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And an Iced Coffee

November 13, 2026 //
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It is a Friday morning. It’s also payday. I get an iced coffee on my way to the trailhead. Blonde roast, black coffee, extra ice.

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

The coffee tastes almost sweet. I love that first drinkable sip and the refreshing feeling of the ice cold liquid chilling me just a little with each swallow. I reach the trailhead, park, and sort myself out for the walk. Cane. Headlamp. Rain poncho. Yep – the sprinkling that followed me here continues to fall quite steadily, and I definitely want my rain poncho. My iced coffee goes back to the cupholder, my feet to the pavement.

I start down the trail happily contemplating the day ahead, and the weekend. I’ve got a room on the coast for a couple days of storm watching and painting. I’m grateful that my Traveling Partner pointed out the excellent price for the room. I feel loved and understood. He’ll get a couple days without dealing with my challenges on top of his while he works on projects of his own. We both benefit from these little breaks, they tend to remind us of the love we share. I miss him ferociously when we are apart, even if I’m just grocery shopping.

So…a short shift at work and home to pack and head down the highway.

I walk on, thinking about “curses” and hexes. Why? Um…why not? Actually, it’s the remnants of lingering contemplation of a video we watched last night. No link, it wasn’t that good, but it left a residue of unfinished thoughts in my head. I walk on, thinking my thoughts.

The rain continues to fall. Properly raining now, and I half wish I had slept in and had hot coffee at home. I’m not complaining, really, I also like the rain. I like the scent that rises from the wet ground, and the hint of wood smoke on the gusts of wind that whip past me intermittently. I reach my halfway point; a broken down picnic table shoved back under what is left of the tree canopy overhead, evergreens mingled with deciduous trees. I write a bit. Meditate. Respond to my beloved when he pings me to ask about my plan. I feel uplifted and merry.

I chuckle to myself remembering the books I packed for my coastal getaway away. William S.. Burroughs “Naked Lunch” and Thich Nhat Hanh “The Heart of the Buddha’s Teachings”. No, I don’t have an answer for “why those, though?”, they drew my attention from the bookshelf so I dropped them into my “bag of fun distractions”, which also includes my poetry notebook. My mind runs through all the packing steps, for later.

… I’m trying something daring today; no packing list. My intention is to stay present and aware, to take my time and also complete my packing with no drama and nothing forgotten. It’s a hell of a feat to put in front of myself. I feel confident I can manage it…

I breathe, exhale, and relax. The rain falls. The day ahead has purpose, and I feel ready to begin. I get to my feet and stretch before I resume walking. Lovely morning for it. I am thinking of that iced coffee waiting for me in the car. I laugh and wipe the rain from my face and my glasses, turn on my headlamp, and start down the trail.

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Categories Allegories, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, inspiration, joy, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, The Art of Being, The Big 5, War and News of War, women, Words

Can You Hear Me Now?

November 10, 2026 //
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Restless dreams, strange morning. Strange in all the best ways. My Traveling Partner was already awake, when I woke, and invited me to stay and join him for coffee, this morning.

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

By itself, enjoying coffee with one’s partner is not a strange thing. We don’t do it often (a combination of timing and temperament). It was quite nice to relax over a cup of excellent coffee together. He told me about a project he has started. I asked some questions. Good conversation.

At one point his temper flared up, but he bested it quickly, I didn’t fall apart over it, and the morning continued, rather delightfully. There is real value in giving people room to be, to err, and to grow.

I have been watching my beloved battle his loss of resilience and patience, since his injury (and more so since his surgery), and I am impressed and looking for lessons and practices I can also make use of. He understands his anger better than I do my own. He is my muse, surely, and oddly enough also a role model to me, always has been. We both (each?) have an eye on our tempers. (Maybe that’s just smart approach to human behavior and emotions? Human primates don’t domesticate easily.) I see him recover from a moment of anger and genuinely reset, quickly. He catches himself, takes a moment, and lets it go. Given the emotional space and safety to do so, he regains perspective quickly. I tend to “drink the poison” and seethe for days in an unhealthy way over some pretty small shit. He gives me hope that I can do better, with practice.

…I handle my anger so much more skillfully than I did when my Traveling Partner and I got together, and the memory of his firm, calm voice telling me frankly and simply that my uncontrolled rage was a relationship deal breaker got through to me more than the words of any therapist had. I am so grateful that he gave me the chance to work on it, instead of walking away.

The coffee was delicious. The conversation was interesting. The mood was relaxed. The memory of the morning is quite lovely and I smile as I walk down the trail, recalling various details, and thinking over an observation my beloved made. “You’ve been in your own head a lot.” He said it in a loving way, concerned about me. He’s right about that, too. I walk on, thinking that over.

… Feels like a Friday. It is the ripples of the lovely morning extending across my sense of the day…

Resilience needs practice. So does communication. I reach my halfway point thinking about practices, successes, failures, and beginning again. I breathe, exhale, and relax. This morning, meditation feels easy and my mind feels calm and settled. There is a work day ahead of me. My pain feels managed. I watch white clouds scoot across the black of the night sky. Daybreak soon. I could use more coffee.

The world is what it is, and most of it is not within my sphere of influence in any way. I can do my best, here, now, to live well, to love well, and to be my best self, and thereby do something to improve the world in some tiny way. It matters. Letting all the ills of humanity rest on my shoulders is neither useful nor healthy. It only serves to reduce how much I have to give, closer to home where my actions have real effects. The result isn’t only that I have less to give, I also end up missing out on so many potentially delightful moments because I’m not fully present and anchored in this moment. I reflect on that.

Daybreak comes. A sprinkle of rain starts falling. It’s a good time to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, anger, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, Frustration, gratitude, Healthy Living, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, The Art of Being, The Big 5, women, Words

All Those Yesterdays

November 9, 2026 //
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My sleep was interrupted and uneasy. Strange dreams were only part of it. I had intended to change the linens on the bed over the weekend, and didn’t (between Saturday’s arguing and Sunday’s pain I didn’t have it in me at all).

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

… My Traveling Partner woke me during the night, sleepless, vexed and wanting fresh linens. I got up and changed the linens, remade the bed, and went back to sleep. Further discussion of any sort would only have served to prolong the interruption of my own sleep…

Fucking hell I am tired this morning. It is what it is. I step out of the car in the predawn darkness, grab my cane and stuff a pack of travel tissues into my pocket. Good enough. I set off down the trail briskly. Well, as briskly as I can manage this morning. I’m halted several times by sneezing fits. I pause and deal with it, before walking on.

I think about the weekend as I walk. My mind wanders to life, work, love, art… I am grateful for the life I have lived, rich in experience. I contemplate my growth and change over the years. I think about Plato’s Cave, and the Ship of Theseus. I consider all the yesterdays that have brought me here, as surely as steps on this trail will take me around the vineyard and back to the car…

… Am I there yet? Am I the woman I most want to be? (Short answer, no, not yet.) And who exactly decides who she is? Well, that’d be 100% all me, although there are plenty of non-me entities that would like to have some influence over that vision. (Thanks, I’ve got this.) I consider myself fortunate; I may not have an easy relationship with the woman I have been, but I have a clear understanding of who I most want to be. Though that can present occasional challenges, when it turns out someone else wants (or expects me to want) some completely different set of characteristics or thinking, and I don’t seem ready to comply. Awkward. I will persist in walking my own path. I am my own cartographer. This life is mine.

I get to my halfway point and stop. I breathe, exhale, and relax. The morning is mild. No rain. Overcast sky. Daybreak comes gently and I almost miss the moment, lost in a contemplative reverie. The autumn air smells of distant wood fires and fallen leaves.

One of the most difficult lessons I have found in life is learning to accept that we are “each having our own experience”. Hell, we can’t even be certain if we see each of the colors we can name as precisely the same as what another person sees. We sort of trust that pink is pink when we see it, and that another person seeing it recognizes it. We don’t really know what it was they saw, only that they also call it “pink”.

I watch daybreak turning the sky from night’s deepest black to a dark blue gray. The trees are silhouetted, black shapes, indistinct aside from their outline against the paler sky. I love this moment, the tipping point between night and day. Every sunrise is a new beginning. A chance to walk on from what has not worked, on a path to change – it feels full of promise and potential, every time.

I sit with my thoughts awhile longer, reflecting on the power and the purpose of having a sense of who I most want to be. Thinking over life’s vast menu. I think about all the days and decisions that brought me here, to this particular Monday, feeling that I’m still only midway on this journey, and that there is further to go.

I sigh and stretch. I feel reluctant to let the weekend fall away into the past and walk on. There is more to learn and understand. I’m just tired of walking, maybe. (It’s a metaphor.) I breathe, exhale, and relax. I sit with my thoughts, eyeing the path ahead. Soon enough, I’ll have to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, anger, Anxiety, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, Frustration, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, The Art of Being, The Big 5, women, Words

Sprinkles

November 6, 2026 //
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The autumn air smelled of rain as I left the house. I inhaled it deeply, grateful for the mild morning, and also that I had managed to leave for the day without creating drama over the difficult unrestful night.

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

It started sprinkling just as I got to the trail. Little spatters of rain tapping pleasantly on my rain poncho. It’s isn’t enough to discourage walking. I walk on, thinking about other “sprinkles” in life…

… Major changes in Congress, both House and Senate.

… Amazing firsts among newly elected Governors.

… Celebrity rapists being tried and convicted.

…. Communities standing together against AI data centers and AI slop.

A lot of things won’t change, or won’t change yet, but some things will. Maybe humanity will figure shit out and do better? Maybe elected officials will figure their shit out and actually govern skillfully on behalf of all the people?

Maybe. Maybe not. I won’t hold my breath – but I will appreciate the sprinkles of improvement and change.

… Sometimes the best thing I can do for myself in a difficult moment is stop and really appreciate what is good, and the things that are going well. It is easy for our negativity bias to take over and persuade us that life is crappy. Moments pass. It is worthwhile to let small shit stay small.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. My usual halfway point was occupied today. Racoons. So cute and fluffy, but seriously not to be trifled with. I walked on a ways to this spot. In the darkness, it may as well be the same spot. The sky is cloudy, no stars. There’s an orange sort of glow along the northern horizon, where the lights of town illuminate the clouds from below. The rain stops. My physical pain continues. Life. Change is. I take another deep breath, and exhale slowly.

I sit with my thoughts awhile. The weekend is ahead. I’d like to paint, but there’s a ton of housework to do. It seems smart to focus on getting healthy rest and doing a bunch of chores. I remind myself to ask my beloved what he needs out of the weekend before I commit to plans.

The sky begins to lighten. A new day. A doe steps out of the trees and crosses the trail into the vineyard. She regards me calmly as she passes. I exhale the breath I had been holding unintentionally and breathe in again, exhaling, and relaxing.

I meditate. Write. Then? Begin again. There’s a whole new day ahead. Time to walk on, get coffee, and get to work. I get to my feet, and look down the path. No idea where the journey ultimately leads, but this is my path and I’m walking it.

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Categories Allegories, art and the artist, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, inspiration, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, The Art of Being, The Big 5, Words

Exercise Your Franchise

November 3, 2026 //
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Vote.

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

If you are a US citizen, it’s election day. Time to exercise that precious franchise and make your voice heard. (Have you voted already? I have.) Please don’t waste your opportunity to choose.

The morning is dark, and surprisingly mild. A warning sprinkle of rain drops spatters the windshield of the car as I head to the trail. Fair enough; I’ll wear my rain poncho. I arrive at my destination, and not one additional rain drop has fallen, that I can tell. I shrug it off and stuff my rain poncho into my pocket instead.

I set off down the trail. The walk is uneventful. I reach my halfway point and stop for a moment of reflection. The heavy cloud cover makes the morning a dark one. I feel peculiarly alone.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. Good morning for meditation. I take my time. No reason to rush.

I sit with my thoughts awhile. I think about my right to vote. Sure, (white) women were granted the right to vote in 1920, but it would be 1965 before a truly inclusive franchise was provided, and even then (and now) there’s always some clown fucking with voting rights or access, generally out of racial animus or open misogyny. I vote. That seems the best demonstration of my regard for fuckwits who have no way to win without cheating. Women, people of color, indigenous people, and students have had to fight for their franchise again and again. Keep voting. Please don’t waste your hard won franchise. Choose wisely.

…Then, if you need to get the bitter taste out of your mouth, watch South Park season 8 episode 8. It has aged pretty well…

It begins to rain. There’s no rain in the forecast for today. I’m glad I didn’t rely on the forecast. I pull my rain poncho from my pocket and put it on.

I voted – and I have also been preparing for tough times. I don’t know the outcome, so I prepare for things to go very wrong, (in case they do). I remind myself to check the pantry and supply cupboard. I feel certain we’re out of a couple staples.

… I think about making chili for dinner…

I sigh to myself. Another day in America. I wonder what I really think about that, and remind myself to get some time alone with my thoughts, beyond this bit in the mornings. I know my beloved Traveling Partner will support that; he reliably does.  Maybe I just need more time in the studio?

I get to my feet, feeling inspired and introspective. Strange morning. I stretch and wonder how the elections will turn out and whether we will have a governing body of adults who genuinely see wise governance and creating a better nation for everyone who lives here as their obvious purpose? Probably not. Probably just another cohort of ineffective petty assholes serving special interests and beholden to billionaires. I sigh to myself and walk on.

… It’s time to begin again.

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Categories 2024 Election, Allegories, Anxiety, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, meditation, Metaphors, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, solo hiking, The Art of Being, The Big 5, War and News of War, Words
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