I breathe, exhale, and relax. I sit quietly along this trail, appreciating a new day, a good mood, and having enjoyed a good night of rest. Small things, and still worth appreciating. A lot of small things have joy and wonder and plenty of value worth appreciating.
One moment, and the dawn of a new day.
The western sky is taking on some lovely pink hues along the edges of the clouds. I hear voices coming up the trail, rather loud for so early. “…use this trail almost around the clock, so we….” They come into view as they round the bend. I call out a cheery “Good morning!”, hoping to avoid startling them. “Morning, Young Lady!”, one replies. “We’re going down to put up caution tape and cut off a section of this trail for safety,” says the other. I ask if I’ll still be able to walk the loop all the way around with a detour, and they reply that I will. They walk on. I wave as they depart and they return the gesture. Human beings, being human.
Our words matter. Our gestures matter. Our ability and willingness to include others and to communicate matter. We have so much to offer each other and the world. Good things. We choose, and act on our choices. The consequences of our choices are our own to endure, and to be responsible and accountable is not something we can dodge or defer indefinitely. The bills will always come due. Worth thinking about.
Choose wisely. Speak gently. Act with intention.
The clouds roll past overhead, and it’s a gray sort of dawn. For a moment I catch a glimpse of a luminous fat full moon peaking through clouds and tangled bare branches. Pretty. It doesn’t last. Moments are brief. Impermanent. There’s something to be learned from that. I sigh quietly. I am wrapped in contentment and not eager to move from this place or this moment. The clock is ticking, though, and moments don’t last, even when we linger.
I stand and brush some damp leaves off my jeans and look down the path. New day. New moments. Time to begin again. I smile to myself and set off down the path.
Okay, so here we are. War. First things first; are there bombs dropping where you are, or is it a legitimate risk that they may? If yes, then please put this down and get to safety. I’ll still be around, later. You definitely have more important things to be concerned about, like safety, shelter, and potable drinking water.
If there are no bombs dropping where you are, and you are safe from harm, generally speaking, then please consider not immersing yourself in “war porn”. Read the news in words, no images if you must “stay current”. Or, you know, don’t. I’m not telling you what to do, just sharing what works for me.
I don’t want to watch bombs dropping – I already know what war looks like. I don’t need to watch hours of video footage of violence, destruction, and death. I have looked directly at the face of war. I don’t take it lightly, and don’t view it as necessary or needful or as a productive use of time and resources, at all. I am an anti-war army veteran. I’ve fought and been in combat. I’ve helped clean up damaged facilities and retrieved and cared for the dead. War is nothing to celebrate, even for the victorious; it is shameful, wasteful, and tragic.
People who wage war – who call the shots and send human beings to fight and die – don’t fight those wars or pay the price for the violence. I think they should. You want war? Then you pick up a weapon and go lead that fighting, you fucking monster. You go pull the bodies out from under the buildings you bombed. You answer to the grief stricken population.
I’m grateful no bombs are dropping here. I hope it always stays that way.
I take my usual morning walk feeling grateful and fortunate. I seem to be coming down with a cold (another one??), nonetheless, compared to being bombed, I’m quite fortunate. It is an ordinary Monday, following a lovely weekend.
I sigh to myself watching daybreak become a gray morning, without any hint of a colorful sunrise… but there’s also no rubble, no destruction, no death from above, no sirens blaring, no sounds of wailing or weeping. No fear. No stench of death or chaos. It’s another pleasant quiet morning at the edge of a small town, near where the vineyards meet the highway.
…We got so close to a world at peace, y’all…
Bombs or no bombs, it is a useful practice to take care of ourselves as best we can with the resources available. Breathe. Reflect. Be helpful, kind, and compassionate. Listen deeply. Lift people up. Use your words wisely, they are powerful.
I do my best to prepare my heart – and my resolve – to endure a world at war (again). I’m still hoping things may cool down once the billionaires and powerful grifters in office have what they want (that they could not simply purchase). I sit reflecting on how I can be truly helpful to the real human beings, the noncombatants affected by the trauma inflicted by war, if at all.
I take time for meditation. I breathe, exhale, and relax. I’m grateful to be where I am, and even who I am. It’s enough. It’s Monday, and it’s time to begin again.
It is New Year’s Day, January 1st, 2026. I woke up early, no hangover, feeling pretty relaxed and comfortable in my body after a good night’s sleep. This is only surprising because quite a few of the neighbors were up well into the night setting off fireworks and celebrating the end of 2025. Sounded like quite a lot of enthusiasm to see it end.
I’d gone to bed early, still struggling with lingering symptoms of recent illness and just not feeling up to a lot of fuss and bother. The sound of fireworks did not prevent me from sleeping. No parties, no drinking, no fancy dinner, no company over to ring in the new year; it was a quiet evening at home. It’s not surprising that I slept well and woke without a hangover.
The year ended somewhat painfully, with one final “fuck you” from circumstances delivered on the last day of the year. My parked car was sideswiped by something while I was working yesterday, which I discovered when I left the office to return home. Fuck. For real?! I cried. I pinged my Traveling Partner for comfort and guidance (too upset to easily process next steps), then called my insurance company to file a claim, and then local police department to file a report. By the time I got home, I was merely annoyed, and managing to feel grateful it hadn’t been worse. The damage to the car is cosmetic, and I wasn’t injured. It definitely could have been worse!
I sip my hot cup of cheap gas station coffee, listening to the rain falling at this trailhead, and thinking about how much my choices create my experience in some circumstances, and how circumstances sometimes create an experience I didn’t see coming, in others. I still have to deal it, with regardless of my previous choices or circumstances. It’s a journey. I do have choices and something to say about the experience I have. Powerful. Knowing this does nothing to prevent me from being upset when things go poorly, just reminds me there’s a lot about it that remains within my capabilities to handle, manage, control, or deal with properly.
… I’m still mad, though, I mean, for real? I have lingering “why me?” feelings, but I’ve done what I can for now…
I left the house this morning feeling a muted sense of purpose, and undecided on what trail to walk. It was early. I’ve got options. It is a cold morning, but not freezing. As I get into the car, it begins to rain. My nose is running and I’ve started coughing – taking my noisy sleepless self back into the house would only serve to wake everyone else, too. I don’t feel like dealing with that, so I head out in spite of the rain. It’s not cold enough to snow – I guess I’m grateful.
Now I’m sitting here at the trailhead, waiting for a break in the rain, and maybe for daylight. There’s no traffic beyond the parking lot. The morning is quiet and suited to meditation and self-reflection. It’s a gentle beginning to a new year. I make a point not to look at the news; I don’t want to do anything that might break this fragile moment of peace and contentment. Not yet. Later will be soon enough to begin again.
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… I can’t believe I’m still dealing with being sick… Maybe I’ll just go back to bed after I return home? Anyway… Happy New Year!
First light on the trail, first morning hike of the new year.
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.
The morning sky is a featureless homogeneous soft gray. It rained during the night, and feels like it might rain again today at some point. My walk was quiet, and I spent the time mostly in my own head. I’ve got my own opinions about world events, and I know you have yours. No doubt we each think we’re right (or at least justified) about the opinions we hold. The smarter we each actually are, the more likely we’re also aware of how wrong we could be, or sensitive to how nuanced circumstances truly are.
Being human is funny that way; we’re each having our own experience. Each walking our own path. Each of us making the journey on our own terms, except where we’ve yielded our decision making power to some Other. We’ve got our own opinions, formed and informed by our own experiences, and our own circumstances, colored by our individual pattern of biases, assumptions, and superstitions. We’ve got our own dreams, our own goals, our own disappointments and inner demons. We are individuals capable of critical thinking, when we choose to think critically (a choice which is quite separate from the ability). We create the world we live in directly through our choices and our actions. We are, as a species, uniquely creative and incredibly intelligent, while also being willfully stupid and terribly destructive. The scale of our ability to destroy is likely to be our undoing; we lack the wisdom to be cautious and to approach threats to our survival with care. A large portion of the whole of humanity is thoroughly committed to profit and personal gain even at the cost of humanity’s demise. Weird.
Oak trees in a meadow, the largest of them have been here longer than I have.
I breathe, exhale, and relax. Warfare is stupid and pointlessly destructive. That’s my opinion. We could do better.
I sit with my thoughts and my opinions at the edge of this meadow, wishing human beings weren’t so completely shortsighted and criminally greedy. I sigh and try again to let that go. Fretting over things I can’t change about the decision making and opinions of other people is just about as pointless as things get. I definitely have better things to do with my time. Strange that people so eager to make war don’t seem aware that they could choose peace instead.
“Golden Opportunity” blooming on a rainy day.
I sit awhile wondering how it is we have not yet overcome the most basic flaws in our character as human primates and wonder why it is so many of us are so greedy for arbitrary representations of wealth. I hear the traffic in the distance. It’s a quiet morning, here. No bombs falling here. No drone attacks. No artillery fire. No landmines in these meadows. No trenches. No destruction. Americans tend to be some very NIMBY motherfuckers about such things; we fling our munitions at targets elsewhere in the world, and very few Americans have stared directly into the face of the God of War. To do so would force us to confront the cruelty, waste, and injustice of war, and to reckon with the body count. It is my opinion that most people who understand war and the cost in wasted resources and lost lives don’t so easily choose to inflict it on others. What do I even know about it, beyond my own experience, though? Maybe nothing.
I have seen war, up close and personal. I’d rather not go there again. Nothing is worth paying that price. Nothing. Humanity could do better. We make terrible choices.
A crow watching the tide come in.
It’s been a lovely week off. Now the weekend begins to end and the world is waiting. What next? Where does this path lead? Each moment is a blank page – what story will you write? What choices will you make? How will you (or I) make the world a better place for every creature who makes this muddy rock hurtling through space their home? We could… There are verbs involved, and our results will vary. I promise you one thing; war is not the way.
I sigh to myself. You can lead a human being to knowledge but you cannot make them think.
I get to my feet and look down the trail. Moments are fleeting. It’s a good time to begin again. I’ll do my best to live well, to embrace joy, and encourage others, and to refrain from acts of destruction. I can, if nothing else, live my values authentically and avoid violence. I may not change the world for the better in any obvious way, but I can surely avoid making shit worse.
Evening Light 