Archives for category: Oregon Trails
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Tis the Season

August 23, 2025 //
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It’s fire season again. The morning sky is a peculiar hazy pink at dawn, and the colorful sunrise is lovely, but there’s something about the hues that reminds me that to the east, in even hotter, dryer, places, the world is burning.

Beauty at what cost?

One might expect us to be better stewards of our precious planet than we have proven ourselves to be, considering we have no other. I stop along the path to rest and write and think. It’s a warm morning that will precede a hot day. I got out on the trail before sunrise. It was already 70°F (about 21°C). Hot for this area, this time of morning, even in summertime – or used to be. The view of the hills and mountains to the west are obscured by a dirty looking blue gray haze.  I look at the map of the region with the “wildfire layer” turned on. It’s alarming enough that such a feature exists at all, isn’t it?

Oregon, Idaho, Northern California, and beyond; it’s fire season.

I sigh to myself, and realize that my stuffy head may be “nothing more” than an air quality issue. I check the air quality index reporting – it rather strangely calls the air quality “good”. I disagree, as someone breathing it, and look to see how they get that result. Huh. They measure a handful of variables but neither smoke nor particulate matter are among them (and I have the recollection that it used to be included)*. I wonder at that, reminded that we live in a country whose leaders apparently think sanitizing history to be more palatable for those in power actually changes reality (it doesn’t). Human primates are fucking strange.

I sit watching the sunrise, from a familiar favorite vantage point. It’s not an ideal spot for pictures, the composition is cluttered and awkward, but I enjoy the view as it is, trees too close in the foreground silhouetted against the magenta and orange of the colorful sky. There’s a convenient large rock to sit on, and I have the trail to myself.

I’m in no hurry, and have no plan for the day besides staying cool and hydrated, and maybe getting a little bit done around the house. It’s a weekend, but changing jobs comes with a period of time not regulated by the requirements of work days nor bookended by weekends. Days are days, and tasks are tasks, and these mortal moments are mine to spend as I wish. I’ll make a point of enjoying that while it lasts, simultaneously hoping it doesn’t last long, which amuses me for some reason I can’t pinpoint. (At this point, I think we probably all understand that if I could, I would spend my days painting, writing, and dancing barefoot in my kitchen while I prepare something tasty, right? I wouldn’t work if I didn’t have to, I have other things I’d rather be doing. Reality doesn’t care about my daydreams.)

The sun peeks over the horizon and the trees to the west of me are illuminated. I see hints of russet and gold mixed in the green of summer foliage. It hints that autumn is coming. The seasons of the Pacific Northwest: winter, spring, summer, fire, fall… It is the season of fire, and it feels like the world is burning.

I sigh quietly and brush the small twigs, dirt, and bits of leaves off my jeans as I get to my feet. There’s further to go, and this trail isn’t going to walk itself. We’ve each got to walk our own mile, and do our own work. The journey is the destination. I look down the trail ahead, and get ready to begin again.

.

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*And these details are included. I failed to read with sufficient care and was corrected by my Traveling Partner (thanks!). Fact-checking matters. Stupid can come for us all. 😂

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Categories Allegories, Anxiety, art and the artist, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, health, Healthy Living, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, solo hiking, Summer, The Art of Being, War and News of War

Walking in the Dark

August 22, 2025 //
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I woke ridiculously early this morning. I could hear my Traveling Partner coughing in another room. “Rough,” I thought, as I sat up, “sounds like he’s having trouble breathing.” As I reached for my phone to turn off my sunrise alarm and turn on a dim light, I realized I was pretty stuffy, myself. Allergies? Probably. Or not. Doesn’t matter, if it isn’t going to kill me, I guess. I notice that my head is pounding, too. Nasty headache to begin the day with. Great.

I sigh and stretch, and start getting ready for a new day. I figure I’ll just go get an early walk in, before work, although it’s not yet 03:30, and this changes which trails are available – or safe to walk. I think it over as I dress. My beloved seems a little surprised that I’m going to just go ahead and go, so early, but there’s another heat warning in effect, and it’ll be uncomfortably warm relatively early in the day, so perhaps it is just an opportunity? A lifetime of sleep challenges and insomnia have prepared me well to make use of strange hours. lol A hug, a kiss, and I’m headed out the door to walk in the darkness.

I walked the marsh trail with my headlamp in my hand, pointed down low to illuminate only the ground, and I watched Venus chase Jupiter up the dark backdrop of the starry pre-dawn sky. The morning was ever so still and quiet, and even the traffic was muted. I heard the crunch of my steps on gravel and over dried leaves. The air was still and smelled faintly of mushrooms and summer nights. I definitely had the trail to myself! Sounds in the underbrush as I strode through a grassy stretch covered with sparse old oaks gave me a moment of doubt about my decision-making, but it was only a family of racoons scrambling about, playing and foraging. They took off in other direction when my light reached them.

We spend a lot of our lives “walking in the dark” – life is a journey without a map, and we don’t see clearly where the path may lead. I think about that as I walk. I feel fortunate that this stretch of the journey is a familiar, there’s comfort in that. I stretch as I walk, hoping to ease stiff muscles and joints, and maybe this headache, too. It doesn’t help much, but it feels good to move. As I walk, I think about the tools in my toolkit, metaphorically speaking, and how best to organize my time and manage limited resources in this new here-and-now filled with uncertainty. Isn’t life always a little uncertain? I breathe, exhale, and relax. Could be worse – so much worse. This is only a beginning. Yet another. I wonder where the next opportunity may take me?

…I laugh out loud in the darkness when I catch myself thinking “what do I even want to be when I grow-up?”, realizing I am a long way down life’s path to feel that way, and yet it is still a question I often ask myself…

I get back to the car. I drive to the office that will soon no longer figure into my days at all, most likely. I prepare the budget for this pay period, aware that “things have changed” and that I need to consider new concerns, new details, new limitations – at least for now. Sometimes it’s a little scary. Sometimes it feels rather mundane and ordinary. My emotions are still shifting and I’m still “processing this”. Fuck I will so miss this particular job… on the other hand… it’s a job. There are others. I sigh as I hit “send” on the email to my Traveling Partner sharing my thoughts on the budget and seeking his. I’m grateful this is a shared journey.

I had planned to go camping next week, feeling very secure in my position in life and the world when the plans were made. I cancelled that to make room for uncertainty – and to map a new path. There’s quite a lot to do. I smile to myself; I may even spend time helping my Traveling Partner in the shop – or paint. Change is. Were this 5 years further down the road, I could perhaps simply file for my social security retirement, and breathe a little easier while I look for work, but that time is not now. Doing so now would be a terrible tactical move for the future. I sigh again and shake off the temptation toward wishful thinking. It’s a good time for taking a practical (and where feasible, wise) approach to “right now” – with a loving eye on the future, too.

…Aren’t we all sort of “walking in the dark”, much of the time? I sip my icy cold office coffee and think my thoughts awhile longer. The sun is rising now, and it’s time to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, Anxiety, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, Logic & Reason, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Sleepless Nights, solo hiking, Summer, The Art of Being

A Useful Sort of Stillness

August 17, 2025 //
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This morning I am waiting for the sun. Well, I’m at least waiting for enough light to easily see the trail. It’s a gray cloudy morning that hints at rain. I arrived at the trailhead before dawn this morning, feeling quite a lot better and eager to walk. On some other morning, the early hour wouldn’t stop me, I’d just grab my headlamp and go…

…I took my Traveling Partner’s truck this morning, and forgot to grab my headlamp…

Parked and waiting for the sun.

No headlamp, no walking (only waiting). 😆

So, I’ve got this moment of stillness and waiting, and a head full of noise (and it isn’t just my tinnitus!) – seems like a good opportunity to meditate and reflect. No pressure to perform, no time-sensitive tasks facing me, just this quiet moment before a walk on a summer morning. Useful. I approach the moment with gratitude; it can be difficult to find a moment of real stillness to pause and reflect. Time well-spent, when used thusly.

I sit with my thoughts, letting them pass through my consciousness, noted, observed, but without clinging to any one thought. I breathe, exhale, and relax, allowing myself to appreciate my own presence for some little while, simply breathing and being. I make room for life’s questions to surface in my thoughts, one by one. I allow them each to move on, some answered, some “for another time”.

I write for some little while, sharing these thoughts and practices.

The sky lightens as minutes pass. The oaks along the trail are silhouetted against the gray sky. Definitely looks like rain… but it doesn’t smell like rain, and my arthritis is not griefing me in any noteworthy way this morning. Maybe it won’t rain? I look down the trail and wonder if I will regret not grabbing my rain poncho? I shrug it off as a concern; the temperature is quite mild and even a drenching downpour would only mean a shower and a change of clothes after I return home. Inconsequential. I’d just be a bit uncomfortable as I finished the walk, and that’s not that big a deal.

I swap boots for shoes, happy that I didn’t turn back over the lack of a headlamp; there is no reason to hurry through this moment. It’s mine, and I can do with it as I please. I look out at the gray hills on the western horizon and wonder again if I have been over there, looking back at this place, ever. It’s just another thought that drifts by, and I let it.

A new day, a new moment, a new beginning.

I can definitely see the trail now. I stretch as I get to my feet and grab my cane. Even the most familiar path may have more to share, if I approach each new beginning with open eyes and a calm heart. It’s a new day, and it’s time to begin.

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Categories Allegories, Anxiety, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, inspiration, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, solo hiking, Summer, The Art of Being

Laugh

August 10, 2025 //
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I walked in the early morning sunshine, after sleeping in a bit (rare and very nice). I feel rested and grateful for the cooler morning temperatures; it’s expected to be quite hot today and there’s a heat warning. I probably won’t linger long at this approximate halfway point. I’ll want to get back to the car before the heat of the day begins to develop.

Walking, breathing, listening to the sound of my own thoughts.

I’ve got an old song by The Monkees in my head. Seems relevant to the state of the world. I’m certain the late night comedians are on to something about the power of humor; authoritarians, dictators and fascists hate being laughed at.

… Have you seen the new South Park episodes? 😂

We’ve broken our planet, undermined our potential to build harmonious global culture (through the greed of billionaires and the violence of governments), the world is on fire, and it seems that the madmen are in charge of the asylum. Scary shit, no doubt. Still, take time for self-care, and for good times. Don’t let the monsters seeking control of the world rob you of your perspective, your good heart, or your good times. Seriously. Make a point to have some laughs and keep good company.

I look down the trail. I find walking very nice for perspective and meditation. I guess maybe I “always” have? Even in high school, before I understood my walking the way I do now, I often walked quiet miles through the countryside, alone with my thoughts (sometimes with my boombox). I’m grateful that I still can, and that I live somewhere that it is safe to do so.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. Gratitude and sunshine are a delightful combination. I think about a joke I heard, and laugh.

… It’s time to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, Anxiety, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, solo hiking, Summer, The Art of Being

Have a Carrot

August 9, 2025 //
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I got home from work yesterday, grateful to have survived humanity through one more commute. Fuck, there are a lot of stupid people “out there”… Each homecoming at the end of a work day in the office feels worth celebrating.

Carrots from the garden

I began the evening by picking some carrots from the garden to roast for dinner. They’ll make a nice side dish for the tarragon chicken I plan to make. I’ll use tarragon from the garden, too. This a real treat, because the tarragon is relatively young (planted this year, back in March I think) and still getting established.

The evening was lovely. We hung out awhile, listening to music, watching videos, and enjoying some “family time”. Pleasant. I ended the evening at more or less the usual time, in more or less the usual way. I had a plan to sleep in, have a walk, and go to a morning appointment, and do grocery shopping on the way home. (So far so good, I suppose. I didn’t sleep in at all. I woke without an alarm, at some ridiculous hour, for no obvious reason. Definitely no sleeping in, though I was groggy for the entire drive to the trailhead.)

The morning greeted me with a fat full moon hanging low in the predawn sky. I watched it set, and the sunrise begin, as I drove. Lovely.

A last glimpse of the full moon setting, from a favorite mid-point on my walk.

The summer air is fragrant with a spicy floral scent of something blooming. I can’t describe it, and don’t know for sure what the fragrance is. I breathe deeply. I walk the trail marveling at the dense mist clinging to the ground. The sunrise is hues of peach and pink, edged in delicate gold. I feel fortunate to see such splendor with my own eyes.

Here’s the thing… I’m not in a great mood. I’m cross and fatigued and in pain. Yesterday evening, my shitty mood from sleeping poorly the night before continued to linger. Shitty moods and difficult moments are part of the human experience, but they are not all of it, even in those difficult moments. What I remember most about yesterday are those beautiful carrots from the garden and how delicious they were. What I will remember about this morning will more likely be the scents of summer and the beautiful sunrise, not my headache or my crappy mood. Learning to savor (and be present for) the small joys in life has tended to make life more pleasant, generally.

I sit, smiling, in this favorite spot, watching little birds and chipmunks and squirrels enjoying the morning. I watch the sun rise. I watch the shifting mist flow over the ground, moving with the air, almost as if it were liquid. I watch the moon set, disappearing below the edge of the western horizon. I’m not in any rush. Lingering over this pleasant moment is more than enjoyable; it is restoring my joy and merriment. Each pleasant moment, and each breath of fragrant summer air brings a sense of joy, and my mood slowly improves. My irritation diminishes. I’m still tired and in pain, but it matters a little less with each passing moment of enjoyment in this place. We become what we practice. 😁

I reach a point of quiet contentment and general satisfaction with the moment, and with life. Nice place to find myself. I breathe, exhale, and relax. Sunlight fills the meadow and lights the tree tops. I sigh as I get to my feet. It’ll be time to begin again by the time I get back to the car.

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Categories Allegories, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, inspiration, joy, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Practices, Sleepless Nights, solo hiking, Summer, The Art of Being
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