contentedly, breathing the damp winter air, grateful for the mild morning. I enjoy these moments… and it is time to begin again. There are more, other, moments to enjoy… further down the path.

… And visions of sugar plums…

…Twas the night before Christmas…

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

The Long Dark Night

December 21, 2025 //
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Happy Solstice. It’s here. The longest night of the year, the Winter Solstice, is here. Another year over. Another winter has arrived.

I woke early and considered going back to sleep, but it was obvious I’d be fighting my sinuses and rather than wake everyone else, I got up. The sun won’t rise until 07:48 this morning. Less than 9 hours later, it will set. Short day. Long night. Ah, but seasons are cycles and the wheel keeps turning. It is time once again for the days to begin growing longer. I’m grateful to see another solstice. I hope I see many more.

Something like a view.

I park at the trailhead after a drive that was eerily free of traffic. I park with a view of the eastern horizon, and of the shallow seasonal lake that develops each year in the farm fields across the highway from this nature park. In the darkness, the reflected lights of the communities beyond give the appearance of a “waterfront location”. It is a pretty illusion. I sit sipping my coffee, waiting for the first hint of the sunlight of a new day. It’s a colder morning. I’m grateful for thinking to bundle up a bit.

… another Solstice…

Yesterday was the new moon, which seems fitting. A clean slate, a new beginning, a turn of the calendar page – all ideas to do with renewal. I like that. I sit sipping a hot cup of cheap coffee in the darkness. The cup is warm in my hands. The coffee is still too hot to do more than sip it carefully. The hot liquid is soothing on my throat.

Giftmas is only days away. Presents are wrapped. The lights on the tree illuminated the living room softly as I left the house, and the recollection of that merry glow fills me with joy. I sit awhile thinking about holiday traditions and rituals. ‘Tis the season, after all. I smile when I think about the basket of sharable treats assembled and waiting to be placed on the table. I reflect on community and sharing and a moment of light and abundance, a celebration of triumph over the winter and the darkness.

My coffee becomes properly drinkable after cooling a bit. The challenge now is to drink it and enjoy it before it goes cold. I breathe, exhale, and relax, hands warmly embracing the paper cup. I meditate, enjoying the scent of the coffee, and the stillness and quiet of a Sunday Solstice morning. There is no traffic. The geese, still asleep, drift on the fields covered in shallow water and on the marsh ponds. A lone coyote darts across my view. I love this part of Oregon for the characteristics of wild and rural spaces adjacent to suburbs and towns. Seeing deer wandering through McMinnville as if they belong still delights me, and I’m alert for cototes, bobcats, deer, and racoons as I drive in the early morning. I see them often. Well, all but the bobcats, lynxes, or cougars, which are not only much more rare, but also much less inclined to enter human spaces if they can avoid doing so. It would be rare indeed to see a wild cat of any sort wandering about in town.

I sigh contentedly. The temperature is still a chilly 38°F (3.3°C). I’m grateful for my cozy sweater and my fluffy warm cardigan. I reach into the gear bin in the back of my SUV and find my wool hat, scarf, and gloves, by feel and pull them out. It’s definitely cold enough for putting on a scarf and hat. The gloves would once have been left behind in favor of shoving my hands into my pockets, but I reliably take my cane along these days, so gloves are no longer optional on cold mornings, if I hope to keep my hands warm.

I bundle up, saving my gloves for last to finish this bit of writing. My left foot is griefing me with a bit of tendonitis, and I am wondering how far I’ll really go, today, but I don’t give up on the walk completely. I remind myself to stop by the storage unit and get more (better) pictures of an item we’re hoping to sell, and maybe take a load of smaller stuff over to the new unit. I’ll spend the day mostly creating order from chaos (doing housework) and writing to far away friends, and listening to holiday music.

A little more light, a little more view.

I notice that I can now see the ground pretty easily, although dawn is still almost 20 minutes away. Good enough for trail walking, and I won’t need my headlamp. I stretch and yawn, and rub my aching shoulders. It is the Winter Solstice, and a new day is dawning. It’s time to begin again.

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

Counting Down the Days

December 16, 2025 //
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It’s almost Giftmas time! I admit to counting down the days like a kid, just as eager for Santa to come as if I didn’t know the factual truth of the holiday; we are Santa, as much as we each undertake to be. All around the US, kids are eagerly counting down the days until the holiday – however it is celebrated in their home (if it is). Parents, on the other hand, experience that countdown differently, and they may be counting down the days to the next payday, a little concerned about whether the dollars will stretch for another gift or two under the tree, or whether the lights will be on, or the heating bill paid. Right about this time of year, I’d often hear my Dad’s vexation come through as “If you birds don’t knock that shit off there won’t be any Christmas!” (And oh, damn, the tears that would be shed following that announcement!)

…Our tree often sat in a bucket on the porch, quite bare, until Giftmas Eve, when my Dad would set it up, and make certain it was quite upright with my Mother’s help (she would hang a plumb bob from some point on the stairs, such that my Dad could see it alongside the tree, to trim this or that branch, or adjust the screws in the base holding the tree,and some water for it). We’d all go to bed, passing by the fragrant bare tree standing in the livingroom, wondering if Santa would really come.

Making holidays magical.

I can’t even wrap my head around how my parents made holiday magic every year. They stayed up into the wee hours, decorating the tree together after we kids had gone to bed. They’d assemble things with “some assembly required”. Last minute gifts would be wrapped in secret. All the gifts previously purchased and wrapped would be pulled from their hiding places, and placed under the now-decorated tree. Empty stockings would be taken down from the mantle, filled, and as my parent’s finally went to bed (sometimes closer to 4 am than to 2 am), they would gently lay the stockings at the foot of each kid’s bed – a neat holiday touch that also bought them a little additional time to sleep, since we were allowed to open our stockings quietly and enjoy anything we found, so long as we did not wake them before 5 am. I’m fairly certain that some years, it was our excitement combined with the quiet sound of their bedroom door closing that woke us. Not a lot of sleep-in time in that scenario. lol But wow… the holiday magic was intense, and has lasted me a lifetime.

… I believed in a literal real Santa Claus until embarrassingly late in life, still convinced at 15, reluctantly accepting the truth at some point before I turned 17…

A modest tree, every ornament has history. What stories does your tree tell?

‘Tis the season, eh? How will you be making someone’s holiday bright? What twinkle lights will illuminate your hearth and home with a soft holiday glow in the wee hours of the night? What memories will you make, and carry into the dark nights of your future? What experiences will you share with those dear to you? I call it “Giftmas” instead of “Christmas”, but the holiday is still one that is more about presence than presents. (I do love the presents… but there’s more to it than that, by far.) For me this holiday is a celebration of love and community and getting through our darkest times together; it’s no coincidence that this holiday is so near to the Solstice. The nights are long, dark, and in many places very cold. Resources begin to run low. We rely on each other for our shared survival – this is a time for remembering that, and also celebrating it with a meaningful exchange of gifts. I mean… I think that’s what this holiday is about. That’s what it is for me.

I smile and face another work day. I’m counting down the days, now… 8 more to Giftmas Eve! Will Santa come? Will there be gifts under the tree? A tasty Giftmas morning brunch? A too-early celebration of the day, over coffee or cocktails, still rubbing the sleep out of my eyes? Will there be carols on the stereo? Harry Potter, Home Alone, Christmas Story, Scrooged, and the Grinch on video? A roast supper that seems more elegant with holiday decor in the background? Unexpected packages on the front step? Visits from friends or family? General merriment, the chaos of torn wrapping paper, and the sudden urge to nap before noon? I don’t know. Yes? I don’t build my expectations on any particular detail; I just enjoy the season as it is, all the options, all the challenges, all the choices, and these precious finite moments together – or in solitude. (No wrong answers; we’re each having our own experience, and I have enjoyed some memorable, beautiful Giftmas holidays alone.)

My mind wanders to another magical Giftmas; the first I shared with my Traveling Partner. (If I wasn’t sure I wanted to spend my life with this man before that first Giftmas holiday together, I was definitely certain afterward.) He made that holiday happen for us – for me. It was a gesture of pure love. We didn’t have the means, we had just moved into an apartment together that was double the rent either of us had been paying before. We made a frugal decision to “skip it this year” (no children to disappoint). It kind of bummed me out, but I was “being grown up about it”. Then that cold afternoon that I arrived home… to a small holiday tree, lit and if I’m recalling correctly, decorated. I was moved to happy tears. I’ve never forgotten that loving gesture. It’s one of my fondest Giftmas memories.

I sigh to myself and realize I am distracting myself from physical pain with holiday merriment. I mean… okay. Useful. Handy. I’m okay with it, but the work day is not going to complete itself, and it’s already time to begin again…

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Categories Allegories, Brain Injury, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, inspiration, joy, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, pain, Perspective, Practices, Relationships, The Art of Being, winter
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