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When Rain Falls

May 13, 2026 //
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This morning I woke aching, feeling a bit twisted, and wondering what woke me early. It’s raining. Simply that, nothing more. I don’t mind some rain, and the garden will love it. I ran my fingers through my hair, as I stood at the bathroom sink, a little bleary eyed, a little tired.

[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]

I got to the trailhead a little before daybreak. The sky was already light enough to reveal stormy sky overhead, no colorful sunrise this morning. I sigh to myself and get out of the car. Just a sprinkle now, the rain won’t slow me down.

Sometimes it rains.

I walked with my thoughts. Uncomplicated solitary time on a Spring morning. I walk. It’s enough.

I think about the upcoming weekend. My beloved Traveling Partner has suggested, multiple times now, that I take a couple days – the upcoming weekend – and get away for a couple days and really rest. He sees the strain and lingering fatigue I’m dealing with. I think about it. It does sound good… Too early for camping yet (for me), I don’t sleep well enough in the cold and damp to enjoy the experience of tent camping in early Spring. A room on the coast? A cabin in the mountains? A yurt at the edge of the high desert? I sigh to myself; I don’t want to spend money on myself right now. I’m being ridiculous. I would benefit from a couple days alone. My beloved wouldn’t suggest it several times, if it weren’t clear I need a break from the world.

I get to my halfway point still thinking about where to go, maybe, this weekend.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. The rain has stopped. I meditate awhile. I do find meditation a helpful practice for building resilience, finding balance, and maintaining a calm and centered experience. Lately it isn’t enough “all the time” to bring balance and peace when the world is so chaotic and stress-inducing. It’s s little little walking uphill on an icy surface. The residual damage of early life and young adult trauma, and latent mental health issues, weigh on me heavily these days, and really test the progress I’ve made. I look at my hands, and recognize that using them to gauge “how I’m doing right now” is pretty useful. They are neat, manicured, and healthy, no torn cuticles; clearly I’m okay, for most values of okay.

The break in the rain becomes a mist, then a sprinkle. I gaze into the stormy sky above. More rain? Oh, yeah. The sprinkle starts to evolve into a proper bit of rain. I get to my feet and pull my fleece close around me for warmth, as I take cover under the oaks, and finish my writing. Rain will fall. That’s just real. What we do about it matters more.

I sigh to myself, regretting that I didn’t grab my rain poncho this morning. I wipe the drops off the screen of my phone, complete this sentence, and begin again.

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Categories 2024 Election, Allegories, Anxiety, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, health, Healthy Living, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, solo hiking, Spring, The Art of Being, War and News of War, women, Words

Any Given Day

May 10, 2026 //
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My tinnitus is shrieking in my ears this morning. (Well, okay, more of a high pitched static in the background, if static were made up of tiny chimes vibrating aggressively, with a touch of morse code in the background that I can almost but not quite make out.) It is a beautiful Spring morning in spite of that.

[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]

In the sunrise, all the promise of a new day.

I slept well and deeply. I woke gently. I dressed, watered the lawn, and headed to the local walking path to get a mile or two on my boots. So far an ordinary enough day. It is a Sunday, and Mother’s Day, but there’s not much to do about that around our house. I’m not a mother. My maternal figures have all passed. I sent my sister a Mother’s Day greeting and let it go. I suppose my Traveling Partner will phone his mother at some point today.

I think about yesterday as I walk. I think about today. Yesterday had some beautiful high points and some frustrating low points, too. I made a batch of excellent brownies. It was all very human. Today will no doubt also have highs and lows, beautiful moments and aggravating mistakes, failed communication and delightful moments of connection. Fucking hell, I’d like to get everything right all of the time, but I don’t see living perfection among the options on life’s menu. I guess I’m grateful that the brownies turned out well, if nothing else. I sigh to myself and keep walking.

Order, and chaos, and beginning again.

Yesterday was spent creating order from chaos. My Traveling Partner continues to move things around in his spaces, preparing for the work ahead, this week. Exciting to see. I help where I can, when I’m asked, and try my damnedest not to break shit, forget something, or misunderstand something obvious – with mixed success. I had expected to spend the weekend relaxing and focusing on my own needs, and my own spaces, and taking care of myself, but it didn’t play out that way; my partner asked for my help. Today, I have less to give. I’m not in as much pain, but my mobility is more limited. Today it takes longer to get to the halfway point on this walk. I’m actually fatigued when I get here. (I’d take a nap right this moment if that were convenient. It isn’t.)

I take a seat on the bench that is next to the trail, under the trees. My legs ache. My back, too. My head spins for a moment with unexpected vertigo and I half wonder if walking was a terrible idea, after all, but I’m here and the Spring air is sweet with the scent of flowers. I breathe it in deeply. The soft scent of joy is in the Spring breeze, it seems to me. I stretch and groan from the sensation of muscles protesting, and stretch again. In each movement, I feel yesterday’s effort.

I make a point of letting all my yesterdays go. This is a new day, and a new moment, all its own, to be lived and savored and enjoyed. I breathe, exhale, and relax. I commit silently to reviewing my to-do list and tackling the tasks that most directly support self-care in some way, and hope that my Traveling Partner doesn’t need much from me. I feel pretty drained and have little to give, but I don’t find denying him easy; I want to help. (Sometimes even at the potential cost of my health, safety, or sanity, and that’s not healthy.)

… Brain damage is hard to live with, and also hard to live around…

A small herd of deer steps from the trees, one by one. Probably the same little herd I see here now and then. Two of the does are obviously pregnant, the other two seem younger. I don’t see a buck anywhere around,  just the four does. They watch me with calm eyes and munch their way along the grassy edge of the trail, nibbling at the grasses and shrubbery. There is blue sky overhead, streaked with clouds, and the tops of the oaks are dark green against the sky. I could sit here for hours just watching the clouds and the wildlife.

Be present.

I meditate awhile. The deer move on. The clock keeps ticking. I wonder if my beloved got the rest he needs for the day ahead? I sigh to myself and get to my feet. It’s already time to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, Anxiety, Brain Injury, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, joy, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, Spring, The Art of Being, The Big 5, Words

A Masterclass in Being Human

April 29, 2026 //
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Wow. Yesterday, though. It got off to a great early beginning, and crashed into chaos when the morning skittered sideways unexpectedly colliding with mental illness (mine) that is generally well-managed to the point of being mostly forgotten. With my Traveling Partner’s recovery making such good progress, I’ve been making adjustments to my HRT trying to find the sweet spot between effectiveness and timing/dosage. This went very wrong yesterday. I may as well have been an adolescent girl screaming at her mother with no justification, only hormones. Fucking hell.

[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]

I 100% lost my shit over nothing at all – a bit of very ordinary feedback and a request to check my breathing while I was on my device (curled over it uncomfortably and possibly holding my breath). On another day I’d have said thanks and corrected my posture. Instead I had a massive tantrum over it, which exploded into a PTSD meltdown and a complete loss of emotional control. It was ugly. My partner tried to deescalate the situation, but I had lost my fucking mind, like, for real.

Detail from “Emotion and Reason” 2012

We eventually got back on track, which was frankly mostly to do with him. I trudged through a miasma of fucked chemistry and feelings of shame for much of the rest of the day. (Being mentally ill can be seriously embarrassing.) In spite of eventually recognizing the role my hormones (both my own and the artificial kind) played in the mess I made, I struggled to regain my feeling of balance. It took most of an uncomfortable and frequently paused workday to get things right. Adulting is hard.

… Dwelling on regrets is neither healthy nor helpful…

This morning? It is an entirely new day with new challenges, and I begin again, feeling hopeful and pretty much okay. I send a note to my GP about changes I could potentially make to my HRT and seeking advice. I have an appointment with my therapist later today. I sigh to myself, and check those off my list. Too much chaos, and for some reason I am regretting ever giving up an analog to-do list on a legal pad written in ballpoint pen, illuminated in the margins with commentary and little doodles. Why now, I wonder? The idea is enticing, though, more visual, more tactile, and just maybe more effective (for me; your results may vary).

This morning begins with phone calls (business) that I never could have handled yesterday. I complete them, feeling a bit unsatisfied with the outcomes. It is a sunny morning, though, and a lovely day so far. I don’t rush through my morning walk, although I got a later start than usual. Yesterday really fatigued me, and I woke only 1 minute ahead of my alarm. I dressed and slipped away quietly, hoping not to wake my beloved. I sit at my halfway point at last and wonder if I should work from the library today, at least for the morning? Seems wise, and would avoid disturbing my Traveling Partner’s rest. After yesterday, I know he really needs it. I find it quite hard to do battle with my demons, myself, I can’t imagine how much harder it is for him.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I sit thinking about yesterday’s blog post, the re-reading of which in the afternoon was part of how I began to get my shit sorted out. I never imagined, when I wrote those positive encouraging words how much I would need them myself, nor how soon. Humans being human. Mental illness is a really hard challenge – and maybe at its most complex and vexing when we heal enough to feel well generally. It’s easy to forget – I know I want to forget it, and even more so when things are beautiful and healthy and fun. Especially then. This is a massive pitfall, and a set-up for failure.

I watch the glow of early morning sunshine light up the treetops. We each have to walk our own mile, eh? What we practice matters; we become what we practice. Choose wisely.

I sigh and glance at the clock. Already time to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, anger, Anxiety, Brain Injury, breathe, Despair, Free Will, Frustration, gratitude, Healthy Living, Hormone Hell, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Sleepless Nights, solo hiking, Spring, The Art of Being, War and News of War, women, Words

Perfection and Happily Ever After

April 24, 2026 //
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I started my walk on this beautiful Spring morning feeling rested and merry, capable and unbothered. The moment was as nearly perfect as moments ever really get. There’s no “but”, or “and then”, or “if only” – it was simply a lovely moment to be walking as the sun began to rise. I made a point of enjoying it as I walked.

[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]

I get to my halfway point still feeling pretty lighthearted and still enjoying the spring morning. The grass is dewy and the morning a little chillier than it has been. I’m glad I wore my cardigan.

A new day, with new opportunities to choose, and to practice, and to begin again.

I smile, sitting here quietly enjoying this solitary moment. My Traveling Partner pings me a loving message. It adds to my delight. I find myself thinking about fairytales and happily ever afters. I enjoy a good story, but damn “happily ever after” is an enticing notion that fucked my thinking up for years and years, provoking me to chase happiness, only to fail to ever be happy, again and again. It compounded my misery for a long time.

There is no “happily ever after”. It’s a trap. The Happiness Trap. It’s so tempting and damaging, someone (Russ Harris) wrote a book about it. A worthy read if you are stuck on that treadmill. I was, for a long time.

Happiness isn’t really something to chase, I eventually learned. Through patient practice I learned to build contentment and resilience, and like sleep catching up with a toddler, happiness eventually caught up with me. Happiness, though, is like a moment; it is fleeting. Its intoxicating joy doesn’t last indefinitely, and what remains when the moment passes depends a lot on the path I’ve chosen to walk. Once upon a time, a moment of happiness left behind only misery and disappointment as it departed. Now, happiness can come and go as moments do, and I relish the intoxicating bliss and let it go without clinging when the moment passes. I rest in contentment between moments. Mostly.

See, there’s also no perfection – and no potential for it. The path we walk through life isn’t paved and well maintained in any reliable way. There is no map. No user’s guide. No “training game”. We try things and fail. We learn from mistakes, which we make plentifully (all of us). We walk on. Life is imperfect. People, too. One of the best things I ever did for myself was to stop clinging to the bullshit idea that I could perfect anything, including myself. Imperfect is fine. Imperfect is real. Authenticity matters more than “perfection”. This doesn’t stop me from seeking to become the woman I most want to be, just stops me from being frustrated when even she is not “perfect”. Mistakes will be made. My results will vary. It’s a very human experience.

I watch the sun rise, feeling close enough to “happy” that the difference can’t possibly matter, and it’s enough. More than enough. We become what we practice. Practice savoring each small moment of joy, and refraining from clinging to moments as they pass, and I find myself feeling joy more often, and really feeling it, in the moment (not just noticing as it slips away). It’s nice. Worth the effort. Worth the practice.

Here it is, another morning. Another moment. Another chance to begin again. I breathe, exhale, and relax, and welcome the joy of a moment in springtime before I begin again.

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Categories Allegories, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, joy, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Practices, solo hiking, Spring, The Art of Being, women, Words

AI and the Myth of Falling Behind

April 15, 2026 //
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It is a lovely Spring morning, and it begins well. The rain stopped just as I got to the trailhead. Daybreak arrived soon after I did.

[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]

I enjoyed a pleasant moment with my Traveling Partner over coffee, and it is payday. A promising beginning to the day. I’ve even got a manicure appointment later, and managed to go almost 5 weeks since my last one without my cuticles tearing and without picking at my fingers. Major win.

What makes a moment? Mostly what we feel about it.

I get to my halfway point thinking about AI and the number of companies forcing that crap into every app, and every customer portal. It has degraded my experience of everything it touches. I’m frustrated by that, but more and more often I am also (rather cynically) amused. My amusement is mostly to do with the humorous notion that anyone needs to work to “keep up with” peers and colleagues using AI tools. No keeping up necessary. I’m watching their cognitive skills erode in real-time, instead. Wild.

Where AI most often vexes me presently is in the predictive auto-complete function in some applications where some amount of writing is required. I had gotten used to algorithms that specifically learned from my own use of language. At some recent point, it clearly changed, and now it is just… fucking wrong, a lot. It would be hilarious if it weren’t so annoying. It slows me down having to correct that shit constantly. I have my own voice, my own style, and I make my own mistakes in both grammar and spelling. Fuck AI. Who needs it? I’m not looking to sound like anyone else.

I chuckle to myself. I’ve no interest in wasting precious mortal lifetime writing prompts. I’d rather just write, and so I do. Similarly, I’ll do my own shopping, choose recipes without assistance, figure out a route for some road trip without AI, answer a friend’s text or a work email by actually simply typing my reply… I find it worthwhile to use my own mind. It is quite clear that these skills fit into the set of things in human life that are “use it or lose it”, but it is also clear that a lot of people won’t really understand that until they are no longer able to answer a simple question about themselves without asking a slopbot. That’s pretty sad. I make a note to buy more books and read them, and to spend time finishing the book I’m reading now.

The sky lightens. There is a new day ahead, filled with opportunities and choices. I smile, thinking of the garden. It’s time to plant starts and make that fence to go around the veggie bed to keep the deer from feasting on seedlings and topping all my tomatoes and peppers, this year. I have a plan.

I watch the clouds separate into lines and streaks as dawn becomes day. Beautiful blue sky shows through the breaks in the clouds. I feel like painting. This too I do without AI, pastels between my fingertips, eyes on the work, and an idea in mind. AI has no place in art. My opinion, of course, and no AI was required to think the thoughts that brought me to that conclusion.

I sigh happily to myself, enjoying this moment. No AI would be useful for that, either, and isn’t simple enjoyment of a moment one of the most fundamental human experiences? I definitely don’t feel as if I’m at risk of falling behind because I have no appreciation of (or use for) AI or LLM tools.

I glance at the time, reluctant to walk on down the path. I am enjoying this moment right here, now… but it is time to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, art and the artist, breathe, Free Will, gardening, gratitude, Healthy Living, inspiration, Logic & Reason, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Practices, solo hiking, Spring, The Art of Being, thoughts on AI, Words
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