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Easier Said

September 5, 2026 //
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I get to my halfway point on this morning’s walk just at daybreak. On one side, a slope of meadowed hillside dotted with oak trees. On the other, a view across the expanse of meadow that will soon become marsh once again, as the season changes. This is my way; I wake, I walk, I clear my mind as the steps become miles. It’s not fancy or costly, and as practices go, it seems to me to be one of the easiest to start and to follow. On the other hand, “easy” is pretty subjective.

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

It’s a better view in real life. Be present in your lived moment.

I hadn’t noticed until the night sky began to yield to the new day; there is an autumn mist clinging to the ground all around me and over the meadow. A couple days of rain have returned hints of green to the amber and gold hues of the dry grass. Well, and the cooler nights have resulted in some trees beginning to turn their summer greens to autumn hues of russet, yellow, and hints of red. Fall. The equinox is approaching, too.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I’m comfortable and content with this moment just as it is. The air still smells of recent rain, and a little bit of something musty. No breeze, really, but the slow movement of air currents brings with it a hint of a fireplace somewhere, a pleasant reminder of being cozy at home.

I consider my general good fortune in life (at least this portion of it, say the most recent 10 years, about) has been mostly pretty good, and generally getting better as things go along. Certainly, I’ve made a lot of progress, myself, and I find myself feeling grateful. I sit with that awhile.

… Everything is a little damp from recent rain, and I notice my jeans have soaked through, sitting on this fence rail. I don’t mostly care about that, I just happened to notice…

The thing about practices, whether they are to do with walking every day, or practicing gratitude, or practicing the four agreements, or practicing good self-care, or practicing anger management… “practice” is a verb. There is real work to be done. We may commit to a practice and discuss it enthusiastically, but if we’re not doing the practice..? Well, obviously, if we’re not doing it, it isn’t being done. We become what we practice. So…yeah. Got to do the verbs.

I sit thinking about my strength training. So many verbs. Very verb-y ones, too. There is unquestionably doing going in when I am strength training, even with my small dumbbells. Some practices are less visually obvious, like meditation, but the effects of the thing being done are profound. Still takes effort. What I’m getting at is that simply talking about practices isn’t enough. The doing matters more. That’s the practice.  I sit with the thought awhile longer.

No colorful sunrise this morning. The day begins quite gray and overcast. I don’t need it to be anything else. I’m just over here practicing. Self-care. Meditation. Gratitude. Anchoring myself to this moment and being present. Walking in the morning. All practices. It adds up. To what exactly? I guess that depends on the path I choose.

… it’s a very human experience. Choose wisely…

I stretch and get to my feet. This walk won’t finish itself, and I’ve a way to go to get to the other side of the nature park, and back to the trailhead. Then some errands, and maybe painting this afternoon? I sigh contentedly, looking down the trail into the mist. Seems like a good time to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, anger, Anxiety, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, Frustration, gratitude, Healthy Living, joy, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, Summer, The Art of Being, The Big 5, weight loss secrets, women, Words

Cloudy With a Chance of Imperfection

August 31, 2026 //
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Yesterday was a mixed bag of joy and aggravation. I really wanted to paint after returning home from coffee with a friend. I was in so much pain that I was uncomfortable to be around, even for me.

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

I couldn’t make it work, and inspiration got hung up in my Traveling Partner’s irritation and my own discomfort. I took more pain medication and laid down for awhile.

My beloved kindly woke me some time later, so I wouldn’t miss the entire day. I got some laundry done. We hung out a bit. It was fine. It was a quiet, mostly pleasant evening together. I went to bed early (crazy early, like 6:30 pm) still dealing with pain. I slept through the night, waking only once, briefly. I must have needed the rest.

This morning I woke rested, mind empty, heart serene, feeling content and unbothered. I dressed and left the house, seemingly without waking my beloved. I hope he sleeps deeply and wakes rested.

Heading down the trail, the morning seems almost spooky it is so quiet. I gently touch my left ear, checking that I actually do have my hearing aids in. Yep. It’s just an unusually quiet morning. My footsteps seem quite loud, generally I don’t notice them at all. My breathing, too, is audible. My tinnitus? Not as bad as usual, seems like. I do a simple “body scan” as I walk. Vertigo? Nope. That has thankfully cleared up. Headache? Mild. Arthritis pain? It’s there, but not yet bothersome, today. My gait feels steady, and if not effortless, at least comfortable. Good enough. Generally speaking, a mostly comfortable Monday.

The first hints of daybreak reveal the trees, silhouetted against a dark sky, not yet at all blue. I’m also not blue, which is a nice feeling, although I know my Traveling Partner would ask me irritably to rephrase it in terms of what I am feeling, which does seem reasonable. I guess this morning I am feeling…calm? Calm. Contented. Yesterday I felt the weight of considerable sorrow, though I never really sorted out why. Sleeping it off was probably a good choice.

So… here I am. Today. I get to my halfway point and stop to meditate and to write. It is an ordinary work day. I don’t really have anything on my mind at the moment, and don’t feel like digging around in my brain trying to find some worthwhile kernel of an idea to get started with, so it’s just me, and this moment. That’s fine, too. It’s enough. I breathe, exhale, and relax.

As I watch the sky lighten and change colors, dawn becoming day, I think about the powerful advantage (and convenience) offered by having dedicated studio space again. I can paint after work, any time. I smile; the thought feels like a quick shot of high potency joy straight to my soul. I grin to myself and fidget excitedly like a kid about to receive a gift they just know is exactly what they wanted. I chuckle aloud. I’m pretty easy to please. My Traveling Partner is right; I need to take better care of myself, and do more things for me. He is far more capable than he was after his injury, and I can trust him to tell me when or if he needs help. That’s a huge weight off my shoulders, and peculiarly, I am having some difficulty adapting.

I breathe deeply, and as I exhale I visualize releasing my stress and baggage. It’s a simple, perhaps slightly silly exercise, but I find it effective. I relax and return to meditation. I write. I watch the sun rise. I begin again.

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

Something a Little Different

August 23, 2026 //
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I slept in this morning (for some values of sleeping in), beginning the morning in the usual way, otherwise. I woke with a plan and a measure of real excitement. My knee has been bothering me, and my Traveling Partner suggested I give it a rest, and skip my walk (cane or no cane, 1-3 miles on it is a lot of demand when it’s clearly recovering from injury). So…

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

…I planned a different sort of morning, one that took advantage of temporary injury for other sorts of fun, and I packed up my RC car and added to that my GMRS radio , and my bag of fun was waiting for me in the morning, as I left the house. I picked up a coffee on my way up to the location I had in mind, and entertained myself with learning the features of the radio, and monitoring local channels. There’s a lot to learn – and a lot of “lost knowledge” to regain. It’s fun.

A little later I drove to a nearby town that has an RC car racetrack thinking I’d check it out. I got as far as the parking lot. 😆 The closest parking was still going to require a bit of a walk, partly down a steepish slope, on a barked path. I decide to stick with giving my knee a break and head back to my previous location, which has a big spacious parking lot that is empty on a Sunday. I drive my RC car awhile, enjoying myself immensely, practicing useful skills that make driving the car more fun.

…Even things like basic steering take practice, which I recall being the case when I was learning to drive a full size car for the first time, too…

Painting? Maybe later. I’ve got pastel-ready cardstock coming, and pastel “pencils” (they aren’t really pencils, but crafted such that they are more suited to lines than to shading), but it may be a couple weeks before they arrive. I smile, feeling fortunate and wrapped in contentment. There’s housework to get done, too. I keep postponing properly finishing moving back into my studio and outfitting my wee library as a functional space for quiet reflection and meditation. I shrug it off and go on with racing my RC car back and forth the length of this huge open space, zipping between and around the planted islands and working to improve the precision of my turns.

A sprinkle of rain prompts me to take this break, and I sit happily writing, and monitoring a local repeater on my radio. My beloved and I are both dealing with pain this morning. I’m not rushing back (certainly not any time soon), though I enjoy his company. I’m enjoying the morning on my own terms, racing my RC car and getting refamiliarized with radio procedures. The static reminds me how I most likely came by much of my tinnitus, and I feel a strange, warm nostalgia for a long gone chapter of my life that was mostly pure hell – but I was also serving my country, and still proud to be doing so. Funny how complicated our emotions can be.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. The sprinkling has stopped. The pavement isn’t even damp. I probably could have kept driving, but didn’t want to risk damage to my car – it’s still new and I’m careful with it. I happily set the car onto the pavement again. I’ve got plenty of battery life left. I switch from my regular glasses to my shades to improve my distance vision as the brightness of the morning increases.

An older woman walking a dog and a child approaches and I bring the car back to me, stopping it at my feet (so I wouldn’t be tempting the dog to chase it. We exchange a greeting. She asks about the car as the kid squats down to get a better look. How hard are they to drive? Are they safe for kids? How much do they cost? Is there someplace local that has them? The kid has only two questions: how fast will it go and can they drive my car?

After a bit of conversation, and making certain the dog is well controlled, I run the car down the length of the parking lot at max speed and circle back, managing to drift beautifully on the turn (and totally fronting like that shit was deliberate and enjoying the excited squeals of the kid watching). I stop the car at my feet and give the kid, a chill youngster of 8 by the name of Ash, a turn driving after securing a promise to drive gently and to stay in this section of parking lot. Her grandmother takes down some notes about where the hobby shop is. She suggests to Ash that if her parents are okay with it she’ll take her there next weekend. She grins at me excitedly and hands back the controller, and they walk on.

… Sometimes people are okay…

I wave as they walk away, and turn my attention back to my car… can I get that drift in the turn down as a reliable skill? So much to learn… Time to begin. Again.

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

Well That Happened

August 19, 2026 //
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I woke slowly, a moment ahead of the alarm. I shut it off, dressed, and left the house. Then, I went back in because I somehow managed to forget the fob for my car. This tended to cause me to be concerned about whatever else I may have forgotten, and as I went to grab my fob, I double-checked whether I remembered to turn off my alarm, my noise machine, and various little details that are part of my morning routine. I think I got it all.

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

I got a little more than 9 hours of sleep last night. I was tired and in pain and I laid down “for an hour” after my Traveling Partner and I enjoyed a genial meal together. That hour stretched into 3, and I got up briefly, enjoyed the company of my beloved while he worked on something. I went back to bed, unsure how I could possibly sleep more… and immediately crashed out. I certainly feel rested this morning. I clearly needed the sleep, my partner was right about that.

I grabbed my headlamp and cane eagerly when I reached the trailhead, and got started on my walk feeling light on my feet and merry. It’s a good start to the day.

A new day begins. What will you do with the opportunity?

I get to my halfway point and stop. The morning feels chilly. It reminds me that summer will end soon. Seasons change. The clock keeps ticking. The sunrise begins with a colorful display. I’m content to watch it.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. It’s hard to believe that the world is in such chaos – I let all that go. This is not the time for all that; these quiet moments are best spent on other thoughts… gratitude, love, wonder… I exhale, and let go of worry and doubt. The sky lightens as daybreak becomes the dawn of a new day.

“Nothing to see here,” I think to myself, contentedly. Just how I like it – calm. Quiet.  A small buck steps out from the vineyard rows and crosses the trail, heading into the trees. The western sky has become a pearly blue gray, clear and cloudless. A soft distant wooshing is audible from here. HVAC on the nearby water park building, probably, but in a different moment and place it might as easily be the sound of the seashore. It’s only a pleasant illusion, and I don’t mistake it for real. I yawn and stretch and fill my lungs with the cool air of this lovely summer morning.

… I almost feel like I could go back to bed! It’s a silly notion, and I got plenty of restful sleep last night…

I get to my feet, stretch again, feeling the movement as I extend my arms towards the sky. There’s coffee on the other side of this walk, and to get to it, I’ll need to begin again. 😁

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

New Morning, New Day

August 11, 2026 //
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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
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