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Every Step

August 18, 2026 //
2

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.

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Categories Allegories, art and the artist, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, inspiration, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, Summer, The Art of Being, Words

One Rose As A Metaphor

August 17, 2026 //
0

The other day I noticed a rose had bloomed – finally! I planted “All My Loving” a couple years ago. The deer love it so much they will trample everything in the way to get to it, even reaching through the cage I had eventually placed around it.

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

“All My Loving” (Rosa ‘FRYrapture’) is a hybrid tea rose bred by Gareth Fryer (UK), introduced in 2011. In pictures it is a dense dark green shrubby sort of hybrid tea rose, and quite lovely. Mine has never had the chance to develop any such lushness. 😆 The deer just keep stripping it of leaves and buds, and eating tender new canes almost to the ground.

This year I finally gave up on aesthetic considerations and put a cage around it. I was rewarded with a single rose this summer. It’s the first time this rose has ever bloomed in my garden.

“All My Loving” blooming in spite of black spot.

Planted in 2022, four years later, one single rose – it’s not anything to brag about, really, but this isn’t about bragging, at all. It is a tale of resilience. In spite of being eaten by the deer, in spite of black spot, in spite of my very lazy gardening, in spite of trying and failing for four years, this rose kept on trying and finally bloomed. It’s a beautiful rose, too. Worth waiting for? I don’t know. I’m glad to see it bloom. It has a lovely fragrance. I persist in thinking about how I can provide it better protection from the deer.

… Some things are worth the effort, and the work, and all the verbs…

Anyway. It’s a metaphor.

I yawn and stretch and gaze into the hazy morning sky. Is it cloudy and overcast? Is it the haze of distant wildfires? I don’t know. I know it is Monday, and time to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, inspiration, meditation, Metaphors, Perspective, Roses, Summer, The Art of Being, women, Words

New Morning, New Day

August 11, 2026 //
0

Well, here we are, another morning, another moment, another chance to begin again and to do better than we did yesterday. A little at a time, our actions and experiences, and the things we choose to practice, will change us. Choose wisely. 😁

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

Today feels better than yesterday, although neither experience of a lovely morning offers me real insight to the difference. This morning I feel calm, kind, and unbothered. Yesterday I was cross with myself and the world and didn’t really have any more reason for that than I have for feeling quite differently now. I say that as an observation that our subjective emotional experiences are sometimes not directly connected to some obvious cause – they simply are what they are in that moment.

…Sometimes what we do about how we feel is more important than the feeling itself…

I slept pretty well, and woke a little startled when my lights flashed on before slowly brightening. I woke seriously groggy and had to slow down and make a careful point of going down my morning checklist to avoid making some small mistake that might wake my Traveling Partner or mess with his morning when he wakes a bit later. I appreciate a good routine, settled, reliable, predictable. This one isn’t that, yet. It needs more practice.

The sunrise from the trailhead already hints at autumn. It comes later, and the colors are a bit different. I consider whether or not to get another camping trip in, maybe after Labor Day? (Less crowded, fewer kids.) I don’t know if I really want to, or if I’m toying with the idea instead of something else. Life’s menu is pretty big, and there is a lot I’d like to do or try or see.

… My mind wanders on…

This year is already half over. Seems strange that it has gone by so fast. Subjectively, in this moment, I feel as if I have “achieved nothing”, which would be a huge bummer if it were objectively true. Oh for sure, I haven’t cured a major disease, changed the trajectory of world events, or solved homelessness in my community, those achievements were never within my reach as an individual. Not my path.

I’ve been painting, working, and supporting my Traveling Partner’s return to working, too. I’ve walked a few miles (about 600 or so, I estimate). I’ve started and finished some projects. I’ve started and failed to finish a few projects, too. I enjoyed one celebratory evening out with my beloved that is still lingering in my memory fondly. I tried out drone flying as a hobby. I got an RC car and happily drive it (it suits me better than flight). I don’t know, none of that seems odd or particularly noteworthy, just snapshots from one human life. Still, isn’t it enough for most of us to live and love and hope to learn to do those things with some measure of skill, over time? Doesn’t that amount to an achievement on its own?

…I feel fortunate…

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I’m grateful for the job I’ve got that supports the life I share with my partner. I’m grateful to be able to say I was able to provide caregiving to my beloved that helped see him through a major injury and recovery, to see him working in his shop once again. (Now that’s an achievement!) I’m grateful for our little house in a small town situated between suburbs and farm fields. I’m grateful for this well-maintained trail available to me each morning and for the sunrise I am lucky enough to see. Maybe it is all quite ordinary, it’s the experience I live, and I feel fortunate for the highs, and I try to learn something from the lows. It’s a very human experience. It’s enough.

I smile and breathe the summer morning air deeply. It smells nicely of mown grass and meadow flowers. The air is clear and still. The temperature is mild. It’s a nice pause before I begin a new day – again.

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

Every Dawn Is a Beginning

August 9, 2026 //
0

Pretty morning. Quiet. I’ve got a manicure appointment later, and maybe I’ll spend time in the studio working on a new piece. My approach to painting is slower these days, contemplative and unhurried, and inspired by thoughtful slow consideration before turning my attention to the easel and beginning the work. This is a profound change from large abstractions executed quickly from a passing emotion. I have three unfinished canvases from my acrylic work that may never be completed; the feeling has passed, and I no longer understand the work from the original perspective. I’ve lost those moments. In each case, this is a good thing, for me, subjectively.

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

Another sunrise, another day, another moment to begin from.

I arrived at the trailhead in darkness. I waited long enough to make out the trail without a headlamp; I need to replace my old one, which finally gave up on me while I was camping last month. I can’t complain; it was a cheaply made headlamp I didn’t pay much for, and it lasted for a decade (more?) with just one change of batteries. I won’t be walking in darkness for awhile though, until I replace my headlamp.

Alone but not alone.

Shared experiences are strange. They don’t all happen simultaneously. As I start down the trail I see that someone has placed a pair of child-sized sunglasses on a rock. No doubt lost by some child. A bit of human experience left behind by some human being who shares the experience of walking this trail with me, though we have never met. We each have our own experience of this trail, our own recollection of it, and our own understanding afterward of what it meant. Same trail. Different moments. Shared but different experiences. I think about that as I walk.

I enjoyed a quiet pleasant evening with my Traveling Partner yesterday. We shared the experience of our life together from different rooms doing different things for most of the day. No harsh words or hard feelings, we were simply doing our own things. We both had difficult nights, and the fatigue (and steps taken to address it) kept us both wary of missteps that could cause drama. We were gentle and careful with each other. I hope he felt as loved as I did when the day ended.

“Human” is messy and difficult sometimes. It is worth it to give people room to fuck up, fail, make it right, and grow from the experience.

… I wonder what color to get my nails done this time..?

I sit at the river’s edge, on the bank well above a wee bit of something beach-like that shows signs of being favored by fishermen, thinking my thoughts and watching the water flow past, still and glossy on the surface, reflecting the trees of the far bank. There’s a bit of mist visible, as the sun rises.

Summer morning perspective on a moment.

Minutes later, sunlight illuminates the treetops, changing shadowy greens to bright green and gold. Time passes without a clock, like the river flowing past below me. I sigh to myself, ignoring the awareness of the sense of a ticking clock. I have a better relationship with time than I did in my twenties. I can mostly ignore that fucking clock and just enjoy the moment as it is. I smile to myself and watch as a single yellow leaf falls slowly from somewhere above.

…Time still passes, whether I watch or not…

I smile to myself a little wistfully, fragments of memories tap at my consciousness wanting my attention, but I’m not interested in swimming in those nostalgic waters this morning, choosing instead to leave the surface of my consciousness untouched, calm, instead.

A new dawn, a new day, a new moment; where does this path lead?

I breathe, exhale, and relax. Plenty of time for meditation. I’ve got the day ahead of me. I hope my beloved got the rest he needed and enjoyed a gentle night. I breathe the summer air deeply. I consider the day and the path ahead. “Choose wisely,” I remind myself.

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

Moody Shades of Gray

July 26, 2026 //
0

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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