I wrote this the morning of my second day camping, this past weekend. There was no connectivity at all, so uploads had to wait.
By “the end” of the day, yesterday, (which was not quite 18:30 as it turned out, in spite of being a Friday night) I was in so much pain I no longer much cared whether I had trekked “enough” of my gear to my campsite. It was only 137 steps each way, from the car to the site, but I had walked it so many times I couldn’t continue. My knee ached. My plantar fasciitis was seriously aggravated. I managed to resurrect an old shoulder injury setting up the tent. The opposite shoulder and neck were screaming at me to take something for that pain. My headache was bad. My back ached too. I’m not cataloging my pain for sympathy, I’m just saying this fragile vessel had had enough and was making it painfully obvious (lol).
[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]
Getting off my feet helped. Getting some sleep helped – and the luxury of 12 hours of deep sleep interrupted only once (had to pee) was thoroughly appreciated when I woke, slowly, to the sound of birdsong and breezes, and sunshine. The morning was cool and mild. I made myself a dreadful cup of (thoroughly insipid) coffee (too much water, didn’t grind enough beans). I didn’t really care, it was good enough to wake up over.
Sometimes it’s about something other than “quality”.
My feet hurt less this morning, but I need my cane to walk at all. My arthritis screams at me for attention, but my headache is much reduced. I guess I’ll make a point to notice and appreciate that. I brought a couple unread new books, and in the shape I’m in, it seems a good day to laze about improving my mind through the written word, or, you know, napping. 😆
I make myself a breakfast of cup noodles and half of a small sweet melon, and sit in the sunshine. Next, a book and a better cup of coffee. For now, me, a moment, and quiet time with my own thoughts over breakfast. I sigh contentedly. Right now the pain doesn’t even matter. Too much gear? Not enough gear? Doesn’t matter. What matters is taking care of myself on my own terms. What matters is this moment of sweet quiet solitude and this opportunity to begin again (in spite of the pain I’m in).
It’s a pretty morning. Nothing fancy, a pretty sunrise, a nice walk on a summer morning, and it is Friday. The morning is chilly, the sky is a clear and soft cerulean blue hue, with faintly yellow edges down low on the horizon.
[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]
I walk thinking about stress, anxiety, mental health, and what it takes to thrive when the news of the day is a toxic cocktail of AI slop, advertising, and propaganda with only a sprinkling of actual news thrown in (most of it bad).
… Maybe I should paint more..?
Yesterday evening, background stress I wasn’t explicitly aware I was carrying got identified and called out by my Traveling Partner, gently. Instead of fussing resentfully, I used the opportunity to head to my studio. The timing seemed excellent for it; I’ve been trying to nudge myself to paint more – and more often! This turned out to be a good choice.
Untitled pastel, 5″ x 7″ 2026
Make of it what you will.
I definitely need to paint more! I sigh contentedly from the side of the trail. Beautiful morning, sunshine illuminating the tall oaks and the tidy vineyards. I feel inspired and unbothered.
I breathe, exhale, and relax. Nice morning for meditation. A good morning to begin again.
I have a splitting headache and my sleep was interrupted. I’m tired and cross, and feeling very much that I’d like to be left alone. I’m grateful for these few moments of solitude in the morning.
[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]
I’m sitting at the edge of this trail wondering. I take a welcome sip of the coffee I carried down the trail with me. The morning feels chilly. It’s probably me, not the weather. The coffee is warm in my mouth and down my throat. I’m grateful for the moment of self-consideration that directed my groggy decision making this morning. Coffee sooner was a good choice this morning.
Tears fill my eyes and threaten to spill over. I brush them away angrily. “I don’t have time for this weak ass shit this morning,” I snarl to myself softly, “and fuck this headache, too.” My tinnitus is loud in my ears. I didn’t get enough restful sleep (haven’t for days) and my thought processes are slowed way down. My pain is poorly managed. I’m feeling very human and very fragile. My eyes sting from tears that finally begin to fall. Too much? Not enough? I feel broken and out of alignment. Out of step. Faltering on a path that has seemed certain and clear on other days.
… Moments pass…
I’m finding little reassurance in aphorisms and platitudes this morning. This morning I am uncomfortable with uncertainty and impermanence, and I feel myself clinging. Wanting certainty so much. Yeah… good luck with that shit. I take a deep breath in, and as I exhale I find myself weeping. Just fucking crying by the side of this trail, sitting in the summer sunshine on some random Thursday morning. Wondering.
…Is the sky still blue…?
I begin again. Breathe, exhale, relax. I shift gears. Meditation. Failure. Breathe. Repeat. The morning is not off to an ideal beginning. I’m struggling with my demons, and although for the moment I’ve got some sort of tearful stalemate, I still feel pretty shitty. My pain meds begin to kick in. So does the coffee. Eventually, I’ll “mask up” – put my work face on – and begin the work day. I don’t know, maybe the utterly disappointing ordinariness of it all will anchor me to here, now, and I’ll feel less hopeless.
… The clock is ticking…
The sunshine in the oak trees is beautiful. The air smells sweet. Songbirds sing merry songs. The tidy vineyard rows are a playground for so many little birds. I watch them flitting about, and try to identify as many as I recognize, but don’t put much effort into it. I am distracted and preoccupied. I keep letting this shit go. I breathe, exhale, and relax… and find myself back in the mire again and again.
I sigh out loud, frustrated with myself and the shitty start to the day. (And also? Fuck this headache.) I watch the dawn become day. Sooner or later, I’ve got to begin again… only I don’t know where this path leads, and I lack enthusiasm for walking it.
It’s not quite 04:00. I’ve been awake since my Traveling Partner woke me around 02:10, unable to sleep, struggling to breathe. I don’t have any help to offer, and everything I say seems likely to start an argument. I dress and leave the house.
I sigh to myself, grateful to have a good therapist.
There’s really nothing to do but keep walking. Stumble, fall, begin again. Incremental change over time adds up. I can count on that. Impermanence? That’s real, too. Change is. We are each having our own experience, too. What feels like a reasonable question to one, may feel very different to another. Practicing non-attachment feels hard, sometimes. Walls and mirrors, and humans being human.
… The real motherfucker is that I only have the power to change myself or my own choices, regardless whether useful or necessary changes could be made by another person – that’s on them and entirely out of my hands…
I get all up into my head in the wee hours, thinking about values, character, boundaries, acceptable behavior, relationships, choices… We walk the path we choose. We become what we practice – whatever we practice. I sigh to myself in the darkness. Almost an hour yet until daybreak. Maybe I can nap for little while? Later is soon enough for beginnings and choices.
… Until then, I’ve got this path to walk and a bunch of thinking to do.
In the quiet minutes after tempers flare and the uneasy peace that follows, I take some notes. New or unremembered metaphors, insightful analogies, deep questions, and revealed underlying hurts of times long past… Notes for meditation, for self-reflection, for discussion with my therapist. Tripping hazards on life’s path.
[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]
It’s a very human experience, and a lot to think about. I will think about the path ahead, and also the path that has lead me to this point. I’ll consider my behavior, my choices, and my options. The menu of life’s Strange Diner is vast and the options are many – nearly always more than I can imagine, or accept.
I sigh to myself, and set my notes aside for tomorrow.
A new day, another sunrise, a chance to begin again.
I woke early this morning, from the sound sleep I had sunken into after the neighborhood fireworks finally stopped. I got up, surprised to find my Traveling Partner also already up. I started the watering and caught up on messages, then headed up the highway for my walk.
I walk along the marsh trail, more meadow than marsh this time of year. Swallows swoop and dive, chasing their breakfast. Meadow flowers bob gently in the soft breeze. The bold magenta sunrise begins to fade, first to pink, then to a softer pale salmon hue, before fading away to blue sky streaked with white clouds. I sigh and wonder what distant wildfire is responsible for that crazy magenta sunrise? It was beautiful.
A convenient place to stop and reflect.
I get to a spot that I’ll call “halfway” (it isn’t, but it is a convenient spot to stop and there is a fallen oak adjacent to the trail which makes a relatively comfortable seat). I stop with my thoughts, and my baggage, and sit with the moment for a little while.
… This is me, here, now…
I sit contemplating emotions and behavior, and what separates and defines them. Emotions tend to be what they are, and we don’t have much opportunity to manage or control our feelings, themselves. They are an internal, often immediate, experience. Behavior, on the other hand, we have clear opportunities to manage and control that (and often explicit societal expectations that we will do so effectively). That isn’t any sort of statement that it will be easy, at all, especially if we haven’t been in the practice of doing so regularly. It really does take practice. For some of us, it requires a lifetime of continued, focused, dedicated practice – and we’ll still lob some wildly inappropriate behavior into the world (or an important relationship), in spite of all that fucking practice, far more often than we expect. Humans being human. Some of this shit is a bit complicated, whether by brain damage, poor upbringing, ignorance, trauma, medication, or circumstances.
… Most of the time, most people are probably doing some version of their best in the moment, however thoroughly inadequate it may seem from our own perspective. We’re each having our own experience…
“Emotion and Reason” lit differently – how we view emotions, and how we use reason, make a difference.
I do my best to lead with kindness and empathy. I’m surprised how often and how easily I manage to fuck that up. Deep listening is a more challenging practice than it seems it would be. Practicing healthy boundaries is more difficult than I ever expect it to be, but frankly I’m a relative beginner on that topic, so perhaps that is easy to understand? I sigh and remind myself to also treat myself with kindness, compassion, and understanding. My beloved’s expressions of hurt, frustration, and disappointment in some moment may define the moment, but they don’t define me as a human being. Nor do his missteps or difficult moments define him.
I reflect on my mistakes in the context of my values. I give myself time to think about them as snags and potholes on a clear path. I visualize various moments differently than they occurred, incorporating the changes in my behavior that I’d ideally want to see. I compare and contrast with similar moments that went very differently. I let myself recognize the differences in a useful way, to build additional implicit understanding. I remind myself to be patient and slow down, to take the time I need to do things right, and to avoid taking it personally if (when) the world doesn’t slow down with me.
… The journey is the destination. I walk the path I create with my choices. I have opportunities (so many) to change that path by changing my choices. It sounds easier as words than it is in practice – but “practice” is an ongoing thing. I’ll keep walking (and practicing).
… I keep my focus on my own behavior, because that is what is within my control, and it is what I am responsible for, myself…
I breathe, exhale, and relax. I don’t know what is around the next bend. I’m walking this path, enjoying the journey, and doing my best to be the person I most want to be. There’s work yet to be done. Where does this path lead? I guess I’ll find out when I get there. In the meantime, I guess I’ll begin again. Again.
