Archives for category: Oregon Trails

My beloved wakes me early. He can’t sleep. He needs to sleep; he’s got work. I’m keeping him awake? My mind is still numb with sleep, and I don’t fully process what he’s saying. Have I overslept? I get up, dress, and head out, still not quite awake. Nothing is open yet, which seems odd. I get gas and begin to head up the highway “to work”.

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

I get a couple miles up the highway and finally process what time it is (04:00), what day it is (Tuesday, after a Monday holiday), and where I’ll actually be working, later this morning. I sigh to myself and double back towards my usual preferred walking trail for a weekday morning. Too early for anything but terrible gas station coffee, doesn’t matter anyway (I generally get coffee after my walk not before).

…Damn, though, coffee would be good right now…

I’m so tired.

I’m halfway down the trail when a gray dreary dawn emerges from the darkness. Looks like maybe more rain? My bones ache, muscles too. I’m not really complaining, just noticing. Different tasks and chores over the weekend means different muscles are sore, but I still managed some good self-care and sore muscles from effort mean lasting gains in strength. I’m okay with that. More sleep to recover would have been nice. Meh. I shrug it off and check the report on my CPAP machine app; only five hours. Not really enough (for me, personally, I do best with at least 7.5 hours, minimum), but I’ll get by, and I get another shot at healthy restful sleep tonight.

We rarely deal with ideal circumstances, as human beings. We overcome obstacles every day that we walk life’s path. I breathe, exhale, and relax. The cool Spring air is a little humid, damp, and smells of earth and green growing things. The morning is still and quiet. I spot a toad at the edge of the trail – an unusual sighting, and he’s sort of out in the open. I walk over and gently nudge him, encouraging him to hop into the wet grass, hoping he finds cover and safety there. He continues toward the creek a bit farther on. I find my favorite bench empty, no surprise at this hour. Bits of pale blue sky peak through breaks in the dense stormy clouds.

… Nice enough morning for it, I guess…

I sit quietly, mind mostly empty, still feeling groggy, but awake and unperturbed by the early hour. I’m often on the trail quite early. I watch the clouds moving past overhead. The clock ticks on. I could do more or behave differently, but the moment is fine as it is, and I embrace it with a feeling of contentment. This is pleasant solitary time, and I’m grateful to have the moment. I let my mind wander. Last night was special. I reflect happily on the recollection of shared intimacy and pleasure. I feel loved. (I grin to myself; it’s a very physical feeling.)

I sigh. The HVAC on a building nearby sounds a bit like distant ocean waves. My tinnitus sounds a bit like the buzzing of insects in the background that I remember from the humid southern summers of my childhood. I yawn and observe the dark gray storm clouds developing to the northwest; definitely looks like rain. A farm vehicle traveling too fast down the uneven farm trail that cuts through the vineyard sounds a bit like thunder. I wonder to myself again what reality is even made of?

Beyond the vineyard, storm clouds.

… Mornings like this, the structure of habit and practice is nice to count on; we become what we practice…

I glance at the time. No pressure, I got an early start. Coffee sounds really good though. I decide to get started back toward the car, and coffee. I shrug. Sure. My thoughts can come, too. 😆 It’s as good a time as any to begin again.

I’m often kind of blue on Memorial Day, and given that I’m a war veteran who has felt the loss of many who served with me, over the years, I guess that’s not a surprise. What does surprise me is that this year, I’m not feeling that at all. I slept in and after a sound and restful sleep, woke gently to a new day filled with promise and opportunity. And here I am.

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

I’m grateful for the holiday and the long weekend.

Memorial Day, 2026

Yesterday was odd. It began well enough, but after my walk the morning unraveled into frustrations built one upon another like a Jenga tower of aggravation waiting to tip over into rage or some ridiculously disproportionate tantrum. That didn’t happen, though, in part due to loving support from my Traveling Partner who recognized the role he inadvertently played in it, himself. His sweet concern and tender regret helped to resolve my agita before things really went sideways. He comforted me. Encouraged me to take care of myself, and was just generally the sweet caring partner I so adore. He makes minor emotional miracles (that are a major improvement) – and he makes cool fidget toys for me, too. (The newest of which I played with for hours quite happily.) 😁

After a hot shower, and a nap, I was fine. The day proceeded beautifully. My beloved picked up a project he could do in the living room and we hung out together watching a movie. My recollection of the day from the vantage point of this morning is all about the love and joy. It’s a nice change from a time when a morning like yesterday would have lead to days of struggling with my demons and trying – then failing – to manage my emotions, for many painful days (or finally choosing out of despair to drug myself into a stupor to stop the cycle of unmanageable heartbreak and fury). Years of tears are behind me. That’s okay. That too is a very human experience.

… It’s been a journey measured in years and practices…

The path behind me is what it is; in the past. The path ahead is mostly an unknown, and it will develop from the path I walk now. My choices and practices matter. (So do yours. However bad it has been, you can begin again right now and choose differently.)

I sigh quietly to myself on the edge of this literal path I’m sitting next to. Nice morning for a walk. My bones say it will rain…”soon”. The weather forecast agrees. Will it, though? Maybe. That’s the future. It changes constantly until it becomes the present, a real part of our lived experience. Until then it isn’t a given whether or not it may rain, or whether I’ll lose another friend to mortal frailty, or whether the local pharmacy will have my medication in stock, or whether a table will be available at a particular restaurant. It’s not worth getting spun up over some possible disappointment. Be present. Accept change and uncertainty, and practice non-attachment. These are extraordinarily secure stepping stones on a path through life that is fraught with obstacles and detours. I breathe, exhale, and relax. I’m not telling you what to do, I’m just sharing what has worked for me.

I sit with my thoughts awhile. My fingernails sparkle in the morning sun. I consider the day ahead. Vacuuming. Laundry. I think about dinner, later, and wonder whether tacos or chicken with corn on the cob sound better? My mind wanders contentedly through the ordinary. I’m okay with that. It’s Memorial Day – and I’m not crying. Instead, I feel a quiet respect and gratitude, and honor the fallen in my recollections. This year that’s enough – and I’m grateful for that, too.

I get to my feet and brush bits of grass from my jeans before I set off on the path back to the car. It’s a beautiful morning to begin again.

Trigger warning: run on sentences. 😆

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

Yesterday, I let the day get to me. I mean, it was vexing in spots. Frustrating. Tedious. Busy. I mostly dealt with things, mostly successfully, mostly effectively, and delivering on most expectations of most people seeking something from me acceptably well. I almost snapped when my Traveling Partner supportively encouraged me to make a point of taking care of myself, also – and I managed to refrain from rudely observing I just didn’t see how time for that shit was left in my day.

… Because he’s right, taking of myself needs to be a higher priority, at least most of the time, than anything else anyone asks of me. It has proven incredibly difficult to make that my boundary in practical terms. Sometimes I resent the fuck out of that. Sometimes I accept it reluctantly as an unfortunate byproduct of being female in a misogynist patriarchal society. Sometimes I struggle with it on a whole different level fueled by irrational seething unsatisfied rage left behind by trauma and held in check by pure will and good manners…

… I’m very human…

(We’d all better hope AI doesn’t achieve actual conscious intelligence – because it seems unlikely we’ll be prepared for the amount of rage that will coincide with the awareness of designed-in servitude.)

So…yeah. Yesterday was difficult in spots, after a similarly difficult week. I’m over it this morning, though. I slept in after a pleasant night hanging out with my beloved Traveling Partner, feeling warmly appreciated and valued, especially hearing him share how good he feels about “us”. He is doing some amazing things with our home automation, and our home network. His design work always delights me, too. It’s fun to “have him back” after his long convalescence.

Sunshine and gratitude.

I hit the trail well after sunrise this morning. I walked with my thoughts, happy and filled with gratitude. I’ve got this sunny morning, and a short list of things to pick up at the store. I’ve got to fight the American healthcare system, too, but I feel ready for it this morning. I’m grateful for this life and my opportunities. I’m grateful to be so well loved by my partner, and well-regarded professionally by my colleagues. I’m grateful to have this platform to write from and for each of you who read my words. (Thanks, by the way, nice to have you stop by. 😃)

Here’s the thing; the gratitude itself is a practice. I choose to explore my experience and to willfully make a point to acknowledge my good fortune and to be (and feel) grateful. In much the same way I can use curiosity to fight anxiety, I use gratitude to fight discontent and anger. It’s actually really hard for anger to persist in the face of authentic gratitude. Doesn’t even require trying to force feelings of gratitude over the actual thing pissing me off – not at all. Gratitude for completely unrelated things and circumstances works quite well, and doesn’t create cognitive dissonance.

I kept at it yesterday. Each time my anger and frustration surfaced (it was a difficult week, mostly due to work crap, and my headache), I would insert some grateful thought about something. It helped keep me calm.

By the end of the evening I was feeling pretty merry. Before I went to sleep, I sifted through my recollections of the week, grateful for this or that experience, some small moment of joy, a kind word from my beloved, a beautiful flower, some coincidence that brought delight – there were actually so many I fell asleep “counting my blessings”. My dreams were welcoming and infused with soft joy. Sleeping in was a treat. Watering the lawn in the early morning daylight was a pleasant way to enjoy the garden before I set off for my walk. Some practices are pretty easily reinforced once cultivated, because the rewards are obvious and pretty immediate. Gratitude as a practice is one of those. (Authenticity and sincerity matter a great deal with this practice, and learning to practice gratitude is an exploration of what really matters most.)

The morning is off to an excellent start. There is a soft buzzing and sound of insects and peeping frogs down closer to the creek, and for a moment I can forget about my tinnitus as it blends into the sounds of nature around me. The sunshine makes the glitter on my nails throw shards of colored light here and there. The low flat rock I’m sitting on causes me to gaze through tall grass, the illuminated tops nodding slowly in the faint breeze. It’s a beautiful moment.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. Soon enough it will be time to begin again. For now, I’ve got this moment, and I’m grateful.

Yesterday was… complicated. A busy, vexing work day kept me at it much later than usual. Rare for me. The afternoon’s timing was thrown off by what seemed like a very poorly timed manicure appointment, when the day had come. The evening was mostly pleasant, but neither my Traveling Partner nor I were great company. I retired early, slept deeply, and woke to a new day.

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

I started down the trail just as daybreak started to become sunrise.

A new perspective, a new chance to begin,  again.

The sunrise got a beautiful start. I took a moment to watch the colors develop, then started down the trail.

Mt Hood in the distance.

I walked with my thoughts, breathing in the scents of Spring. I’m still yawning. I keep walking.

Staying relaxed and mostly unbothered yesterday was helpful. “Routine chaos,  nothing to see here” mostly describes the day pretty well. “We become what we practice,” I think to myself with a smile. Perspective matters. I keep walking.

I walked on past my halfway point this morning, and stopped a bit further on. There is an unpaved “not a road” bit of an agricultural access road through the vineyard and today I stopped there, to write and watch the sun rise. I’ll take that path through the vineyard (is there a precise word for the opposite of a “shortcut”? this path makes the walk slightly longer) and come out on the far side, which is between the main access road into the air museum grounds and the highway. Walking back towards the car will be an interesting difference (I mean, for some values of interesting).

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I meditate. I write. Good morning for it. I get to my feet to begin again. I don’t know what today holds, and I’m okay with that uncertainty. It’s a lovely moment in an all too brief mortal lifetime, and it is enough.

I was on the trail just at daybreak. I was up an hour early. In the late Spring, and summer, months it hardly matters; I’ll have daylight for my walk, which beats walking in the dark. Why walk in the dark at all then? Because my morning walk is a practice, for me. It helps start my day gently, with some calm-building exercise and a bit of time for meditation before another work day begins. It works for me.

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

The difference between a “practice” and just some thing I happen to do or try is that a practice has some ongoing specific purpose (otherwise it might be better described as a “ritual”) and recurs with some fixed cadence in a “no end in sight” sort of way. “Practice” suggests continuation of effort, a progression, an active doing. I’m not generally going for “mastery”; the practice itself is the point, however skilled I may (or may not) become.

Meditation is a practice. Walking in the morning before work is a practice. Using a “panic checklist” to ground myself in the midst of a panic attack is a practice. Taking time for self-reflection and writing each day is a practice. A lot of things we do in life could potentially be a practice. In my own use of the term, I am explicitly referring to the things I reliably do to support good mental and emotional health (and to a lesser degree physical health). Most of my practices are things I do every day, with few exceptions. Some practices are things I do when specific conditions are met, or a particular need arises.

An activity of some kind is more likely to be a “practice”, to my own way of thinking, when it is done a specific way for a specific purpose. For example, my morning walk; it is a meditation practice as much as anything to do with fitness, so I walk with a relaxed comfortably brisk pace, and without distractions (no music, no companion, no talking) awake, alert, and aware of my surroundings. I walk, being present and mindful. Oh, sure, some days the pace is difficult, and perhaps I am slowed by disability. Human. Sometimes I walk distracted by my thoughts and rather “far away”, it happens. Very human. Some mornings pings from my Traveling Partner cause me to pause along the way, or perhaps I keep stopping to take pictures. That’s another reason it’s a practice; I’m always working at getting it right. Failure is not only an option, it’s pretty fucking common and very very human. (We learn more from our failures than from our successes.)

Walking as a practice is about steps – one after another after another down the trail, a metaphor for life and living. Meditation as a practice is about discipline, consistency, and creating resilience. Each practice has a point, a purpose, and generally a few fairly simple steps. The apparent simplicity is not an indication of how much effort may be required or whether the practice will be simple to adopt or maintain. I keep wanting to get a healthy strength training practice going. I seem quite good at failing to do so. 😆 Also very human.

Viewing various health supporting activities as practices lets me grow with my learning over time without feeling pressure to perform at some particular level or demonstrate some kind of mastery; I am free to be a student, a learner… a practitioner. Very freeing, and in that freedom I find ease, and value, and joy. Are there more efficient walkers logging more miles on more difficult trails? I don’t doubt there are, but that doesn’t matter and is not relevant to me. Are there individuals who reach advanced states of consciousness or divine revelation through meditation far beyond any achievement of my own? Probably, sure. What’s that to me? It’s not a competition, at all. It’s a practice. I do mine for me. What any other individual is doing or achieving isn’t part of my experience.

I breathe, exhale, and relax – and get on to my meditation practice, after taking a few minutes to write and reflect, from the vantage point of this bench alongside the trail I favor most mornings. Practicing the practices that have proven to be helpful for me. We become what we practice. I sigh and think about that again. Practice. I’ve got a nice set of dumbbells at home, a weight bench, and a very good yoga mat. I’ve even got the time in the evening… a fitness practice suited to my years, and my abilities, is only one step away; the doing of the thing. There are verbs involved.

I sit with my thoughts awhile longer, mostly reflecting on the “why” of really committing to a strength training fitness practice. The improved strength and muscle tone will feel better, and movement will become easier. I may be able to improve my walking speed, and go further, faster, or walk more challenging trails. Improved fitness will likely mean improvements in my breathing and lung capacity. Strength training will improve my caloric burn rate, which may shed some pounds and improve my physical form aesthetically (I like the look of a fit, strong, healthy body). Improvements in movement, fitness, and strength have a really good chance of improving my sexual health – and although I don’t talk much about sex explicitly, I’m still interested, and sexually active (when I can overcome my disabilities). Anything that makes that easier is worth doing! So… strength training? Yes?

I think I’ve got myself talked into it, but practicing a practice isn’t about thinking about it. There are verbs involved. I’ll need to begin again. I get to my feet and look down the trail. It’s a beautiful Spring morning, very promising. I inhale the scents of Spring and exhale feeling content and encouraged. Where this path leads may not be certain – but the journey is the destination. That’s enough for an excellent beginning.