Archives for posts with tag: anti-war veteran

There Is No Perfection, Only Practice

April 1, 2026 //
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One step after the next, I walk down the trail, stopping occasionally to answer a ping from my Traveling Partner. He woke me early to tell me the home automation was down (my silent alarm is the lights coming on slowly, and the timing is set in the home automation app). I acknowledged the information and went back to sleep without any worries; my medication alarm is on my phone and would wake me in plenty of time. My partner wakes me again, checking whether I had my CPAP mask on? Yep. Sure did. I started to drift back to sleep…then woke. That was it. No more sleep for me.

I sat up bleary eyed, feeling less than ideally well rested. Already past 05:00. May as well start the day. Stupidly I glance at the notifications that piled up as soon as I turned off bedtime mode on my phone. Work shit. My mood shifted immediately.

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

I reached the halfway point of my trail without really noticing the walk at all. I mostly remember the frequent pings of my Traveling Partner’s messages and the notifications of work shit I’ll deal with later. I stopped to reply to each ping from my beloved. I ignored the rest as much as I could. There’s nothing to see, yet. I walked in darkness.

… Walking in darkness… Yeah, that’s what this morning feels like.

I sigh to myself and answer another message from my Traveling Partner.

Like a lot of less than ideal moments, this too will pass. Moments are fleeting. There’s no value in trying to cling to the emotion of a past moment, either, good or bad those emotions fade with time or get replaced by new feelings in some new moment. The better choice is to let them go, to “be like water“, to be present in the moment I find myself in.

…Be present… that’s a practice. Well… I wasn’t doing that. I sigh to myself and shrug. I need more practice.

There is no perfection in this mortal life, only practice. We may work a lifetime to perfect a craft, to develop a skill, to explore the furthest reaches of the universe or the most hidden functions of human consciousness, we will never know everything there is to know, nor master every element of our craft. We will reliably need more practice. May as well get used to that shit.

For a moment I think irritably about the Anxious Adventurer, ever striving to demonstrate that he already knows something, rarely noticing how much more there is to learn.

I sigh to myself, still somewhat irritated by being wakened from an interesting dream that seemed somehow useful or important, definitely infused with profound joy over… something. I never found out. Like reading a really gripping mystery novel and discovering the last chapter is missing. I breathe, exhale, and relax. It was only a dream. I got enough rest. The day ahead should be an ordinary one. Daybreak comes as I sit with my thoughts.

It’s a good time to practice meditation, and to reflect on impermanence, non-attachment, and new beginnings.

My left “shoulder” is aching. Maybe it’s to do with my neck… Feels like I’ve managed to strain my deltoid somehow. The pain is annoying. It layers on top of other more routine seeming pain, crying out for attention it doesn’t deserve from me. The medication that has been bringing such tremendous relief to me generally does not help with this one. I take an Aleve and hope that it helps.

The clock ticks on. I am earnestly craving some sort of proper time to myself without the world – or anything or anyone else – encroaching upon my consciousness or my time. I yearn for uninterrupted time with my own thoughts, no errands, no work pings, no worries, just boots on the path and eyes on the horizon… Not fucking likely, not for awhile. There’s shit to do and bills to pay, and obligations.

I sigh to myself and ignore the tears that spring up when I think about how challenging it is to meet this core need for solitude. The world is at war and we (the United States) are not the good guys. It weighs on me. I’d like to be alone with my grief. That’s not realistic presently. I take a breath and let those feelings be what they are; feelings, only that. The time will come for solitude. When it does, I’ll enjoy it thoroughly and without reluctance or regret.

… Looks like another gray day. It’s time to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, Frustration, health, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, solo hiking, Spring, The Art of Being, War and News of War, Words

Resist! No Kings, No Fascism

March 29, 2026 //
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Wow! I am so proud of the people of this rural county, and the surrounding communities in the area. The turn out for various local No Kings protests was amazing. This is an area that mostly voted for Trump. It’s good to see them objecting to fascism, explicitly, as well as standing proud and defiant against foreign wars. Seeing them lining the main streets of the towns of Yamhill county was an impressive and moving sight. I didn’t take pictures; I don’t want to put people at risk of retaliation.

…It gives me hope…

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

My Traveling Partner came home from his trip to the city a little early, yesterday. I was happy to have him back, though I was enjoying my solitude. I enjoy his company. The evening was a pleasant one. Pizza and a movie, delightfully wholesome.

I slept in this morning (for some values of “sleeping in”, and woke to find my beloved relaxing at the dining table. Instead of rushing off to catch the sunrise, I stayed for coffee and we lingered over conversation until the Anxious Adventurer was also up for the day, getting ready for a work shift. Eventually I left, and drove up the highway to the trailhead at the nature park nearby, grateful to have enjoyed that time at home; moments are fleeting and unrepeatable.

…”Each time for the first time, each moment the only moment.” Be here, now. Ichi-go ichi-e.” Life is for living…

I chuckled to myself as I drove up the highway. The gray dawn had already come, and there was no colorful sunrise, only a smattering of raindrops. I’m glad I took time for coffee with my Traveling Partner. Time well spent.

This moment, too, is worth living.

The Spring greens of the meadow and marsh are almost luminous as I step down the trail. The forecast suggests temperatures are too chilly for planting, but the plants that are growing wild disagree. The forecasted frost for this morning never came to pass, and the morning is mild and a bit drizzly. I expect I’ll be in the garden later. The thought makes me smile as I walk.

I sigh contentedly, at my halfway point, and take a seat on a fence rail. For a moment, fascists and corrupt billionaires and politicians aren’t on my mind at all. I’m watching the marsh creatures beginning the day, and tasting the Spring on the breeze. Occasional raindrops tickle my face, but it’s not really raining. The oaks are waking, and the trees in the distance have taken on a green haze. It’s all quite beautiful. No bombs, no craters, no rubble; it’s pretty shameful that we make so much effort to destroy the peace and beauty of Spring in other lands. We’re not the “good guys” we claim to be, as a nation.

I sigh again, this time with a certain tired resignation. “Resist,” I remind myself. It really does matter. Speak truth to power. Do not yield to corruption or cruelty. Live the values that lead you on the path to becoming the person you most want to be. Choose wisely. Persist. We become what we practice. I smile thinking how often I repeat such lessons and aphorisms to myself. Each represents some step on this path, and some moment of recognition and learning.

I get to my feet and tackle a side trail with a short distance that is a bit steep. I have to work for this, it tests my fitness a little, but it tests my janky ankle rather a lot. It’s worth it. The view isn’t great, but the feeling of getting there is. Few people come this way. It’s a quiet spot for meditation and writing. It’s an opportunity for a new perspective, and a chance to begin again.

… The clock is ticking, and I’m wondering if we still have time to change the world…

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Categories 2024 Election, anger, Anxiety, breathe, Free Will, gardening, gratitude, Healthy Living, inspiration, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, Spring, The Art of Being, The Big 5, War and News of War

Alone in the Dark

February 10, 2026 //
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It is well before dawn. I’m at a local trailhead waiting for the sun, or maybe just waiting.

My Traveling Partner had a rough night, sick. I felt bad for him, and woke every time he did, but I had wisely gone to bed at my usual early time, and this morning I woke clear eyed and clearheaded, feeling pretty well rested. I hope he managed to get enough rest, himself.

Yesterday was weird. Sort of blurry and surreal from fatigue, I went through the motions of work, and once I had completed everything that was time sensitive and due, I went home and crashed hard. A two hour nap put me right, enough to make a good meal for us to enjoy as a family. Not enough to put forth the effort to clean up. I was grateful to have the Anxious Adventurer’s help with that.

Another day begins. I sit in the dark with my thoughts, grateful for the quiet time alone. My beloved encouraged me to sleep in and work from home this morning. I may yet work from home, but sleeping in? Not gonna happen. I woke at my usual time, feeling quite alert and rested. 😆 I got up, dressed, and headed out into the predawn darkness, rather than risk waking everyone by bumbling around the house or tapping away on my keyboard.

It is a chilly morning, although not particularly wintry (here). It is a mild 40F (about 4.4C), and the night sky is clear and starry for the moment. The weather says a foggy morning, but so far it is not that, at all. Not in this location – and I’m certainly close enough to a creek that feeds into the Yamhill River very nearby to see some fog. On foggy mornings, it’s usually quite thick here. Perhaps the temperature will drop and a fog will develop?

I sit quietly thinking about people and places. Friends. Lovers. Family. Colleagues. Strangers who crossed my path in some meaningful way. People. Lives that matter. Lived moments, shared and unshared. Family, community, and society. Human potential.

I sigh to myself, feeling vaguely disappointed by humanity “as a whole”, but realistically, I am most disappointed with those who contribute to human misery directly through their cruelty, pettiness, violence, indifference to human suffering, and/or self-serving profit seeking at the expense of, and through the misfortune of, others. Exploitative greed and capitalistic callousness is so toxic. We could do better, but to do so would require real change, right down to the deepest layers of what individuals value. We may never be ready to become better than what we are, as a species, and it will likely be our undoing.

… Dark thoughts in the darkness. Fitting, I guess…

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I let go of my dark musings, and my mind wanders on.

I’m in more than a little pain this morning, but it’s manageable for the moment, and I don’t cling to the experience, I just note the feeling and let that go, too. I’m grateful that chronic pain and some fairly minor limitations to movement and flexibility are generally the worst of it for me. I’m still walking. I sit with my gratitude for the surgeon that day (maybe it was night?) so long ago (more than 40 years now). He was frank with me that if I didn’t have surgery to attempt to repair my fractured spine, I’d be in a wheelchair, and partially paralyzed. There was no guarantee that the surgery would be successful, and there were experimental techniques involved. Two of my vertebrae were basically crushed, and would be rebuilt using hardware and bone grafts. 16 hours of surgery… Weeks in the hospital… Months in a body cast… More months of physical and occupational therapy and restrictions on what work I could do… And eventually, the osteoarthritis arthritis and the chronic pain setting in a couple years later. Small price to pay; I survived that injury, and that marriage. The pain reminds me that freedom has a price, and that the bill will come due.

… What price are you willing to pay for your freedom? Your rights? Your survival?  The price may be quite high. Paying that bill is not optional. You may only have seconds to decide…

Choose wisely.

My tinnitus is loud in my ears. My head aches. I take notice and let those go, too. I “flip a coin” in my head; walk or don’t walk? I make my choice, and begin again.

A new day dawning, a light in the distance. Yes, it’s a metaphor.
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Categories Allegories, Brain Injury, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, meditation, Metaphors, 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, The Big 5, War and News of War, winter, women, Words

Remembrance of Lives Lost

May 26, 2025 //
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So, hey, Memorial Day, yeah? Maybe you’ll barbecue with family, or perhaps you’ve been spending the weekend camping or traveling? Maybe, like me, just a long weekend spent more or less the usual way, at home? It is Memorial Day, though. Don’t forget to make time to reflect on the many lives lost to war – civilian lives, too. Lives lost to conflict, to genocide, to the ridiculous unwillingness of some in power to refrain from slaughtering innocents needlessly. The consequences of such things linger for generations. We could do better.

A Spring morning well-suited to reflection.

I started down the trail this morning, alone. The parking lot at the trailhead was empty, though it was much later than my usual time. Now, though, it’s almost crowded (meaning to say I’ve seen more than one other person walk past). I walked with my thoughts, mostly to do with fallen comrades of wars (cold and otherwise) that are in the distant seeming past. Memories. It’s been a decent year, in a sense; no new outreach alerting me that yet another old friend has taken their own life, unable to live with their memories, or the world as it is. It’s been awhile since I received such news.

I sit at my halfway point, reflecting on war – the pointless wastefulness and loss of life, the violence, the hate, and the lasting damage done. There are no “winners” in warfare. There are only the wealthy and the powerful (getting wealthier and more powerful), and the dead.

… Memorial Day sales are not the point of Memorial Day…

I sit watching clouds drift across the sky. I’m grateful that I have survived the wars I was sent to fight. I find room in my heart to honor the dead on both sides of those conflicts. There were no “good guys”, only fighting and chaos and killing and destruction. Ugly shit. Don’t go to war – the price is too high.

I sigh to myself, remembering. I’m okay though. Some years it’s been hard to face my memories and the losses left me feeling wounded and struggling with tears. Today not so much. What are one woman’s recollections of warfare in the face of ongoing actual genocides around the world? How do we even allow that to continue? Tough talk by idiot leaders is just performative puffery intended to convey strength by weak fools with too much power and fueled by greed (and, generally, also racism). Why do we permit it? It’s pretty ugly, and very wasteful. I have a pretty clear understanding of why leaders and governments participate in warfare – there’s quite a lot of money to be made, and wow, so much useful material for manipulating a population develops out of conflict. Do I sound cynical? I’ve been to war. I’ve stared into the eyes of the god of war. I’ve been “part of the machine”.

… I still consider myself a patriot, and in spite of trauma and the personal price I paid, I don’t regret serving my country, only that we continue to fight wars…

… never forget…

I think about “honor” and “valor” and “heroism” and ethical service to a cause, and wonder, again, why so many of us have to stare death in the face personally to understand that there is no honor in war… Only killing and death and destruction. The price paid in lives lost is too high.

My Traveling Partner pings me a good morning greeting. There is hope in the world because love exists. I smile to myself, and get ready to begin again.

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Categories 2024 Election, Allegories, Brain Injury, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, gratitude, grief, meditation, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, solo hiking, Spring, The Art of Being, Uncategorized, War and News of War