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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

Walking and Thinking

March 27, 2026 //
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It isn’t payday. I had it in my head that it would be. (My last job paid every two weeks, this one pays twice monthly. They are not the same.) Annoying. Disappointing. Embarrassing. Human.

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

It’s still Friday. The weekend is ahead. I’m still looking forward to that, simply because I’ll have a couple days not working. Nothing fancy, no plans, and I know I’ll find plenty to do and enjoy, even if I just dust, vacuum, and read. I’m okay with that.

I woke up early,  and got an early start on my walk. I enjoy the steady sound of my footsteps, and the stillness. I reached my halfway point in good time. It’s chilly but not cold, comfortable with my heavy sweater. 4°C. I’m beginning to think in terms of temperature expressed in C instead of F, but it is admittedly slow going. I often look up the conversion to check my sense of it, but I’m making progress. I sigh to myself and then have a sneezing fit and a running nose. I have very few allergies. I am, however, a bit allergic to certain specific tree pollens, and those trees happen to grow in Oregon. 😆 I use up a pack of travel tissues, grateful to have packed a Benadryl with my morning medication.

After some time spent meditating, I watch the sky lighten as dawn approaches. Life feels a little more manageable when I don’t get too worked up over dumb mistakes, like being wrong about when payday is, or whether I’m okay with my stepson moving in with us, or all the many mistakes a person can so easily make in a lifetime. “To err is human…”, very.

I spend some time chatting with my Traveling Partner as the day begins. His morning is off to a difficult start. I do my best to listen deeply and give him room to talk. He’ll let me know if he needs more than that. Not every problem is mine to solve. Sometimes it’s more important simply to be present.

I sigh to myself and get to my feet. I’ll walk with my thoughts awhile longer, then begin again.

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

F* You In The Morning

March 25, 2026 //
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I’ll admit I didn’t expect to have love songs in my head this morning. I didn’t sleep well and my dreams were strange and disturbing. I woke up too early. I woke with a headache.

Trigger warning: emotions.

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

I dressed and noticed my Traveling Partner was already up. I managed to make a colossal mess of that, this morning, although I really tried to make a comfortable exit without causing any chaos or heartache. My excuse is that I wasn’t completely awake, yet. It’s not much of an excuse. I hurt his feelings terribly. That is the large and the small of it. By the time I reached the trailhead he had messaged me enough sincere and carefully worded “fuck yous” that what could have been a small misunderstanding between lovers resolved with patience and communication… wasn’t.

I walked the first half of my walk in tears, pretty much just hating humanity, the complexities of good communication, and wondering what the fuck love even means. I’ve still got a work day ahead. Looks like I’ll be starting the day wondering whether the love I think I share with my partner is real at all – which hurts so much I don’t have words, just more tears.

“Hurt people hurt people,” I whisper to myself through my tears, sitting here feeling foolish and exposed, by the side of a public trail. I’m embarrassed to have hurt my Traveling Partner’s feelings so badly, to the point that I feel hesitant to ever go back to my own house… which feels ridiculous when I see it in words. I feel hurt, myself. He managed to say some incredibly painful things, phrased for maximum damage. How do I measure the impact of emotional weapons? Shit can escalate so fast, out of some inocuous seeming moment, laying waste to to any feeling of emotional safety.

… When you hurt someone, apologize…

G’damn this sucks.

I sigh and try to regain lost perspective. I also stare into the face of my worst fear; that I will return home to find him gone, house emptied, our life together abruptly ended. The tears start all over again, but facing fears seems more effective than running from them.

My ears are ringing like crazy. My head aches, and my left arm feels numb. I’m annoyed by my perceived frailty right now, when I need my strength. I breathe, exhale, and… do my best to let this go. Emotions are fleeting. They don’t make a good substitute for thinking. I’m not having an easy time of it. I’m hurting right now. So is he, I’m sure.

I curse my first husband under my breath, and my father, too. The lessons learned in those traumatic relationships caused so much damage that I reliably face this sort of situation with real mortal terror, and actual fear of potentially deadly consequences. That seems so unfair to my Traveling Partner (and to me, now); he has demonstrated real love and kindness, without violence or mind games, and we’ve shared 16 amazing years together. My heart aches with confusion and uncertainty.

I sit with my tears, replaying every conversation over days and weeks like some sick game of “he loves me, he loves me not”, tearing my certainty of his love to shreds. I take a big breath of Spring air and blow it all out, watching my breath mingle with the fog. Chilly morning. I quietly chastise myself for being overly dramatic, for blowing things out of proportion, even for cowardice. That’s not really helpful, so I let that go too. I try to be a little kinder to the woman in the mirror; tears aren’t her best look, and she deserves better from me.

Fucking hell, I hope I’m not seeing the twilight of this relationship… that’s almost too painful to bear. That’s the big fear. I breathe, exhale, and relax. We’ve been through a lot in 16 years, this doesn’t seem likely to be the thing that ends a relationship like ours. Another breath, and I dry my tears, blow my nose, and notice daybreak has come. Coffee will be nice… This amount of emotion, stress, and drama is not sustainable…

Having a brain injury that results in difficulty controlling my emotions comes with some baggage. I do my best to keep things in perspective. I work to build and protect my emotional resilience. I seek to forgive easily, and to make room for the people I love to make mistakes and move on from those. I know I need that myself, far more often than I’d like.

I yield to the temptation to curse the new day; it’s off to a pretty bad start. I breathe, exhale, and relax, and begin again. I repeat the effort again. And again. As often as it takes to calm myself and face my fears – and my beloved – and begin the new day from a better place. Because moments are moments, and love is bigger than that.

My Traveling Partner sends me an apology for his harsh words. I send one back for my insensitivity and hurtful behavior. I look into the fog, seeing the trail ahead disappear into the mist. I can’t see where the path leads, but it is time to begin again. For real. I get to my feet and head for home.

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

Real People

March 24, 2026 //
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[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]

Real people get shit wrong sometimes. Real people get cranky if they don’t eat when they’re hungry. Real people laugh at some pretty strange stuff. Real people love and real people reason.

… Sometimes real people fall for fake people…

It used to be that “fake people” were real human beings who also happened to choose to present a false self to another person, or even to the world. Liars, cons, grifters, MLM sales people, politicians… these all have been viewed at some point as “not real”. “AI” – which is certainly artificial but not actually intelligent, has changed the game. Really “fake people” now exist. So disturbing and weird.

I don’t exclusively mean “companion chat bots”; if you’re using one of those, you’ve made a choice on your own. You know they are not a person, if you’re honest with yourself. I’m specifically talking about a larger fraud. Several, actually.

Jessica Foster. Yep. Not real. Completely made up. Did you fall for it?

The actress Tilly Norwood?  Also not real.

There are influencers, musicians and bands, models, and brand spokespeople, who just aren’t even people at all. They’re fake. Not human at all. Also not alien life. Not living, not conscious, nothing more than a very convincing image doing what it is told. Have you been fooled? (You wouldn’t be alone in that, apparently Jessica Foster has been favored wanking material for MAGA men for some time now. lol)

You don’t have to settle for a fake. The real thing, actual people, are all around. They have their own opinions, their own thoughts and dreams and understanding of the world. They’re interesting, sometimes annoying, occasionally heartbreaking – and they are also truly alive and able to understand you. That actually matters.

…If you are finding that you really enjoy the sycophancy of an AI bot masquerading as a human being more than you enjoy real people… you might want to do something about that. I say that as someone who loves solitude and avoids people who annoy or stress me out. Fake AI isn’t the way – or the way out – choose wisely.

I can’t tell you what to do. I’m just suggesting that authentic (healthy) relationships with real people are vastly superior to the frauds and fakes. If none of your relationships work out, the common denominator is…you. You can work on that! Embrace change. Work on becoming the person you most want to be. It may be a slow journey, but it would be a real one, with real rewards and you would gain real understanding along the way. Don’t settle for less.

I sigh contentedly, at the edge of the trail. Nice morning. 9°C or so. Pleasant. Windy. The air tastes of Spring. I’m okay with this path I’m walking; I chose it. I choose my path every day. I smile thinking of my Traveling Partner at home. Also human. Sometimes vexing. He loves me deeply and I return that emotion. We wouldn’t have any of that if either of us were some simulation of a person. I feel myself shrug, a very real gesture, and I feel each muscle, each movement. It is my lived experience. I enjoy it.

It’s time to begin again. Real isn’t just good enough… it’s the best.

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Categories Allegories, breathe, Free Will, Healthy Living, inspiration, joy, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, Spring, The Art of Being, The Big 5, thoughts on AI, women, Words

333

March 23, 2026 //
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I sat for a few minutes at the trailhead before I set off down the trail. The available mileage read 333, and I thought wistfully of turning the car around, calling out from work and driving east to catch up to the sunrise. It’s early. The sun won’t rise for another two hours.

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

I take a few more minutes to calm myself, to avoid pounding down the trail more stomping than walking; that’s too hard on my feet, ankles, and knees. Pointlessly damaging. Once I am calm, I set off down the trail in the darkness.

I reflect on my experience as I walk, and get to my halfway point annoyed to discover my phone at 35% charged. Wtf? Did I not plug in the charging cable when I went to bed? It’s possible, but the possibility does nothing to charge my phone now. I sigh to myself and toggle on “extreme battery saving”.

This morning I was awakened abruptly by the bang of a cupboard or a door. I dislike being awakened by loud noises. It sets off my PTSD. I’m hyper vigilant as I sit here in the darkness, heart still pounding, tinnitus shrill in my ears, pain amplified by anxiety – all this in spite of well-practiced tools for managing my PTSD. It takes time.

I sit here taking the time I need.

Fucking hell. And on a Monday after a couple days away from work, too. It’ll be a busy Monday. Maybe a busy week. I remind myself that although I can’t reliably control the circumstances in which I find myself, I can control my reaction to them. I breathe, exhale, and relax. I meditate for awhile in the darkness.

I sit listening to the HVAC of a nearby building. This is no wilderness trail, just a pleasant space between human endeavors. Behind me, the acreage of the air museum and a water park, vineyards filling every bit of space in which grapes could be planted. Ahead of me, on the other side of a creek that winds its way to the Yamhill River, an apartment complex, invisible but for a few lit windows and some balcony lights. Later, after daybreak, the farmworkers will begin to arrive, and the construction workers building a luxury hotel none of the locals actually want will begin their work. I sit with my irritation; it has nothing to do with these details, although it is tempting to connect them with my experience.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I let that shit go.

I dislike drama. I dislike displays of temper. I dislike unexpected loud noises. It’s a human life; there’s likely to be some drama, some temper on display, and some loud noises. Hell, sometimes I may be the cause. I sigh to myself in the darkness. My anger over being awakened by shit that isn’t even to do with me at all doesn’t help anything. I let it go. G’damn, I’ll be glad to see the Anxious Adventurer move out. The friction between him and my Traveling Partner is unpleasant to live with.

… They are each having their own experience, and in either case, it isn’t about me…

It’s just two more weeks.

My head aches. I take my medication a little early. I hope it helps.

I sigh again in the darkness, and pull my attention back to me, here, now, in this moment. I’m eager to be painting again. The background tension in the household has made that difficult. I sit reflecting on several views, images, and ideas I have in mind to paint. Being in less physical pain day-to-day has increased my feelings of being inspired. I love this feeling. I focus on the feeling of being inspired and “anchor myself” to that feeling, instead of clinging to my irritation. It’s a good choice, and I feel lifted from my anger.

Soon the sun will come. I’ll finish this walk and return home to work – and to make a good cup of coffee, and begin again.

For now, I’ll enjoy this quiet moment, listening to the HVAC in the distance and the creek nearby, and think thoughts of paintings yet to be painted, and moments of joy yet to come. I’ll open my heart to gratitude, and enjoy fond recollections of the time I’ve been spending with my Traveling Partner, which has been exceptionally pleasant lately, and romantic and connected. Time and moments worth savoring, for sure. I glance at the battery indicator on my phone. 31% now. I shrug, look over my writing and prepare to hit “publish” on this very human experience, before I begin again.

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Categories Allegories, anger, Anxiety, art and the artist, Brain Injury, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, Frustration, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, meditation, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Sleepless Nights, solo hiking, Spring, The Art of Being, The Big 5, Words
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