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Facing the Day

December 1, 2025 //
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We don’t always wake to a new day feeling eager and encouraged and excited at the possibilities. Sometimes it’s harder than that. That’s just real, eh? What I like to do on mornings such as that is “anchor” to some event or experience that felt joyful, fulfilling, safe… whatever positive emotional alternative that feels most “opposite” the emotional drag I woke to is “coming from”, if I can tell.

…This morning did not need that practice…

Yesterday was lovely. I got a nice walk, in the early morning sunshine. I got some things done that I’d planned to do, and also a few things that were sparked by some observation, or by a request by my Traveling Partner. My beloved and I hung out together quite a lot, and enjoyed each other’s company. Later on we shared the sort of intimate connected time that adults are fortunate to enjoy in a loving partnership. It’s nice to still be able to enjoy those “sexy fun times” together. My soul is still humming a merry tune, and I woke feeling wrapped in love, this morning.

Tis the season

The Giftmas tree is up, decorated, and greeted me with soft colorful light when I entered the living room. I smiled on my way past. I really like the tree this year. Each ornament tells a story of some other time or some special moment. My beloved Traveling Partner has kept the 3D printers busy making holiday items, and this year’s new ornament delights me. I am still thinking fondly of the weekend, although it is now behind me.

I hope I never lose my sense of fun and whimsy.

The work day peers over my shoulder, tapping at my consciousness impatiently. Four day weekends do that to me, sometimes. I get back to work ready and rested, almost impatient. The trick is to avoid succumbing to that subtle pressure and simply “stay on the path”, relaxed and unbothered. I breathe, exhale, and relax. I settle in and catch up on email and plan the day. “Nothing to see here,” I think to myself, feeling amused by the sense of “performance pressure”. I remind myself that consistency and a good plan produce a steady result over time, and that frenzied action most commonly results in errors and half-baked bullshit. My best work usually results from my most patient and well-considered effort, attentive, and focused. Funny that it took so long to learn that. I think on that awhile.

…On the other hand, I hope I never stop learning and growing…

I sip my coffee and think, too, about my Dear Friend. I miss her greatly this time of year, and broke down in tears once or twice over the past few days because of it. We shared a fondness for the holiday season, and when one or the other of us lacked the means to be at all lavish about it, we still shared conversation, sentiment, nostalgia, pictures…and I definitely miss the exchange of eager emails about this or that gift for this or that dear one. I miss talking over things we were making, or shopping for, and pictures of wrapped gifts. I miss the game of telling her I would likely not be able to send anything for Giftmas this year, and her agreeing with me that perhaps that was best, then both of us surprising each other with some unexpected package near to Giftmas Day. Shopping for the holiday, it hit me hardest; I don’t need to keep an eye out for some suitable little thing. She’s gone. My eyes tear up, just recognizing that loss, even for a moment. Grief is sometimes quite inconvenient. S’Ok. There is no shame in honest tears.

Love takes many forms.

I sigh to myself, and my heart is eased by the recollection of my Traveling Partner’s embrace, yesterday, during a similar moment. He understood. He held me close until my tears stopped.

The clock keeps ticking. I glance at the time. It’s a work day, and it’s time to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, grief, Healthy Living, Love, meditation, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, The Art of Being, women, Words

Some Quiet Moments

November 19, 2025 //
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I’m sitting at the halfway point on my morning walk, grateful for the warm sweater and cardigan. It’s a cold morning. It’s that time of year, here. The predawn sky is dark and clear, with a few clouds brightened by the lights below. I sit here contentedly, nothing much on my mind, and trying not to think about work. Now is not that time.

For the moment, my anxiety is well-managed, which is nice, and my pain is pretty typical of the season, which is less nice, but endurable. I smirk at myself cynically; I am a survivor. I’ve survived trauma, and heartbreak, and ruin, and mental illness, and profound injury, and domestic violence, and war. It’s been a lot. I sigh to myself. There are so very many people who have survived worse, and more. I’m grateful to be where I am, sitting quietly on this bench on a cold autumn morning before sunrise.

I’m admittedly disappointed with “the state of humanity”, presently. We could do so much better as beings than we have chosen to do. The current US president calls people names like an angry rude child. Legislators seriously contemplate imprisoning women over what should be private medical decision making between women and their physicians. Billionaires hoard vast unimaginable sums of money and assets piled high, while the working people who exchanged their efforts for a pittance worry about their next meal, and people living below the poverty line make daily decisions about whether to buy lifesaving medicine, or groceries. Housing is both limited in availability and also increasingly unaffordable. Are we really immune to all the suffering and violence in the world around us? Are we really okay with people deliberately seeking to profit off that misery?

…We could do better…

I sigh and let that go. I pull my attention back to this moment, here, now.

I take a moment for meditation, and for gratitude. My thoughts, this morning, are more personal than I’m inclined to share. I think about some painful moments in the past, and turn them over in my memory, considering instead what I may have learned or gained as a result of these experiences. It’s a practice I indulge rarely and approach cautiously; it is easy to become immersed in the recollection of pain or failure, and lose my way. There is real value in changing my perspective on such things, when I can. I don’t force it. Authenticity and honest self-reflection have positive value. Tearing myself down ruminating over past trauma or poor decision making tends to cloud my thinking and make me miserable. It is important to practice one and avoid the other.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. The cold has begun to seep into my bones, and my arthritis pain worsens. I sigh to myself and get to my feet. May as well finish this walk and get the day started, I guess. I find myself feeling a little blue. The world weighs too heavily on my thoughts, perhaps, or maybe it’s just pain. Weary. I feel weary of the world and all it’s heartache and chaos, and I’d like very much to simply be alone somewhere for… awhile. Days maybe, but I don’t have the money to spare on frivolous getaways right now, and too much to do that genuinely needs doing, and holidays ahead. Fuck. “Hang in there,” I remind myself, “this too will pass. It’s all very temporary.”

I stand staring down the trail for a moment, feeling unexpected tears rolling down my face. (What the absolute fuck?!) I sigh, a little frustrated with this whole “being human” thing. It’s clearly time to begin again. I see signs of daybreak on the eastern horizon, and start walking.

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Categories 2024 Election, Allegories, Anxiety, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, Despair, Free Will, Frustration, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, solo hiking, The Art of Being, War and News of War, women, Words

Birdsong In The Darkness

November 13, 2025 //
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I reach the halfway point on my walk, still in darkness. I woke early, but that isn’t important this morning. What seems most interesting is the bird I hear singing – it’s just a little odd to hear sweet snippets of cheery birdsong in the autumn darkness. It’s more of a Spring sound, somehow, and this particular song seems both familiar (I’ve heard it before, I’m sure) and strange (I don’t think I’ve ever heard it here). I listen awhile. The song begins. Ends. Resumes. Repeats.

A soft rain begins to fall. I don’t fuss about that and it isn’t vexing me at all. I’m properly prepared for the weather, warm in my sweater and soft fuzzy cardigan, and dry with my rain poncho over those. Sitting beneath overhanging branches, I’d be sheltered from the rain, here, almost completely in summer, but most of the leaves have now fallen, and the only shelter from the rain are the fewer evergreen branches. I’m for sure getting rained on. I don’t really care much. It’s fine. The air smells fresh and the morning is a mild one. I’m comfortable for most values of “comfort”, sitting here in the predawn darkness.

… I’m not really looking forward to work this morning. No particular reason besides having plenty I’d like to be doing for my own purposes, like wanting to paint but not having the energy to paint and work, generally. It is one of the most concrete signs of “aging” that I notice in my everyday experience; I am more likely to yield to fatigue than I am to paint in an exhausted frenzy of creative passion. I’m less inclined to stay up late painting after work, and less willing to drag my subsequently groggy, irritable, ineffective consciousness half awake through the next work shift. 😆 That was once pretty routine for me (and yet I managed to wonder why my mental health was so poor). It’s a change for the better, as far as taking care of this fragile mortal vessel is concerned – but I paint less, which frankly (from my own perspective) sucks.

I sigh to myself in the darkness and brush a damp strand of hair off my face. I probably need a haircut, I think to myself, and for a few moments I contemplate matters of appearance, aware that I am traveling down to the bay area for work in a couple weeks. I live in Oregon. The company is in San Francisco. The styles of dress are somewhat different, professionally and I sit wondering how much I actually care and how much that really matters anymore. The world has changed a lot in the years since the global pandemic first hit. I chuckle to myself. How much these details matter, generally, to “people”, and whether they matter to me personally in any practical way, now, are definitely different questions.

I smirk at myself in the darkness and wonder if there’s any value in telling the Anxious Adventurer that knowing oneself is an ongoing journey in life, and that figuring out “who am I?” is one of humanity’s big enduring questions. I keep asking it. I keep answering it. The answer is always evolving and changing over time as I learn more about the woman in the mirror. There is no one right answer to some questions – and that doesn’t change the importance of the answer to some one human primate (or, possibly, to the world), nor diminish the need to explore the question.

Daybreak comes. The rain stops. I sit enjoying the moment of solitude. I can almost imagine that the entire world is at peace. Awareness that it isn’t peaceful for everyone, everywhere, surfaces exactly long enough to provoke my anxiety, which surges and renders me momentarily breathless, stalled, heart pounding, chest tight. I gasp for air, and immediately begin taking the steps to reduce the physical experience of anxiety as much as I can, while I also begin the internal conversation with myself that seeks perspective and relief. Anxiety is a liar, and I know this to be true from my own experience. Over a few minutes the anxiety eases.

A lot of things can kick off my anxiety or symptoms of my PTSD. I’ve learned to take most of it in stride, and to accept that my subjective emotional experience is an unreliable indicator of imminent harm. I breathe, exhale, and relax. The anxiety eases. It’s been awhile since I’ve had a serious panic attack. I’m grateful it passed quickly. I’m grateful to have more, better, tools to manage my anxiety and soothe myself than I once did. I take time to meditate. It is an ordinary autumn morning, and everything is fine. I’m okay. This moment is okay. I’m grateful to be here, now.

… I’m grateful to avoid becoming trapped in an emotional mire…

I hear that bird singing. I get to my feet, ready to walk on. It’s already time to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, Anxiety, art and the artist, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, solo hiking, The Art of Being, War and News of War, women, Words

A Long Strange Night

October 16, 2025 //
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I woke several times during the night. I never figured out why. Each time I woke, i returned to sleep relatively easily. My sleep was restless and disturbed by peculiarly realistic dreams. By the end of the night, it seemed I was dreaming that I was awake, and my alarm got to full brightness, overhead light shining like an artificial sun as I woke from that last dream, walking along a trash-strewn crater pocked “beach” watching a savage discolored sun rise slowly.

I dreamt of masked armed thugs on the streets of American cities. I dreamt of chemical attacks, drone strikes, and bombs dropping on already flattened neighborhoods, and neat carefully planned rows of… rubble. I dreamt of fleeing, of hiding, and of fear. I dreamt of nightmare cities blasted by violence. I dreamt of blood and sorrow. I dreamt of waiting breathless and anxious for the next shock. It was a bad night and when I finally woke, my face was strangely gritty with the salt of dried tears.

… I don’t recall the details of my dreams, now, only vague themes and sensations, which are already fading, and for that I am grateful…

PTSD is sometimes a literal fucking nightmare. Thanks largely to the violence, and vile horrors and bad behavior of the current administration, PTSD symptoms I haven’t had to deal with for awhile are flaring up and demanding my attention, and my most committed and loving self-care. More fucking verbs – as if I have time for this shit right now. I sigh, rubbing my neck, and my shoulders, as well as I can without having extra hands. I gently massage my temples, and breathe. My anxiety surges, then eases, again and again. I feel hyper vigilant and pointlessly uneasy. It is an ordinary morning in all regards, aside from my subjective sense of persistent dread.

… And I’m tired…

I head down the trail in the usual way, although I am in more pain than usual, and feeling wary and watchful in the predawn darkness. It is quite chilly – the coldest morning we’ve had since back in the spring. 38°F (about 3.3°C). I’m grateful for the warm hiking socks, and comfy sweater beneath a warm cardigan. I breathe deeply as I walk, enjoying the scents of autumn. There is a hint of wood smoke in the taste of the air; people have begun using their fireplaces as the temperature cools.

I think about work and fret about money, and the future, and mortality, and preparedness, until I realize I’m getting spun up over imagined disasters and things that have not happened, or are not real concerns in my actual life, now. I inhale deeply, and exhale slowly until my lungs empty, as if the exhaled breath could carry with it all of my stress and anxiety. Sometimes it does. I pull my thoughts back to here, now. This is where I am, and everything begins right here. Every change, every moment of progress, every journey to come, it all starts in this moment – and conveniently enough, it is always “now”. That’s a lot of potential to work with!

I get to a pleasing stopping point, hands warm enough for writing, having been jammed deeply into my pockets while I walked. I sit on a convenient bench and examine the horizon for the first hint of daybreak. I take a moment to recognize that it is not my experience in this moment that is driving my emotions; it is my emotions creating my concerns, and my subjective experience of the moment. I can change this! I focus on the details here, now, and my breath. I breathe, exhale, and relax. I meditate for unmeasured time, until an imagined soft chime coincides with a sense of “completeness”, and contentment. I’m okay. Anxiety is a liar. Emotions are not the totality of my experience, or of reality itself.

… It’s not personal, it’s just biochemistry and a human being human…

Trauma in life changes our brain even down to the hormones and chemistry of our bodies and emotions. I’m no expert, but I’ve tried to keep up on the science. There are ways to regain our joy, corral our volatility, and manage our emotions without stifling our creativity with drugs, undermining our humanity by becoming numb to ourselves, or allowing our good character to be compromised. It may require asking for help. It’ll definitely require a lot of practice – and probably some new practices and considerable change. I sigh to myself. So much change. So much practice.

I reflect for a moment on how far I’ve come over the past 15 years… it’s been quite a journey. I would not have dealt with a night like last night so well (and with such ease, relatively speaking) back in 2010. I’d have been tantrum prone, volatile, irrational, irritable, unapproachable, suspicious, guarded, and teetering on the thin edge between anger and tears, ready to blast some unwary associate or loved one unpredictably – and unable to talk about it, or sort out my own emotions from the real circumstances.

G’damn I am so grateful to be in a different place as a human being. All the work, practice, meditation, self-care, and therapy has been very much worth the time, effort, and expense. I walk a very different path now. I’m grateful that I do. I am grateful for the choices I made to change. I’m grateful to have a partner who loves and supports me.

Daybreak. Dawn soon. It looks to be a cold cloudy morning. No colorful sunrise today, just a dirty, pale, vaguely orange smudge along the edge of the eastern horizon.  As night becomes day, I get to my feet. It’s already time to begin again.

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Categories 2024 Election, Allegories, anger, Anxiety, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, Despair, forgiveness, Free Will, gratitude, grief, Healthy Living, inspiration, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Sleepless Nights, solo hiking, The Art of Being, War and News of War, women, Words

You Know What Though?

October 6, 2025 //
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It is evening. Just at the moment, I am finding myself in a very “why do I even bother?”, and also a very “you know what, just fuck all of this nonsense” kind of place. I know it will pass. I’m not in a good place in this moment, but change is, and moments don’t last. I’m rarely this coldly angry about anything, it’s not my way to let stuff get that bad without doing something about it, so when it does happen, I’m sometimes taken by surprise and not equipped to handle it. Not this moment. I saw potential for it in a change to my medication. Things have been okay for most values of okay, but I’ve been predictably moody, and a bit blue. I’m irritable and struggling to be kind or approachable. I’m also dealing with it, and I’ve done pretty well with that. I’m just right on the absolute edge of my last nerve.

It’ll pass.

I finish getting ready for bed. It’s not late, but I’d like to begin again, with a whole new day. I move things around and set up a cozy meditation space. I breathe, exhale, and relax… We become what we practice. My results vary. I guess I need more practice…no surprise there, really, that’s the whole point of viewing things through a lens of practical practices in the first place; it’s never finished work, and there is room to do better over time.

A full moon, a new day ahead.

I woke ahead of the alarm. Some noise, undefined, unrecognized, but enough to rouse me, pulled me from a sound restful sleep. I dress and head out and reach the trailhead early enough to see the full moon, a lovely pearl against the velvet of the night sky. I try to get a picture, but it’s a wasted effort. Even with a better camera, no picture I would take could equal the haunting beauty of the full moon on an autumn morning. I enjoy the sight while I lace up my boots and put on my headlamp.

… Yesterday’s moodiness seems to be behind me, now…

The work day ahead is… just a work day. My new normal. It’s fine. I’m prepared (although I did try to leave the house this morning without my laptop! 😆) I take a moment to appreciate that I didn’t actually forget it, or have to turn back for it in any significant way. I noticed just as I was leaving the house. Win. It’s a small thing, but still worth appreciating.

As I walk a fox darts across the trail ahead. I stop, astonished. I don’t recall that a fox would be any sort of threat, it’s just unusual to see one, here. It was definitely not a coyote or a dog. I walk on, to my halfway point and sit writing. Chilly morning. Beautiful moon. A new day, and another chance to be my best self. I failed on that endeavor yesterday, but not my worst, either. It was okay for most values of okay, and that’ll have to be enough. I can do better today.

I take time for meditation. I watch the moon setting slowly. I get ready to begin again.

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