Archives for category: Practices
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Waiting for the Light

June 27, 2026 //
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“Waiting for the light” – metaphorically or as an approach to photography or art – is sometimes a requirement to “getting the right shot”, or for capturing a certain mood. More often, it’s a matter of fortunate timing. Even achieving some measure of “enlightenment” sometimes means waiting for the light. (Certainly I’ve had very little success with chasing it.) Waiting is not the fastest approach to such things, but it is often what puts me in the right place at the right time to catch the light at a moment when it becomes transformative.

The effect of light on a moment of waiting, like an unexpected epiphany.

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

Qualities of stillness and light greet me at the trailhead this morning. I breathe in, inhaling the forest scents of summer at the river’s edge. There are bunnies frolicking at the edge of the meadow adjacent to the parking. The cloudy sky, although stormy looking, seems more comforting than forboding this morning. I feel relaxed and unbothered.

A gray morning on the river.

I sit with my thoughts, watching the robins and the rabbits, and relacing my boots. A break in the clouds reveals a baby blue strip of sky. No reason to delay, really, but I’m also in no hurry. Saturday.

She got here first. I wait my turn.

Nice morning to put a couple miles on my boots. I dilly-dallying a while longer, watching the bunny and her little ones, who creep out of the dense brush slowly. The tasty grass is apparently more tempting than I am any sort of threat, but they watch me warily. Later, the dog walkers will arrive with their boisterous animals, and the rabbits will be scared back into the dense brush, and the robins startled back into the trees. I don’t feel like cutting their breakfast short, so I sit quietly enjoying them. I can start down the path any time, it does not have to be now.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I sit enjoying the lovely moment of quiet and stillness. This is uncomplicated and beautiful. I don’t need more out of it than this.

I think about the day ahead. I’m eager to get into the studio. I feel inspired. This vexing headache though… I sigh to myself. My fingernails are too long for comfortably painting. I’ve got a manicure today, and manage to resist the momentary impulse to just cut them short. 

“Waiting” is also a verb, but it won’t take me far.

I pull myself back to “now”. I’ll live the moments as they come. I yawn and stretch and get to my feet. This trail is waiting for me. It’s time to begin. Again.

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Categories Allegories, art and the artist, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, inspiration, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Practices, solo hiking, Summer, The Art of Being, Words

Gray Uncertainty

June 26, 2026 //
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It’s a gray and rainy morning. I woke too early, still groggy when I left the house. I reached the trailhead ahead of the dawn by a bit more than an hour. The darkness was chilly. The trail was dotted with unseen puddles. Everything is damp and smells of fresh earth and recent rain.

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

I walk a bit farther than usual before I stop. I enjoy a different perspective on daybreak when it comes.

Blue morning.

… I’ll be fine after I have some coffee…

I sit awhile watching the blue hues become a rather ordinary uninteresting gray rainy day. I’d rather be sleeping. Or painting. I feel moody and cross.

I sit with my thoughts awhile, not really meditating, just thinking things over. Options. Choices. The way ahead. Life. I sigh to myself. The complexities of being human vex me sometimes. I watch the gray clouds glide past overhead. Stormy weather. Chilly enough for a sweater. I’m glad I wore one.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I look down the trail. The solitude is pleasant. Uncomplicated. I get to my feet, and stretch. It’s a new day. The clock is ticking. I remind myself to let small shit stay small – and I begin again.

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Categories Allegories, anger, art and the artist, Brain Injury, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, Frustration, gratitude, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, Summer, The Art of Being, women, Words

Hello, Dawn

June 25, 2026 //
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I woke gently, ahead of my alarm. I freshenened up and dressed for the day, then watered the lawn as I left. It is a pleasant routine and a lovely morning.

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

I arrived at the trailhead as a beautiful sunrise began, hues of orange and gold quickly evolving to a delicate pearl pink sky. Beautiful.

Well, hello there brand new day!

I head down the path, enjoying the cool morning. Sometimes the path is clear, and the way ahead free of obstacles. Sometimes the walking is easy and my stride relaxed and comfortable. Some days are harder, others easier, and it took me far too long to learn to spend more time, emotional energy, and attention on the moments of joy and delight, however small or brief, than on the difficult moments. Truly, my difficulties generally find a way to get more than their “fair share” of my attention, no effort required. I savor this gentle delightful morning as I walk. I put attention on it, and keep my awareness firmly on “now”. The morning is a delight and I don’t want to miss any of it.

Vineyards along the trail under a pink sky.

I spent much of yesterday evening in my studio, sorting through recent images (and their associated recollections), finding the specific (best?) pictures that captured some detail I knew I wanted to paint. Another significant portion of the evening was spent in my Traveling Partner’s good company, as he showed me his drone and walked me through the features. He gifted me his previous drone, and talked me through basic operation. I even took my first flight! Oh, I’m slow about such things, and we were in the house, so really all I did was start her up,  take flight, and hover awhile, carefully feeling the experience of controlling her in the air. All the while, my Traveling Partner watched me thoughtfully.

… Loving someone with brain damage creates some challenges…

I woke this morning to a loving note from my partner. He’d carefully shopped for a better choice of “beginner drone” for me with features better suited to my limitations (and less likely to potentially injure me under predictable relatively common things that can (do) go awry for beginners). He made some recommendations, and I find myself genuinely excited about it. No particular reason to “go down this path”, beyond the fun of it, and the joy of a shared experience – but there is all of that, and I’m eager.

I grin to myself, feeling very loved this morning. I remind myself to study and take the TRUST test, so I can legally fly my drone.

Each dawn begins a new day. I say it a lot. This morning I’m really feeling the joy in it. There’s another busy work day ahead, but that will happen when the time comes. It needs no attention from me now. I sit contentedly with my thoughts.

There are hard times and good times, and it is pretty easy to miss out on the good times if I allow the hard times and moments of stress to dominate my thoughts beyond the boundaries of those moments. I breathe, exhale, and relax, feeling the pleasant summer morning infuse my consciousness with delight. The oaks stand watch alongside the trail as they always do, and I wonder (again) what their awareness might be like, and whether they have consciousness as I do? It’s not a question I can answer… but I do wonder.

…I think about coffee…

We make a lot of our challenges in life harder than they need to be. Just saying, that’s a very human thing – but we can choose differently. There are verbs involved. Decisions. Will. Action. (Practice.) I smile and watch a bunny on the opposite side of the trail from where I’m sitting. She has slowly come closer, nibbling tasty grasses and watching me for any sign of threatening movement. I sit quite still until she hops away back into the grass. We can choose how we treat those around us. I sit reflecting on how easy such choices seem in the abstract, and how difficult they can feel in the moment.

The clock ticks on. I’m grateful for the lovely gentle morning. I silently wish my beloved well, from the side of the trail, hoping his night was as good as mine, his sleep as restful, and his morning as full of effortless joy. Maybe it will be? Maybe it won’t be. Either way, I hope he knows he is loved. I look at the time. It’s already time to begin again.

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

Another Early Morning

June 24, 2026 //
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… Like, stupid early, and here I am awake, with an unfortunate “go f* yourself” feeling at the moment. It’ll pass. I’m just awake ridiculously early. Too early to get coffee, not too early to walk in the dark moodily, vexed by the circumstances.

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

It’s still dark when I reach my halfway point and stop. It looks like a winter morning, but it’s pleasantly mild (15C/60F). Daybreak soon. I breathe, exhale, and relax. I definitely need the calming, self-soothing benefits of meditation this morning, after being abruptly startled awake by my Traveling Partner yelling, rhetorically, “Why can’t I just sleep?!” or something very like that. I don’t have an answer for him.

I sit with my thoughts, and this slice of peace here in the darkness.

Eventually, the night sky takes on a hint of deep blue. To the east, I see a streak of lighter blue, hinting at the sunrise to come. A new day.

In spite of yesterday’s fatigue, after struggling to find restful sleep (after being awakened in the wee hours), the day went well enough. I called it a night a little early and slept restfully. This morning’s unfortunately stressful start at least begins my day with enough sleep. Work itself should be routine. I scrounge around the groggy corners of my mind trying to recall things I may have committed to doing in addition to work, hoping to avoid forgetting something I’ve been asked to do. I’d like today to be a good one.

I stretch and yawn and watch the eastern horizon change colors. I wonder what the day holds? I answer pings from my partner. I think about coffee.

… I think about beginning again.

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Categories anger, Anxiety, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, Frustration, gratitude, meditation, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, Summer, The Art of Being, Words

A Headache and Insomnia

June 23, 2026 //
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I woke too early. I didn’t get enough sleep. I’ve got a wicked headache, my eyeballs feel like they are sandpapered, and my skin “feels uncomfortable”. My neck aches from waking twisted and alarmed in the wee hours. I never went soundly to sleep after that, but I catnapped a bit between strange dreams filled with dread and doubt and “exploding head” nightmares.

… It’s a very human experience.

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

I watered the lawn thoroughly; it’s expected to be another fiercely hot day. I headed for the trail at daybreak and arrived in time to greet the dawn, which glows like an infected cut, hues of red and orange along the horizon.

Mostly beautiful and a bit inspiring.

I’m irritable and out of sorts, cross with myself, my circumstances, and even this moment. I’ll get over it, I’m sure. I’m more resilient than I once was. For now, though, I am in no mood for… people. Or anything. I don’t want conversation. I don’t want to share space. I don’t want an exchange of ideas nor any kind of shared experience. I just want to be left alone to be irritable in peace, until it passes.

… I am recognizably not my best self this morning…

Maybe after work I’ll just retreat to my studio and paint moody landscapes of sunrises and sunsets, counting on the vibrant colors to distract viewers from the dark shapes silhouetted against the sky?

… G’damn I’m cranky…

I definitely needed more (better) sleep. My Traveling Partner wasn’t sleeping well either. He was having trouble breathing – possibly the worst way to not sleep. He seemed to have found sleep at some point; he wasn’t awake when I finally just got up. I tried not to make noise as I dressed and left. I didn’t want to be any part of waking him again, before he had gotten the rest he needs.

I smile for a moment, recalling the unexpected gift of a couple books I haven’t read, which my beloved gave me yesterday. I feel loved when I think of them. The feeling lasts as long as the thought does; I try to hold on to it, with limited success.

I love the feeling of a new book in my hands.

I sigh to myself at the halfway point on my walk. Fucking hell it’s going to take so much coffee to push me through the day, today. I could do without this fucking headache, too.

I breathe, exhale, and relax, and take a few moments of this quiet morning for meditation. My routine tends to help me past most of life’s difficult bits these days. It’s not perfect, as solutions go, but it’s better than nothing. I glare moodily at the rising sun. I don’t feel like dealing with the heat, but “not dealing with it” isn’t really an option that reality provides. It is what it is. I’ve got a bottle of water with me, half finished already. Letting myself get dehydrated would be stupid, particularly since I’ve already got this headache.

I sigh heavily, feeling my discontent like a weight on my shoulders. I look down the trail with a somber acknowledgement;  I walked this far, now I’ve got to finish it. Shit. I get to my feet feeling impatient with myself and vaguely angry. I’ll have to begin again. Maybe it will help.

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Categories Allegories, anger, Anxiety, Brain Injury, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, Frustration, meditation, Metaphors, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, solo hiking, Summer, The Art of Being, Words
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