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Gray Sky, New Day Anyway

May 26, 2026 //
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My beloved wakes me early. He can’t sleep. He needs to sleep; he’s got work. I’m keeping him awake? My mind is still numb with sleep, and I don’t fully process what he’s saying. Have I overslept? I get up, dress, and head out, still not quite awake. Nothing is open yet, which seems odd. I get gas and begin to head up the highway “to work”.

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

I get a couple miles up the highway and finally process what time it is (04:00), what day it is (Tuesday, after a Monday holiday), and where I’ll actually be working, later this morning. I sigh to myself and double back towards my usual preferred walking trail for a weekday morning. Too early for anything but terrible gas station coffee, doesn’t matter anyway (I generally get coffee after my walk not before).

…Damn, though, coffee would be good right now…

I’m so tired.

I’m halfway down the trail when a gray dreary dawn emerges from the darkness. Looks like maybe more rain? My bones ache, muscles too. I’m not really complaining, just noticing. Different tasks and chores over the weekend means different muscles are sore, but I still managed some good self-care and sore muscles from effort mean lasting gains in strength. I’m okay with that. More sleep to recover would have been nice. Meh. I shrug it off and check the report on my CPAP machine app; only five hours. Not really enough (for me, personally, I do best with at least 7.5 hours, minimum), but I’ll get by, and I get another shot at healthy restful sleep tonight.

We rarely deal with ideal circumstances, as human beings. We overcome obstacles every day that we walk life’s path. I breathe, exhale, and relax. The cool Spring air is a little humid, damp, and smells of earth and green growing things. The morning is still and quiet. I spot a toad at the edge of the trail – an unusual sighting, and he’s sort of out in the open. I walk over and gently nudge him, encouraging him to hop into the wet grass, hoping he finds cover and safety there. He continues toward the creek a bit farther on. I find my favorite bench empty, no surprise at this hour. Bits of pale blue sky peak through breaks in the dense stormy clouds.

… Nice enough morning for it, I guess…

I sit quietly, mind mostly empty, still feeling groggy, but awake and unperturbed by the early hour. I’m often on the trail quite early. I watch the clouds moving past overhead. The clock ticks on. I could do more or behave differently, but the moment is fine as it is, and I embrace it with a feeling of contentment. This is pleasant solitary time, and I’m grateful to have the moment. I let my mind wander. Last night was special. I reflect happily on the recollection of shared intimacy and pleasure. I feel loved. (I grin to myself; it’s a very physical feeling.)

I sigh. The HVAC on a building nearby sounds a bit like distant ocean waves. My tinnitus sounds a bit like the buzzing of insects in the background that I remember from the humid southern summers of my childhood. I yawn and observe the dark gray storm clouds developing to the northwest; definitely looks like rain. A farm vehicle traveling too fast down the uneven farm trail that cuts through the vineyard sounds a bit like thunder. I wonder to myself again what reality is even made of?

Beyond the vineyard, storm clouds.

… Mornings like this, the structure of habit and practice is nice to count on; we become what we practice…

I glance at the time. No pressure, I got an early start. Coffee sounds really good though. I decide to get started back toward the car, and coffee. I shrug. Sure. My thoughts can come, too. 😆 It’s as good a time as any to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, Brain Injury, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, gratitude, Love, meditation, Metaphors, 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

Thoughts On a Day

May 25, 2026 //
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I’m often kind of blue on Memorial Day, and given that I’m a war veteran who has felt the loss of many who served with me, over the years, I guess that’s not a surprise. What does surprise me is that this year, I’m not feeling that at all. I slept in and after a sound and restful sleep, woke gently to a new day filled with promise and opportunity. And here I am.

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

I’m grateful for the holiday and the long weekend.

Memorial Day, 2026

Yesterday was odd. It began well enough, but after my walk the morning unraveled into frustrations built one upon another like a Jenga tower of aggravation waiting to tip over into rage or some ridiculously disproportionate tantrum. That didn’t happen, though, in part due to loving support from my Traveling Partner who recognized the role he inadvertently played in it, himself. His sweet concern and tender regret helped to resolve my agita before things really went sideways. He comforted me. Encouraged me to take care of myself, and was just generally the sweet caring partner I so adore. He makes minor emotional miracles (that are a major improvement) – and he makes cool fidget toys for me, too. (The newest of which I played with for hours quite happily.) 😁

After a hot shower, and a nap, I was fine. The day proceeded beautifully. My beloved picked up a project he could do in the living room and we hung out together watching a movie. My recollection of the day from the vantage point of this morning is all about the love and joy. It’s a nice change from a time when a morning like yesterday would have lead to days of struggling with my demons and trying – then failing – to manage my emotions, for many painful days (or finally choosing out of despair to drug myself into a stupor to stop the cycle of unmanageable heartbreak and fury). Years of tears are behind me. That’s okay. That too is a very human experience.

… It’s been a journey measured in years and practices…

The path behind me is what it is; in the past. The path ahead is mostly an unknown, and it will develop from the path I walk now. My choices and practices matter. (So do yours. However bad it has been, you can begin again right now and choose differently.)

I sigh quietly to myself on the edge of this literal path I’m sitting next to. Nice morning for a walk. My bones say it will rain…”soon”. The weather forecast agrees. Will it, though? Maybe. That’s the future. It changes constantly until it becomes the present, a real part of our lived experience. Until then it isn’t a given whether or not it may rain, or whether I’ll lose another friend to mortal frailty, or whether the local pharmacy will have my medication in stock, or whether a table will be available at a particular restaurant. It’s not worth getting spun up over some possible disappointment. Be present. Accept change and uncertainty, and practice non-attachment. These are extraordinarily secure stepping stones on a path through life that is fraught with obstacles and detours. I breathe, exhale, and relax. I’m not telling you what to do, I’m just sharing what has worked for me.

I sit with my thoughts awhile. My fingernails sparkle in the morning sun. I consider the day ahead. Vacuuming. Laundry. I think about dinner, later, and wonder whether tacos or chicken with corn on the cob sound better? My mind wanders contentedly through the ordinary. I’m okay with that. It’s Memorial Day – and I’m not crying. Instead, I feel a quiet respect and gratitude, and honor the fallen in my recollections. This year that’s enough – and I’m grateful for that, too.

I get to my feet and brush bits of grass from my jeans before I set off on the path back to the car. It’s a beautiful morning to begin again.

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Categories 2024 Election, Allegories, anger, Anxiety, Brain Injury, breathe, Despair, forgiveness, Free Will, Frustration, gratitude, grief, Healthy Living, inspiration, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, Spring, The Art of Being, The Big 5, War and News of War, women, Words

Sometimes It Doesn’t Feel Worth It

May 24, 2026 //
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A great mood shattered in an instant. Harsh words. Punishing criticism over elements of behavior or memory that are byproducts of brain damage or past trauma. Sisyphus didn’t have it like this. Progress. Achievement. Joy. Then failure, sorrow, yelling. Feelings of disappointment, shame, frustration, and hurt. Yuck. Stupid fucking primates and their messy g’damned emotions. Very human.

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

… I could get mired in these very human moments of failure (real or imagined, the emotions hit just as hard). It is at least partially what originally brought me here, a bit more than a decade ago. Being human is messy and complicated, and there’s no User’s Manual. I suck at some of this crap. We all do, to one degree or another. Sharing the journey gives purpose to the pain and sometimes lifts the weight of the baggage I’m dragging through this wilderness of chaos and damage. I’m doing my best. Legitimately, keeping things real, that isn’t always enough.

It is a new day, a beautiful morning. I wake early, dress, water the lawn and head for the marsh trail up the road. As I drive I consider how to practice better (deep) listening more consistently in more of my relationships (especially with my Traveling Partner) more of the time. It’s important to me.

The sky is streaked with pink clouds. The mountain, when the view reveals it, is a soft blue gray against a bold orange sunrise. There is no traffic at all, and I drive along patiently and contentedly, wrapped in the moment.

Arriving at the nature park, there is a dense mist clinging to the ground in low spots this morning. The air is cool and fragrant, and my sinuses immediately begin to feel stuffy. The marsh is more meadow than marsh this time of year and there are little birds everywhere. I take some Benadryl and check that I’ve got my bee sting kit handy and set off down the trail with my cane and my thoughts.

A new day, a chance to begin again.

I get to my halfway point thinking about that feeling of frustration and futility that can push my thoughts towards self doubt and self-abusive internalized criticism. It’s an emotionally unhealthy way to live, and a drain on resilience. It’s also an active rejection of growth and change – anything rooted in feelings of despair and futility is.  I breathe, exhale, and relax, as I turn over the details of the heated “discussion” in my head, seeking the useful details that can form the foundation of real understanding and a better way to practice communicating (specifically listening with care). This will probably be a lifelong challenge for me, given my issues. Knowing that isn’t self-critical, so much as recognition and acceptance – and acceptance is not an impediment to change.

We become what we practice.

So… about the feeling of futility itself, and painful doubt about the worth in making any effort to change? I ease that pretty reliably with reminders about the why in a given change, and also who I am doing it for. I embrace change on a journey to become the woman I most want to be, myself. When people who are dear to me, and people who have earned my respect, suggest to me (or demand) some particular change to my behavior (or thinking), I give it real consideration. The actual choice whether to change is about me living my values, and whether the proposed change will make me a better version of who I am. (There are still verbs involved, I will still have to work to build new behavior, and fight off old programming; changing behavior is rarely like flipping a switch, and generally more of a thru hike.)

Understanding a desired change as fitting my values and my sense of self is an important requirement for effective lasting change.

For me, feelings of despair and futility are very closely associated with finding myself unable to successfully make a change I have perhaps failed to understand as serving my own interests, or haven’t figured out in the context of my values or sense of self. (Or haven’t practiced long enough, consistently enough, for it to become default behavior.) Failing to live up to my own expectations of myself sometimes leads me to feeling despair and frustration, too, but the effort to become the best version of myself is a worthy journey – and also long, and sometimes vexing. “Practicing the practices” is the best approach I’ve found for me to take because change is neither immediate nor “sticky”; I have to work at this shit. I’m very human. (So is my Traveling Partner.)

Yesterday’s difficulties were primarily to do with not listening with care, and taking action too quickly, without a complete understanding of the request or need. It’s something I have real problems with, reinforced over many years and relationships in which the pressure being applied was specific to “speed of response” rather than to “fidelity to need”. It’s not a subtle difference, but years of reinforcement of less desirable behavior over time makes it more difficult to correct. I really struggle with it. I also really want to become someone who listens well and deeply. That is a communication skill with enormous value. So… I keep at it. Practice. Fail. Apologize. Reflect. Refine. Practice. Each iteration a bit better over time. Setbacks now and then. Occasional achievements that result in better relationships. It’s a process, and not a reliably fast one. It’s a journey. The journey is the destination. The journey is about me becoming the best version of myself that I can be, for myself, and true to my own values.

If you thought I had a shortcut to offer, you were wrong. There are no shortcuts, only more practice. 😆

… It’s not rocket science, People. It’s more difficult than that – and has more value. Where would humanity be if we had all learned to reliably listen deeply and communicate clearly without emotional escalation 100 years ago? How much conflict exists between people who communicate well and live their values?

I sigh to myself, watching the chipmunks and squirrels, and the festival of little birds of many kinds fluttering about. It’s a beautiful morning. I fortunate to have time and opportunity to reflect on change and I sit awhile thinking over yesterday and turning over conversations in my head. How might I have responded to this or that differently? I’m not reluctant to be accountable for my mistakes, and I’ve got plenty to work with. I wish my beloved well from this sunny meadow and hope he’s sleeping in and dreaming happy dreams.

Yesterday had some delightful high points and wonderful moments, too. It would be a mistake to overlook them. I sit awhile with my gratitude. Soon it will be time to begin again, again, and a new chance to be the change I want to see in myself. It takes practice.

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Categories Allegories, anger, Anxiety, Brain Injury, breathe, Despair, forgiveness, Free Will, Frustration, gratitude, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, Spring, The Art of Being, The Big 5, Words

The Rise of the Fall

May 19, 2026 //
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In the news, grifters go on grifting, the president of the US openly engages in what looks like insider trading, greed continues to shove AI “features” into tools where no one wants it, and people who already have much continue to take more from people who have very little. It’s not exactly humanity’s finest hour. Measles. Hantavirus. Ebola. All pretty bad. You know what’s worse? Genocide. War. Greed.

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

Where does this path lead?

Do better. If nothing else, we can, as individuals, choose to do better than billionaires and authoritarian jackasses. We can stop chasing dollars, and take a long look in the mirror, and question the path we are on. Are you on the path to becoming the person you most want to be? Will you live a life you can be satisfied with, ethically, or will you go to your grave reviled by all those whose lives you damaged?

I’m not telling you what to do. I don’t have easy answers. I’m human, too. I want the safety of knowing the bills are paid, that my family is in good health, and the pantry is stocked. I want the luxury of an occasional meal out, new hiking boots when these wear out, and comfortable clothes that fit. We probably all want something. I’m not here to sneeze on the things that matter to you. We’re each having our own experience. I just don’t see many billionaires doing good things for the world by design. $100 of philanthropy does not make up for $100 in damage to humanity. It doesn’t work that way. That’s not “doing good” in the world, that’s just fixing a pothole caused by one’s own endeavors. Performative guilt-soothing “good” isn’t a benefit to humanity once the damage is done.

Sometimes human primates are very disappointing. (Looking your way Altman v. Musk) Shoving “AI” garbage into the experiences of people who just don’t want it is not good for humanity. It’s just another cash grab by out of touch assholes who think their perspective is the only one that matters.

I sigh to myself and pause on the trail to watch the sun rise. A beautiful sunrise never disappoints. I breathe, exhale, and relax, and fight off the existential angst I woke with. It’s not as if my bitching is changing anything. (Sorry.) I do dislike seeing humanity’s potential actively being undermined by AI slop and enshittification. It truly sucks to see humanity come so far to fall so hard, so fast.

…It does feel (to me) as if we’re falling (sometimes)…

It’s a chilly morning on the trail. The air tastes of something almost autumn-like. It’s still Spring, so it seems strange to taste autumn in the air… but… I think we may have broken our planet, along with other destructive outcomes of human douche-baggery. I sigh, and watch my breath become vapor.

I reach my halfway point and stop for awhile. A warmer fleece would have been a good choice, but relative to genocide or drone strikes, it’s a minor inconvenience, nothing more. I’m well aware that the world I live in is bigger than this peaceful place betwixt small town living and agriculture. I just can’t stomach what I see going on in the world, and this small personal escape each morning to find a moment of contentment, perspective, and solace in solitude is a practice that keeps me from losing hope.

For a moment I can focus my camera on clear blue sky and rest my soul.

A startled possum out for a late one waddles past in a hurry, sticking to the shadows. Strange to see one out in the open in daylight, but she’s clearly more worried about getting home than anything to do with me. Noisy robins get on with the morning. The clock keeps ticking. My head aches and my tinnitus is almost loud enough to mask the sound of HVAC on a nearby building. I sigh out loud just to remind myself that the tinnitus isn’t “real” at all.

What I put my attention on directly determines the quality and character of my experience. I pull myself back to this moment, here, now. I make myself a note about this moment, and the day ahead, and something to do with free will and choices and walking my own path. Then I begin again.

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Categories Allegories, Anxiety, breathe, Despair, Free Will, Frustration, gratitude, Healthy Living, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, Spring, The Art of Being, The Big 5, thoughts on AI, War and News of War, women, Words

Any Given Day

May 10, 2026 //
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My tinnitus is shrieking in my ears this morning. (Well, okay, more of a high pitched static in the background, if static were made up of tiny chimes vibrating aggressively, with a touch of morse code in the background that I can almost but not quite make out.) It is a beautiful Spring morning in spite of that.

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

In the sunrise, all the promise of a new day.

I slept well and deeply. I woke gently. I dressed, watered the lawn, and headed to the local walking path to get a mile or two on my boots. So far an ordinary enough day. It is a Sunday, and Mother’s Day, but there’s not much to do about that around our house. I’m not a mother. My maternal figures have all passed. I sent my sister a Mother’s Day greeting and let it go. I suppose my Traveling Partner will phone his mother at some point today.

I think about yesterday as I walk. I think about today. Yesterday had some beautiful high points and some frustrating low points, too. I made a batch of excellent brownies. It was all very human. Today will no doubt also have highs and lows, beautiful moments and aggravating mistakes, failed communication and delightful moments of connection. Fucking hell, I’d like to get everything right all of the time, but I don’t see living perfection among the options on life’s menu. I guess I’m grateful that the brownies turned out well, if nothing else. I sigh to myself and keep walking.

Order, and chaos, and beginning again.

Yesterday was spent creating order from chaos. My Traveling Partner continues to move things around in his spaces, preparing for the work ahead, this week. Exciting to see. I help where I can, when I’m asked, and try my damnedest not to break shit, forget something, or misunderstand something obvious – with mixed success. I had expected to spend the weekend relaxing and focusing on my own needs, and my own spaces, and taking care of myself, but it didn’t play out that way; my partner asked for my help. Today, I have less to give. I’m not in as much pain, but my mobility is more limited. Today it takes longer to get to the halfway point on this walk. I’m actually fatigued when I get here. (I’d take a nap right this moment if that were convenient. It isn’t.)

I take a seat on the bench that is next to the trail, under the trees. My legs ache. My back, too. My head spins for a moment with unexpected vertigo and I half wonder if walking was a terrible idea, after all, but I’m here and the Spring air is sweet with the scent of flowers. I breathe it in deeply. The soft scent of joy is in the Spring breeze, it seems to me. I stretch and groan from the sensation of muscles protesting, and stretch again. In each movement, I feel yesterday’s effort.

I make a point of letting all my yesterdays go. This is a new day, and a new moment, all its own, to be lived and savored and enjoyed. I breathe, exhale, and relax. I commit silently to reviewing my to-do list and tackling the tasks that most directly support self-care in some way, and hope that my Traveling Partner doesn’t need much from me. I feel pretty drained and have little to give, but I don’t find denying him easy; I want to help. (Sometimes even at the potential cost of my health, safety, or sanity, and that’s not healthy.)

… Brain damage is hard to live with, and also hard to live around…

A small herd of deer steps from the trees, one by one. Probably the same little herd I see here now and then. Two of the does are obviously pregnant, the other two seem younger. I don’t see a buck anywhere around,  just the four does. They watch me with calm eyes and munch their way along the grassy edge of the trail, nibbling at the grasses and shrubbery. There is blue sky overhead, streaked with clouds, and the tops of the oaks are dark green against the sky. I could sit here for hours just watching the clouds and the wildlife.

Be present.

I meditate awhile. The deer move on. The clock keeps ticking. I wonder if my beloved got the rest he needs for the day ahead? I sigh to myself and get to my feet. It’s already time to begin again.

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