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Let Go of FOMO

November 29, 2025 //
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Seriously. Let go of FOMO. Fear of missing out drives some pretty crappy decision-making. Remember the instant craze for those Stanley drink cups, when they came out in colors? Yeah. I’m glad I passed on that foolishness. Why? Um… Simple…

Who really “won” in this FOMO craze?

Those cups are everywhere now. Most likely that was always the goal for Stanley – a product becoming a huge fad and selling well. Right? Profit. The fuss drove so much interest these things are now readily available at most big box retailers and discount chains. If you spent more than retail pricing on the reseller market when this product was a big deal, you overpaid.

Tis the season to do a bit of gift shopping, for many of us. Want your dollar to go further? Don’t waste your time on FOMO. Want your dollar to mean more? Spend it locally, on locally produced and manufactured goods. Buy imported items from retailers you know are committed to fair trade practices and supply chains free of human trafficking and child labor. Avoid goods produced in dictatorships, or by prison labor. Small details like that can really matter. Make this gift giving holiday one characterized by thoughtful consideration, and careful selection, and not quantity. Or don’t. It’s your celebration and I’m not telling you what to do, just offering suggestions. Just maybe be mindful that “Black Friday deals” aren’t actually about you, the consumer. They are about business, and selling more product.  Those big box and chain retailers don’t care one bit about you, the consumer, beyond the limits of your bank account, and they’d happily take all you have and give you nothing, if that were feasible.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. My good mood yesterday morning was thrashed within minutes of returning home from my walk. I didn’t want to vex my Traveling Partner with my irritability, so I grabbed my purse, turned myself around, and headed into the retail chaos of Black Friday.

I don’t generally shop on Black Friday, seeing it as a retail cash grab more than anything else (and I loathe the crowds), and often the things I want to give as gifts are not the sort of things that are most often discounted. Specific books. Specialty tools. Handcrafted goods. Locally produced specialty products (around here that could be wine, various farm-produced goods for kitchen or home, olive oil, spirits, blown glass, chocolates, or charcuterie). Something to keep in mind is that artisans and craftspeople often sell their work at the lowest price they can afford to, already, just trying to compete with low cost mass produced goods. So… Do you want to gift people dear to you with a lot of cheap poor quality items for a festive morning of unboxing followed by a bit of gracious depression when the reality of worth sets in? Maybe gifting a small number of carefully selected gifts that will be enjoyed for some time to come sounds more appealing? It’s your call, and I’m not criticizing or even suggesting these are the only options. (And I’ll admit that one gift high on my wishlist this year is cheap colorful fuzzy spa socks of the sort commonly found in dime stores and grocery stores; they’re my favorite for lounging around the house or sleeping. 😆) The unicorn we’re all hunting is “more for less”, I suppose. Enjoy the hunt!

I didn’t actually buy anything on Black Friday, aside from a non-holiday (also not discounted) tool item for my Partner’s shop. I didn’t even grocery shop. I just wandered around a couple of very holiday forward retail spaces, a little bored and very irritable. “Holiday blues”, maybe, or “the down” the day after having taken more pain medication than is routine for me, in order to push through the work of bringing the Thanksgiving holiday to the table; it matters less why I was irritable, than how I dealt with it, and whether I was successful at managing it. The day ended well.

Daybreak comes.

Today is a new day. I’m sitting at my halfway point on my morning trail walk, contemplating yesterday’s failures and successes, and making room for gratitude and joy. I’ll get some grocery shopping done on my way home, and spend the day decorating the Giftmas tree. There are already carols in my head, and I caught myself singing “Joy to the World” as I drove to the trail this morning. I notice, again, the dearth of secular holiday carols. It is a chilly autumn morning, clear and still, no rain, no wind, and the clouds are breaking up as they slowly move across the sky.

A woman, a moment, a sunrise.

I sit listening to the traffic on the highway on the other side of the seasonal marsh trail. I can see hints of the sunrise developing, through the trees. My tinnitus is loud, but I pay it no attention. Eventually, I may forget about it for awhile. The twisted oak branches, bare of leaves, make an interesting silhouette against the sky. I look for shapes and faces in the tangled branches, for fun. As daylight improves the visibility, I see a small brown bird seated on this fence rail, at the other end, paying me no attention at all, feathers fluffed for warmth, head tucked in a bit, eyes closed. Sleeping? I stifle my laughter, but still manage to shake the fence rail, disturbing my wee neighbor, who wakes, shakes her feathers, and flies off. I see the shapes of other little birds, sitting in the tree branches. (Sit still long enough, watching, and you will surely see some things!)

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I consider the day ahead. This moment here? Quite enough precisely as it is. I think of my Traveling Partner sleeping at home. I know he was up during the night, for some while. I hope his “second sleep” gives him the rest he needs. I’ve no need to rush home from my walk, and silently commit to giving him time to sleep undisturbed. Far from being any sort of hardship, doing so also serves my own needs; I enjoy the solitude in the morning.

I sigh to myself. My hands are becoming stiff in the cold. I finish my writing and get ready to begin again. It’s a brand new day.

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Categories 2024 Election, Allegories, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, inspiration, joy, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Sleepless Nights, solo hiking, The Art of Being, The Big 5

Thanks

November 27, 2025 //
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It is Thanksgiving morning, before sunrise. Thank you for taking a moment to read this, and I hope you enjoy the holiday, if you celebrate it. Regardless, I greatly appreciate you; you give my writing direction and purpose beyond me simply talking to myself. I hope you get something more out of it than the passage of time.

I stepped out of the house into warmish spring-like air, everything rain-fresh and damp, this morning, the scent of petrichor still lingering. The street gleaming with reflected twinkle lights of newly added holiday displays delights me as I step to the car and as I drive to the trailhead.

This little town I call home is quiet this morning. No commuter traffic; it’s one of the few holidays that very nearly every American celebrates, and most folks will even be off work. Personally, I wholly disapprove of making people work on Thanksgiving, at all. You’ve got legit volunteers? Great. But… this is a day working people really should get to be at home with their dear ones. I often make my shopping decisions for the entire holiday season (and sometimes beyond) based on how businesses treat their work force with regard to Thanksgiving.

I get to the trail. Everything is soggy and very still and quiet. Daybreak is still almost half an hour away, but the sky overhead, cloudy, is peculiarly bright, illuminated from below. A soft sprinkling of rain begins to fall as I park, but a glance at the weather on my cell phone tells me it’s likely to pass shortly, and I decide to wait and write, and walk after the rain stops. I’m thankful for the technology that makes the decision practical and easy. I sit with my thoughts, listening to the patter of raindrops on the car. I’m grateful for the pleasantly mild morning.

I enjoy this holiday. This year it is a small gathering, family, three familiar faces around the table. Without the performance pressure of guests in attendance to ensure “best behavior”, family holidays can sometimes erupt in stress unexpectedly. I hope we don’t have to deal with that kind of emotional bullshit today. I honestly just don’t have any will to spend time soothing hurt feelings, particularly my own. 😂 It’s tempting to pull a page from my own mother’s handbook on family management and proactively state with some firmness that “there is to be no g’damned yelling or argumentative bullshit today – you will behave yourself or you will excuse yourself to pull yourself together and come back when you can be pleasant”. I chuckle to myself at the recollection, and wonder if that ever really worked? I suppose it may have. The only yelling or argumentative bullshit I recall at childhood Thanksgivings was between menfolk over politics, under the influence of alcohol, and the man who chose to start shit with my Grandfather could generally count on losing his place at the table, to eat alone in the kitchen, or at the children’s table. It was quite rare as a result.

I’ll spend most of today in or near the kitchen. There is no resentment, I enjoy the outcome as much as anyone, and I take pride in setting a good holiday table. It’s generally easier to do most of the cooking for such a small group than to work around other people also cooking. The kitchen is small. I’m not complaining, just pointing it out as a detail. This is a joyful celebration and a chance to recalibrate our focus on the things that are going well, and for which we’re grateful. It matters to be appreciative, and gratitude is a more rewarding and uplifting experience than anger, frustration, or resentment. Pettiness and emotional bullshit have no place at my Thanksgiving table.

This time, here, now, though? This is mine, and that’s important, too. This is a good moment for private gratitude and quiet thoughts. I listen to the rain, and the ringing and chiming, buzzing, hissing, of my tinnitus, and the HVAC on the roof of a building nearby. The morning still seems so very quiet and undisturbed. The thought crosses my mind that elsewhere in the world there is suffering, chaos, violence, and war… I allow myself to acknowledge that without being consumed by it. I’m grateful that there are no bombs dropping here, although ICE thugs have been snatching teenaged citizens from the streets, proving again that none of us is safe from encroaching authoritarianism. Scary. I breathe, exhale, and relax. Today is not the day.

Turkey roasted with carrots from the garden, stuffing, mashed potatoes and mushroom gravy, corn, some sort of green vegetable (green bean casserole? steamed broccolini?), homemade cranberry sauce, cocktails, pumpkin pie and whipped cream… This won’t be the fanciest Thanksgiving menu, and I’m not serving the biggest group I’ve ever hosted. It’s more elaborate than an evening meal generally is at our house, though, and definitely a celebration. I smile thinking about the meal and the merriment (and all I can say about that is that if I’m going to put all this work into the meal, the very least everyone else can do is be fucking merry, damn it).

The rain stops. I’m grateful for the break in the rain and the mild morning. I’m grateful for the well maintained local trail and the time, freedom, and safety to walk it at dawn. I’m grateful to have family to enjoy the holiday with, and help with things, and to feel so accepted. I’m grateful for my Traveling Partner, and all the things he does to improve our quality of life. I’m grateful to have the Anxious Adventurer’s help when he has it to give. I look down the trail, heart full of contentment and joy, and ready to begin, again.

I take a breath and stretch as I step out of the car. I wish you and yours a delightful Thanksgiving holiday, if you celebrate it, and hope the holiday season ahead unfolds with minimal stress and maximum joy – and no violence (nor any yelling). Be helpful when you can, and be kind and understanding even if you can’t be helpful.

It’s time to begin again. For this, too, I am grateful.

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Categories Allegories, autumn, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, joy, meditation, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, The Art of Being, The Big 5, War and News of War, Words

When It Gets Real

November 26, 2025 //
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I started my walk quite early. Before sunrise. Before dawn. Before daybreak even hinted at a new day beginning. I walked down the dark trail, the circle of light cast around me by my headlamp bobbing and shifting with my steps. Nothing much to see besides wet leaves and an occasional slug. It is warmer than recent mornings. I walk with my cardigan open, in spite of occasional raindrops.

For me, trail walking is a useful metaphor for following a path in life. It has everything I am likely to need to more deeply contemplate this very human journey as I walk. I’ve even got occasional obstacles along the way, as in life itself. I walk with my thoughts. Tomorrow is Thanksgiving, and I’ve got a lot to be thankful for. Over time, gratitude has become such a natural practice that I often find an attitude of presumed entitlement to be… boorish and crude, astonishing and distasteful.

I smile to myself as I walk. I’ve come a long way on this journey.

I’ve changed a lot over the years. I don’t have much in common with the woman who left the Army at 30, bitter, damaged, and full of a poisonous diffuse rage waiting to find a target. Nor do I have much in common with the chaotic and bewildered young woman who joined up at 17, fairly certain she had no other reasonable prospects. I don’t have much in common with the woman who quit her job to paint full-time at 52, either. (She quickly discovered that although she loved to paint, she was pretty dreadful at the business of art, and returned to the workforce when her savings ran out.) I probably have a little more in common with some much younger past version of myself…13? 14? Idealistic, optimistic, hopeful, generally cheerful, eyes wide with wonder, and a head full of notions – now that’s a girl worth hanging out with for some giggles and good conversations!

Funny thing about that much younger version of me… she didn’t have many useful tools in her toolbox at that age, and her choices to “just walk away” when things got “too real” taught me a lot, although they were poorly considered, and fairly stupid decisions. Did abandoning everything and just walking away from my life ever fix anything? No, not generally, but once or twice it helped me turn a corner or make a clean break that legitimately served me well. It’s taking a sledgehammer to an annoying fly, though; imprecise, with far greater destructive potential than required. I still think about it, now and then, when life is at its most stressful… there’s freedom in walking on.

… Every morning, I lace up my boots and walk on. It’s a useful metaphor for change and for progress, and for following a path…

Do you ever think about just walking away from everything and everyone you know, and striking out on a completely new path? Do you consider how few and how small the practical changes actually need to be to thoroughly change your whole life as the effects ripple through the whole of your experience day-to-day? One small change, well-practiced over time, could be enough to change your experience of life, generally. That’s kind of a big deal… Useful.

…One step at a time down the path, I keep walking with my thoughts…

A brief rain shower passes by, enough to dampen my hair. I keep walking. I slip on slick leaves at the edge of a puddle, and slide a short distance before catching my balance. I keep walking. A steeper bit of trail slows me down a little, just where the pavement ends and the trail becomes muddy earth. I keep walking. I walk past vineyards and trees, and along the edge of a grassy bit of meadow, and along the bank of a creek. The trail is familiar, but there are new things to see most days – each moment and day are their own unique experience. Each walk, too, is its own experience, wherever it takes me. Wherever I take myself, this remains true, down any path I choose to follow; I am having my own experience, and I have the power to change it.

I’m grateful for the ability to walk these solitary miles with my thoughts. Grateful for the well maintained trails available to me. Grateful for the safe community and parks to walk through. Grateful, too, that I have the will to do the walking. It’s no small effort to go down the path, step after step, in darkness or daylight, morning after morning. I “treat myself” to a few moments sitting quietly at some stopping point to rest, reflect, and write. I’m grateful that I can, and that I do. Sometimes I still find myself thinking about “walking away from it all” when times are stressful and difficult, but I rarely act on flights of fancy, and a nice walk alone with my thoughts is generally enough to sort myself out and find acceptance and a suitable path forward.

Anxiety vexing me? Maybe a nice walk will help? Feeling angry and struggling to deal with it? How about a walk, and some time to reflect and gain perspective? Feeling blue or bitter? A lovely walk in the countryside could be just the thing to put me right. I prefer to walk away from a shitty situation… but the choice of trail or path I take doesn’t need to be some permanent departure from life, the world, or my circumstances. Sometimes I just need a bit of a break, a chance to reflect, and a walk outside in the fresh air.

G’damn, y’all, how fucking basic and mundane am I? I chuckle to myself, remembering a young woman of 14, and her daydreams of an adventurous adulthood filled with amazing experiences, lessons learned over time, and fantastic tales to tell. Sure, sure, I’ve seen some things, done some living and faced my share of struggles. I do manage to find some amusement in discovering that what I enjoy most is a stable, comfortable sort of ordinary lifestyle, without much excitement or drama. A pleasant walk and a good cup of coffee have turned out to be more meaningful and more worthwhile than an elegant fine dining experience, or some long-sought professional achievement. That realization drove a lot of my shift toward a focus on sufficiency and gratitude. Over time it has been profoundly helpful for soothing my stormy emotions, and improving my perspective on life, generally.

None of this is to say that my way is the way, or that this path must also be your path. We’re each having our own experience. Making our own choices. Walking our own paths.

The rain begins to fall more steadily. I pull my rain poncho from my pocket and pull it over my head. Daybreak comes with the rain. I get to my feet in the gloomy half-light of dawn. It’s time to begin again, and this path won’t walk itself.

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Categories 2024 Election, Allegories, anger, Anxiety, art and the artist, Brain Injury, breathe, Despair, forgiveness, Free Will, Frustration, gratitude, grief, Healthy Living, inspiration, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, solo hiking, The Art of Being, War and News of War, Words

A Moment Between Moments

November 25, 2025 //
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I’m staring at the bright blank square of light in my hand. I’m sitting in the dark at my halfway point on this morning’s walk, and rather oddly, my mind is blank. The morning is quiet and a few degrees warmer than it has been. The morning is clear and calm, a handful of stars peeking through scattered clouds. I have the sense that I had a worthwhile idea… yesterday. Not very helpful right now, though.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. We’re a day closer to Thanksgiving. I feel ready for that and grateful for my good fortune. I’m also grateful to see signs that the current terrible, corrupt, anti-science, anti-education, anti-fact, anti-American administration is beginning to falter. Hopefully the damage done can be repaired. G’damn, what were people thinking to set this shit in motion?! Our stupid “us vs. them” bullshit, partisan politics, and hateful “othering” has torn the country apart and has literally gotten people killed. Ugly. We can do better – we only have to choose to do differently.

I served my country. I watched the cold war end. I am so disappointed in what I see now. Do better.

Ah, but truly I am grateful. It could be worse. I pull my focus back to this moment, here, on a quiet autumn morning before dawn. There’s very little traffic. There is no one else on the trail. The homes and apartments on the other side of the small creek that runs alongside the trail are visible through the strip of forest that lines the creek banks. They are dark and quiet, too. The moment is mine. I soak in the peace of it, and fill myself with contentment and joy. Nothing to see here, really, a woman on a walk, pauses to rest and to write, insignificant to anyone but herself. It’s enough, isn’t it?

I shrug off my arthritis pain, and my tinnitus. I ignore the sensation of tendonitis developing in my left foot. I pay no mind to the headache that seems to accompany me everywhere, most days, now. I have no time for frailty! I laugh at myself; this refusal to yield to mortal frailties is only effective in the mornings, I find. By day’s end I will be too tired to fight it anymore, and I will be forced to give in to my limitations, reduced to limping from task to task, mobility clearly impaired. Very human.

In spite of physical pain and discomfort, I still manage gratitude. I hear the woosh of HVAC nearby, and recognize that my tinnitus doesn’t deafen me. That’s definitely worth a moment of gratitude. My arthritis and occasional tendonitis don’t stop me from walking local trails and being outside. I’m grateful to be on my feet and still walking. This headache vexes me, often, but so far it hasn’t been found to have any life-threatening cause (or potential outcome). I’m grateful to have unmeasured time ahead of me, in some amount, in this mortal lifetime, and even more grateful to enjoy it in the company of good friends, smart colleagues, and my beloved Traveling Partner. There’s so much to learn and do and enjoy yet in life!

Daybreak comes. I’m grateful for another sunrise.

Two more work shifts, then the holiday. I’m grateful to have a job that gives me holidays off. I smile, remembering that this weekend the Giftmas tree will go up. I’m grateful for the well made artificial holiday tree and the many beautiful ornaments I’ve gathered over a lifetime. I’m deeply grateful that my sister shared family ornaments after our mother died. Each colorful glass ball, icicle, star, and blown glass Santa sparks some recollection of Giftmas past. I’m grateful for those holiday memories, sparkling and twinkling in my imagination.

The path forward becomes clearer with the dawn. I sigh contentedly in the stillness, and get ready to begin again. New day, new opportunities, and I’m grateful. Right now, that’s enough.

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Categories Allegories, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, inspiration, joy, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, solo hiking, The Art of Being, War and News of War, Words

The Secret to Better Sleep

November 23, 2025 //
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Well…a secret to better sleep, anyway, there are others. Sleep hygiene is tricky. The modern world has a lot of distractions, and a single day sometimes seems too short to fit everything in it. Sleep difficulties can become sleep disorders over time, and there are many of those, each with their own characteristics and common causes.

Over a lifetime, I’ve experienced many sleep disturbances: nightmares, insomnia, sleep paralysis, night terrors, “exploding head” dreams, somnambulance, talking in my sleep, paradoxical insomnia, hypnagogia, apnea… That’s not an exhaustive list. I have a difficult relationship with sleep, and always have. These experiences aren’t limited to my adult lifetime, some have been characteristics of my sleep since early childhood. Some don’t trouble me anymore at all. Some linger as occasional occurrences. Here’s the thing, though, I mostly sleep pretty well, generally, these days. Yes, there’s actually “a trick to it”, one single small change that made a really big difference.

I’m not going to drown you in words making you wait for me to share this incredibly useful practical change that did so much to help me get better, healthier sleep. No subscription. No course to purchase. Also no promise offered nor guarantee being made, I just know this one detail has made all the difference (for me). I reset my expectations about sleep, and I stopped being stressed out and frustrated over not sleeping.

… That’s it.

Like a small town on along the highway, if you blinked you may have missed it. What was the change I made? No kidding, I changed my relationship with, and expectations of, sleep. That has been the thing that has done the most to improve my sleep. I still have occasional (sometimes frequent) sleep disturbances, but they rarely amount to a “disorder” these days, and they rarely last long or recur endlessly. See, it was the frustration, stress, and anxiety over not sleeping that resulted in the worst adverse effects of impaired sleep over time, not the impaired sleep itself. The emotional reaction to not sleeping restfully caused more problems than occasional failures to sleep ever could.

Seriously. It isn’t that noise keeping you awake, or the light, or the ticking of the clock, or that other person’s breathing. More often than not, it’s the stressed, frustrated, angry emotional response to not sleeping. The more vexed by our wakefulness we become, the worse our difficulty getting back to sleep. That’s been my experience, anyway. Take it for what it is; subjective experience, and a sample size of one.

I’m not saying changing one’s perspective on something as vexing as poor sleep is easy, or that it takes less practice than any other willful change. It takes practice, and commitment, and repetition, and I failed a lot and endured many annoying, sleepless, restless nights getting from “there, then” to here, now. It’s a huge improvement, though. The stress and frustration, anger, and despair over not sleeping was doing a lot more damage to my overall wellness and quality of life than my impaired sleep was, though. So…

Now, when I am wakeful, I turn on soft lighting unlikely to rouse me, and read awhile (taking care to choose reading material unlikely to cause excitement, itself), or get up briefly for a drink of water, and some meditation. Nightmares? I let myself wake in my familiar safe environment and soothe myself with a bit of meditation and return to sleep after my nightmares fade. I accept that I have some sleep challenges, and refrain from worsening those with aggressively anxious or frustrated rumination, obsessive blame-laying, or defeated self-talk. The acceptance itself is a useful tool. I’ve stopped trying to force my sleep pattern to comply with some notion of what sleep should look like, and I allow myself to sleep as suits me best. Does that “fix” my insomnia? No, but it doesn’t bother me when I wake during the night, or struggle to fall asleep. I just go with it. The result being that I am more likely to fall back to sleep fairly quickly – and on those occasions when I don’t, I’m not beginning my day in a negative emotional state on top of being tired.

I sit quietly at the trailhead, thinking my thoughts and grateful for the pretty good sleep I enjoyed last night. Did I sleep through the night? No. I rarely do, but I wasn’t awake long, and sleep returned relatively quickly. It took a long time for me to learn that the stress over poor sleep was doing more damage to my sleep than the poor sleep itself would do. It took even longer to really accept how true that was and do something useful with that information. Along the way, my sleep improved, quite a lot, because I also made a point to learn and practice good sleep hygiene, generally. All the many practices I practice intended to improve my emotional wellness and physical health have also helped improve my sleep.

I guess what I’m saying is that changing my response to poor sleep in the moment has done more to improve the quality of my sleep than any one other change.

I sit with that thought awhile. I’m happy to share it without monetary gain, and I hope you find it useful if you struggle with poor sleep. There are still verbs involved, and you’ll have to do the work of making a change on your own. I can’t really help with that. I hope you do though, and I hope you get the rest you need to be and become the person you most want to be. We’re all more pleasant and capable when we get the rest we need.

Another day, another chance to begin again.

Daybreak comes. It is a gray and wintry looking autumn morning. The oaks have lost most of their leaves. The surface of the marsh ponds is still and dark. The sky is a featureless wash of gray-blue. The path stretches ahead, disappearing around a bend. I breathe in the chilly autumn air; no scents of flowers now, only the autumn damp, and a hint of rain to come. I exhale, letting lingering background worries go with my exhalation, dissipating with the cloud of my breath. Lovely morning. A good morning to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, Anxiety, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, Frustration, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Sleepless Nights, The Art of Being, Words
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