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Better…And Worse

October 30, 2025 //
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The work day ended gently, and it’s been productive. which surprises me. The morning passed pretty quickly, but the minutes became prolonged and tedious as the afternoon began, and by 13:00 I was definitely aware that I’m ill. The headache that seemed to have diminished during the night is very much back. My sinuses feel weirdly dry and irritated, in spite of my drippy nose. I finally noticed that I had forgotten to remove my shoes after running a brief errand… then still managed to forget about them entirely until some minutes ago. I ache all over, although the chills and sweats seem to be over with. I’m “tired” – but not the healthy tiredness of the end of a long day at hard work, nor the anticipated tiredness of bedtime. Just feeling generally rundown. The malaise of illness seems so utterly mundane. But…

…I’m okay for nearly all values of “okay”, presently, in spite of being sick. It’s just a headcold. Pretty commonplace, and very ordinary. Hell, it’s that time of year, anyway, eh? I sigh, and let that go. It’s not really worth bitching about, and I’m snug at home and cared for…

My Traveling Partner asks me, every so often, if I’m feeling better. I mean… mostly? Sort of. Some? A little bit? As with the way I often answer questions, the answer isn’t helpful at all, and fails to communicate anything worth knowing. It’s a challenge I deal with often, and I know it frustrates people. What frustrates me is how often people who know I have brain damage either completely forget that there are some very specific things that result from that (which affect communication in some cases) that I can’t reliably do much about, or behave as though it is as simple as doing things differently. Practicing doing some particular thing in some very particular way can be helpful over time, but (most especially) when my executive function and communication impairments are most severe (like, when I’m sick, or deeply fatigued), there’s often damned little I can actually do about it in any practical way. I just have to deal with the experience of struggling to communicate, when it happens. Frustrating all around.

I take a break with my Traveling Partner. He’s working on a project in the shop. He’s having his own experience with frustration and shares details with me. He offers to show me something he’s working on, or something to do with the thing frustrating him. I’m aware that I’m too sick to be sharp enough to appreciate and value the experience, putting us both at risk of still more frustration – so I decline in favor of more self-care, and maybe laying down for awhile. This fucking headache is kicking my ass, and has now partnered with my “everyday headache” to bring real oomph to my headache experience. I sigh to myself, alone in this comfortable space. My headache is not eased by whatever the fuck that low frequency whine outside is. A leaf-blower? A distant train engine idling on a siding? One of those vacuum or carpet cleaning trucks over at the apartment complex on the other side of the creek? It could be any number of things. One thing it definitely is, is incredibly irritating and I’ve got a fucking headache. I snarl quietly to myself, then remind myself it isn’t personal, at all. It’s just noise.

…This headache, though…

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I’m not at risk of death. I’m not headed to the ER. I’m not immobilized. I’ve got a headcold. Some random virus going around the community at the start of flu season caught up to me. I could have rolled d20 and predicted the outcome, most likely. Annoyingly mundane and not at all interesting. (Sorry.)

I sit quietly for a moment, appreciating the other details. The good stuff. I pull my focus back to this moment, this relationship, this little house situated between town and farm. There’s a lot to be grateful for. I’m grateful that the Anxious Adventurer is willing to make dinner, and that I had ingredients on hand to make that relatively easy on him. I’m grateful to have the means to quickly go to the pharmacy for cold remedies, and the freedom to do so at my convenience, even on a work day. I’m grateful that I can afford to do so, without worrying about trade-offs. I’m grateful for the good quality well-roasted sustainably sourced fair trade coffee beans from which I made my morning coffee. I’m grateful to have the opportunity to make that choice. I’m grateful to have become the kind of person who cares about the other human beings in the supply chain for the things I want or need in life, and the sort who makes choices that are informed by that caring nature. I’m grateful to recognize my relative privilege in life, in spite of the tough times I’ve endured along the way. I’m grateful for the computer that sits here on my desk; my Traveling Partner built it with my needs in mind, and it suits me so well! I’m grateful to be so well-loved by such a very interesting and delightful human being, one that I love so well. I’m grateful that my problems in life aren’t worse than they are – and that I am aware of my good fortune.

…Even when I’m sick, a few minutes of sincere gratitude is a powerful mood-lifter…

When I’m sick, my emotions are often very much “at the surface” of my awareness. This puts me at risk of losing my temper, or weeping over nonsense. In addition to those risks, though, it also puts me in touch with the softer subtler emotions, the little joys, the childlike delight over something that sparkles, the pure radiant happiness of a hug. It’s a weird time. I’m tired, but energized and restless. I’m volatile, but capable of beautiful moments of great joy, love, and delight. I’m kind of stupid, but barely matters because I’m also feeling accepted and safe and cared-for. Being human is peculiarly complicated. Nuanced. I try not to take it personally. If things go sideways, I know I’m loved anyway. I smile to myself and finish my tea. The work day is behind me. I can begin again tomorrow – for now, I’ll just take care of myself.

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Categories Allegories, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, Frustration, gratitude, health, joy, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, The Art of Being, The Big 5, Words

Resilience In Practice

October 25, 2025 //
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I woke later than usual. It was almost 05:00 when I woke. I felt rested and positively merry. I dressed to head out for my morning trek down the marsh trail that circles the nature park.

As I checked the weather, and the time, I see I’ve got a message from my beloved Traveling Partner. The love and concern in his words is clear. He suggests I keep my walk short, maybe local, and proposes I maybe stay home entirely and get my miles on the elliptical, while watching a favorite show. He proposes that we could do something together, later, an idea that appeals to me. I feel loved. I sit with that feeling for a moment, letting it fill my consciousness.

The idea of a shorter walk and better self-care is a tempting idea, for sure, I admit. I really like being out on the trail, though, enjoying the short quiet interval of solitude… and my walks at the nature park put me nearby a favorite grocery store, and I generally stop there after my walk on a Saturday morning… The temperature is mild… I head out, remembering my commitment to one of the grocery checkers to share some items my Traveling Partner made, and deciding to keep my walk short, any way.

The drive to the nature park was quiet. No traffic. I enjoyed it, smiling to myself as I drove with my thoughts, grateful for my loving partner who cares about my well-being, and for the lovely morning. Before I reach the nature park, it begins to rain, first just a sprinkle, then as I reach the trailhead parking, a proper steady rain. I grimace, and laugh, betting my Traveling Partner had checked the weather report more closely than I had.

Now I sit, waiting for a break in the rain. I’m unbothered and relaxed. Hadn’t I already decided to make my walk a shorter one, anyway? No stress. No agitation. Just change. I breathe, exhale, and relax, listening to the rain on the roof of the car.

At its heart, resilience is simply that ability to bounce back in the face of change, uncertainty, emotional disregulation, or even trauma. Resilience needs development, as with things like muscular strength. Specific practices build resilience. Meditation, as a practice, helps build resilience. The practice of “taking in the good” is another that directly builds resilience. Forgiveness, as a practice, is another that contributes to resilience, by limiting how long our hurt feelings or injuries inflicted by another can dominate our thoughts. Practicing non-attachment and embracing related ideas such as impermanence, sufficiency, and building depth and breadth into our perspective on life, generally, are helpful for building resilience.

What’s it good for, though (resilience, I mean)? Why do I put so much value on it? Partly due to this; it improves pain management results.

Resilience let’s us bounce back and carry on, without becoming mired in our pain, sorrow, or anger. Resilience is that quality that gets us quickly past a difficult moment, and on to enjoying the next. Well-established resilience, over time, may become the difference between having some troubling mental health episode or meltdown, and simply acknowledging a difficult experience, dealing with it, and moving on with things calmly. I don’t know about you, but that sounds pretty good to me.

…So I practice…

Sometimes, I fall short of my commitment to one practice or another, but that’s also why I see such things as practices in the first place, instead of tasks to be checked off as completed, or skills to be mastered. Mastery is inconsequential. Practice is ongoing. It is a doing that doesn’t really finish. Each practice with real world value in my lived experience becomes a lifestyle change, over time. Each practice becomes part of my routine, and part of who I am. The result? I am more resilient. It becomes a character trait, and in that regard, it also becomes easier to maintain. Such results don’t mean no practice is required, just that the effort and will involved in the practice itself is greatly reduced. Sometimes, though, I still find myself not practicing some practice or other, through circumstances or forgetting. I’m human.

… I just begin again, and get back to practicing…

The rain stops, but it’s not yet daylight, and I’m not in a hurry. There’s no need to rush my walk, or hurry home to barge in on my beloved’s quiet time over his coffee first thing. I sit quietly a little longer. Daybreak soon, and I’ll walk the short loop, and watch the sunrise – then, I’ll begin again.

…It is a good day for self-care.

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Categories Allegories, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, joy, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, The Art of Being

It’s Like That

October 22, 2025 //
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Sometimes life feels easy. Mostly life does not feel easy, at all (for me). Stress comes and goes. Uncertainty. Doubt. Worry over this or that new challenge. Circumstances that are a poor fit for the life we want to live. It’s not always a money thing. Sometimes it is. It’s not always about trauma, chaos, and damage. Sometimes it is. One thing I’m pretty clear on, these days; we’re each having our own experience, colored by our expectations and assumptions, filtered through our experiences, and understood using an internal dictionary it is highly likely no one else really shares. We bitch about left and right, about right and wrong, ignoring the likelihood that whoever is listening means something a bit different by those terms than we do, ourselves. We default to speaking in sound bites and slogans, even when we know how empty those may be. Human primates are weird. We treat each other poorly, even though our relationships with each other are the single most important thing about our individual experiences.

I sigh to myself. I’m in the co-work space getting settled in to begin the work day. The commute into the office was easy to the point of being surreal; I hit all the traffic signals along the way green, and there was never a car ahead of me going slower than I was, nor anyone creeping up on me from behind wanting to go faster. I hope the entire day feels like that. Seems unlikely; I slept poorly, and I’m already feeling signs of fatigue (or, perhaps, not quite fully awake, yet).

If someone asked me, right now, how I’m doing, I would say “not bad”, and the realization that such a conversation would go that way makes me roll my eyes and sigh softly with some measure of impatience and frustration. That sort of negative turn of phrase suits me, creatively, but isn’t ideal for communication. It was one of the first things my Traveling Partner ever asked me to consider changing, when we were getting to know each other. Hilariously, I misunderstood that request so thoroughly, I proceeded down a path of personal growth that wasn’t the intention, and became someone far more positive in general than I’d ever been previously. I have no comment whether this is – or was – a change for the better. I suppose, probably, and I am more content and joyful in life, but I don’t know that there is a causal relationship between that change and this experience. It’s just an interesting, mildly amusing recollection, as I start my day.

…I’m tired, and my mind wanders…

No walk this morning. Maybe later? It is a lovely autumn morning, and daybreak is just beginning. I smile and stretch, and think about recent other walks, and other mornings.

The colors of fall inspire me, and I think about paintings I have not yet painted.

I think about walking my path, as a metaphor for progress, growth, and forward momentum – changes over time, step by step, along a journey without a map. This life thing has so many options, choices, and “side quests”, it is sometimes difficult to imagine it as a single path. It twists, turns, and detours through experiences I hadn’t considered, or even imagined. The menu in The Strange Diner is vast.

I enjoy the routine of walking a familiar path, but change is often waiting for me somewhere along the way.

I find myself missing the library desk from which I most often work, these days. My “happy place” is not some fixed point of geography. It is my office & studio at home. It is in my garden. It is on the trail at dawn, watching the sun rise. It is in a quiet moment with my Traveling Partner. It is in a library, perhaps most of all. The library was one of the first places where I felt truly safe, surrounded by stacks of books, and rows of shelves, the air still and quiet and smelling of… history? Smelling of stories and narratives and the printed word, and seeming almost infinitely grand and somehow limitless. I love libraries. Small libraries in modest homes, big university libraries, legendary libraries that have stood the test of time over actual centuries – they each have that “library quality”.

How can someone be bored, in a library, when every shelf holds unexplored knowledge and infinite adventure?

I let my mind wander awhile longer. I’m okay for most values of “okay”. It’s an ordinary work day, in a fairly ordinary life – and that’s entirely fine. It’s enough. I glance at the clock, and notice the time. I breathe, exhale, and relax, before I begin again.

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Categories Allegories, Anxiety, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, inspiration, joy, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, The Art of Being, Words

An Interesting Demonstration

October 21, 2025 //
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I walked through the early morning darkness alone with my thoughts. It’s a chilly autumn morning, and I’m glad I wore a heavy sweater. I am thinking about a recent demonstration that I found to illustrate a lasting concern I’ve had for awhile now. I’m not alone with this, a lot of people are concerned, though little is likely to be done.

…No, I don’t mean the wildly popular, well-attended, nationwide No Kings demonstrations over the weekend. Powerfully illustrative, no doubt, but not the thing on my mind. This other is… bigger. Deeper. Impacts more of the global society of humanity, and may be a warning of worse to come – things we’re not prepared for.

From Downdetector, around midmorning Pacific time.

I’m thinking about the AWS outage, yesterday. So many people and businesses now store data on, use services hosted by, or route traffic through AWS that the outage (which lasted many hours and disrupted many businesses and financial institutions) ground business to a halt in many places. A broad variety of services stopped operating. Companies whose support teams use browser-based digital communication tools suddenly couldn’t support the customer inquiries that were queuing up. Teams and individuals couldn’t get work done. Frustrated consumers unaware that this or that business now exclusively uses AWS for hosting and data storage became unable to function in the 21st century world of online everything.

Pretty wild that in such circumstances people so easily find themselves halted. Really? Do something else. Something real. Read a book. Go for a walk. Get some chores done. Leave the chaos to the engineers and devs who got this hot potato dropped into their laps in the wee hours, and get on with your actual life, damn. “Shit’s down, bitches! Let’s go outside.”

I laugh now, but I’m also concerned. Don’t we all have more to do in the real spaces of the actual physical world than anything online? Aren’t the precious few mortal moments we have in these finite lives worth more attention from us? Do we really “need” an online app to meditate? To read? To enjoy a coffee with a friend? To walk a lovely trail on an autumn morning? We are, perhaps, overly dependent on digital bullshit.

Before dawn, darkness and distant light.

I walked with my thoughts, and took a seat in the darkness, shortly before daybreak, to write and meditate. Nice morning. I’m not so exhausted, today. I definitely needed some rest, and it was a good choice to go to bed early last night. I woke ahead of my alarm this morning to the soft sound of my Traveling Partner calling out to me, “Baby?”, as if checking whether I was awake, or trying to get my attention. The house was dark and quiet and there was no sign my beloved was actually awake, at all. Probably just an “exploding head” sort of dream, although of a very gentle sort. Not uncommon, for me. These no longer cause me any stress; it’s just a dream.

Being awake, I got up and started the day, and here I am.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. Life. The autumn air is chilly and fresh. There is a mist clinging to the ground in the low places. The world is quiet, at least right here. Right here, now, I am indifferent to whether any given tech platform or app works, and I don’t much care about the clown show of American politics. I’m just a woman on a trail, on an autumn morning before sunrise. It is an experience that needs no app, and no connectivity. Fine by me. 😂

… What would you do if it all crashed, and didn’t come back? If you lost the Internet, could you still reach the people who truly matter to you? Would you get enough information about the goings on in your world to get by and live well? Would you be able to continue to do the job you do now, or would it suddenly be of no use or consequence at all? Would you easily entertain yourself with conversation, books on paper, jam sessions with neighbors, and impromptu block parties, or would you find yourself stalled, bored, and unable to function? Are you wholly dependent on a tech toy that became a tool, and is now a crutch? Who are you without your digital profile?

I sit here feeling okay, myself. My Dad didn’t have much trust in computer systems, software, and “helpful” technology. He taught us to fish, to hunt, to garden, to raise small livestock and make use of the resulting resources. He handed down recipes, and skills. He taught us a lot of useful things, long before the Internet was a convenience or a concern. I’m grateful. The Army taught me more. Life taught me still more after that. I mostly don’t care when or whether the Internet or some particular app or platform is down. I’ve got books. 😂

A frown passes over my face with a chill breeze. Life would be hard without shelter. Without power, heat, and potable water… disasters come in a lot of sizes. It could have been worse than an AWS outage, for sure. I think about Gaza, and Ukraine. It could be so much worse. Genocide. Warfare. Bombs. Earthquakes. Disease outbreaks. Disaster can strike anywhere, and takes many forms. Am I prepared? Are you?

I sigh to myself. Human primates make so much shit more complicated than it has to be… mostly over greed, or seeking power. Gross. Do better, humanity, your survival probably depends on it.

Daybreak comes, and I get to my feet. It’s time to begin again. I’ve got this trail ahead of me, and a destination in mind. All that remains is to begin.

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Categories 2024 Election, Allegories, autumn, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, inspiration, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, The Art of Being, War and News of War

Too Early, Too Much

October 20, 2025 //
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I woke around 03:00, to some noise most likely, or perhaps my Traveling Partner’s wakefulness, though when I returned to bed from the bathroom, he seemed to be snoring softly, asleep. I hope he gets the rest he needs. I sure didn’t, not last night. Took me some time to fall asleep, and I was awakened abruptly at some point by raised voices. I returned to sleep shortly after waking, but my dreams were restless, irritated, and unsettling. I was tired when I finally woke, too early, but I couldn’t find sleep again, and gave up – hopefully before my restlessness woke everyone else.

…I got up, dressed, and slipped away quietly…

I don’t much feel like walking, this morning. Aches and pains and bullshit, nothing of real consequence. I sit with my thoughts, perched on a picnic table near the trail, ready to walk if I get past my moody and irritable moment of ennui. I listen to the background noise of machinery, traffic, HVAC systems on nearby buildings… the sounds of humanity mismanaging a planet. There is a glow along the western horizon, the clouds overhead being illuminated by the city below. Pretty mundane stuff. I sigh quietly. My ankle aches, even within the comfortable security of my hiking boots. My left hip hurts in a way that suggests arthritis may be developing there. My head aches, feels mostly like fatigue and the studious, focused, effort to maintain top down control in spite of it. I catch myself gritting my teeth, and purposefully relax my jaw and let go of that bit of stress. My tinnitus is shrieking and whining in my ears. I’m not bitching about any of it, just noticing each detail, as I inventory my sensations and experience the moment with as much presence and awareness as I can.

… And I still don’t feel like walking…

I had an excellent brunch with a colleague on Sunday. Feels like, potentially, a real friendship forming. Maybe. Harder to be sure than it might have seemed when I was younger…or… before the pandemic, although I’m not at all sure how that is relevant. I really enjoyed the conversation. The food was good, too, but that clearly wasn’t the nourishment I was seeking – or what I found. It was more about the human connection. We talked about doing it every month, and talked about having some kind of holiday get together with our families, in December. That might be a lot of fun.

I sit enjoying the morning quiet. I think about love and my Traveling Partner, and how much faster his recovery is going these days. He’s able to do so much more now, and more every week. It’s a relief to feel some measure of day-to-day work being reduced as my beloved begins to resume tasks that he was handling routinely before his injury. Out of habit, I sometimes forget to give him the opportunity to do for himself. I’ve got to knock that shit off, for myself as much as for him.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I meditate in the chilly autumn darkness before dawn comes. For a moment, the world seems peculiarly peaceful and undisturbed. I find that it often does in these solitary moments. The world’s chaos and hardship is almost entirely created by the human primates clinging to the surface of this mud ball hurtling through space. I almost sympathize with the “burn it all down and start over” cynics and nihilists. I was once among them, a like-minded sort, but it seems like a wasteful approach to problems that could be solved quite differently, and with a greater good in mind. Another distracting argument keeping us all preoccupied while billionaire grifters empty our bank accounts in exchange for empty promises.

…I sigh and let that go, too…

There is still no hint of daybreak, yet. The clock is ticking, though, and this moment is finite. I get to my feet with an impatient sigh, feeling more resigned than purposeful. I commit to dragging myself along the trail again this morning. I’ll feel better once I’ve gotten a walk in, I know. I just don’t happen to “feel like it”, but I also decide not to let that stop me.

…Fuck, I really want a nap. 😂 Instead, I begin again.

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Categories Allegories, anhedonia, Anxiety, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, health, Healthy Living, meditation, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Sleepless Nights, solo hiking, The Art of Being, War and News of War, Words
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