Archives for category: War and News of War

It’s Veterans Day, today. It is a mild morning in the Pacific Northwest, before sunrise. I’m at the trailhead, in no hurry, waiting for a bit of daylight before I start down the trail. The bridges in town and even the entrance road to this park and the trail that wraps around one side of the air museum property are marked with American flags. It is one way of honoring Veterans of the armed forces on this holiday. Today, I’ll hear a lot of performative expressions of appreciation for my service, and possibly some small number of sincerely felt expressions of real gratitude.

Have you put any thought into what you are thanking Veterans for? Saying “thank you for your service” is not a telling indicator that someone actually understands the sacrifices and changes such service demands. Mostly, it seems to me, people – civilians who have not served their country, I mean – don’t “get it”, at all. They simultaneously seem to elevate military service, and also seem to think that hollow performative thanks are sufficient to meet their obligation to care for and provide for those Veterans their nation has created, used, damaged, and cast aside. “Thank you” isn’t enough. Fund the VA. Ensure Veterans have access to the lifetime of healthcare they may need – at no cost to them, at all. These Veterans already did their part; they served. Make sure they have jobs. Homes. Resources. Relief from poverty. An opportunity to heal their moral and emotional injuries. All of this requires more than a perfunctory “thank you” delivered in passing on a single date on the calendar. You can’t easily know what Veterans go through, or what it takes to “put Humpty Dumpty together again”, but you can care, and you can vote.

Daybreak. Veterans Day 2025.

I get to my feet as daybreak reveals a new day, and start down the trail, alone with my thoughts.

This year it seems likely that, for various reasons, I’ll be hanging out with just one Veteran today, my Traveling Partner. He’s Navy. I’m Army. The differences in our service are less important than the similarities. He never chides me over my mixed feelings about my military service. He understands more than most people can. We’ve each had our own experience of military service. Veterans are not a hive mind, and we don’t all feel proudly patriotic about our military experience. Some come home grievously wounded,  physically, morally, and/or emotionally. We don’t all look back fondly on our service or our former comrades-at-arms. Some of us drag that baggage through a lifetime of struggle after we leave the military, never really healing, never really finding our way, never moving on from the damage done. (That’s more common than people probably realize.)

… Some never make it home at all…

I sigh quietly, sitting at a favorite halfway point. It’s been awhile since I’ve been here in daylight, watching the sun rise… or was that yesterday? 😆 I turn around for a look back, toward the rising sun. Pretty sunrise this morning. I don’t see much of it from this spot, but I see a bit of it between the trees that line the paved portion of the trail. Isn’t that representative of the limitations of our perspective, more generally, too? We see only a small portion of everything there is to see in some moment, and our understanding is limited – because our information is limited. Accepting uncertainty, practicing non-attachment, testing our assumptions, fact-checking what we’re told, and being open to new information are important skills for reasoning well, and thinking critically.

A metaphor in a colorful sunrise, and a moment of gratitude in which to enjoy it.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I meditate as the sun rises. I contemplate my good fortune and take a moment for gratitude. It’s been a long and sometimes difficult journey. I’ve been through some things. I’ve seen some things. I’m here, now, though, and I have better tools for dealing with the chaos and damage – even the lingering baggage of my military service is easier to lug around these days. (If you need help, get help! There are resources, and you can heal. You’ll have to do the verbs, but you are not alone.)

The VA hasn’t reliably done well by me, and I’m not inclined to sugarcoat that, but I’m also very much aware that it doesn’t get the funding it requires (and deserves), making it difficult to live up to the explicit commitment to provide care to Veterans. The solution isn’t privatization, so much as accepting the reality that doing the needful comes at a cost. Social safety nets like the Veterans Administration, and Social Security, and SNAP, shouldn’t be about profit, ever. They are about decency,  care, and a common good that should ideally matter more than profits. (My opinion.)

The VA has also done more, better, often, for me (and many other Veterans)than many civilian medical professionals ever could. It’s been sort of hit or miss, over the years, and mostly due to constraints and systemic failures due to partisan bullshit and inadequate funding. Still, I’m grateful. I’m okay, now, for most values of “okay”, and the VA has played a part in my journey.

… I’m glad Veterans Day is in the autumn, that just “feels right” to me somehow..

I sit thinking of old friends, battle buddies, and the many uniquely military experiences that are shared among Veterans that wouldn’t likely be understood by civilian friends and colleagues. Some are quirky and amusing. Some are dark, to the point of shared trauma. Some seem almost nonsensical out of context, others seem unbelievable. Some make great anecdotes, others can’t be shared even in whispers, except among those who know, and know better than to discuss it freely. Sometimes I miss active duty service… mostly I don’t.

The colorful sunrise becomes an ordinary looking autumn morning. I’ve got a couple of errands to run. Sooner or later, someone well-meaning will thank me for my service. I’ll thank them for their appreciation, without making it “a thing”. Then I’ll begin again. Good enough.

…If you really do care about “supporting our troops” and caring for our Veterans, please also vote for representatives who will actually fund the VA, and social security, and SNAP, because I promise you – our Veterans and active duty service members use those services and need them.

I’m at the trailhead, sitting at my halfway point in the predawn darkness. I woke too early, jerked from a sound sleep by my own anxiety. I dressed quietly and slipped out of the house without waking anyone (as far as I could tell).

Anxiety, 11″ x 24″, acrylic on canvas with ceramic details. 2010

Anxiety is a liar. At least, my anxiety generally has been. I’ve struggled with anxiety for all of my life that I can remember. It was once far worse than it ever is now, and I’m grateful to have better tools for dealing with it these days. A gentle, nonjudgmental, “body scan” confirms the suspicion that developed shortly after I woke; this may not even be anxiety, actually, I’m possibly “just” in pain. Because my osteoarthritis (in my spine) begins at my fusion and extends upward into my neck, it puts most of the intensity in approximately the same general area of my body that I would experience the physical elements of anxiety. I am prone to conflating or confusing them as a result. So maybe I’m not anxious at all? Using the right tool for a given task is important to success…

I breathe, exhale, and relax. Each subsequent deep breath and slow, complete exhalation would ordinarily begin reducing my anxiety almost immediately. Far less effective if what I’m fighting is actually physical pain being reinterpreted as anxiety. I’ve already taken my morning medications, and hopefully they begin being helpful soon. I shift uncomfortably and sigh. Yeah, this is pain. “Just” pain. I turn my attention to more appropriate self-care strategies.

It is a pleasant morning, not particularly chilly, nor rainy. The air is mild and fresh. A delicate sprinkling of rain fell very briefly, more a soft mist really, and it didn’t last. The darkness will soon give way to daybreak, and I’m in no hurry at all. I took today off from work. These quiet moments are mine – and so is the day ahead. I smile to myself in the dark. No drama. No chaos. “Nothing to see here”, and I like that just fine. The world is in chaos, I know, but these quiet personal moments for reflection and self-care matter every bit as much as which criminal cronies the corrupt cheeto-in-chief is going to pardon next. It matters more, probably, at least with regard to this one mortal life that I happen to be living, myself. (I just have to figure he’ll eventually get around to pardoning them all, he seems the sort to abuse that kind of power.)

I sigh and let that shit go. Sure, I’m disappointed in what Americans have allowed to fester within our government. I’m outraged and offended by the level of corruption in the current administration, and the ludicrous petty cruelty being demonstrated by people one might expect to know how to do better. It’s pretty horrible – and the horror is not reduced by also failing to take care of myself. Quite the contrary. Everything going on in the world feels more extreme when I fail to practice good self-care. So this morning I focus on that. No reason at all to even glance at the news this morning.

Another deep breath, another sigh. I can feel my pain medication beginning to help ease my pain, and as my pain recedes, my anxiety is further and further reduced. Daybreak comes, and the sky hints at a cloudy day ahead. The variable autumn weather definitely worsens my subjective experience of arthritis pain. Another sigh. Each one seems to somehow ease my pain in some small incremental way. As my pain eases, my attention broadens, and my world becomes bigger than this one moment here, now. I notice the treeline taking shape along the edge of the creek, beyond the vineyard. I see headlights sweep past as farm workers arrive to begin their day. I think about Thanksgiving, only a couple weeks away. I have a lot to be thankful for. I take time for gratitude while I sit watching daybreak become the dawn of a new day.

I catch myself smiling, feeling relaxed and merry. No work today. No time pressure at all, just a woman, a trail, and a moment. Later, I’ll head for coffee somewhere in town, and poke around in antique stores for a cool restoration project for my Traveling Partner. The day is mine, and I have clearly been needing a break. I’m glad I took one.

There’s always now.

When was the last time you took some time for yourself? Not time spent running errands or catching up on chores or long delayed projects – time for you. Time for self-reflection, for being, and for resting your mind is more what I’m asking about. If you haven’t been taking that time with (and for) yourself, why haven’t you? Won’t you be more capable and resilient if you take good care of yourself? It’s just a thought (and maybe a suggestion).

The sky begins to turn a soft shade of blue gray. No colorful sunrise this morning – but that doesn’t stop me from feeling grateful to see another day dawn. I am intensely grateful; I didn’t expect to get this far. On the other side of the trail, a plump racoon ambles along. She gives me a glance, and continues on her way, a single file line of youngsters following along. I smile. I am reminded that what we notice has a lot to do with what we are looking towards. We are each having our own experience, and in many ways, we’re creating it as we go.

… Choose wisely…

I sigh as I get to my feet, ready to finish my morning walk and begin a new day, again.

I arrived at the trailhead for my morning walk at daybreak. I didn’t expect a colorful sunrise, given the time of year, and the recent weather generally, but I also slept in this morning, which changed my timing. (Which has nothing to do with whether there would be a colorful sunrise, only the likelihood of seeing it.)

Mt Hood in the distance.

I parked, grateful for the quiet morning and the pleasant drive. Grateful for the simple good life I am fortunate to enjoy with my Traveling Partner. My mind wanders to my colleagues in the Philippines. They’ve had a rough year, multiple super typhoons, earthquakes, and even volcanoes erupting. I silently wish them well, hoping they are safe from harm, and reminding myself to check on them.

I set off down the trail, content to walk with my thoughts over unmeasured miles. I’ll get there when I get there, wherever “there” turns out to be.

Behind me, the sun rises.

I get to my halfway point, feeling light-hearted and calm, unbothered by the troubles of the world for the moment. Feels good. I haven’t looked at the news today, other than the weather. Weather reports are to news what cookbooks are to literature; generally very neutral, fact-based, and practical. I’d very much like it if all of the news were handled in a similarly practical factual way, but since that is not the situation in the year 2025, I have been making a point of not looking at that crap until later in the day, if at all.

…And you can’t make me 😂 …

How many times can I look at repeats of the same aggravating, outrage-stoking, needlessly provocative AI slop or partisan gaslighting without becoming (understandably) distressed or depressed? No thanks. I’ll accept a measure of predictable uncertainty and ignorance of world events in the moment. The most important details will still reach me, filtered through work channels or conversations with friends, or shared to me by my Traveling Partner, who understands better than anyone besides my therapist the effect too much of such things can have on me.

Are you old enough to remember adults in your life reading the newspaper? I’m talking about the folded paper newspaper that may have been delivered with a thump right to the doorstep each morning or maybe just on Sunday… Growing up, for me, that was my father and my grandfathers. (My recollection is that my mother and grandmothers were more inclined to read magazines and books.)

The pace of knowledge and news seemed slower before the rise of cable news, and later the Internet, and the words in each article, edition, or volume seemed more carefully thought out. Catching up on world events weekly wasn’t ridiculous – and it certainly seemed enough to fuel an entire week of conversation.

…Why do you need immediate real-time news 24/7, anyway…?

During my own lifetime, the pace of news delivery has accelerated beyond the point of new news being available to report at all, creating an opportunity for bullshit repeats, “clickbait”, sponsored content, and AI slop to thrive. That’s not good news for human thought. I think it began with the evening news on television (so convenient!), and quickly worsened with the coming of cable news channels. If it were all high quality, skillfully researched, factual, and with clearly stated agendas, biases, and the special interest groups backing it openly identified, the news might be a real value, and a useful resource. I don’t think it measures up to that standard, presently. I think it is reasonable to doubt the truth of most of what we see shoved at us as “news” these days. That’s definitely true of the laughably dishonest missives coming from the White House directly. It’s almost certain someone has a stake in controlling what we think as a population, no matter where we get our news. It makes sense to think critically about what we read, hear, and see that is presented as the news.

So…yeah. I guess I’m 100% okay with a measure of “ignorance” of the sort that results from carefully vetting news sources and just catching up once in awhile, or based strictly on work relevant topics and local news each week. I’m not okay with letting advertisers dominate my consciousness or cognitive processes, or letting notifications regulate my attention. I’ve been switching my phone to “do not disturb” more often (a lot), and carefully managing casual access to my attention. So far these steps have been very freeing in practical terms, and with some expectation setting, don’t seem to have created any great inconvenience for people who need to reach me. Helpful.

I sit watching the new day unfold, thinking my own thoughts. Delightful. I take time to meditate. To breathe. To be. I listen to huge flocks of geese passing overhead, and traffic whoosh past on the highway beyond the marsh. I breathe, exhale, and relax, and fill my attention with here, now. It’s lovely. On the pond’s edge, opposite where I am perched on this fence rail, nutria go about the business of being nutria. A youngster eyes me curiously and begins to makes it’s way nearer to me. The mother looks up, attentive, and some sound I don’t hear, or movement I don’t see, calls the youngster back to its mother. A small brown bird scratches in the leaf litter at the side of the trail. None of this is “news”, and all of it is more relevant to this moment of being, for me, as an individual.

I think of things my beloved Traveling Partner has said recently, about what is within our control, and how he seeks to manage stress through selective attention, relevance, and perspective. He’s right, too, and these are also things that have been emphasized in therapy over the years. Trying to control what we don’t have control over, and trying to fix things outside the scope of what we can directly act upon drives a lot of needless stress. Hell, even trying to have an opinion about something we just don’t actually know anything about adds to our stress! It can be a very stressful experience, this human experience. It is true that most of our suffering and stress are self-imposed, too, making it both “easy” to resolve, and also quite difficult.

(I didn’t say I had this solved, I’m just thinking about it.)

I sigh quietly, still managing to startle a chipmunk I hadn’t seen approach. I laugh merrily to see her dart away speedily, tail up. I smile toward the sky as I get to my feet to begin again. It’s a new day.

After an after work nap that began as “laying down for a couple minutes” and quickly became collapsing into a deep sleep for 90 minutes, I still crashed pretty early last night. I slept deeply, but woke early, abruptly, jerked from a deep troubled sleep by… what? I don’t know, and it didn’t matter. I mostly felt relieved to be awake, and no longer prowling The Nightmare City for safety or an exit.

I got up quietly, dressed, and left the house. My waking consciousness was still disturbed by my dreams, but I know the relative importance of such things (basically, none), and I don’t take it personally, I just move on. I drive to the nature park for my morning walk, and considering the very dense fog this morning, I wait for more light. It wouldn’t do to carelessly step off the seasonal marsh trail in the fog and darkness, and risk tumbling into a pond (or the Tualatin River), most especially during a government shutdown that means there is little chance of help coming. On mornings like this, foggy, chilly, and quiet, I often have the trail entirely to myself.

My nightmares vex me, and I am feeling annoyed. Daybreak came and I walked the first half of my route in the dim light, thinking about the symptoms of the sickness that has infected our national identity. It’s everywhere. An already rich, well-documented fraudster gets a “trillion dollar payday”. Regular people go without promised services and even food because the grifter-in-chief is okay with using actual human lives as bargaining chips and thinks (apparently) that governance is some sort of game. Armed masked thugs kidnap Americans off the streets of their own neighborhoods without personal accountability or consequences, because supposedly they’re the fucking good guys (they’re not). The courts play badminton with people’s rights. The media puts more money and effort into marketing copy than real news, and AI slop is infesting every feed, every channel. The president makes a point of pardoning criminals – as long as they’re his friends, or offer him some personal benefit. Vile. Hateful. Corrupt.

It’s all so very tedious and ugly… My footsteps crunch along the path in the chilly fog. I’m frustrated and disappointed by the pointless petty partisan bickering of elected officials whose actual job is the one thing they seem committed to not doing; governing. This shit has gotten so bad it has the power to put my fucking nightmares into perspective. Remember freedom of speech? PTSD? Say hello to America 2025. Fuck.

Foggy morning

I get to my halfway point and take a seat on the fence rail of this bit of fence that runs along one end of a pond in the marsh. I like this spot. I’ve a good view across the marsh in one direction, and oaks dot the hillside in the other. It’s foggy enough that I can’t see far, and there is no visible horizon. I sigh contentedly, feeling relieved to be awake – and alone. The world is stressing me out quite a lot lately. I keep working at building resilience and self-care, but I also have to keep draining my resilience reservoir over one stressor or another. It has required near continuous self-care and resulted in frequent (emotional, cognitive) fatigue. We could do better.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I meditate in the fog as daybreak becomes the dawn. A new day ahead of me, with new opportunities to be (or become) the person I most want to be. It’s not an easy path. I fail myself rather more often than I’d like, but I also manage to impress myself now and then, and I’ve come further than I ever expected I might go. I sigh to myself. The sound of it seems strangely noisy. A goose or duck, unseen somewhere in the fog, gronks (irritably?). An enormous flock rises from the foggy marsh and takes to the sky as a group. They’re loud as they pass overhead.

Long weekend ahead, for me. Veterans Day Tuesday, and I took Monday off. For a long time a bunch of us (Desert Storm veterans) have gotten together over the phone, or on social media, or in a virtual meeting space to reconnect, hang out, and catch up on things. Not this year.

There are fewer of us these days and the timing and circumstances weren’t in our favor this year. The guy who usually hosts is in rehab. Again. Another needs to spend time trying to figure out groceries because his SNAP benefits aren’t available, and his disability compensation doesn’t go far enough to pay his bills. We’re mortal creatures; some of us just aren’t around any more. I’m disappointed, but also grateful to be in better circumstances, myself, at this place in my life. I sit awhile thinking about these strange military friendships that linger. There’s really nothing else quite like them. A unique experience of a very particular sort of trauma-bonding, with people who knew me at a very different time in my life. In many respects I am not that woman at all, now. I wonder if these old friends would like me as well if they knew me more as I am, now, than as the woman I was then?

I inhale the chill foggy autumn air deeply and exhale slowly, thoroughly, like adding a page-break to a document. I let my irritation and sorrow go, with my exhalation.

I think for a moment about the Anxious Adventurer, and the difficult journey of figuring himself out. Life is hard enough when we do know who we are. Having to also figure that shit out along the way is a massive additional complication for someone who is expected to be an actual adult, already. I don’t envy him having to deal with that; I’ve been there myself and it definitely felt like a Sisyphian task sometimes.

My Traveling Partner pings me. I feel loved and valued. I see him working through his challenges in life, too. We’re each having our own experience, we three human primates. Choices and circumstances, and each on our own path. It’s funny sometimes how different our individual perspectives can be. I often wish it were easier to share what we learn along the way, more effectively.

I sit with my thoughts awhile longer, wondering what value these musings even offer…

…Then I notice it’s already time to begin again. I’m glad I have so much to be grateful for, and so many options.

I woke unnecessarily early. My Traveling Partner, already up, looked in on me as I slept, “Are you okay?” he asked softly. “Mmhmm” I mumbled through my CPAP mask. I started to sit up, awake, to say something, but he was already gone. For a moment, I wasn’t sure he’d actually wakened me.

I got up.  It was already too close to that time, and even as groggy as I was, going back to sleep wouldn’t have gotten me more rest, and definitely would have caused me to struggle with being groggy all morning. I have a busy morning ahead and a brief presentation to give, I don’t have time to waste on being groggy. lol

I left the house in the usual way, but as I walked toward the car, I saw something bunched up at the edge of the yard. Trash? A plastic bag or…? Nope. It turned around and looked at me, with its strange white face and small black eyes. A possum (the biggest I’ve ever seen in person). She stared at me for a moment as if she didn’t quite believe it, either, before taking off awkwardly ambling quickly, then running – across the yard, through the rose bushes, and under the neighbor’s car. I lost sight of her there, though I heard her scrambling through leaves on the other side. I realized that I’d been just standing there watching, and moved on, myself.

Well… I guess that proves there are possums in the woods beyond the yard. I’m not saying I needed proof , but now I definitely know. lol (I considered taking a picture, but couldn’t get my camera ready fast enough, so quickly decided to enjoy the moment as it was.)

…Strange sort of morning so far…

Heading to the trailhead, I had to pull over for a few moments when a sneezing fit overcame me so thoroughly I couldn’t see to drive. Weird. I take a minute to deal with that, then drive on. As I reach the trailhead, I see the moon overhead, a luminous pearl of haunting beauty, resting among pillowy clouds. It looks full, but I think it is waning. I don’t care enough to look it up, I just enjoy the sight of it.

I pull into my preferred parking spot, and my headlights reveal a mature buck, standing just ahead, in the field adjacent to the parking. There something about his stance that hints at aggression, somehow, or a defensive reaction to something that he sees, but I don’t see anything alarming. I wait in the car until he walks on, my eyes scanning the strip of meadow, and the vineyard beyond, looking for hazards or threats. I don’t see anything. Maybe it was my arrival that vexed the buck as he stood minding his own business on a Friday morning at the edge of dawn?

The moon begins to sink lower as I begin my walk. “Aren’t we all just creatures living our lives?”, I think to myself as I head down the path. Possums and deer, coyotes and bobcats, geese and bluejays, jackasses and idiots, all mixed together in this peculiar world, each doing their own best to live their lives; it’s an interesting world full of adventure and opportunity, and things to see.

The jewel of the night sky.

There’s nothing noteworthy or remarkable about the first half of my walk. I get to my halfway point, enjoying the moonlight. Although I have my headlamp with me, I only turn it on when the clouds hide the moon. I love the ephemeral beauty of the moonlit trail. I don’t have a lot of opportunities to walk in the moonlight these days. I sleep better than I used to.

Four day weekend ahead, for me. Veterans Day is Tuesday, and I took Monday off, too. I don’t have exotic plans. It’s a “holiday” for reflection, and honoring comrades who made it home, but couldn’t carry on. I’ll make time to connect with colleagues from the Cold War era of my military service, and those with whom I went to war, later. There are fewer survivors these days. We are mortal creatures, and one day the last of us will perhaps be talking about me, and remembering me when.

… I hope I am remembered best for the woman I eventually became, and whatever good I have done, and not for the worst of who I once was in a life full of chaos and damage…

I sigh quietly. Gloomy thoughts for such a lovely morning, but at least I’m not having to fight thinking about work. I breathe, exhale, and relax. Such a busy mind. I take time to meditate and calm my mind. This few minutes of meditation in the morning helps set me up for lasting success all day. If I begin the morning spun up over stressful bullshit, and world events I can’t change, or work (before the work day even begins), the entire day feels frantic, stressful, and covered in “fail sauce”. I definitely don’t need that, and cultivating a consistent meditation practice and enjoying a solitary walk each morning has been a big change for the better. It took time and practice to get here, but it has paid off.

Daybreak comes. The moon disappears behind thick clouds that threaten rain. I frown at the stormy sky; I walked away from the car without my poncho this morning, distracted by moonlight. Shit. I should head back before it rains… I keep sitting quietly, enjoying the moment. I already know a little rain won’t do me any harm. It’ll be time to begin again soon enough, and these lovely moments are so fleeting in a mortal life.

A new day dawns – what will you do with it?

I sit awhile longer with my thoughts, watching the treeline take shape as daylight comes. A gentle steady rain begins to fall. I smile as I get to my feet, looking down the trail. Another beginning. Another opportunity to be the person I most want to be.