Archives for category: Words

Don’t trust “AI”. Think for yourself. Go deeper than the superficial, likely error prone, potentially copyright violating, plagiaristic “AI” summary of unknown bias. You can definitely do better without that kind of “help”.

Think I’m perhaps overreacting just a bit? Test it with a search on something simple such as a search for the synonyms of a term you know well. I used “meditate” for my example. Among the many “synonyms” offered, the “AI” answer included terms that are not synonymous with “meditate” at all, and one of these being particularly misleading: ruminate. Rumination is a wholly different mental process, and generally a deeply problematic one for which people may seek mental health care. Meditation isn’t a synonym for rumination, nor is it an antonym. The only thing these two terms really have in common is that they are cognitive processes (or experiences). So, approach “AI” with considerable care and skepticism. It lacks nuance. It cannot understand what you ask, nor it’s own response to your query. It’s just spitting out associated words, based on having been fed a massive quantity of other words. Think for yourself. Do your own homework. Go deeper.

… You’ll surely regret it if you lose those skills…

Walking with my thoughts, no “AI” required.

I woke to my artificial sunrise at a comfortably early hour and headed to my favorite weekend trail. It was already daybreak when I arrived and I was in no great hurry. There was no traffic, the drive was peaceful and easy. The moments between then and now have been filled with solitary joy, unbothered by the troubles of the world. There’s time for that later, no need to let it encroach on my peace of mind right now. (Which is likely true more often than it isn’t.)

I set off down the trail happily, content to be alone with my thoughts as dawn came. I listened to the geese overhead, and watched the early morning mumurations of flocks of birds that roosted over night in the oaks along the marsh trail. There’s no snow left from last week’s winter weather and it rained during the night. Mists cling to the ground here and there, and obscure the view of distant hills. The morning air is still and mild, not warm but definitely not cold either. I walked on.

By the time I get back to the car it is daylight. The morning is well underway. A new day. The little birds are noisy in the trees. I catch myself prematurely thinking over what I hope to get done today. There’s no need, not yet. There’s time for that later. I promise myself a good cup of coffee at home, after my Traveling Partner wakes and lets me know he’s up.

A soft rain begins to fall. It’s time to begin again.

Valentine’s Day. Pretty serious “Hallmark holiday”, I know. It’s also, paradoxically, a wonderful thing to see a celebration of carnal and romantic love on a holiday calendar mostly controlled by fairly repressed, repressive, puritannical minds. It’s about the love, not the candy, not the cards, not the children in classrooms exchanging tokens and favors years before they have any capacity for romantic love (and isn’t that just a little weird?). I’ve said it before – all of it. Worth repeating, but maybe not for re-writing. lol

So much love it regularly spills onto canvas. 🙂

It is about the love.

I slept in. Snowy morning, no work, cozy quiet home – it’s lovely. My Traveling Partner woke about the same time I did. I made breakfast and coffee, we enjoyed the moment together. He gave me a little something for the holiday, I added something to the shop that he wanted very much. It isn’t about that, though, it’s about the love. It’s not about the breakfast together. It’s not about the gifts (we often don’t give each other anything at all). The love stands on its own, enduring and sweet and deep and passionate and warm and nurturing.

Love, smiles, coffee – a pleasant start to the day doesn’t have to be fancy.

How do I know it’s love? How does anyone know? I’ve been wrong before – most of us are wrong about love eventually. It’s easy to mistake lust for love. To mistake fondness for love. To confuse codependence with love. To confuse habit with love. Funny (strange) how easily we’re wrong about love, when it is so incredibly important to creating a life to thrive in. So… how do I know this is love? Because I’ve got options, and I’m comfortable with that knowledge – and I’m here because here is where I most want to be. Same is true for my Traveling Partner, and I feel comfortably confident in that, too. We’re here because here is what we choose, because we want to be here. Together on this journey. Love. Neither of us “has to be here”. Neither of us is trapped in this relationship or this life – we could walk on if we chose to. Options. It’s not tragic. It’s not a threat. It’s just real. We choose each other out of love. It’s not always perfect or perfectly easy. We’re individual human beings with our own perspective, our own experiences behind us, our own thoughts on life, love, and the world. Sometimes we disagree. Sometimes we hurt too much to be kind or patient. We still go right on loving each other.

Is love a journey or a destination? Or… is love a verb?

I have a love for this particular human being that has exceeded my understanding of what love could be. I enjoy that, and I work to live up to what love requires. My Traveling Partner is my best friend, and my muse. My enduring source of encouragement, and perspective that isn’t my own. He brings balance and fun to a life that might otherwise lack it (have you met me?). I often think about “how we got here” – more than I think about “where we’re going”. I am surprised that our paths crossed more than once in our busy lives, and that we are so connected now. Love endures. I’m glad that it does. I’m grateful.

Be love. It’s a choice. Love is a verb.

I’m glad I didn’t let myself stay trapped in relationships that weren’t built on love. The best gift I’ve ever given myself has been freedom from bad relationships – the choices to walk on. Sometimes I’ve been too slow to make those choices, holding on to hope for too long, but I did get there. Love is worth working towards, and worth choosing. No substitute is adequate – better to have nothing than to endure less than real love (my opinion).

Love matters most.

I smile to myself and finish my coffee. I grin when I see the plush “mochi cat” pillow-toy my beloved gave to me – reminds me how much I am loved. I don’t know what the future may hold, but I hope that it holds a lot more of this. The love. However long love endures, I am grateful to have had it. There’s nothing else that feels like this.

I’m sipping my fairly bad cup of office coffee. It’s not the worst coffee I’ve ever had, and the price is right (“free”, which is to say included in the office overhead and not obvious to me – nothing’s actually “free”). I sigh quietly. I can see the luminous disk of the full moon beyond the window. I turned off the light in this little office so that I can see it more clearly. It’s lovely and peaceful looking.

I take a minute to reflect with love, and considerable respect, on my Traveling Partner. He’s getting past just recovering from injury and surgery, and beginning to think more in terms of fitness and health more generally. He doesn’t panic – he makes the changes he needs to make. There’s something to be learned from this. It’s not an easy thing – there are still verbs involved. The thinking is sound. He brings his intentions and his will together, and does the work required to be the change he wants to make. He often makes such things “look easy”, although I know they aren’t. I’ve seen him grow a lot as a human being over the years, by choosing willful change and getting to work.

I sip my coffee and reflect on the opportunity his choices for change present for me as his partner. I feel a renewed sense of commitment to my own goals, and motivation to pursue change. We’re in this together. We’re each having our own experience. This morning I’m “feeling my years” more than I’d like to. I breathe, exhale, and relax. Piece together the frayed threads of my thoughts “about things, generally”. My head aches, but my back isn’t bothering me much, for now. My tinnitus is mostly drowned out by the sound of the ventilation, and by the way my earring aids amplify that. I pull myself more upright in my office chair, shifting uncomfortably. It’s not a comfortable sort of life, this human experience, is it? I frown briefly and let my thoughts move on.

…For a moment, I think about small mammals: squirrels, chipmunks, sugar gliders, dormice. No idea why. The “cuteness” of them, maybe? Maybe their resilience? They find ways to thrive on very little, in spite of the encroachment of human kind with its chaos and purposeful destruction. I find that interesting – and a little promising.

I let my thoughts wander to old friends, and remind myself to stay in touch. My thoughts wander to Spring, and I feel reassured that more likely than not it will arrive as expected, and it’s not too far off. I think about the seashore, and walking on the warm Atlantic beach with my Granny, or with my Dear Friend along the cold beaches of the Pacific. It’s been so long, but these are beautiful cherished memories worth enjoying now and then, for a moment.

I glare into my half-empty coffee mug. Cold already? Shit. I could sit here being annoyed about that, or I could “do the verbs” and solve the problem. It’s only a choice, a will to act, and an effort to be made. These are simple things. I think again about my Traveling Partner, and his strong will and willingness to act. I sigh, and smile to myself as I get to my feet…

I return to my desk, mug warm in my hand once more. It felt good to walk around, to stand, to stretch. To act. I could honestly just as easily lay down somewhere soft and go right back to sleep, maybe. (I feel that way in the moment, but I know that in practice it isn’t so easy for me to find sleep.) I find it somewhat challenging to find just the right balance between the soft comfort of ease and stillness, and the productive effort of doing and achieving. I’m generally satisfied if I can get all the needful things done without exhausting myself into immobility. I try to “pace myself” through planning and managing my time. My results vary. For now, I enjoy these quiet moments of morning solitude, grateful to have them. Grateful even for this crappy cup of office coffee, although I will admit it doesn’t “taste good” in any definable way – it’s just satisfyingly hot, and delivers an appropriate amount of caffeine for a workday morning. It has the comfort of the routine.

I think about anxiety, stress, and panic, and how much it can matter to slow down, to consider, to choose change, and to act. I breathe, exhale, and relax. This moment right here? It’s fine. I’m okay right now. For now the world within my view is quiet and calm. It’s enough, and I make room to appreciate it and to be grateful. Sometimes changing the world has to start very small, with a handful of choices, and a moment of action. Once this moment passes, what shall I do with the next?

Soon, another sunrise. Soon, I’ll begin again.

Oh, hey, that’s right – no one sponsors this content. lol It’s just me, sitting here in the quiet of morning, before sunrise, alone with my thoughts. 😀 I like that arrangement.

I sip my coffee, sitting here quietly enjoying the warmth and comfort of a simple breakfast of oatmeal, with a handful of cashews and dried blueberries added. It’s not fancy. Hell, I don’t even like oatmeal. It’s a healthy choice, though, and I learned quite a long time ago that I enjoy it best with the least fussing; I add boiling water, enough to make it rather thin, and stir it around a bit until the texture suits me, and eat it. Not fancy at all. No added sugar (besides the blueberries, which are dried but not sweetened), just some nuts and dried fruit, in measured portions. It’s enough.

Although I see it as “simple” and “not fancy”, it is the sort of breakfast that comes at a “hidden cost”. Cashews? Cashews are an “exotic nut” that comes from far away places. They’re not cheap now, and I suppose they’ll be more expensive very soon. Tariffs. Dried blueberries? Well, if I’m going to insist on those being nothing more than whole healthy fruit, dried without preservatives or added sugar, I’m going to end up paying for that privilege – and it is a privilege. Also not cheap now, and with the mass deportations going on, it’s likely that farm labor for harvesting things like blueberries is going to become more limited, and more costly too. Well, shit. I sigh over my “simple” breakfast, grateful to be aware of what contributes to the experience I am enjoying. I am dismayed by the short-sighted petty bullshit and dim-wittery of the current leadership of the US government. Disappointed that everyday people voted these corrupt (and in some cases actually evil) clowns into office in the first place. What the actual fuck, eh? (G’damn do I hate plain oatmeal, too – but I may be eating it by the time summer comes.)

Sorry. It’s on my mind. I apologize to myself as much as to anyone else. No point getting spun up over this shit and losing my way, eh? Especially first thing in the morning. I sigh to myself. I breathe, exhale, and relax, and pause for gratitude; it’s blueberries and cashews this morning, and it’s lovely. I’ve got a delicious cup of coffee, too; the office staff bought the Ethiopian beans I suggested, instead of the Columbian beans that are the usual supply in the office. A most pleasant morning, worthy of appreciation and gratitude, and I make that my focus. A pessimistic outlook may result in being “right” more often, but it’ll be a lot less enjoyable, generally, and being “right” is highly over-rated unless you have the will and the power to do something about the circumstances in some practical way. Just saying – don’t forget to enjoy the little things in life. They matter. A lot.

Life isn’t “perfect”. It’s never going to be – that simply isn’t a real part of the “human condition”. We’re wired with a strong negative bias, and our survival has often depended on being aware of imminent threats far more than it has ever depending on knowing joy. So – we have to work at enjoying joy. Worth practicing. Taking a moment for that, I make a point of reflecting on the lovely moments of the weekend just behind me, instead of becoming mired in some little thing that wasn’t “just so”, or some headache, inconvenience, or moment of pain. It’s always pretty easy to recall what went wrong at some given point in time, less so for the things that went right. So I sit with the recollection of my Traveling Partner’s smile. Of the cute Valentine’s Day gift he gave me early – just because. Of the warmth of his arms around me, and how good it felt to be in his embrace, and really feel the progress he’s making as he continues to recover from his injury. It’s been a long year of worry, and I’m so happy to see him back on his feet, and back in the shop, and to feel the warmth of his love expressed in a lingering hug. I smile to myself, thinking about the satisfaction of making a really good dinner and enjoying it as a family. I enjoy the sense of accomplishment of tackling some much needed tidying up in my studio/office/personal space. It was a good weekend. I still live in the United States, and holy fucking hell our government is still some sort of weird mockery of what it was, being run by corrupt criminal billionaires, fanatics, and grifters, but… things are nice at home, and it’s worth making that my focus for awhile. Enjoying the joy. Filling up on the love and the delightful moments. This is a really practical approach for building the resilience I’ll need to deal with the stress of “other bullshit” in a world very definitely filled with a lot of that.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I sit with my thoughts and my good cup of coffee. It is a cold winter morning, and I’m fortunate to be warm and safe and dry. I’ve got a good job, and it keeps the bills paid. I’ve got a good partnership, and we thrive together and get things done. Family life is good – maybe the best I’ve ever had it. The Anxious Adventurer has a good heart, and he helps out quite a lot. I’m learning to more clearly communicate my needs and expectations. The journey is the destination – and for now the path feels relatively smooth, the way ahead more or less clear, enough to walk my own mile with some confidence.

A faint shadow crosses my brow when I think about my Dear Friend. It’s been almost a year since she died, and I am thinking of her often. My mood brightens when I recall the recent visit of The Author, another very dear friend, and quite a delightful visit – he’s a good guest, and an exceptional friend. I can’t always see what is around the next bend in life’s path, but it’s proven to be a journey worth making. (The company we keep on this journey matters quite a lot.) I smile and finish my coffee, thinking about a second cup, already. I guess it’s time to begin again.

How do you light your way when you must pass through darkness? Do you use matches? A cigarette lighter? A candle? An oil lamp? A big flashlight filled with D batteries? A headlamp? A portable camp lantern? Do you flip a switch? Count on public streetlights? Maybe you just wait for the sun? You’ve got choices and the choices to vary in suitability and effectiveness. Some are too dim. Some are unreliable. Some won’t last long enough to get you through the darkness. These days there seems to be a lot of g’damned darkness, doesn’t there?

It’s a metaphor. You already caught on to that, didn’t you? How will you “light your way” through the darkness as a new “dark age” begins? Do you sense the darkness falling? What will you do to bring light to the darkness? Your results may vary, but you do have choices. Don’t let your voice be silenced. Don’t stumble blindly through the darkness, persuaded that it isn’t actually dark at all.

In practical and clear terms, as information is pulled off the Internet and made less available, it’s time to make a point to buy, read, and share bound books.  Check and double-check the sources of the information you consume. Be wary of hidden agendas.

It’s necessary – urgently so – to “speak truth to power”, and the powerful aren’t going to make that easy. (It’s already no longer possible to directly email many elected officials who “represent you”, including the White House.) Use snail mail. Pick up the phone. Write letters to the editors of newspapers (while those still exist). Gather with others and raise your voices together. You may need to make a real effort to be heard. It’s important that you do. (Me too. All of us.)

The darkness is coming. Lighting a match is less likely to be useful than a headlamp on the trail, but you may need spare batteries. Flipping on the lights makes sense in a dark room, but you’ve got to pay the electric bill.

… Still a metaphor…

I’m just saying, don’t wander in darkness. Seek Illumination. Find enlightenment. Make a point to light the way for others, too, when you can. Don’t trust that it’ll be fine to wait for the sun; we never know when we’ll see another sunrise.

… Maybe don’t share your journey with people who tell you that it’s better that you should live in darkness…

It’s likely to be a long four years, and we’re all in this together.

It’s time to begin again. How will you light your way, until the sun rises again?