First “proper” work day (for me) of the new year. I sip my coffee considering the moment, and the day ahead.
I push thoughts of worldly matters aside, in favor of here, now. The coffee is good. Hot on my tongue, soothing on my throat. I had planned to work from home. Plans change, and I am waiting for the university library to open in 15 minutes. A quiet uninterrupted work day will be just the thing to get me caught up after being ill. The morning is gray, and it has been a rainy night. It’s a cold drizzly morning in the Pacific Northwest. Winter.
… When I moved to the area in 1998, we would reliably have at least some snow before the new year, and plenty of freezing mornings and icy cold days, but it’s been awhile since that has been true. Winter (at this altitude and location) is more about gray rainy days, now. Cold, but rarely freezing. It could be that I personally prefer this, but I don’t think that has anything to do with what is good for the health of the planet.
Permanence is an illusion. Change is. I sigh to myself and think about life. Where does this path lead? How many more years? What quality of life will I enjoy over time? Will I live to see global peace…or global war? I sip my coffee. The clock is ever ticking.
I breathe, exhale, and relax, and take a few minutes for meditation, before I begin again. Say hello to 2026 – what will you do with it?
I’m still down with this sickness, although I continue to improve. When I’m lounging, resting and watching videos to pass some time, I find myself drawn to relaxed videos of various aquarists and hobbyists building small aquariums for shrimp and small fish suited to peaceful planted freshwater aquariums. I miss my aquarium. Sometimes I miss it a lot. It was, for a time, very low maintenance and successful – a thriving ecosystem that required very little work to keep up. One move, then another, disrupted my stable little underwater paradise, and things got messy, chaotic, and required a lot more work. For awhile that overcame me, and I let the algae take over. Then, noticing a favorite fish was actually still thriving, my renewed interest and enthusiasm – and real regard for that fish – carried me through several restorative projects.
Taking a moment to watch fish swim.
We moved, at last, to this little house. Life feels more settled, but the aquariums (at that point I had three) had no ideally suitable location. Every place they could be placed was a compromise that reliably resulted in more work, more inconvenience, or… more algae. One tank got broken when a bookshelf being moved into place shifted and fell onto it. The fish were saved. The damage and water and mess were cleaned up. I retired the other small tank, and focused on my 29 gallon freshwater community. Peaceful and beautiful, and seemed to be thriving (although my betta persisted in leaping from the tank at odd hours, which was a pain in the ass and very stressful for us both, I’m sure). One day, as I happened to be standing nearby, the silicon seals simply failed. The front glass panel fell to the floor and water went everywhere. My Traveling Partner heard me cry out, and rushed to help me. The fish were saved – into a bucket, with what remained of the water from the tank. The small tank was pulled from retirement long enough to house the distressed fish. I couldn’t bring myself to keep on saving fish from the floor, and felt rather as if the circumstances were a clear sign that this location and this time in my life were not suited to keeping an aquarium. As I’ve done with other pets in my life, I allowed the circumstances to direct my decision-making. I don’t have an aquarium now. (Or, any other pets, actually, for various reasons and due to my thinking about such things changing over time.)
Over-reaching for a good metaphor…content to watch fish swim.
…But I’m home sick, trying to rest and get well, and I keep finding myself drawn to videos of aquarium setups suitable for small spaces, small fish, small creatures, and low maintenance practices. I sigh to myself as I sip my coffee. Do I really want an aquarium, or am I daydreaming and missing what once was? For the moment, the difference is too small to matter. I still don’t have a really good location for an aquarium, even a small one, in this house. I don’t have the time, the energy, or perhaps even the will to provide the care and maintenance even a small one would reliably require (and the small ones often need more attention more often than a big one does). I still love a beautiful aquarium, and there are so many kinds!! Aquascaping has a lot of variety. It’s a beautiful hobby. I even indulge myself, as I consider the matter, allowing myself the fun of planning out what I would need to do a small aquarium… Maybe just 6-10 gallons? Shrimp and snails? Maybe a betta? Some neon tetras? The exercise reminds me that this is not a “cheap hobby”. The tools and materials (long before livestock is considered) are somewhat costly, most especially if chosen with care based on best suited to the concept, well-respected brands, quality goods, and aesthetics. I quickly found myself looking at a “budget” that would require $200-$300 dollars, before I even started pricing livestock and plants. Yeesh. Do I want it that badly? Enough to deal with a compromise on location, the work involved, the potential for more work if there was a tank failure, and the possibility that this was merely a passing fancy stoked and amplified by sick day boredom? Enough to push it to the top of the list of things that need doing, for which there are limited resources? No, no, and no. I don’t actually want to build a new aquarium… I’m just missing my old one. Human primates are weird.
The day the tank arrived at a new place.
Do I need an aquarium? No, I don’t. Am I lacking something in my life that having one would truly fulfill? No, it would be an unnecessary luxury that comes at a significant cost. Do I even truly want one? No, I don’t think so; I just want to be well, and free from constraints on my comings and goings, and limitations on my energy. I just happen to be filling some portion of time with engaging videos about a topic I have a connection to, and take a lot of pleasure in considering.
Do fish get headaches?
I finish my coffee, thinking about what a useful reminder this is that chasing some momentary yearning is a very human thing, but it can easily get out of hand, taking me down a path I didn’t plan to walk, and without real benefit from that detour along my journey (maybe). Do I love a beautiful planted freshwater aquarium? I definitely do. I remember my Dad’s aquariums when I was a kid, with great fondness. I remember mine, and what a haven it was for me in a difficult time (it was originally undertaken as a means of providing healthy background noise that would reduce my nightmares, and it worked well for that purpose for the years that I needed it most). The stress (and lasting responsibility) over the safe healthy lives of the inhabitants and the terror and panic when something went wrong (whether a power outage or a tank failure) are not so welcome in my life. I still miss my aquarium. I miss the fish and the lush green plants moving gently in whatever current there might be. I don’t miss the work or the stress or the worry when I’m away. I won’t be getting a new aquarium any time soon, because I don’t really want one. I definitely don’t “need” one.
Human primates are wired to go after what they want: food, sleep, money and love, and endless things in between. It makes sense to pause and give some new yearning a moment of real thought and reflection. We only have so much time to spend, and only so much available in spendable resources to acquire some new thing. Our yearnings are not necessarily tied to our actual needs in any practical way. Good thing we have minds and critical thinking skills – ideally we put those to good use.
Are you hearing me on this? It’s a metaphor. When yearning overtakes me, I pull my focus to other things, I seek out a sense of sufficiency. I examine the thing I think I am yearning for with great care looking for what may be driving that (it’s rarely the thing I’m yearning for, itself, which nearly always masks some identifiable practical need or another than can be more effectively addressed quite differently). I breathe, exhale, and relax. I enjoy this moment here, as it is, quiet and calm and pleasant (in spite of lingering flu symptoms). This is enough. No aquarium required. 😉
I smile and think about Spring. Soon enough, the weather will be warming up, and it’ll be time to get out into the garden. There are plenty of creatures there to watch and wonder at, and all manner of lovely plants and flowers to tend. My effort will be well-spent there. It’s enough. Soon, I can begin again in the garden I have.
This morning I’m writing from my home office. It’s later in the morning than I usually wake, and I’ve a short work day between me and the weekend, but it begins a bit later. This is time I’d usually spend out on a trail somewhere, walking with my thoughts. This morning I am at home. Still dealing with lingering symptoms of illness, especially first thing, and yesterday evening my Traveling Partner took notice when I described my plan for the next morning.
“What kind of symptoms are you still dealing with?” was quickly followed by “I don’t like the idea of you being out in the freezing cold and dark when you’re sick, please stay home tomorrow and take care of yourself.” So… Here I am. Taking care of myself, and enjoying an excellent cup of coffee at home. Of course, I managed to wake my Traveling Partner when (or after) I woke. He greeted me in the kitchen as I attempted to prepare coffee quietly, and checked on how I was doing. My congestion, weak voice, and occasionally coughing validated his concern (and confirmed his suggestion that I stay home was a good one). He doesn’t grief me over waking him; he is sympathetic, caring, and concerned for me. I retreat to my office space to drink coffee and deal with my symptoms, and work on breathing comfortably. I go through a few tissues. I drink my coffee.
…Before the work day even begins, my Traveling Partner checks on me, and notes that I “sound awful” and that he really doesn’t want me wandering around out in the cold early in the mornings, encouraging me to just stay home for a couple days and take care of myself. He reminds me that either he or the Anxious Adventurer can go to the store for anything we need and handle whatever has to get done, while I put my energy into getting well. I know he’s right. He gives me more suitably useful advice, which I am grateful for; my thinking isn’t too clear, and the longer I’m up, the more aware I am of how much I’d rather be in bed. LOL
… I decide to call out sick and just rest and work on getting well…
… My Traveling Partner encourages me to take a hot shower to ease my congestion. It’s a good idea and I’m grateful to have clean water, reliably hot, whenever I want it. I’m fortunate. It wasn’t so long ago that indoor plumbing for bathing, drinking, and cooking, were real luxuries only available to a privileged few. I stood in the steam under the running water, wondering how many people in the world still lack safe drinking water, and indoor plumbing. Too many, I’m sure (since, ideally, that number would be 0 in any truly fair world in which resources were appropriately distributed to maximize quality of life for all). I knew people who had only a well for water, and an outhouse for waste, when I was a kid, though it was becoming rare anywhere in the US besides way out in the country by that time.
I felt some better after a hot shower, for a little while. Eventually, my body reminds me I am not well yet, in the form of fatigue. Yep, I tired myself out taking a shower, putting on clean clothes, and sitting up for half an hour. I don’t actually fathom how I thought just pushing myself harder/further day after day was going to be the best approach to taking care of this fragile vessel. That was dumb, but holidays are special and I “wasn’t sick enough” to just skip it and go back to bed… and so, here I am, three weeks into what began as a relatively mild flu, now forced to take it seriously, because my symptoms haven’t cleared up and even seem worse this morning. Fucking human primates – we are pretty bad at admitting we’re ill and properly taking care of ourselves. Well, a lot of us are. lol I am. I meant to do better by the woman in the mirror, but I failed.
S’ok. It’s a journey. I’m having my own experience. I can choose, change, and choose some other change some other time. Today I’m choosing self-care, and going back to bed. I’ll begin again later.
It is New Year’s Day, January 1st, 2026. I woke up early, no hangover, feeling pretty relaxed and comfortable in my body after a good night’s sleep. This is only surprising because quite a few of the neighbors were up well into the night setting off fireworks and celebrating the end of 2025. Sounded like quite a lot of enthusiasm to see it end.
I’d gone to bed early, still struggling with lingering symptoms of recent illness and just not feeling up to a lot of fuss and bother. The sound of fireworks did not prevent me from sleeping. No parties, no drinking, no fancy dinner, no company over to ring in the new year; it was a quiet evening at home. It’s not surprising that I slept well and woke without a hangover.
The year ended somewhat painfully, with one final “fuck you” from circumstances delivered on the last day of the year. My parked car was sideswiped by something while I was working yesterday, which I discovered when I left the office to return home. Fuck. For real?! I cried. I pinged my Traveling Partner for comfort and guidance (too upset to easily process next steps), then called my insurance company to file a claim, and then local police department to file a report. By the time I got home, I was merely annoyed, and managing to feel grateful it hadn’t been worse. The damage to the car is cosmetic, and I wasn’t injured. It definitely could have been worse!
I sip my hot cup of cheap gas station coffee, listening to the rain falling at this trailhead, and thinking about how much my choices create my experience in some circumstances, and how circumstances sometimes create an experience I didn’t see coming, in others. I still have to deal it, with regardless of my previous choices or circumstances. It’s a journey. I do have choices and something to say about the experience I have. Powerful. Knowing this does nothing to prevent me from being upset when things go poorly, just reminds me there’s a lot about it that remains within my capabilities to handle, manage, control, or deal with properly.
… I’m still mad, though, I mean, for real? I have lingering “why me?” feelings, but I’ve done what I can for now…
I left the house this morning feeling a muted sense of purpose, and undecided on what trail to walk. It was early. I’ve got options. It is a cold morning, but not freezing. As I get into the car, it begins to rain. My nose is running and I’ve started coughing – taking my noisy sleepless self back into the house would only serve to wake everyone else, too. I don’t feel like dealing with that, so I head out in spite of the rain. It’s not cold enough to snow – I guess I’m grateful.
Now I’m sitting here at the trailhead, waiting for a break in the rain, and maybe for daylight. There’s no traffic beyond the parking lot. The morning is quiet and suited to meditation and self-reflection. It’s a gentle beginning to a new year. I make a point not to look at the news; I don’t want to do anything that might break this fragile moment of peace and contentment. Not yet. Later will be soon enough to begin again.
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… I can’t believe I’m still dealing with being sick… Maybe I’ll just go back to bed after I return home? Anyway… Happy New Year!
First light on the trail, first morning hike of the new year.
It’s here. New Year’s Eve. In most respects it’s no different than turning the page on the calendar at the end of any month. The clock keeps ticking. Time passes. We live our lives. We’ve chosen to celebrate this one, the end of the calendar year, as something more significant, but truly we can each begin again at pretty much any moment we choose to. Here we all are, though, and we’ve made a production out of ending the year and beginning again, so… May as well, eh?
What are you going to do about it?
I woke in the usual way, but very early. Not a big deal, and I get up, dress, and head out. It is a work day for me, though a short one. The moon hung fat and low over the western horizon, setting slowly. It was beautiful. I kept watching for a spot to snap a picture conveniently, but didn’t find a suitable combination of view and stopping place. I enjoyed the sight of it, each time I caught a glimpse of it as I drove. The drive was pleasant and uneventful; no traffic so early.
Each year, as a New Year’s tradition, people set resolutions, proclaim their intentions of changing this or that characteristic, or ending some bad habit, or changing something about their health, fitness, or circumstances. Commonly enough, and in spite of the fanfare with which resolutions are sometimes announced, most will be quietly abandoned weeks (or days) later. Choosing change is easy in the abstract. Doing the work of practicing some new behavior is a bit more difficult, requiring action, repetition, and consistency. It’s only as hard as we make it, individually, but it’s also not ideally easy. Human primates can be incredibly averse to making an effort, and prone to making grand plans that are not so easily implemented. 😆
Are you hoping to choose change this year? Pro-tip; keep it simple. Build your changes out of simple building blocks, and allow incremental change over time to pile up. Resolving to “lose X pounds by Y date” seems like a “simple goal”, but there’s a lot of small changes that end up being required to make that happen. Perhaps starting with those small changes makes more sense? Instead of resolving to lose 50 pounds by summer, perhaps start with drinking water instead of sweetened beverages? (That’s a change that may have a big result, with just the one small detail being changed.) Making that sort of small practical change habitual over time can result in lasting changes that feel pretty natural and have more tendency to “stick”. Some small seeming changes can be quite difficult in practice, sometimes because we simply don’t understand how the thing we’re trying to change actually works. An example? Interrupting people. I’d very much like to not do that, ever, at all. I find it a difficult “habit” to change, and this is largely due to approaching it as if it were merely a decision in some moment that could be made differently – but that’s often not how the complex behavior that is an interruption actually works beneath the surface. For me, the neuroscience and a better understanding of how cognition and communication work is relevant information, and remembering that I’ve also got to account for brain damage is helpful. It still takes practice, and real effort, and a lot of repetition, and I’ve improved over time… But I still struggle with this particular challenge (and maybe I always will to one degree or another). Doesn’t mean I plan to give up on it as a goal, just means there’s a lot of work involved, and plenty of opportunities to fail, to disappoint myself, and to have to begin again.
I don’t generally do “resolutions” at New Year’s. It isn’t that I don’t have goals or plans or intentions, as the new year dawns each year, I definitely do. I don’t put them on a pedestal and make them fancy, generally. It’s another new beginning. Another chance to step onto a new path. A good opportunity to adopt a new practice, or refine or renew an old one. Some people improve their success with changes they seek by sharing their intentions with someone to improve their feeling of “accountability”. Some people find that very effective – some people don’t. Do what works for you personally; it’s your life, your choice, your change.
Note: if the only reason you are seeking to change a particular thing is because someone else demands that of you, the chances of your success are greatly reduced. Just saying; we are each having (and living) our own experience. Choosing change is most effective when it is truly our own choice, for reasons that have real value to us individually.
What about me, this year? Well, I’ll take time to reflect on the year that has passed, and look ahead to the new one. I’ll consider the many ways I fell short of my intention of being the person I most want to be, and make choices about what character qualities have failed me, and where I can improve and grow as a human being. I’ll do practical things, like uninstall any apps that I didn’t use all year, or give to charity any clothing items I just didn’t wear at all (why would I keep them?). I’ll consider what I learned from the past year’s reading. I’ll make a reading list for the new year. I’ll write emails and letters to far away friends who haven’t heard from me in awhile. Maybe I’ll plan a road trip down to California to see old friends? I’ll explicitly do my best to avoid “setting myself up for failure” with the kind of grand goals and resolutions that so easily fail before Spring comes. I like an easy win. lol
You know what you won’t change? (Nor will I!) The nature of change itself. It will come for all of us in its own way, on unexpected timing that is often inconvenient. There’s no avoiding that. Change is. Choosing change is a bold choice. I wish you well! It can be so exciting to take control of your circumstances in that way, by choosing to make a change. There are verbs involved; you’ll have to do the work of changing, yourself. No one can (or will) do it for you.
Here we are… Are you ready to begin again? 2025 has been a weird and often painfully discouraging year in some ways. Are you ready to do your part to make 2026 better – for everyone? What will you do? What will you change? It’s time to begin. Again.
Evening Light 