Archives for category: Sleepless Nights
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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

Real Luxury Isn’t Always Costly

March 28, 2026 //
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I woke up slowly in a quiet place – home. I made coffee. I made oatmeal, and contentedly sliced the last banana into it, chuckling because my Traveling Partner handed it to me yesterday, before he departed, and I forgot to eat it. I was busy with work (what a fucking waste of limited mortal lifetime, but it pays for everything else).

I took a comfortable seat in the living room. Ate my breakfast. Sipped my coffee. Watched the news Bubu and Dudu videos. I have the house to myself. What a crazy luxury! Better than diamonds or Louboutin shoes for me personally, the luxury of solitude at home is a favorite delight. My beloved knows this, and took his first opportunity to get away, meeting needs of his own, to give me this gift. I feel very loved lazing in my jammies, enjoying my coffee, soft jazz in the background as I write – on my laptop instead of my phone! Good grief, I could get used to this, but g’damn I’d miss my Traveling Partner…

Enjoying a moment of luxury, on my own terms.

… I reflect on that for awhile. When we maintained separate households, morning coffee together was the precious luxury. We made a point of it, often. I would not trade this relationship for solitude…or, not permanently. I do need my time away now and then, no shame, that’s who I am. Wow am I enjoying being able to enjoy that at home. I sigh happily.

Shortly, after coffee, after writing, after meditation, I’ll enjoy a leisurely shower, fold some laundry (because there are still chores to do to maintain good quality of life), and then head to the garden supply place on the other side of town, maybe, for more compost for the garden. I smile, thinking about taking my walk later in the morning, or possibly in the afternoon, maybe on a different local trail? No rush.

I feel content and unbothered, and comfortable in my skin and in my home. How lovely!

… I slept like crap, not gonna lie. With just me and my stepson (the Anxious Adventurer) at home, and considering the bridges he’s managed to burn with me due to his poor judgement and dreadful communication skills (and poor social skills), my mind refused to rest, I was restless and hyper vigilant, fighting PTSD “monsters in the vicinity” alarms clanging away in my consciousness. I slept poorly, woke often, and for too few hours. I shrug it off because this morning? Just wow. So good. This meets so many needs.

I’m grateful for this beautiful morning and the loving partnership that recognizes and supports that need. Did I say I feel loved? I definitely do. I finish my coffee. I’m looking forward to my shower. I’m enjoying these precious moments of solitude at home.

What are the little luxuries you yearn for and struggle to have or enjoy? So much of what matters most to us can feel just out of reach. That’s often because we placed it there, just out of reach, for… reasons. Choose wisely. For fucks sake don’t leave them there out of reach! Do you! What does that look like? Indulge the freedom to be truly who you are. Embrace the experiences you love. Enjoy your moment. If you’re not free to get there now, maybe begin again? These mortal lives are too short to waste time on a shadow of living, constrained by expectations, or the pressure of circumstances (or opinions). Take time to enjoy life’s simple luxuries while the opportunities last.

… Thanks, Love, 😍🥰 I definitely needed this…

I turn off the music and listen to the silence, before I head to the shower. These moments are mine – a precious treasure beyond price – I’ll enjoy them as long as they last, and then? I’ll begin again.

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

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Categories Allegories, Anxiety, art and the artist, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, joy, Love, meditation, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Sleepless Nights, Spring, The Art of Being, The Big 5, women, Words

333

March 23, 2026 //
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I sat for a few minutes at the trailhead before I set off down the trail. The available mileage read 333, and I thought wistfully of turning the car around, calling out from work and driving east to catch up to the sunrise. It’s early. The sun won’t rise for another two hours.

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

I take a few more minutes to calm myself, to avoid pounding down the trail more stomping than walking; that’s too hard on my feet, ankles, and knees. Pointlessly damaging. Once I am calm, I set off down the trail in the darkness.

I reflect on my experience as I walk, and get to my halfway point annoyed to discover my phone at 35% charged. Wtf? Did I not plug in the charging cable when I went to bed? It’s possible, but the possibility does nothing to charge my phone now. I sigh to myself and toggle on “extreme battery saving”.

This morning I was awakened abruptly by the bang of a cupboard or a door. I dislike being awakened by loud noises. It sets off my PTSD. I’m hyper vigilant as I sit here in the darkness, heart still pounding, tinnitus shrill in my ears, pain amplified by anxiety – all this in spite of well-practiced tools for managing my PTSD. It takes time.

I sit here taking the time I need.

Fucking hell. And on a Monday after a couple days away from work, too. It’ll be a busy Monday. Maybe a busy week. I remind myself that although I can’t reliably control the circumstances in which I find myself, I can control my reaction to them. I breathe, exhale, and relax. I meditate for awhile in the darkness.

I sit listening to the HVAC of a nearby building. This is no wilderness trail, just a pleasant space between human endeavors. Behind me, the acreage of the air museum and a water park, vineyards filling every bit of space in which grapes could be planted. Ahead of me, on the other side of a creek that winds its way to the Yamhill River, an apartment complex, invisible but for a few lit windows and some balcony lights. Later, after daybreak, the farmworkers will begin to arrive, and the construction workers building a luxury hotel none of the locals actually want will begin their work. I sit with my irritation; it has nothing to do with these details, although it is tempting to connect them with my experience.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I let that shit go.

I dislike drama. I dislike displays of temper. I dislike unexpected loud noises. It’s a human life; there’s likely to be some drama, some temper on display, and some loud noises. Hell, sometimes I may be the cause. I sigh to myself in the darkness. My anger over being awakened by shit that isn’t even to do with me at all doesn’t help anything. I let it go. G’damn, I’ll be glad to see the Anxious Adventurer move out. The friction between him and my Traveling Partner is unpleasant to live with.

… They are each having their own experience, and in either case, it isn’t about me…

It’s just two more weeks.

My head aches. I take my medication a little early. I hope it helps.

I sigh again in the darkness, and pull my attention back to me, here, now, in this moment. I’m eager to be painting again. The background tension in the household has made that difficult. I sit reflecting on several views, images, and ideas I have in mind to paint. Being in less physical pain day-to-day has increased my feelings of being inspired. I love this feeling. I focus on the feeling of being inspired and “anchor myself” to that feeling, instead of clinging to my irritation. It’s a good choice, and I feel lifted from my anger.

Soon the sun will come. I’ll finish this walk and return home to work – and to make a good cup of coffee, and begin again.

For now, I’ll enjoy this quiet moment, listening to the HVAC in the distance and the creek nearby, and think thoughts of paintings yet to be painted, and moments of joy yet to come. I’ll open my heart to gratitude, and enjoy fond recollections of the time I’ve been spending with my Traveling Partner, which has been exceptionally pleasant lately, and romantic and connected. Time and moments worth savoring, for sure. I glance at the battery indicator on my phone. 31% now. I shrug, look over my writing and prepare to hit “publish” on this very human experience, before I begin again.

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Categories Allegories, anger, Anxiety, art and the artist, Brain Injury, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, Frustration, gratitude, 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, Spring, The Art of Being, The Big 5, Words

New Boots, Familiar Trail

March 7, 2026 //
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My new boots arrived yesterday. I eagerly put them on this morning. I wisely didn’t immediately chuck out my old ones; I don’t know how much break-in time the new pair may need. So far they are decently comfortable.

First steps feel like a new beginning – because they are.

I have on my favorite pair of thick alpaca hiking socks, and these boots feel like they have room for cushioned orthopedic insoles, too. Feels like a win. My gait though is altered just enough to feel different. The boots have a relatively tall sole, adding an inch to my height and changing where I “think my foot is” in space. I chuckle when I recall getting into the car… the first two attempts were just me awkwardly figuring out why, instead of easily sliding into the driver’s seat, I was getting hung up when I tried to put my foot into the car. 😆

… I’m a human primate; I figure shit out…

The morning feels like a lesson in avoiding making assumptions, and perhaps new boots are a useful metaphor. I get to my halfway point. Short walk. Familiar trail. I’m out of breath though, thanks to this fucking head cold. I sit down and cough and sneeze my way through an entire pack of travel tissues, grateful to have brought along two.

I smile to myself contentedly. I am enjoying the morning, and the weather is mild. No work today and I will return home to a human being who loves me dearly. The greatest wealth I’ve ever known is in this love I share with the singular human being who is my Traveling Partner on life’s journey. I breathe, exhale, and… have a coughing fit. I try again. (Damn, fuck this head cold though! 😆 I could definitely do without it. I remind myself that it will pass. Impermanence is more permanent, by far, than a head cold.) I add cough medicine to my shopping list, and sit quietly with my thoughts for awhile longer.

DST changes the clocks tomorrow. G’damn I fucking hate this bullshit. It’s so hard on my body. It changes the timing on all my medications and also makes us all look just a little stupid, as though we think moving the hands on the clock actually changes when the sun rises, or how many hours are in a day. 😂 Fucking idiotic.

I see hints that Spring is coming.

I shrug to myself, and let all that go. Spring is coming. I see it in a faint green haze beginning to show in the tops of distant oaks. Flowers are beginning to bloom along the trail, too. Lush green grasses and weedy plants fill the spaces between the vineyard rows. I love Spring. Funny, I often say that autumn is my favorite season, but I’m not certain that’s true, as I sit here inhaling the scents of Spring. I definitely know what I like. I like the solitary morning moments, and the time on the trail. I like returning home, knowing love waits for me there.

I’m grateful for the paved and level path while I break in new boots. (It’s a metaphor.)

I like beginning again. It’s my path, and it’s Spring. I’m okay with not knowing where this path leads. 😄

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Categories Allegories, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, health, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Sleepless Nights, solo hiking, Spring, The Art of Being, Words

Alone in the Dark

February 10, 2026 //
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It is well before dawn. I’m at a local trailhead waiting for the sun, or maybe just waiting.

My Traveling Partner had a rough night, sick. I felt bad for him, and woke every time he did, but I had wisely gone to bed at my usual early time, and this morning I woke clear eyed and clearheaded, feeling pretty well rested. I hope he managed to get enough rest, himself.

Yesterday was weird. Sort of blurry and surreal from fatigue, I went through the motions of work, and once I had completed everything that was time sensitive and due, I went home and crashed hard. A two hour nap put me right, enough to make a good meal for us to enjoy as a family. Not enough to put forth the effort to clean up. I was grateful to have the Anxious Adventurer’s help with that.

Another day begins. I sit in the dark with my thoughts, grateful for the quiet time alone. My beloved encouraged me to sleep in and work from home this morning. I may yet work from home, but sleeping in? Not gonna happen. I woke at my usual time, feeling quite alert and rested. 😆 I got up, dressed, and headed out into the predawn darkness, rather than risk waking everyone by bumbling around the house or tapping away on my keyboard.

It is a chilly morning, although not particularly wintry (here). It is a mild 40F (about 4.4C), and the night sky is clear and starry for the moment. The weather says a foggy morning, but so far it is not that, at all. Not in this location – and I’m certainly close enough to a creek that feeds into the Yamhill River very nearby to see some fog. On foggy mornings, it’s usually quite thick here. Perhaps the temperature will drop and a fog will develop?

I sit quietly thinking about people and places. Friends. Lovers. Family. Colleagues. Strangers who crossed my path in some meaningful way. People. Lives that matter. Lived moments, shared and unshared. Family, community, and society. Human potential.

I sigh to myself, feeling vaguely disappointed by humanity “as a whole”, but realistically, I am most disappointed with those who contribute to human misery directly through their cruelty, pettiness, violence, indifference to human suffering, and/or self-serving profit seeking at the expense of, and through the misfortune of, others. Exploitative greed and capitalistic callousness is so toxic. We could do better, but to do so would require real change, right down to the deepest layers of what individuals value. We may never be ready to become better than what we are, as a species, and it will likely be our undoing.

… Dark thoughts in the darkness. Fitting, I guess…

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I let go of my dark musings, and my mind wanders on.

I’m in more than a little pain this morning, but it’s manageable for the moment, and I don’t cling to the experience, I just note the feeling and let that go, too. I’m grateful that chronic pain and some fairly minor limitations to movement and flexibility are generally the worst of it for me. I’m still walking. I sit with my gratitude for the surgeon that day (maybe it was night?) so long ago (more than 40 years now). He was frank with me that if I didn’t have surgery to attempt to repair my fractured spine, I’d be in a wheelchair, and partially paralyzed. There was no guarantee that the surgery would be successful, and there were experimental techniques involved. Two of my vertebrae were basically crushed, and would be rebuilt using hardware and bone grafts. 16 hours of surgery… Weeks in the hospital… Months in a body cast… More months of physical and occupational therapy and restrictions on what work I could do… And eventually, the osteoarthritis arthritis and the chronic pain setting in a couple years later. Small price to pay; I survived that injury, and that marriage. The pain reminds me that freedom has a price, and that the bill will come due.

… What price are you willing to pay for your freedom? Your rights? Your survival?  The price may be quite high. Paying that bill is not optional. You may only have seconds to decide…

Choose wisely.

My tinnitus is loud in my ears. My head aches. I take notice and let those go, too. I “flip a coin” in my head; walk or don’t walk? I make my choice, and begin again.

A new day dawning, a light in the distance. Yes, it’s a metaphor.
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Categories Allegories, Brain Injury, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, meditation, Metaphors, 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, The Big 5, War and News of War, winter, women, Words
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