Archives for posts with tag: be present
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Zoom Out

June 18, 2026 //
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The morning begins gently, if a bit earlier than I’d hoped. I dress, water the lawn, and head to the trailhead.

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

I started down the trail as the sunrise began, walking towards the west, counterclockwise on the loop that circles the vineyard. I walk with my thoughts, still processing an epiphany I brought back with me from my coastal getaway. Something to do with time management and presence and meeting my need for solitude and creative time “on the cheap” and more reliably (and without having to upend my routine every time I need to catch a breath or practice self-care more skillfully). I am grateful for the opportunity to “reset” my understanding of my Traveling Partner’s improved capabilities, too. I feel more easily able to simply enjoy him as he is, without constantly working to anticipate (or soothe) every need and every circumstance. It feels good to be able to focus on what I also need, again.

Zoom out, see a bigger picture.

My self-care “stall points” are pretty commonplace I suppose. I enjoy my beloved’s companionship greatly, and I am easily tempted into doing nothing at all aside from enjoying his company, which definitely prevents me from getting things done. I often attempt to counter this by jumping to immediately handle any task mentioned to me, to avoid forgetting it. The result is that I am constantly spinning from distraction to distraction without making room for what I need for myself, to be well and to thrive. It’s a puzzle. Stepping away and considering my life while a bit removed from it gave me a new perspective from which to compare, contrast, and evaluate. Useful time spent on self-reflection.

Zoom in, consider the details.

I reflect on my thoughts about better self-care, and being a better partner from the vantage point of my halfway point on this familiar trail. These aren’t new thoughts, not entirely, it’s more that they have resurfaced and gained my attention at a moment when I can give them deeper consideration. Useful.

I’ve decided to add two practices to my day-to-day routine, and resurrect another that I had dropped when life was too full with caregiving. The two new practices are rather simple and mostly about time management: firstly, I’ll take 15-20 minutes after work each day for solitude, (just sitting quietly and allowing my mental buffer time enough to clear out anything still queued up at the end of the day would allow me to feel more easily able to be fully present with my partner) and secondly, I’m going to begin committing two hours on the weekends for studio art. I’ll take the time from time I often spend just chilling on the couch with no purpose in mind and which could be better spent – and giving up a portion of the weekend to artistic endeavors sounds very nurturing, to me.

As far as a practice that got dropped being resurrected, I’m going to get back to practicing yoga. Healthy movement has lasting value and I definitely spend too much time just sitting. 😆 I can begin slowly and work around my injuries gently. It’ll be good for me. (And hey, better fitness will likely mean better sex, too! Win!)

I watch the trees become filled with light. The sun has crested the horizon and it is a new day. I have a new opportunity to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, art and the artist, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, inspiration, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, Spring, Summer, The Art of Being, weight loss secrets, women, Words

Finishing Touches

June 17, 2026 //
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I woke early, but after daybreak, and headed down to the beach to walk as the sun rose. The tide is going out, and as it recedes, rock formations and tide pools are revealed. As I begin, everything is in shades of gray, the foam crests of each wave seeming luminous on the opaque gray of the ocean. As I return, the sky is lit with shades of pink and edged with pale blue. There are gray clouds on the horizon. Feels cool enough for rain, but my bones say “not today”. I return to the room too early for a better coffee in town, and settle for the coffee in my hotel room. It’s enough.

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

I sit down at the table with my coffee and this lovely view, ocean waves below, sky streaked with pink and blue above, horizon beyond. I could sit with this view for days and never miss television or videos at all.

Another sunrise.

As I sip my coffee, I notice a detail on one of the new paintings that I am not ideally satisfied with, and since I still have all my pastels out, I get up and make some final changes. “Finishing touches.” I listen to the wind and the waves, and watch the tide recede.

…I’ve still got to pack…

An hour, minimum, to a better cup of coffee, or a bite of breakfast. I don’t feel like going out, then coming back to the room, though… I sigh to myself thinking about the packing. A shower. Reloading the car. I can feel my eagerness to return home beginning to replace my enthusiasm for this place. When I notice I’m lost in moments that are not now, I pull myself back. It is worth it to enjoy here, now, just as it is, awhile longer.

…I’ll be home soon, I’m here, now…

The waves approaching the shore appear quite a bit larger than previous days, and I find myself wondering whether it is an illusion. As if on cue a tiny man down on the beach below walks into my view. Assuming he is of average height, the waves are larger than they have generally been. They appear almost surf-able, aside from the flesh-shredding bone-breaking truth of the multitude of jagged rocks unseen, barely covered by the ebb tide. This would not be safe location for surfing, I suspect. I chuckle to myself; Oregon beaches are not known for being great surfing locations, as far as I know. Not my sport, though, and I know only that I would not myself be interested in surfing here, nor even swimming in that icy cold water.

I sip my coffee, watch the tide go out, and think about art. This has been a nice bit of time away. I’ve gotten some beautiful pictures, and a lot of inspiration for future work in pastels. I’ve gotten a few miles on my boots, and spent some time “hearing myself think”. I finished reading Jurassic Park, which was much better than the movie adaptation. I slept in. I took naps. I felt the burden and stress of work lifted from my shoulders and from my thoughts. I have had a chance to miss my Traveling Partner for a little while – and I’m eager to return home. It’s time to get “back to life“.

The sun begins to light the crests of waves further down the beach, but I know they’ll reach the section of beach directly beyond my window shortly. I put on a playlist with a good groove for dancing and packing things up. It’s time to put the finishing touches on this coastal getaway, meditate, and think about better coffee and a bite to eat.

Wind, waves, a ticking clock.

…I’m definitely missing my Traveling Partner. Of all my choices in life, the choice to travel through life with this particular human as my companion on this journey is probably one of my best. I grin into my empty coffee cup. It’s for sure time to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, art and the artist, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, inspiration, joy, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Spring, Summer, The Art of Being, women, Words

Pink, Gray, and Pain

June 16, 2026 //
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Some of the most useful “tools” in my self-care/mental health “toolbox” seem to be those to do with pain management, or which serve some other purpose, but also make it maybe a bit easier to manage pain. This seems odd to me any time I’m not in pain, but when I wake twisted with arthritis pain early on some morning, I’m grateful.

The view I woke to is no less beautiful because of pain.

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

I woke in pain to a cooler morning. The sunrise isn’t visible from here, but I see it reflected in the pink hues of the dawn sky over the western horizon. A distant bank of stormy looking clouds hangs above the horizon, a dark gray beneath fluffy white. The ocean reflects back silver gray like brushed aluminum, each wave reaching the shore crested in a curl of white. The ebb tide seems to sound different to me than the flood tide that will come later today, sometime in the afternoon.

…If the beach were just a little bit easier to get to from here, I’d already be headed down there to check out the tide pools before the day warms up, and while the beach is deserted. I hurt too much for that right now, and I want to paint later, so I sip my coffee and avoid exhausting myself…

Gulls fly by the window, calling to each other. A crow flies by. The morning sky continues to evolve. I sip my coffee letting the dawn sky and the beach scene beyond the window entice me with inspiration. Swallows swoop and dive just beyond the window. There are so many! The textured gray of the ocean holds my attention for a while, working out just how to capture that in pastels. Breakfast crosses my mind, and more coffee.

A beautiful view is sometimes enough distraction.

One of the most powerful pain management tools I’ve got doesn’t come in a pill. It’s distraction. Simply that; distracting myself from focusing on my pain prevents it from dominating my experience in the moment and frees my attention for other things. By itself, it may not reliably be enough to manage my pain, but it is useful, and it really does help to focus on other things, most particularly things that may evoke wonder, curiosity, awe, joy, or delight. I’m grateful for this beautiful view.

…I’m grateful for this solitary time…

I stretch and sigh to myself. Practices being what they are, there are things yet to do this morning to begin the day. Meditation. A walk (yes, even in this amount of pain, I just have to go to a beach access point that doesn’t involve endless stairs down a cliff to get to the beach) – my morning never feels quite right if I don’t get a walk in more or less first thing. lol My bones feel less stiff, and I know a hot shower will help more. I think about the day ahead as the view continues to evolve.

…Ooh, breakfast…

It’s as good a time as any to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, art and the artist, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, inspiration, joy, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, solo hiking, Spring, Summer, The Art of Being

What It Is, What It Isn’t

May 18, 2026 //
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Home. It feels incredibly good to come home after being away. My beloved welcomed me with a warm embrace and we spent a happy evening together. It was lovely – and wow did he ever get a lot done while I was gone! It’s as good to “have him back” as it is to return home.

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

A hint of a sunrise. A new day.

I got to the trailhead at sunrise. I walked briskly to my halfway point feeling purposeful and capable. It’s a good start to the day and week.

…Sounds great so far…

…What woke me was anxiety blasting me through my dreams. That was less than ideal. Still, that moment is not now and the feeling passed before I had even finished dressing. The morning is peaceful and lovely, if a bit chilly. I chuckle to myself; a 7°C (about 45°F) would have felt pleasantly warm in January. I’m comfortable in the fleece I grabbed from the hook in the hallway on my way out. It’s enough.

It feels odd to return to work today after timeless days on the coast, sleeping and waking as I pleased, drinking too much coffee, and putting my time and attention on the woman in the mirror. Deeply engaged self-reflection seems to “slow the clock” notably, and I feel as if I’ve been gone from work for many days. It wasn’t even a long weekend! 😆

Did I solve all my problems while I was away? Hardly. I am essentially the same woman I was when I departed for the coast. Did I solve any major puzzles? Answer life’s important questions? Settle all of my doubts? Clear up all my chaos and damage? It is an unequivocal “no” to all of those things – but the time was well spent. I took care of myself. I rested, read, meditated, wrote, and indulged myself in worthy hours of thought, quiet, and stillness. I returned home more relaxed and clearheaded than I’ve been in a long while, and largely freed of compulsive (and no longer necessary or helpful) caregiving tendencies. Feels good to be back.

So here it is, a Monday. Nothing particularly special about a Monday. I’ve got a doctor’s appointment later, and a list of stuff to cover. It’s important to make the appointment time count, and to be as efficient as possible. I sigh to myself; I’ve also got a busy-ish work Monday ahead. I refrain from checking work tools from the trail; this time is mine.

The clouds form a strange pattern like fish skin.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I think about the thinking I did over the weekend, as I watched the tides come and go, and listened to passing rainstorms drum on the window and roof. I may not have solved the mysteries of the universe, but I covered some ground within my personal wilderness, and tidied up some “thinking errors”, and identified some habits I’d like to change. It’s enough to make some progress.

I look down the path. It seems like there’s always another mile ahead, however far I travel. I’m not bitching, just making a point to gently accept that the journey itself is the destination. Some days it will be enough to make some steps along the path, at all. Other days the miles will pass easily. It’s s very human experience.

I smile to myself and get to my feet. Today feels like a good day, and it’s time to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, Anxiety, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, Logic & Reason, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, Spring, The Art of Being, women, Words

I Had a Thought…

May 11, 2026 //
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… It’s gone now. If only I had had the foresight to jot down the thought when it occurred to me. I sit thinking about that for awhile; the ludicrous number of times I’ve had a thought that seemed worthy of further reflection, set it aside “for later”, and then lost track of it completely.

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

Weird world. It now costs almost $60 to fill my Mazda CX5’s gas tank with regular. Craziness. Everything costs more. Wages are worth less. Billionaires get richer. I have a doctor’s appointment later that I now regret scheduling. It’s not that I don’t need the medical care, it’s that I resent the time and expense required to obtain it. Somehow my actual health is a lower priority than shareholder profits for health insurers, and I’m pretty repulsed by that, on top of the cost and inconvenience. I sigh to myself and listen to my tinnitus ringing away in my ears.

It’s a beautiful Spring morning. I pull myself back to this moment, this place, sitting in the sunshine at the halfway point on this morning’s walk.

Blue sky and green oaks.

The sky is a clear cerulean blue this morning. I sit quietly, letting these precious solitary minutes tick by. I did a completely crappy job of “taking it easy” this weekend. My Traveling Partner needed help with this and that, and I was around. It’s hard not to offer to help, and harder still to decline if asked to be helpful for a moment or a task, and the weekend ended up consumed by those helpful efforts. I’m not mad about it, nor resentful – I’m also not well rested, nor did I get fuck-all done for “self-care”. I guess I’m grateful I didn’t hurt myself, and I got the laundry done, and some basic housekeeping along the way.

Here it is Monday. I’m not mad about that either. I’m a little annoyed about the doctor’s appointment though. I feel as if I just don’t have time to be bothered with caring for this fragile vessel at all. Fuck it – use it up! Only… there’s no way to simply get a new one. This is it. This is the mortal “vehicle” that has to carry me the entire distance on this journey. I already know I need to take better care of it.

I sigh to myself and fret over this incredibly commonplace challenge; taking care of myself, and taking time for myself, when it seems the world has other demands on my time and my energy. Adulting is hard.

My Traveling Partner gets it. He did his best to ask for my help only when he really needed it. He is encouraging me to get away for the weekend, next weekend. I’m thinking about it, but also struggling with myself to justify the expense. I breathe, exhale, and relax, and let all that go, again, to more deeply enjoy this moment in the Spring sunshine.

I sit awhile with my thoughts. I’m not going to rush the moment. The day will be busy enough later on. For now, I can slow down and just be. It’s enough. I’m grateful for this beautiful morning. I can begin again later.

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Categories Allegories, breathe, Free Will, Frustration, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, pain, Perspective, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, Spring, The Art of Being, Words
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