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Something About Monday

November 2, 2026 //
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I’m awake. New day. New week, too. Halloween was jolly fun. It already seems like awhile ago, and I guess it was, for some measures of time.

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

I meant to spend more time in the studio yesterday. I chose mostly to hang out with my Traveling Partner while he built an antenna for our radios that could easily be deployed or taken down by one person. The weekend was generally a pleasant one, with some ups and downs.

I get to the halfway point on my morning walk still thinking about the weekend. G’damn I’d rather be sleeping right now. I sigh to myself, still grateful to see another day, even from this leading edge of morning. I rub my hands, as if to spread the heat of my arthritic thumbs to the rest of my hands. Chilly morning.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. November already. Did you vote? It’s time, eh? It really does matter.

The sky overhead is cloudy. No stars to see. The oaks are silhouetted sharply against the sky. Daybreak soon. I get comfortable on this rock adjacent to the trail. The discomfort that shifts me isn’t about the rock, and it would not matter where I choose to sit this morning; the discomfort is me. This mortal body has taken a fair bit of damage over the years. I carry the pain and discomfort with me, everywhere. I guess I should be grateful for the variety 😆. This morning, it is  something like sciatica, down my left leg, which is annoying, but nothing like the pain of my headaches.

…Oh, hey, no the headache yet today! Wow. That’s rare. I take a moment to really appreciate it…

“Tangerine Sunrise” 5″ x 7″, pastels on pastelbord, 2026.

I sit reflecting with some frustration on the dissatisfying creative work this weekend. It’s fine. Nothing like the extreme frustration my Traveling Partner endured working on the antenna project (which was such that it drove me from the house to do shopping that could have waited), but enough to be vexing. I contemplate the idea of reworking the piece I am most irked with. I rarely do “corrections”, but when I have it has resulted in some amazing art. I wonder why I fight that, then? The process of reworking a painting that has “failed” is useful (both in practical terms, and as a metaphor). Humans are weird.

… Sometimes we resist doing the thing we know works best…

A light comes bobbing down the trail. I turn on my headlamp to avoid startling the approaching walker. I rarely see anyone else on this trail so early. No dog, either. The stranger makes a point of shining their light right at me as they near. Oh, of course; a cop. There’s a sheriff’s station in the museum, so I’m not really surprised. I say “good morning” cheerfully. The officer lowers their light and replies “early to be out here, isn’t it?” I agree that it is early, adding that I enjoy watching the sun rise before work, and getting a walk in before the work day begins is a great fitness practice. He agrees, thanks me for my time, and urges me to stay safe as he turns to continue down the trail.

I get comfortable, again, as much as I can. I meditate. I breathe. I sit quietly listening to the sounds of an autumn Monday. I don’t know what’s next today. That’s okay, too. I get to my feet and stretch. I prepare to begin, again.

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Categories 2024 Election, Allegories, art and the artist, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, Frustration, gratitude, Healthy Living, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, The Art of Being

A Poignant Solitude

August 22, 2026 //
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It was just a dream. I remind myself again and again, while also trying to ignore the recalled details, hoping it will fade as I wake, walk, have coffee, run errands…

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

…As dreams go, it felt “too real”, like living some other version of my life, or a moment not yet lived…

The space is tediously sparse: undecorated white walls, one window. The view is something on the urban edge of suburbia, cheapened by the vertical blinds. The quiet feels heavy, interrupted by a ticking clock and unintelligible voices in an adjacent room, or the corridor. I breathe, exhale, relax. I notice my hands, which seem unfamiliar and aged, frail and thin skinned, but beautifully manicured.

My head turns in the direction of a knock, and the door opens. A stranger, a woman, enters with an aggressively cheery greeting and the fake smile of someone who hates their job. “Good morning! How are we today? Ready for breakfast?” She places a tray on my side table and busily tidies the room as my eyes follow her movements. More effort doesn’t seem warranted; she doesn’t really see me. She starts for the door and I speak up, “Is M____ visiting today? Or… Is it tomorrow?” She looks at me, real eye contact, a long pause. “I’m not sure,” she says, “I’ll have to check at reception,” and she’s gone.

Faintly, as if from a distance, I overhear conversation as I look at the unappetizing tray with my meal on it.

“She asked what?”

“If someone named M_____ would be coming to visit today or tomorrow. I don’t know who that is…”

“You’re new. That’s her husband. He’s been gone – dead, I think – for like 20 years. She doesn’t seem able to remember that. Sometimes she remembers, you’ll definitely be able to tell. She clearly misses him, but she doesn’t talk much about him, just asks if he’s going to visit.”

“Oh, poor thing… Does she have other visitors?”

The matronly voice in the hall laughs, “Honey, she’s 117 years old. If she had kids or friends or family, she’s outlived them all. No one comes. She was a writer, I heard, and an artist, but the arthritis in her hands…”

The voices fade away. The food still looks unappetizing. Institutional, like the view. Tears fill my eyes. Ridiculous woman, I think to myself. Of course I know. I just can’t bear it, and I miss him so much…

…the tears spill over, and my shaking hands struggle with the fork, finally settling for just pushing things around on my plate…

I feel his hands warm on my shoulders. His touch eases my pain. I sigh and relax grateful for his touch, and his love. “You’ve got to eat something, Baby,” he says softly, running his fingers through my hair. “You could do that forever,” I whisper. We laugh together. I put my hand on his, where it rests on my shoulder. “I’m glad you came to visit,” I say.

… I don’t turn my head. I know what I’d see. It’s fine. I’m okay with solitude. I sit watching the light of the window chase shadows across the room. The clock ticks on. My hands ache. My head aches. My heart… aches.

… I wake with my face still wet with my tears, and grateful to see another sunrise, to love and be loved, and for still another chance to be a better version of myself than I was yesterday. I make a silent promise to some future version of me – I won’t waste these precious finite mortal moments. When things go sideways, I’ll begin again.

…

… I sigh to myself as I step onto the trail. I’m grateful for the dawn of a new day, and for this sunrise. I’m grateful for another opportunity to begin again. Grateful it was only a dream. Grateful that my beloved will be there to welcome me when I return home. I wipe away a stray tear and head down the path.

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Categories breathe, gratitude, Love, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Summer, The Art of Being, Words

Here. Now. Breathe.

August 20, 2024 //
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I take a quick gulp of my iced coffee and lace up my boots to get a quick walk in, before the work day begins. My thoughts are with my Traveling Partner. I am already dealing with feelings of guilt and regret for agreeing to come into the office today. I hope to make it a fairly short day, which causes me some anxiety. No reason for that (the anxiety), really, my boss and my work team have been very supportive of the time I have needed to take to support my partner, first while injured, and now following his surgery.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I remind myself that anxiety is a liar. I remind myself that my Traveling Partner was okay with me going into the office today, and that he’s been making great progress on his recovery, and even that he won’t be alone all day because he has a friend coming around to visit a little later. I still feel distracted by the distance from my partner, concerned for his well-being, and worried in an abstract persistent way. Perhaps this is a predictable bit of the slow return to normalcy? I sigh and grab my cane; I no longer take walks without it.

Every journey begins somewhere.

I get back to the car, fleece unzipped, warmed through from walking briskly, and pleased to have covered a good distance in half my usual time. Sunrise is just getting going. Daybreak comes much later than a few weeks ago. My back aches this morning and my tinnitus is loud in my ears, but my headache isn’t particularly bad, and that feels like a win. It’s enough to build the day on. I sit for a moment watching the clouds hustle across the morning sky, shades of gray with hints of blue. I sip my coffee and breathe the meadow-sweet air. This is a pleasant moment. I don’t rush it, instead I linger here long enough to really feel it.

Last week is a blur; too much too fast, too tense, too emotional, and too little sleep. I’m glad it’s behind me; it may have been one of the most emotionally difficult weeks of my life. It sure feels that way from this vantage point, but it’s still very “fresh”, and no doubt my perspective is skewed. I breathe, exhale, and relax. I let it go (at least for now; there’s more to learn from that experience).

Hints of pink in the clouds skittering by remind me to check the time. I finish swapping back from boots to shoes. I take my morning meds with a swallow of coffee and silently complain about the pain I’m in, before thinking about the pain my partner still experiences as he heals and the many months of more severe pain he had to endure to get to this point. Perspective. (In spite of the many tense moments between us recently, I miss him dreadfully right now, although I am only 20 miles away, and only for a couple hours at this point.)

I sigh and admit to myself the inevitable; it’s time to begin again.

Like it or not, you’ve got to walk your own mile.

[Some time about 2 hours later]

It sometimes feels as if “life” and “change” are entirely interchangeable words. On my way between my walk and the office, my Traveling Partner phoned. He needed my help, and it really highlighted the necessity. Non-negotiable; I need to be there. I turned the car around immediately and headed back. It’s one thing to be away an hour, maybe two, but all day? I can’t. I really can’t. Not yet. Fuck.

I reach out to my work team and reset expectations. No problem there; everyone’s good with it. I reach out to the Anxious Adventurer; can he be there sooner, and be immediately helpful while I’m on my way back? He can. I feel relieved, and alert my Traveling Partner that help is on the way – and I am, too. Change is.

It’s later. My partner is resting. I’m settled into work. “Nothing to see here.” It’s a Tuesday. I’ve got this cup of coffee, and this day plan in front of me. Routine? Hardly. It is what it is… And what it is, is time to begin again. Again.

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

Try Again

June 1, 2024 //
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Another morning, another opportunity to begin again, to be the person I most want to be, to practice the skills that are most likely to result in good quality of life and healthy relationships… another chance to “get things right “. My Traveling Partner is right, I can be pretty hard on myself. I do tend to conflate “behavior” and “self”. When I fall short of my own expectations of my “performance” in life, my self-talk can become quite negative and more than a little punishing (definitely unkind). Those qualities don’t make “measuring up” easier. I could do better…

…I need more practice…

…another morning for gratitude…

It’s cloudy this morning and my back aches with the likelihood of rain today. My head aches ferociously. My sinuses are a bit stuffy. My tinnitus is so loud in ears I don’t hear the traffic on the nearby highway without really listening to hear it, buried in the static and whine of the buzzing in my ears. The morning seems annoyingly noisy… but it’s all in my head.

I reflect on the past couple days. I find myself admitting I could for sure be more kind and patient with my partner recovering from surgery. I have been too easily frustrated or annoyed by his 100% understandable frustration and annoyance with being both injured and also recovering from a procedure that now has him further limited by pain and the need to rest and heal when he so earnestly wants to move around and get shit done. We’re very different people. I keep finding myself rather stupidly expecting him to deal with things as I might deal with them myself, and it’s not at all reasonable (see “We’re very different people.” lol) It’s not just stupid, it’s also rude. I remind myself to let go of assumptions and expectations, and just be kind, considerate, and available to help when asked. I can count on him to let me know when he needs help.

…But… It is a new day. It’s not really a “do over”. There are no “mulligans” in real life (not really), just new opportunities to begin again and do better – new chances to practice being the person we most want to be. It doesn’t eliminate any consequences of prior actions or words, though, and doesn’t resolve hurt feelings or make amends for damage done. All that? Totally separate. More verbs. Different practices. I  sigh quietly. Adulting is hard sometimes.

My Traveling Partner and I are fortunate; we trust the love we share, and it has proven itself many times. Feelings are feelings. We have our share of difficult moments, but the love is there and it endures beyond any petty bullshit or harsh words. We’re both human primates with noteworthy trauma histories and our share of individual baggage as a result, but fucking hell do we ever also love each other madly. I smile thinking about the enduring love we share. I watch the clouds shifting and drifting. The sun breaks through the cloud cover like a message of hope and encouragement.

It’s a pleasant morning for thinking about life and love, and how best to practice being the woman I most want to be. I sit with my thoughts awhile.

It’s also a nice morning to walk along the edge of the marsh. I breathe the Spring air deeply, smelling the scents of flowers. I reach down to lace up my boots, and prepare to begin again.

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

Pain & Bullshit

January 10, 2024 //
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Pro-tip: don’t add to your physical pain with your bullshit and baggage. I mean, if you can avoid it, it’s a good choice. This morning, my Traveling Partner offered me a master class in how to refrain from adding additional bullshit to a pain-filled morning. Reflecting on it, I’m pretty impressed.

I woke from a fairly shitty night’s sleep in a lot of pain. He was already up, and also in pain. I wasn’t much in the mood for conversation. That was clearly also the case with him. I got up. I dressed. I got ready to leave (early) for work. We exchanged few words, and a brief kiss, and I was on my way. A short while later, he sent me a message checking in on me, wishing me well, and making a point to alert me he was in pain, and doing his best. I felt pretty cared for, honestly. Neither of us was feeling our best, and the morning got off to a pretty good start without either of us “starting shit” or creating chaos or unpleasantness out of our shitty moment individually, in spite of that.

Sometimes adulting is hard. It’s super easy to take dumb shit personally, or to lash out at someone else over a purely subjective bit of unpleasantness going on for us that doesn’t have to affect anyone else at all, if only we acted with sufficient care. I sit here sipping my coffee, appreciating my Traveling Partner for the effort he makes every day to show me the love he feels… even when he’s “not feeling it”, because all he really feels is physical pain. For sure, he’s as human as anyone. We both are. It’s not always a perfect effort for either of us, and sometimes things go awry in a vexing way, but… not this morning. I enjoyed an easy commute, partly because my heart felt light and I felt loved in spite of being in pain. Hopefully, he does, too. The day begins well.

I got to the office, made coffee, and tackled the payday stuff with a smile. I just went from being a contractor, to being full-time (with the same company) and I’m enjoying the feeling of security, and a sense of being “back on track”. I sit with that awhile, feeling grateful for the “here and now” and grateful for a good partnership to rely on in tough times. It’s enough. More than enough – it’s pretty exceptional (based on my own limited experience).

I sit quietly for a few minutes. It’s awhile yet before daybreak. Still quite early. There’s time to reflect, to meditate, to sip coffee, and watch the night slowly become day. There’s time to begin again. 🙂

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Categories Allegories, anger, Anxiety, Brain Injury, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, gratitude, health, Love, meditation, Mindfulness, Moments, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Relationships, Sleepless Nights, The Art of Being, The Big 5
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