It’s not quite 04:00. I’ve been awake since my Traveling Partner woke me around 02:10, unable to sleep, struggling to breathe. I don’t have any help to offer, and everything I say seems likely to start an argument. I dress and leave the house.
I sigh to myself, grateful to have a good therapist.
There’s really nothing to do but keep walking. Stumble, fall, begin again. Incremental change over time adds up. I can count on that. Impermanence? That’s real, too. Change is. We are each having our own experience, too. What feels like a reasonable question to one, may feel very different to another. Practicing non-attachment feels hard, sometimes. Walls and mirrors, and humans being human.
… The real motherfucker is that I only have the power to change myself or my own choices, regardless whether useful or necessary changes could be made by another person – that’s on them and entirely out of my hands…
I get all up into my head in the wee hours, thinking about values, character, boundaries, acceptable behavior, relationships, choices… We walk the path we choose. We become what we practice – whatever we practice. I sigh to myself in the darkness. Almost an hour yet until daybreak. Maybe I can nap for little while? Later is soon enough for beginnings and choices.
… Until then, I’ve got this path to walk and a bunch of thinking to do.
This just in from the Department of FAFO; our nation is burning, and it’s not just our incendiary politics to blame (although maybe a little… pretty sure DOGE and Trump’s platoon of criminally unqualified bootlickers cut staffing in some critical areas…)
From the wildfire layer in Maps this morning.
[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]
I sigh to myself as I set off down the trail. Nice morning for walking. Cool, clear skies, dry well-maintained trail, and the quiet time to make the walk without rushing; it’s just about perfect. There’s just this subtle haze over the hills on the horizon that isn’t a byproduct of distance alone, and this wildly colorful sunrise. In combination they tell me things elsewhere are burning. Fire season is here. I’m grateful it isn’t closer and that the sky hasn’t turned that sick orange-brown that results from fires nearby.
…I enjoy a colorful sunrise…
I walk on, thinking my thoughts and wishing I’d allocated my time a little differently over the weekend. I had intended to spend some time painting, and I have a head full of ideas. Instead, I chose to hang out quite a lot with my Traveling Partner (time well spent, in spite of some contentious moments mostly to do with miscommunications of various sorts). We’re both studying for our drone pilot license (part 107), and it was pleasant to share that time and the studying is more fun together. As fun as that was, I had still intended to carve out time to paint, and failed utterly. Oh well, at least the laundry got done.
I get to my halfway point and stop awhile to meditate and to write. The bold pink hues of the sunrise have faded away, revealing another likely hot day ahead. The sky is clear and blue. The air is still, and still cool. It’s already warmer than when I left the house, though. The forecast suggests 30C/86F today – a proper summer day. I’m grateful for the luxury of air conditioned spaces, and clean drinking water. I consider contrasting my experience with “less developed” nations, then recall Flint, Michigan, and am reminded that there are people in this “developed nation” that still don’t have reliable clean drinking water. For fucks’ sake, really?? Really. Pretty appalling.
I breathe, exhale, and relax. I let that go, and everything else that isn’t this moment here, now, too.
Some time later, I realize I’m sitting here frowning, thoughts of packaged items to be returned, a work day ahead, and a short list of small things vexing me somehow already (still?) on my mind. A litany of little reminders plays on repeat in the background of my consciousness like some surreal but very practical chyron. I sigh, frustrated that I’ve failed completely to quiet my mind. Prescriptions to pick up. Figure out dinner later. Drop off the returns. Follow up on that item from my boss from Friday. Hang up the rest of my laundry. Change the linens on the bed. Do I need to stop at the store? Remember everything that has been forgotten, and get to all the meetings on time… All routine and ordinary… and much.
… How the hell do I finish a relaxing three day weekend by starting a new week already tired? It’s not as if I didn’t get enough rest! What annoying bullshit. 😆 Very human. I could do a better job of taking care of myself.
I breathe, exhale, and relax – and give meditation another chance. It is, after all, a practice. We become what we practice. I silence the endless reminders in my head, and get ready to begin again.
In the quiet minutes after tempers flare and the uneasy peace that follows, I take some notes. New or unremembered metaphors, insightful analogies, deep questions, and revealed underlying hurts of times long past… Notes for meditation, for self-reflection, for discussion with my therapist. Tripping hazards on life’s path.
[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]
It’s a very human experience, and a lot to think about. I will think about the path ahead, and also the path that has lead me to this point. I’ll consider my behavior, my choices, and my options. The menu of life’s Strange Diner is vast and the options are many – nearly always more than I can imagine, or accept.
I sigh to myself, and set my notes aside for tomorrow.
A new day, another sunrise, a chance to begin again.
I woke early this morning, from the sound sleep I had sunken into after the neighborhood fireworks finally stopped. I got up, surprised to find my Traveling Partner also already up. I started the watering and caught up on messages, then headed up the highway for my walk.
I walk along the marsh trail, more meadow than marsh this time of year. Swallows swoop and dive, chasing their breakfast. Meadow flowers bob gently in the soft breeze. The bold magenta sunrise begins to fade, first to pink, then to a softer pale salmon hue, before fading away to blue sky streaked with white clouds. I sigh and wonder what distant wildfire is responsible for that crazy magenta sunrise? It was beautiful.
A convenient place to stop and reflect.
I get to a spot that I’ll call “halfway” (it isn’t, but it is a convenient spot to stop and there is a fallen oak adjacent to the trail which makes a relatively comfortable seat). I stop with my thoughts, and my baggage, and sit with the moment for a little while.
… This is me, here, now…
I sit contemplating emotions and behavior, and what separates and defines them. Emotions tend to be what they are, and we don’t have much opportunity to manage or control our feelings, themselves. They are an internal, often immediate, experience. Behavior, on the other hand, we have clear opportunities to manage and control that (and often explicit societal expectations that we will do so effectively). That isn’t any sort of statement that it will be easy, at all, especially if we haven’t been in the practice of doing so regularly. It really does take practice. For some of us, it requires a lifetime of continued, focused, dedicated practice – and we’ll still lob some wildly inappropriate behavior into the world (or an important relationship), in spite of all that fucking practice, far more often than we expect. Humans being human. Some of this shit is a bit complicated, whether by brain damage, poor upbringing, ignorance, trauma, medication, or circumstances.
… Most of the time, most people are probably doing some version of their best in the moment, however thoroughly inadequate it may seem from our own perspective. We’re each having our own experience…
“Emotion and Reason” lit differently – how we view emotions, and how we use reason, make a difference.
I do my best to lead with kindness and empathy. I’m surprised how often and how easily I manage to fuck that up. Deep listening is a more challenging practice than it seems it would be. Practicing healthy boundaries is more difficult than I ever expect it to be, but frankly I’m a relative beginner on that topic, so perhaps that is easy to understand? I sigh and remind myself to also treat myself with kindness, compassion, and understanding. My beloved’s expressions of hurt, frustration, and disappointment in some moment may define the moment, but they don’t define me as a human being. Nor do his missteps or difficult moments define him.
I reflect on my mistakes in the context of my values. I give myself time to think about them as snags and potholes on a clear path. I visualize various moments differently than they occurred, incorporating the changes in my behavior that I’d ideally want to see. I compare and contrast with similar moments that went very differently. I let myself recognize the differences in a useful way, to build additional implicit understanding. I remind myself to be patient and slow down, to take the time I need to do things right, and to avoid taking it personally if (when) the world doesn’t slow down with me.
… The journey is the destination. I walk the path I create with my choices. I have opportunities (so many) to change that path by changing my choices. It sounds easier as words than it is in practice – but “practice” is an ongoing thing. I’ll keep walking (and practicing).
… I keep my focus on my own behavior, because that is what is within my control, and it is what I am responsible for, myself…
I breathe, exhale, and relax. I don’t know what is around the next bend. I’m walking this path, enjoying the journey, and doing my best to be the person I most want to be. There’s work yet to be done. Where does this path lead? I guess I’ll find out when I get there. In the meantime, I guess I’ll begin again. Again.
I breathe in the sweetly scented summer air on this trail between a vast meadow of clover and the broad silent river on the other side of a strip of trees and brambles. Beautiful morning. Sunny and cool, for now, some heat in the forecast later.
No AI here, only a human being and a camera phone.
[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]
I woke this morning feeling recovered from whatever sickness laid me flat yesterday afternoon. It was a delight to water the lawn at daybreak and to watch the sunrise as I drove to the trailhead.
Sunrise by the river.
I sit on a rock near the river, enjoying the mild summer morning. It’s beautiful. I don’t need more than this right now. I listen to birds singing and chirping. I take a couple pictures, wishing very much that the pictures could also capture the scents. Wildflowers and clover. Nice.
… I let my mind wander contentedly, feeling free…
Weeds or wildflowers? It depends on your point of view.
When I say I don’t use AI to write my blog, I’m very serious. Another kind of freedom worth celebrating. No AI editing the pictures. No AI generated images. No AI authorship or editing. No choices to turn over my thinking to an algorithm or LLM. No AI research. My spelling mistakes and weird grammar and syntax are my own. My limited knowledge is my own. My thoughts are my own. My lived experience is real and human and messy. I’m okay with all of that. I don’t think my position on AI is at all unique; I get more comments and friendly feedback about my AI disclaimer than any topic I actually write about. I feel amused – and vindicated.
I keep to the path I’m on; there’s real freedom and independence in saying “no” to the AI slop and unnecessary “tools” being shoved into every app whether it’s helpful, or desirable, or not (“not” seems generally to be the case). I don’t need it. I don’t use it.
… AI is not capable of understanding the human experience…
A small bird sings to me for a few minutes.
I breathe, exhale, and relax. The scents of summer wildflowers fill the air. It’s a lovely morning. I feel free. That’s worth celebrating.
Free your mind. Live your life. Go outside.
I think about the day ahead. I’ll fly my drone. Fold some laundry. Maybe paint. Read awhile. The day is mine to live as I choose. I hope I choose wisely.
I woke gently after a good night of deep sleep. I woke surprised to be awake, and surprised that it was only minutes until my alarm would have brightened the room. I got up quietly, hoping to avoid waking my Traveling Partner, and slipped out of the house and watered the lawn before I headed for the trail.
[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]
A new day, full of promise and opportunity. Don’t waste it
It’s a chilly morning. I walk down the trail marveling at the vapor of my breath, like a child, and watching the sun illuminating the oaks as it rises. The sky is a beautiful blue, clear and cloudless. I walk with my thoughts. I’m eager for the long weekend ahead. Eager to paint and feeling deeply inspired. My eagerness to paint competes with my eagerness to fly my new drone, although I chuckle to myself every time I think about my drone, because I also think about South Park, season 18, episode 5, “The Magic Bush” (a hilarious and rude cautionary tale about drones and “drone hobby enthusiasts”).
I grin happily as I walk on. My very first drone is cute, and rested so lightly in my hand after I unboxed it and inspected it with care. It arrived rather late in the evening last night, and even if it had been all charged up, I was already too tired to take it out for a flight. Today is soon enough. I’m pretty good at waiting. 😆 I satisfied myself in the moment with the excitement of its arrival and busied myself with charging the batteries and the controller.
…New experiences slow that ticking clock…
I reach my halfway point and stop awhile. I breathe, exhale, and relax, and enjoy a solitary moment on a peaceful summer morning. I’m looking forward to some studio time this weekend. I’m looking forward to hanging out with my partner. I sit in the morning sunshine feeling grateful and anticipating a pleasant long weekend.
I don’t much care that this particular long weekend is thanks to the 4th of July holiday being observed on Friday the 3rd. Trump and his clown car of corrupt cronies and billionaire sycophants have largely ruined the holiday with their grotesque (and extraordinarily unsuccessful) partisan spectacle of wasted taxpayer dollars. I have no interest in celebrating the walking obscenity that we elected to office, I’m just hoping we manage to salvage our democracy from the wreckage when he’s gone. Still… I do enjoy a long weekend. There’s that.
I sigh to myself and shiver a bit. I should have grabbed my fleece, I think to myself. The sun is warm on my back. The contrast makes my nerves tingle. I check the flight map on my device… Would I be able to fly here? I’m delighted to see that I would be cleared to fly here. (I’ve always wanted to see what is beyond the trees on the far side of the vineyard.)
I sit with my thoughts, composing the view as if to paint it. It’s a pretty scene. I feel relaxed and unbothered, grateful for the lovely moment. It’s a promising beginning to the day. I stretch and sigh when I notice the time. Already time to finish this hike and begin again.