Archives for category: Oregon Trails
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Like Ripples on a Pond

April 3, 2026 //
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Yesterday was busy. So busy. Changes. I took off work to help the Anxious Adventurer finish moving out. It was a lot of manual labor and by the time we were finished, I was “done” – but there is so much more to do.

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

I’ve spent the past two years accommodating a relative stranger in our home. No ill will; it seemed like the right thing to do at the time. I got used to a lot of compromises. Now… I’ve got my space back. My own bathroom once again, and my studio, my library… my peace. I’ve also got to deal with the changes, and it is a lot for me. So much upheaval, so suddenly.

Around 17:00 in the evening, I “hit a wall”, figuratively speaking. My feet were hurting. I was fatigued. I just couldn’t move one more thing and started weeping. My Traveling Partner, set up a lovely footbath for me, it smelled of orange blossoms. It felt wonderful. We relaxed together and watched a favorite show. He reminded me there is no hurry and to have fun with the process. I feel very loved and understood.

Last night we both slept well and deeply, through the night. That has been rare for the past two years. I woke to my alarm, also rare. My routine is a bit broken, but I’m adaptable as hell, and a new routine will quickly develop. This morning, though, was a bit chaotic. “Be careful what you wish for,” I muttered, as I wandered around looking for my boots.

… I still managed to be on the trail by sunrise, with plenty of time for my walk before work…

This morning my muscles are sore, and very few things are where I remember leaving them. There are paintings to rehang, and paintings in storage to bring home (to store in better conditions). There are work surfaces to return to my studio, and books to put back on shelves. It is all joyful work, really, but change still feels like a lot to take. For me, that’s a complication that exists at the nexus of brain damage and PTSD. I’ve learned to deal with it more skillfully than I once did. That’s not nothing. In fact, it’s an important improvement in my experience and I’m grateful for how much better this experience feels now, because of it.

… That, and having a partner who is willing to help, and to love me as I am…

One moment of many. Change is.

There’s so much yet to do. I’m okay with that, I just have to give myself time and some consideration. I sit with that thought at the side of this trail watching the dawn of another day. I’m grateful to see it. I’m even grateful for the joyful work ahead. I look up the path. It disappears around a bend. That’s a bit how life feels. Or, perhaps more like ripples on a pond after a stone is cast into the water? I consider that for some little while.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I meditate. I write. I enjoy the quiet of morning on this trail. I glance at the time and get to my feet. It’s time to begin again, and this trail won’t walk itself.

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Categories Allegories, Anxiety, art and the artist, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, joy, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, Spring, The Art of Being, Words

What Path Are You On?

April 2, 2026 //
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I walked down the trail this morning, with my thoughts and a smile. I feel pretty good, in spite of arthritis pain, in spite of a handful of chronic conditions that do slow me down (but generally don’t stop me). I’m grateful for the changes in health science that find me, at almost 63, in the same relatively good health as my grandparents were in their forties. Progress.

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

I do my best to take care of myself. It’s vexing when the guidance changes over time, but that is a necessary consequence of progress. Unfortunately, it’s also an unfortunate consequence of human stupidity or corruption and greed, and it’s sometimes less than obvious where changes have come from. Right now, it’s mostly pretty obvious, because the fucking clown car of corrupt greedy assholes in our government are like cartoon villains, and pretty easy to spot.

This morning the only thing that matters, really, is this moment here, and this path I’m walking.

Where does this path lead?

It’s a lovely mild Spring morning. I think of dear friends, faraway, and remind myself to reach out. Life is precious and too short. Our best moments are in the company of our dear friends.

I think about the garden. It rained during the night. If the afternoon is warm it will be a great time to plant new starts. I remind myself to get going on that.

It’s a short work day ahead. The Anxious Adventurer is coming by a little later to complete some moving details, and help move things around after his furniture is moved out. It’s a milestone and a bittersweet moment. I’ll admit, I have mixed feelings about it; it could have gone quite differently. Ah, but here we all are with choices made and actions in progress. I’m looking forward to having my space back, and my own bathroom, and enough room to paint, and more privacy for sex with my Traveling Partner (no kidding, that’s just real).

We choose our path and walk it. I watch the full moon setting. It’s time to begin, again.

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Categories Allegories, Anxiety, art and the artist, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, gardening, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, joy, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, Spring, The Art of Being, The Big 5

A Breathe of Fresh Air

March 31, 2026 //
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Get it while it lasts. I stepped onto the trail this morning feeling lighthearted and merry. I slept well and deeply. I woke feeling rested. I caught a glimpse of a beautiful moon setting through Spring clouds, stormy looking but only a threat of sprinkles, here.

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

It’s definitely Spring here, now. Things are green, all around, and each morning some flower or tree begins to bloom. There’s enough pollen in the air some days to dust my black Mazda in a fine dusting of yellow. I sneezed walking down the trail, grateful to have remembered to add an allergy remedy to my morning medication, and remembered to stuff a travel pack of tissues in my pocket. It passes. Tree pollen gets me, just a couple species, but common here. I don’t let it stop me walking, as I said, it’s not that bad. I walk on to my halfway point and stop to write and watch daybreak become dawn. Soon enough every step will be in daylight.

A sprinkle of fine misty rain dots my phone screen. I don’t do anything about that. I’m sitting quietly thinking about my garden for some little while. Funny that the thought of various laborious tasks seem less daunting in spite of knowing that the Anxious Adventurer won’t be around to help with those, very soon. It’s the emotional labor involved in working with or alongside him; it’s too much, and often undermines the value of his help. I’m not complaining, just an observation.

I needed the help while I had it, and don’t need it so much now that my Traveling Partner is so much improved. I move slower than I did at 30. I plan with greater care, and have to account for physical limitations that change as I age. Sometimes I have to do things quite differently than I once did, but I am quite capable, and using my muscles keeps them strong. I’m eager to be in the garden again.

Another new day, another step on the path.

I’m not looking at the news. I know it’s bad. War mongers war-mongering, profit-seekers seeking profits, billionaire nihilists are assuring us all that their greed and destruction are good for society, pronatalists are begging everyone to have more babies, while christian nationalists remind us they only want white babies. What a fucking mess. I don’t need to indulge in the consumption of repetitive slop about that bullshit, not because it isn’t real (it very much is) or doesn’t matter (it definitely does), not even because I’m powerless (I have the power to choose wisely and speak truth to power), it’s just that I am choosing differently now, and this moment is mine.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. The Spring air is fresh and scented with flowers. The sky is a rainy day gray. I smile contentedly, thinking about love and laughter and roses that need weeding. I glance at the time and get ready to begin again. I chose this path, and I will walk it with purpose.

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Categories Allegories, Anxiety, Brain Injury, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, gardening, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, joy, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, Spring, The Art of Being, The Big 5, thoughts on AI, War and News of War, women, Words

The Point of Practicing

March 30, 2026 //
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I’m sitting here on a cold Spring morning with my thoughts. I’m disinclined to walk. My head aches ferociously and my eyes feel gritty. Too little sleep.

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

My first thought on waking precisely “on time” when I had explicitly reset my alarm for just 30 minutes before my work day would start, was “What’s the point of even trying to get more sleep when I need it?” It hit my consciousness as a silent snarl. I was awake.

I dressed, dragged myself through washing my face and running a brush through my hair. I brushed my teeth glaring at the woman in the mirror. I left the house as quietly as I could, hoping not to disturb my Traveling Partner as I left.

Rough night. My sleep was interrupted. My Traveling Partner’s too. I did try to get back to sleep, and I guess I eventually did. Unfortunately my body slept while my mind stayed busy. I dreamt that I was awake, working, the entire time. It was not a dream of a pleasant work day. It was, instead, tedious and consuming, filled with distractions and imminent deadlines. I’m frankly glad to be awake, although less pleased that today is Monday and the work day is ahead of me.

… and fuck this headache…

All of this practicing, and mindfulness, CBT, and positivity bullshit isn’t anything to do with lovely easy sunny Spring days, though. All these practices, study, and work, are for the difficult moments, for the rough nights, and to more easily weather the emotional storms life inevitably throws my way. I’m human. Pain, sorrow, and struggle are just part of the package. How I deal with shit when it comes my way is when all that practice pays off – and it pays off big sometimes. This morning, for example. This is when tools built over years of patient practice deliver results. Headache and all; I’m mostly okay, just cranky and headache-y.

I sit parked at a local trailhead. I write and meditate, and let myself wake up as I restore some sense of honest perspective. I don’t worry about the walking, I give myself time to “sort myself out”. I make room in my heart for kindness and gratitude. I focus on this moment, here, now, and stay present. Daybreak comes, bringing new perspective. I embrace that and anchor myself to practical things I know to be true.

A new day, a new moment.

I sigh to myself. It’s a cold morning, but I’ll warm up as I walk. The fresh air will do me good, I suppose, and I know the exercise is good for me. I set aside my lack of enthusiasm and commit to the practice. I get out of the car with my cane, ready to begin again. Let’s find out where this path leads…

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Categories Allegories, anger, Anxiety, Brain Injury, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, Frustration, gratitude, health, Love, meditation, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Sleepless Nights, solo hiking, Spring, The Art of Being, The Big 5, women, Words

Resist! No Kings, No Fascism

March 29, 2026 //
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Wow! I am so proud of the people of this rural county, and the surrounding communities in the area. The turn out for various local No Kings protests was amazing. This is an area that mostly voted for Trump. It’s good to see them objecting to fascism, explicitly, as well as standing proud and defiant against foreign wars. Seeing them lining the main streets of the towns of Yamhill county was an impressive and moving sight. I didn’t take pictures; I don’t want to put people at risk of retaliation.

…It gives me hope…

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

My Traveling Partner came home from his trip to the city a little early, yesterday. I was happy to have him back, though I was enjoying my solitude. I enjoy his company. The evening was a pleasant one. Pizza and a movie, delightfully wholesome.

I slept in this morning (for some values of “sleeping in”, and woke to find my beloved relaxing at the dining table. Instead of rushing off to catch the sunrise, I stayed for coffee and we lingered over conversation until the Anxious Adventurer was also up for the day, getting ready for a work shift. Eventually I left, and drove up the highway to the trailhead at the nature park nearby, grateful to have enjoyed that time at home; moments are fleeting and unrepeatable.

…”Each time for the first time, each moment the only moment.” Be here, now. Ichi-go ichi-e.” Life is for living…

I chuckled to myself as I drove up the highway. The gray dawn had already come, and there was no colorful sunrise, only a smattering of raindrops. I’m glad I took time for coffee with my Traveling Partner. Time well spent.

This moment, too, is worth living.

The Spring greens of the meadow and marsh are almost luminous as I step down the trail. The forecast suggests temperatures are too chilly for planting, but the plants that are growing wild disagree. The forecasted frost for this morning never came to pass, and the morning is mild and a bit drizzly. I expect I’ll be in the garden later. The thought makes me smile as I walk.

I sigh contentedly, at my halfway point, and take a seat on a fence rail. For a moment, fascists and corrupt billionaires and politicians aren’t on my mind at all. I’m watching the marsh creatures beginning the day, and tasting the Spring on the breeze. Occasional raindrops tickle my face, but it’s not really raining. The oaks are waking, and the trees in the distance have taken on a green haze. It’s all quite beautiful. No bombs, no craters, no rubble; it’s pretty shameful that we make so much effort to destroy the peace and beauty of Spring in other lands. We’re not the “good guys” we claim to be, as a nation.

I sigh again, this time with a certain tired resignation. “Resist,” I remind myself. It really does matter. Speak truth to power. Do not yield to corruption or cruelty. Live the values that lead you on the path to becoming the person you most want to be. Choose wisely. Persist. We become what we practice. I smile thinking how often I repeat such lessons and aphorisms to myself. Each represents some step on this path, and some moment of recognition and learning.

I get to my feet and tackle a side trail with a short distance that is a bit steep. I have to work for this, it tests my fitness a little, but it tests my janky ankle rather a lot. It’s worth it. The view isn’t great, but the feeling of getting there is. Few people come this way. It’s a quiet spot for meditation and writing. It’s an opportunity for a new perspective, and a chance to begin again.

… The clock is ticking, and I’m wondering if we still have time to change the world…

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Categories 2024 Election, anger, Anxiety, breathe, Free Will, gardening, gratitude, Healthy Living, inspiration, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, Spring, The Art of Being, The Big 5, War and News of War
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