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Bruh. How’d You F* That Up??

March 16, 2025 //
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Some thoughts about things to do with being, becoming, and connecting with people (that I’ve mostly learned the hard way):

  • Chronic negativity isn’t “humor”, nor is it a useful way to connect.
  • An uncomfortable forced laugh is less engaging than authenticity, even when that means admitting “I don’t get it”.
  • Constantly complaining about common experiences doesn’t make a person sound cool, edgy, worldly or sophisticated.
  • I haven’t been everywhere. I haven’t done everything. I don’t know all there is to know about every topic of conversation.
  • It’s a safe bet that I have something to learn, and that listening may reveal things I don’t know.
  • A lot of things aren’t about me at all. Some experiences aren’t for me. I won’t be welcome in every space. This isn’t something that needs to be “fixed”.
  • Being annoying results in being alone. A lot. (And not missed even a little bit.) It’s just not fun to be around – definitely behavior to be avoided.
  • Consideration is often overlooked and very underrated, and when practiced consistently and sincerely can seem like a super power.
  • Manners still matter.
  • Intimidation is a “cheat code” in life, and although people around someone who practices intimidation may be willing to exploit that behavior, they don’t like the person who behaves that way, except maybe in spite of it.
  • Good character has lasting value and creates a stable foundation in relationships.
  • Some people are mired in their anger (it has become a practice more than an emotion), taking that personally is neither healthy nor helpful. Being that person is a poor choice with lasting consequences.
  • Hard decisions can slow me down. It’s worth considering other opinions and new options. Ultimately the choices I make are mine, and so are the consequences. It helps to ask questions and reflect on the answers.
  • Learning is a practice. Self-care is a practice. Listening is a practice. Consideration is a practice. Respect is a practice. Authenticity is a practice. It’s all practice. There are verbs involved. Work. Effort. Self-reflection. Commitment. Getting anywhere worth going happens in increments, over time.
  • We can choose change. We can choose to become the human being we most want to be. Ultimately we are responsible for who we are, and who we choose to become.

There are some seriously unpleasant, annoying people in the world. People who lack manners and consideration. People who are unkind, mean, petty, and (or) intimidating (sometimes for personal gain, sometimes purely as a matter of poor character). It’s worth doing my best not to be one of those people, and to do my best every day to be the person I most want to be. I’m not critizing you or telling you how to live, just sharing some of my own thoughts about my own life, things I’ve learned, things I’ve observed over time, things I still struggle with. Doing better today than I did yesterday isn’t easy; it takes work. Honest self-reflection. A willingness to change.

… Trust me, I’m not smug about any of this shit. I’m working my ass off to be the person I most want to be, to learn from my mistakes, and to do better today than I did yesterday – every day.

…

It was afternoon when I wrote those words. I was in pain. I slacked off some housekeeping in favor of self-care. Choices. Did it help? I don’t know. I got through another day, and held on to enough energy to cook a good meal. It was enough.

The darkness before dawn.

It’s a new day, now. I’m still in pain – I nearly always am. I’m not saying that to complain, and I’m not alone with that experience. Chronic pain is pretty common, actually. Learning to enjoy life in spite of it can be a pretty difficult journey (a lot of the really worthwhile things in life are difficult). My results vary.

I woke this morning already uncomfortable and in an unpleasant mood. No idea why, really. Maybe just dealing with pain has that result, sometimes. I feel cross with myself, with the world, with the seemingly endless list of shit that needs doing. I’m tired of all of it before I even get started…

I breathe, exhale, and relax, as I sit at the trailhead waiting for enough daylight to walk the trail easily. I don’t feel like walking in the dark this morning. I remind myself to let small shit go, and not to take things personally. I take my morning medication and sip my coffee and watch the moon set through the clouds.

When my mind wanders back to things that irritate me, I bring myself back to here, now, this moment. I make a point of practicing gratitude; it’s exceedingly hard for discontent and irritability to compete with gratitude, and I do have much to be grateful for. The internal resistance to letting my mood improve and allowing myself to enjoy a better experience is frustratingly persistent, but I keep at it. We become what we practice. It won’t always be easy to follow this path, but it is a choice available to me, and it’s the choice I make. My results vary, and there are verbs involved, but over time the outcome is predictably good.

Every day is a new beginning. My path is paved with my choices. The journey is the destination – and the clock is ticking. It’s time to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, anger, Anxiety, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, Frustration, gratitude, Healthy Living, joy, Logic & Reason, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, The Art of Being, Words

Banana Bread

March 15, 2025 //
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The work week finally ended. I got home tired and uninspired about home cooking, late in the afternoon. I wasn’t hungry, just thirsty and fatigued. My Traveling Partner had put in a full day in his shop machining parts to upgrade the lathe. He had overlooked having lunch. I made him a hearty sandwich and then put my feet up for a little while, taking the break I should have taken earlier in the day.

I never did feel like cooking a proper meal, and never had much of an appetite. I ordered pizza, instead of fussing. I did remember, at some point, that my beloved had asked me if I’d make banana bread with the last two bananas, so I did that. It turned out splendidly well. I used the Better Homes & Gardens recipe, with a bit more salt than it calls for, and being generous with the walnuts. I chuckled to myself about how often it has turned out that my Dad’s “secret family recipes” have been from that cookbook. It was definitely worth the effort. The pizza was good, too. It was a simple, quiet evening.

Simple joy.

This morning I woke from a sound sleep feeling rested, got up and started the morning. I’m sitting at the trailhead, waiting for enough daylight to see the trail on this rainy, muddy, morning and hoping for a break in the rain. The dense clouds overhead seem to tear themselves apart, a jagged gap opening to reveal the blue-gray sky of daybreak beyond. I lace up my boots.

I’m grateful for the simple joys in life. I’m grateful for these quiet morning moments of solitude and reflection. I’ve got a few days off work coming up, and I’m grateful for that too. I’m tired, and I am finding it harder these days to manage my pain; a couple days of leisure and creative time will do me good. I run my fingers through my hair, enjoying the softness of it, and watch the clouds moving away toward the horizon. No colorful sunrise this morning, but many beautiful shades of blue and gray and lovely soft shadows. I’m content with the morning as it is. It’s enough. The pain is a small detail, inconsequential compared to the beauty of the morning, just a thing to be endured.

Finding joy in a moment.

A soft rain starts and stops, again and again. That won’t stop me, either. Like the pain, it is a small detail; I grab my rain poncho from my gear tote.

I sit awhile longer with my thoughts, savoring the moment before I begin again.

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Categories breathe, Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, inspiration, joy, Love, meditation, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Practices, solo hiking, Spring, The Art of Being

Are We There Yet?

March 14, 2025 //
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I’m sipping my coffee and thinking about Spring. This is not one of those rare years when I could afford to be careless or casual about resources as Spring approached. My thoughts are in the garden, but I can’t be eager or easy-going about spending money on the garden. I have plenty of seeds – do I have the patience to wait for seedlings to sprout? The new raised bed I want? That comes at a cost (in money and labor). The time is, perhaps, not now. I’m planning with more care, with an eye on the near and long-term future. I’m making a plan. The clock is ticking. Other things are, maybe, more important. What matters most? I sit with my thoughts and my coffee, gazing out into the early morning sky through the office window.

A new day, a new beginning.

Thinking, planning, daydreaming – the future is a playground, but it isn’t real, yet. The future is all possibilities, opportunities, and choices. We can make it what we want it to be – with some effort, and some careful decision-making, and some luck. There are verbs involved. Chance and change will call some of the shots. The path is not reliably clear, or reliably smooth. We make our own way, each having our own experience, each having to clear the hurdles of unanticipated circumstances, and the consequences of our actions. I’d like to be in the garden right now. I could walk away from work and go do that, but… consequences. I sip my coffee, breathe, exhale, and relax.

When did chicken become almost $10 per pound?!

I’m in considerable pain this morning (it’s just my arthritis, and there’s nothing much to be done about it besides endure with some measure of grace). I’m thinking about that distant future… if I hold out and don’t retire before I’m 70, and keep this job, my social security retirement will pay about half what I make, working. That’s livable, especially with my VA disability compensation, my Traveling Partner’s income (whatever it may be then), and the potential for having paid off the mortgage (a goal) and keeping other bills low (another goal). So many choices and verbs – so much potential, so little certainty.

What is blooming in your garden? What have you planted?

I sigh to myself and look out at the sky, thinking about the primroses blooming in the garden. It’s a rainy morning. There are probably raindrops clinging to the petals. Maybe the deer have come to the garden to look around for a tasty rose to nibble on? The roses are doing well this year, so far. I smile at the thought – it doesn’t take much to make me “happy”, for most values of happiness, now that I understand better what it is I need from life to thrive and be well. I’ve learned to rely on building lasting contentment and savoring small joys to get me through difficult times – because those things are easily within reach, can be practiced, and are enough. I’ve learned to avoid “chasing happiness” – it’s a trap. Happiness will find me when it finds me, and most often when I’m not looking for it. That’s enough.

I sip my coffee, and think my thoughts. Lavender to keep the deer away from the roses, maybe? Scented Geraniums to discourage insects? My Traveling Partner confirmed with me that he would be okay with that (allergies can make a person’s life a living hell, so I check in with him about flowers and such). I’m eager to do something about that. The ideas tickle my imagination and distract me. I’m grateful that it is Friday. I’m eager to finish the work day and begin again on other things, and to walk a path in Spring time. There’s a garden to tend and a future harvest to plant. (Yes, it’s a metaphor.)

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Categories Allegories, breathe, Free Will, gardening, gratitude, Healthy Living, inspiration, joy, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, pain, Perspective, Practices, Roses, Spring, The Art of Being

An Interesting Coincidence

March 8, 2025 //
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I’m watching the sunrise, preparing for my walk, boots on, between moments, when I am struck by an interesting coincidence in timing. It is Lent for many Christian observers. It is also the time of year many gardeners know as “the hungry gap”, that time between the last of the winter crops, and before the earliest Spring crops are ready, and during which there is little fresh produce available. (I pause to appreciate what an amazing thing a global supply chain and supermarket produce actually is for humanity.) It’s interesting timing that Lent happens to occur – with its ritual fasting – right at the time when the food supply is likely to be at its least plentiful. I don’t have anything to say about that. I just think it’s interesting.

Sunrise

I set off down the trail, walking with my thoughts. There’s work to do in the garden. The neighborhood feral cat that menaced my garden for the past four years died during the winter. My Spring garden (so far) is undisturbed by constant digging and cat shit, for which I am grateful. It vexed me having to deal with that. It bodes well for the flower beds, too. I proposed putting in a second raised bed this year and my Traveling Partner seems open to the idea. I mentally calculate the cost of the lumber, and the soil to fill it… These are times when there is profound benefit to growing as much of our own food as we can. I’m grateful to have that option.

I sit with my garden thoughts at the halfway point of my walk, enjoying the chill of a Spring morning and the solitary luxury of having the trail to myself. A small herd of deer step past me quietly. I pretend I don’t see them, and avoid sudden movements. This is a lovely moment and I savor it. I’m not in any hurry. The overcast morning sky is streaked with blue-gray clouds. It’s doesn’t feel like rain, it’s just a rather gray morning, now. Geese and ducks drift quietly on the marsh ponds. Nutria go about their business at the edges.

I walk on.

I stop later, it’s a longish walk, and sit for a little while on a fallen oak. It’s a nice spot to rest. Not much of a view; scrub grass cluttered with sparse oaks, horizon obscured by nearby trees and brambles. I’m near the river, but I don’t hear it as it flows by quietly. I only hear the geese overhead, and the sound of distant traffic on the highway at the edge of the park. Robins ignore me, as they pick through the leaves left behind by autumn, looking for a bit of breakfast.

I sit quiet, aware, observing. Sometimes it’s enough to simply be, here, now. I don’t really need more. This is enough. I sigh quietly, contentedly. I enjoy the moment, the birdsong, the soft breeze, and the feeling of contentment and joy. I linger here awhile, understanding that moments are fleeting, and this one will pass. That’s okay. Still worth being here for it.

I’ve got a list of things to do, later. I get up, stretch, and brush off my jeans. It’s time to walk on. It’s time to begin again.

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

What the Future Holds

March 7, 2025 //
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I’m sipping my coffee and thinking about the future. I wonder what it holds? I mean, besides uncertainty… It’s not yet written. I’m making it right now (so are you) with every choice, every action, and my participation in any circumstance in which I may be involved (and perhaps some in which I am not directly involved at all). The future is… complicated. We can’t see what is on the path ahead, but we keep right on walking toward the next bend. We have to; the journey is the the destination. Even standing still (metaphorically) doesn’t halt our forward progress through time. The clock is always ticking.

I’m 97 days away from my next birthday. There were years in my life when I could not imagine being in this place, or having come this far. I couldn’t even begin to plan for a future I felt fairly certain (at some points) that I would not live to see. I did a pretty shitty job of being prepared for this place in life… older. Aging. Feeling my capabilities descreasing as my wisdom and joy in life increase. Wanting to retire but needing to continue working. “Complicated” doesn’t begin to explain it in any simply way, it merely obscures the nuances of the truth. I’m not even complaining – I’m just thinking about it and feeling rather mortal. My time is finite. I wonder how much I have left? Would I choose to “live forever” if I could? I think I might, actually, yeah – even as unprepared for that as I am. I rather enjoy living this life, and seeing each sunrise. I’m definitely not bored with it, and there is so much more to learn and do and see and experience.

I’m not feeling discontented this morning. I’m not even in much pain – quite manageable, and I’m grateful for that. I got a good night’s rest, after a rather trying day yesterday, and I’m feeling fairly relaxed and on the edge of feeling actually… merry. Joyful. Grateful. Almost… happy. But I still wonder how many grains of sand remain in the hourglass… and what lies beyond?

There are things to do – I have a list – and I’m looking forward to most of them. The weather has been tempting me out into the garden, and it’s a lovely way to occupy my time productively, and happily. I smile when I think about my childhood resentment of having to spend time on my hands and knees weeding the garden, or preparing the soil, or moving things from here to there to help out in a garden I had no particular fondness for. I think I was only about 19 when my perspective on that changed. Certainly by the time I was 22, I was eager to create and nurture a garden of my own. I remember my very first roses fondly (Mr Lincoln, and Olympiad, which were part of the landscape of a little house in Texas I’d moved into). They changed my mind about roses, and I’ve grown roses ever since. Isn’t it strange how our perspective can change over time? How what matters most evolves over a lifetime of experience?

Roses on a sunny day. Impermanent. Like moments.

Beyond the garden, my to-do list is all practical things, part of taking care of hearth and home. I’m yearning to paint, but there are things that come first as priorities. I’m hoping perhaps to make a trip to the coast over the vernal equinox, to relax for a few days and paint, and get some solo time…but… there are costs to consider, and I’d very much like to avoid “Spring break” crowds (just not my thing, too much noise and chaos). I frown at my calendar… when is Spring break, anyway? I feel almost relieved to see that Spring break is the week following the equinox…but… can I make it work? I sigh to myself. I can remember being less “responsible”, but while that seemed to be “more fun” in some ways, it was a rocky path and one that I don’t care to walk these days. I’d rather plan with care, and choose wisely, and work within the limitations of my resources in a practical way. Less stress. Weather permitting, I’m pretty comfortably equipped for plein air painting, and there are some lovely spots for it locally. I could just take the time, stay fairly close to home, and make day trips to see things from a new perspective, paint awhile, and return home. I sit with that thought and sip my coffee as the sun rises. It starts to sound like a real adventure of a sort I rarely indulge. My mind wanders the map in my head of places I could go, handy picnic tables with pleasing views… will the weather cooperate?

I sit awhile longer with my thoughts. Soon enough it will be time to begin again.

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Categories art and the artist, breathe, Free Will, gardening, gratitude, Healthy Living, inspiration, joy, meditation, Metaphors, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Practices, solo hiking, Spring, The Art of Being, turning 60
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