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1460 Days to Go

January 21, 2025 //
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It’s time to survive a grim sort of count down. 1460 days to the inauguration of the next president, on January 20, 2029. It seems a long time, I know. It could happen sooner, after a fashion, mortality being what it is, and circumstances being unpredictable; the future is not written. Make no mistake, we’re all in for a rough ride…unless, of course, you’re part of the billionaire class, and also a favorite of the current occupant of the office of President of the United States of America. I’m very much hoping – and clinging to that hope – that this administration does not bring the fall of our democractic republic. That would be…horrifying. Not that we’re aren’t already well on our way to face a few horrors. The wheels are in motion.

(It’ll be easier to get through the next four years if you refrain from doomscrolling news media or social media feeds.)

Have you read On Tyranny? It’s a good read, and you may find either comfort or useful tools therein. I definitely recommend it. Amazon has it, of course. So does Powell’s, and AbeBooks. Stand up for yourself and your family, your community, and people who are clearly at a disadvantage under this administration. Be the best version of the human being you most want to be that you are able to be. Speak truth to power, and don’t allow yourself to be talked out of what you know you’ve seen yourself. Hard times are ahead for that actual truth. Seek ethical fact-checking, and don’t believe the hype. These things do matter. It is unfortunate that so much of our world has become a race to generate revenue by a handful of already sickeningly wealthy hoarders of cash and corrupt seekers of power. It’s pretty grotesque. My personal vote for the two most toxic characteristics of human beings are greed and pettiness.

…1460 days…

I breathe, exhale, and relax. The here and now does not have to be eternally infused with all of that toxic bullshit. I’m home sick, which sucks, after a lovely visit with a dear friend, which was quite wonderful. My Traveling Partner and I have a good thing together, which is something I value, enjoy, and cherish with my whole heart. I sit with my gratitude, and let that fortify me for troubled times ahead. The Anxious Adventurer is a good guy, doing his best, learning and growing and working on being the best version of himself he knows how to be – while also figuring out who exactly that actually is. That’s a lot to do. He’s doing pretty well.

(We’re all in this together – and we’re each having our own experience. Each of us sees the world and these trying times through a slightly different lens.)

As a woman, I don’t feel at all “valued” or “defended” by this administration’s immediate attack on people who are not so simply defined as either man or woman, in fact, I’m insulted by the narrow stupidity of it. If “defending women” were any sort of sincere goal, we would have equality (in opportunities, in pay, in healthcare), and consent would be the common language of the land – expected, understood, and honored – and our government would not be filled with rapists (which it most probably is, based on the choices for incoming cabinet members, and the behaviors of many who have held office). The concerns of my Traveling Partner and his son may be somewhat different, focused on the things that seem most important and relevant to their own experiences and perspective. That makes sense.

(I plan to listen with care when people tell me what frightens them most, what fills them with outrage, and what they need to thrive. I can at least make the attempt. I hope we all make that attempt.)

I sip my coffee and let my mind move on. I will hope for the best, and be open to “things being okay” for some values of okay. It doesn’t seem likely that this administration has good intentions (at all), or any will to create a better world for every citizen, resident, and human being (it’s already pretty clearly not the goal) – but I won’t try to undermine the potential for success. Maybe they’ll stumble upon it through failure to understand the consequences of their decision making? Maybe they’ll simply fail at their “evil plan”? (Yes, I do see it that way.) Incompetence and gridlock are as much likely outcomes as any measure of actual success for this administration.

I sigh to myself. Still thinking about this garbage. I let it go again, and think about other things. Mostly art. Also books I’d like to have and to read. I’d thought it might be nice to obtain Andrew Lang’s fairy books, maybe as first editions… now I’m thinking it makes much more sense to have non-fiction volumes that instruct and guide and preserve knowledge of various crafts one might need to survive harder times. The Foxfire books have been on my list a long while… I smile to myself. I like books. I’ve grown much less fond of the internet. Books and conversations with real people – more of those things might save the world. I think about that while I sip my coffee. I think about making a trip down south to visit old friends and have real conversations.

…I’ll get over this sickness, then I’ll begin again…

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Categories 2024 Election, anger, Anxiety, art and the artist, breathe, Free Will, Frustration, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, Logic & Reason, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, The Art of Being, The Big 5, War and News of War, winter

Uneasy

January 20, 2025 //
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I arrive at the trailhead before dawn. Already, the sun rises earlier and I’ll likely see it as I reach the end of my hike. One last breakfast with The Author before he returns home and life settles back into something like a routine (after a flurry of doctor’s appointments). This morning is not an unpleasant one, nonetheless I feel uneasy; it is inauguration day. The start of Trump II, and I’m not reluctant to admit that I am concerned about the outcome(s).

… I have my own thoughts answering the question “how the fuck did we get here?, but I’m sure everyone does, and mine are perhaps best left for another time…

I breathe, exhale, and relax, and pull myself back to this quiet, pleasant, moment right here, on the edge of a favorite trail, a few minutes before daybreak. Another breath. I’m in a lot of pain this morning. It’s just my arthritis; the weather is quite cold and my pain is reliably worse in cold weather. (This is the likely cause – or one of them – for so many people moving to sunny warm places to spend their retirement years.) I’ve got my cane. I put on gloves and scarf. I’ll warm up as I walk. My pain will be both improved and worsened when I get back to the car. My osteoarthritis stiffness and pain will have eased some with movement. The pain in my left ankle and right knee will increase with each step. I snarl something irritable at past versions of myself for not taking better care of this fragile vessel – then remind myself to practice better self-care, myself, now, too.

…Time keeps passing. Aging is…

Still. Things could be worse. I passed several homeless people walking their carts of belongings down frosted sidewalks on this icy cold morning. I am fortunate to be housed, warm and secure. I’ve got good healthcare coverage (for many values of good, though limited by our 100% craptacular US healthcare system) – I can (and should) continue to work with my (new)(good) physician to improve my health and manage my pain more effectively. My Traveling Partner’s care is also in pretty good hands, and we have each other’s support and care, too. Things could definitely be worse. We never know when they might be.

I lace my boots, and think my thoughts, before I hit the trail. Martin Luther King Jr Day, today. I wonder what that means to people… Shouldn’t it be more than just a day off from work? I think about the ways in which the world has changed since I was a child, in the early 60’s… Pretty significant changes, mostly profoundly good, but often seeming “not enough” – how is there even any discussion over the Equal Rights Amendment? It’s 2025, how are we still at war? How are poverty, disease, and inequality still major, noteworthy, progress impeding, concerns around the world? How are there still people who want to work but can’t find jobs? How are there people who want to dedicate their lives to creative endeavors but can’t find (or afford to take) the time?

I sigh to myself. I’ll walk with my thoughts awhile, solve nothing (but maybe learn something about myself), and then begin again.

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Categories 2024 Election, Anxiety, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, Frustration, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, meditation, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, solo hiking, The Art of Being, War and News of War, winter

This Mortal Moment

January 14, 2025 //
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I am sitting quietly, listening to the woosh of the ventilation and the zing and buzz of my tinnitus. Just that, nothing more. Some minutes pass before I consider my keyboard or my thoughts. I just sit awhile, with this infinite seeming moment. It’s isn’t though; it’s quite finite and mortal and limited by this space and whatever time and attention I give it. Just a moment. Sometimes a moment seems so fragile and fleeting. A metaphorical drop in the bucket of a lifetime of moments…but…how big is that bucket, anyway?

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I sip my coffee. I give a bit of attention to the pain in my neck, my back, my headache, and then move on; my thoughts are elsewhere. Here. Now. Just being. I’m not doing anything right now – other than making a point of noticing the stillness, and this moment, and writing a few words before letting stillness and quiet overtake me again. I exhale slowly, hearing my breath and noticing that the sounds of the ventilation, my breath, and my tinnitus all seem quite “the same volume”. I’m not certain they are, particularly considering the “sound” of my tinnitus isn’t a “real” sound at all – no one hears that but me.

I stretch, and sigh, and adjust the way I’m sitting in this rather uncomfortable office chair. It’ll be a day of it, though a short one. I see a new doctor today. For a moment I wonder how that will go, and whether I’ve chosen well or poorly. I put all that aside, again; the time is not now. “Now” is just this moment, here. Quiet. Still. Alone. It’s quite pleasant and… something else. Fulfilling? Satisfying? Peaceful. For a moment (this moment) there is no chaos. This is a chosen, deliberate, willful thing. I am choosing peace and order in this solitary moment. It isn’t much, as peace and order goes, and it surely does nothing noteworthy to improve the state of our messy chaotic terrifying world – but it is here, and now, and it is real. (No one is dying in this moment, in this place. Real peace. I’m choosing it. You can too. So can “they” – and by “they” I mean all those beyond these walls who are choosing to kill, or to send others to fight and kill and die. Those are most definitely choices and could be handled quite differently.)

I sigh quietly, annoyed to have let my thoughts slip from this moment to other moments, other places – other intentions. I pull my mind back, and begin again. Here. Now. This moment. This place. This feeling of peace and contentment and stillness.

Later this week The Author will visit me and my Traveling Partner, and I am eager to see him – it’s been too long. 2016? 2017? Something like that, I think. I remember his visit to help me move into #59… or was it the duplex? Was it both? He’s a good friend – willing to help with a move. Hell, he helped me move to Portland from Fresno, both of us driving vehicles not ideally up for that challenge. That’s friendship, right there. This has been an enduring friendship since we first met… 1996? I think so. He has visited me. I have visited him (though less often). I think about making a trip down his way maybe this Spring – if my Traveling Partner is up to being without me for a few days when that time comes. Could be fun. A chance to see many old friends, and renew those with shared moments and new memories. A worthwhile endeavor.

I smile and my thoughts move on. I look at the time, reluctantly. The work day calls for my attention. My coffee is almost gone. Daybreak is visible on the horizon, beyond the windows. It’s time to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, inspiration, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, The Art of Being, The Big 5, War and News of War, winter

Waking Up to a Plan

January 7, 2025 //
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This morning I woke up feeling subtly different about “things”, generally. It wasn’t a huge obvious change of heart or significant shift in mindset, but there was definitely a hint of a sense of purpose that feels more focused. I like having a plan. A bit of self-reflection can go a long way toward “lighting the path ahead” – like wearing a headlamp on a dark trail. It’s no substitute for sunlight, but it’s better than wandering around in the dark.

I’m sipping my coffee and taking a look at my notes from yesterday. It’s not a detailed plan, just a handful of notes. Something more like a notion of what landmarks to look for on a memorized route than an actual map. For example, “read more bound books” isn’t very specific at all – but I also have an actual stack of books to read, and a list for more that I’d like to read once I’ve finished the stack I’ve got. Now that’s a plan. Well… no. That’s an intention, backed up by physical tools to get the thing done. My plan is to take advantage of quiet time in the evenings to read a bit, and on weekend mornings when my Traveling Partner is sleeping in (when I can’t quite start on housekeeping chores and such because I’d make too much noise), those are good times for reading. If I wake during the night, I’ve got another good opportunity to read a chapter or two, before returning to sleep. That’s a plan. Making it all come together is about the actual actions, and as I said, this morning I woke feeling focused and purposeful – and not just about reading more bound books, there’s more to my notes than that, more that I’d like to do, to live, and to change. So… there are definitely verbs involved. Life to live. Choices to make. We become what we practice, and I’ve plenty of practice ahead of me in the new year.

This morning I am feeling hopeful and encouraged about life, in spite of the chaos of the world. Yes, there’s a lot of distressing horrible shit going on in the world, but very little of that is happening in my little town, and none of it in my home or at my job, and I don’t mean to be selfish or self-centered about this, I’m just saying there’s more to life than the outrage machinery of the media, or the horrors of foreign wars. It’s okay to also embrace hope, and enjoy… joy. In fact, it’s probably healthy, and helpful. So, I make a point of it. I’m not ignoring the shit that needs changing in the world – I’m merely “filling the tank” so that I have the endurance for this race, and the resolve to speak truth to power, and the will to do what I can to make positive changes, even if that is only raising my voice without shame to say “this is wrong, we can do better”.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I’m already thinking about distant trails, and afternoons camping in forested places. It’s winter now, but Spring will come again. I think about my Dear Friend for a moment. She “gave up” too soon, I’ve often thought. A great many things that we human beings do are more than a little “use it or lose it” in practice. You can love hiking, but if you don’t hike, it slowly becomes more difficult until it’s not easily done at all. This is true even of movement, generally. I don’t want to follow that path, myself, don’t want to “give up” too soon – so I keep walking. I keep camping. I keep working in my garden. (Well, that last is presently a bit aspirational; my untended garden full of weeds vexes me every time I walk past. I can do better. It’s on my list.) It’s easy to feel the fatigue and the pain and to want to just… rest. It’s a risky choice to rest too often for too long. It can too easily become a sedentary life of inactivity and malaise. I keep walking. I keep beginning again. One more step. One more task. Another project. Life is full of verbs.

I look at my calendar – I see a new physician next week. The week after that, an old friend (The Author) will visit – I’m excited about that. I haven’t seen him since… 2016? 2017? 2018. It’s been too long. The week after that I get my hearing aids. Busy January. The path ahead unfolds step by step. I look over my notes; it’s not about “ticking boxes”. It’s my life. I want to live it. I’m enjoying making time for more reading. I’m enjoying refreshing my Czech language skills. I’ll try out a new recipe tonight – probably. I skipped my walk this morning, and it serves as a powerful reminder that consistency is also a practice. (Every day that I don’t walk a trail is a day that reduces the likelihood of hitting that 1k trail mile target, I remind myself unnecessarily.)

I sigh quietly to myself, and stretch. I’m 61 as I sit here – 62 in June. How much time do I have left? What do I want to do with it? How do I live my best life for the longest amount of remaining time? What matters most? I don’t “feel old” – but I also don’t feel young. Today’s a pretty good day – I’m not in a lot of pain (call it a 3 on a 1-10 scale, which is honestly pretty good for me). There’s more yet to do – and doing it from a perspective of presence and mindful awareness changes the experience for the better. I smile and sip my coffee and push up my sleeves. It’s time to begin. Again.

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Categories Allegories, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gardening, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, inspiration, joy, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, The Art of Being, War and News of War, weight loss secrets, winter

Responsibility, Fault, and Blame

January 3, 2025 //
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I’m sipping my coffee and thinking about words this morning. My coffee is seriously pretty damned dreadful, and the words I’m thinking over can be vexingly easy to misuse.

People are pecular, and inclined to misattribute what is going on within themselves (or externally) to some cause or another without even a casual fact-check. Humans being human; we are prone to assign “blame”. We think we know the how or why of a circumstance and we decide who or what is at fault based on our “knowledge”. Sometimes we think the fault is our own, and possibly accept responsibility for some event or circumstance, maybe even seeking to make amends for some thing we think we’ve done. Other times, it’s someone else deciding who or what they think is at fault for some situation or event, and they put the responsibility with that individual or group or entity, assign blame, perhaps demand accountability or redress of perceived wrongs. It’s strange stuff, most particularly because it’s often quite subjective, not well-researched, even thoroughly fallacious (or just fucking wrong). We human beings make a rather ridiculous number of assumptions, are exceedingly “gifted” at flawed reasoning, and confirmation bias, as well as offensively fond of maintaining a self-righteous grip on some dumbass notion without regard to any sort of fact-checking. We like being “right”, and we’re often willing to believe we are in spite of mountains of readily available evidence to the contrary. Fucking dumb. Humans being human.

I keep sipping my dreadful coffee. “Why do I do this to myself?”, I wonder, vaguely amused. I could totally go back to the break area and make a better cup of coffee. Instead I continute to sit with my coffee and my thoughts.

When I was much younger, I was often willing to expend a lot of energy arguing against stupidity (or lies). I rarely do now. It’s not that I’m not amused/offended/discouraged by apparent idiocy – totally am – I just… don’t feel I have the time to waste on that, these days. I have a life to live, and it is finite and mortal. I’d rather let wrong-headed bullshit go, and just move on (and potentially simply reduce contact with people perpetually inclined toward lies, stupidity, or negativity). I’d rather just not hang out with someone who is fond of conspiratorial bullshit than argue the point. I’d rather just smile and maintain a comfortable distance or an agreeable presence in the face of someone insisting on being wrong about something for which there is definitely evidence for a different opinion, than fuss over minutiae that may not truly matter for enjoying a moment together as people. It’s not that I don’t enjoy “being right” as much as the next person… I don’t enjoy expending energy fighting for it. If you think differently than I do, but don’t violate my personhood along the way (or anyone else’s), why do I care? You’re free to be wrong. Generally speaking, this seems a win, to me – being accepting, being tolerant, being okay with uncertainty or even being wrong. Only…

…I’m reading “On Tyranny“, and the author makes several very solid cases for specific circumstances in which being accepting or “agreeable” is not a good thing. Something to think about, and I sit with my coffee this morning thinking about words, thinking about ethics, and thinking about the potential risk in being too accepting or too tolerant, under a variety of circumstances. Definitely worth thinking about.

…Although, keeping it real? This doesn’t feel like a world where we’re all at tremendous risk from being “too tolerant” most of the time…

Sometimes there’s real personal risk involved in tolerantily accepting blame (or inaccuracy, errors, or lies) rather than arguing a point. Tolerance is virtuous – unless it is tolerance of actual evil. Real damage can be done. Words have meaning, how we use them matters. The world is complicated, and there’s surely room for many thinkers and many opinions, but there is only one actual reality, one world we all live in, one set of provable, demonstrable, documentable, actual facts – and a lot of people willing to undermine that reality to bolster a narrative that they prefer (whether for power or for profit). Real people can really get hurt. I could become one of those. So could you.

I sip my coffee grateful for this quiet moment of solitude. Right here, right now, there’s just me, this moment, and this dreadful cup of coffee. It’s on okay moment. I’m okay with the bad coffee; it’s real. It’s authentically crappy, and it is what it is. There’s nothing to argue about, and nothing to fear in being honest about it. No particular harm in it. Nothing controversial about a bad cup of coffee – unless perhaps I’m ready to go down the ethical rabbit hole of “should we be drinking coffee at all, considering the terrible exploitation of coffee growers?”. I sigh quietly. Shit is complicated when we “zoom out” and take in a bigger picture.

Reality is what it is. Reality doesn’t care what I believe (or what you believe), or whatever bullshit notions I may be inclined to cling to. Facts don’t lie – but it’s damnably easy to be wrong about whatever conclusions are drawn from them. Another sigh. Another sip of dreadful coffee. My thoughts don’t change anything this morning, and it’s time to begin again.

…Maybe a cup of tea, instead?

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Categories 2024 Election, Allegories, Anxiety, breathe, Fiction, forgiveness, Free Will, Frustration, gratitude, Logic & Reason, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Perspective, Practices, Relationships, Sleepless Nights, The Art of Being, The Big 5, War and News of War, Words
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