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The Parable of Quicksand

January 28, 2025 //
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I’m thinking about a distant friend dealing with a difficult time. We all have them, at some point, don’t we? It’s very human. I sip my coffee and wonder what I could say to offer some measure of hope, or something constructive that might help, but more than likely he just wants to be heard – don’t we all?

When it feels like it’s all stairs, it’s nice to have someone sharing the journey.

Some of our most human challenges are a bit like quicksand. We stumble into them unexpectedly, whether we know to watch for them or not, and there we are – struggling in it. The more we struggle, the more the quicksand sucks us down into the pit, without anything firm to stand on. Scary. Struggling isn’t helpful; we may lose any chance of regaining our footing and be sucked in completely, beyond reach of help. Lost.

Quicksand is strange stuff. In practice, it’s unlikely that quicksand will actually pull a human being entirely down, fully encompassing them and smothering them to death (or drowning them). If someone trapped in quicksand stays calm, relaxed, and spreads their weight out (say, by laying back on it and “floating”), they are likely to be able to free themselves. (Definitely, with some help.) There’s the trick to it; it seems ever so much scarier than it has to be, and it is the fear, the panic, and the struggle itself that creates most of the hardship.

…True in our emotional lives, as well as in quicksand, eh?…

Perspective matters. “Emotion and Reason” acrylic on canvas w/ceramic and glow 2012

I breathe, exhale, and relax, and think about moments in life in which my own panic or dread has created trauma and challenges far beyond whatever the circumstances themselves may have done. It’s a very human thing. Emotion operates by different rules than reason, and it’s often helpful to endeavor to stay calm, and to “spread things out” a bit, to put less weight on the moment, and maybe even ask for some help. I personally find a consistent meditation practice, and some time to myself each day for self-reflection to be useful practices for maintaining my perspective and “emotional equilibrium” in order to “avoid the quicksand” in life (and love). That’s what works for me. We’re each having our own experience, but if struggling isn’t working out for you, maybe try a different practice?

“Emotion and Reason” lit differently – how we view emotions, and how we use reason, make a difference.

I sit with my coffee and my thoughts a little while longer, watching daybreak arrive. Soon enough it’ll be time to begin again. No doubt my results will vary, and it’s true this journey has no map, but I’m in good company (we’re all in this together), and I am my own cartographer on this journey. I’m okay with that; the journey is the destination.

…I wonder where this path leads?

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Categories Allegories, Anxiety, Art, breathe, Despair, forgiveness, Free Will, Frustration, Logic & Reason, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Moments, Parables, Perspective, Practices, Relationships, The Art of Being, The Big 5, winter

Softly

January 26, 2025 //
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I’m sitting with my thoughts, waiting for the sun, and watching a thin sliver of moon rise over the southern horizon. I’m reminded of a particular jazz version of a poignant song, and struggling to remember the name of the vocalist who sang the rendition I like.

Moonrise before dawn.

I finally remember her name. Nancy Wilson. What a voice! The song lingers in my memory, significant and personal. I find a recording of it online and play it as day breaks and the eastern horizon turns orange. It’s a beautiful moment. I savor it.

An owl flies overhead, passing through my field of vision, silhouetted against the the sky as I watch the sunrise. An omen? No, silly, an owl. 😉 I smile to myself, and breathe, exhale, and relax. I watch distant mumurations of flocks of birds across the bold orange sunrise. A good morning for birds, apparently. I try to get pictures, but I’m not fast enough and was unprepared; I “settle” for enjoying the sight. It’s enough to be present in this moment, here, now. It usually is.

The park gate clangs open. Dawn lights the trail. It’s a chilly morning and I wind my scarf around my neck and stuff my gloves into my pockets, expecting to need them. I pause to massage the painful places of my shoulder and neck before I leave the warmth of the car for the beauty of the trail. Always choices. Always verbs. I hear geese calling overhead. It’s time to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, gratitude, inspiration, joy, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, The Art of Being, winter

Early Days

January 25, 2025 //
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I am sitting at the trailhead, waiting for the sun. I’m not in any hurry, and it’s a cold morning. I’ll enjoy the walk more, watching the sun rise, so I am waiting for daybreak before I get started down the trail. Already there is the faintest smudge of something lighter than darkness on the horizon. Soon.

I woke to my artificial sunrise “alarm”, this morning, quite disoriented and confused about what day it is. It was several minutes before I remembered that it’s Saturday, and that I am enjoying a day off work. I was deeply asleep when the lights came on, and confused about the timing. It’s mornings like this that having a well-practiced routine matters most; I just continued through the morning one task at a time until my brain fully woke and I understood.

There’s a sliver of crescent moon visible to the south. Rising? Setting? I’m really not certain, and it moves rather slowly. It seems the sort of thing I should “just know”, perhaps. I don’t really care presently, and my curiosity is fleeting. My attention returns to the eastern horizon, and the hint of daylight developing there. I breathe, exhale, and relax, and give myself this uncomplicated moment of real peace. Moments like these are important to my emotional health and mental wellness. It’s necessary to “recharge my batteries” in anticipation of more complicated or difficult moments – and there will reliably be more of those, eventually. This is a very human experience. Change is. Thoughts are complicated by feelings. I sit with that awhile. It’s tempting sometimes to demonize emotions, but I’ve found that although thoughts may inform and guide us, our emotions are what enrich and define our experience. How we handle our emotions (and the emotions of others) defines our character.

I think about stormier times in my life when I was less able to manage (and respect) my emotions. I’ve come a long way. I smile to myself. I’m still 100% made of human. That’s as it should be. Time and practice, experience and self-reflection, have brought me a long way down my path. A worthy journey, and some days it feels like I’ve barely begun.

I glance at that sliver of moon again. Definitely rising. I smile to myself, feeling the promise and potential of a new day. There will be verbs involved, and no one can walk my path for me. We’re each having our own experience – and the journey is the destination. I think about a far away friend having his own difficulties in life and love, and silently wish him well. (Dude, this too will pass. Take care of yourself. Put a couple quiet solitary miles on those boots, and take some time for self-reflection.)

There’s a bold orange streak along the eastern horizon now. I sigh quietly, smile at the rising sun, and lace up my boots. Looks like time to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, inspiration, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, The Art of Being, winter

Focus

January 22, 2025 //
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I woke feeling much better this morning, to the sound of the very irritating alarm that reminds me to take my morning medication, which goes off a couple hours after I am usually up. I groaned quietly and silenced it quickly, hoping not to wake anyone. I got up, dressed, and made coffee for my Traveling Partner to enjoy when he wakes, appreciative of the heated mug that makes that possible.

I headed out happily, eager to be on the trail, aware that my rare sleeping in and late start this morning means I’ll be walking the trail at dawn, enjoying the sunrise. It’ll be weeks more before that’s a regular experience. The bitter cold hit my face and filled my lungs before I even got to the car. It’s another cold one.

A sliver of moon, a winter morning.

When I got to the trailhead, I wasted no time putting on my boots, and wrapping up in my scarf, hat, fleece, and gloves, and grabbing my cane. I started down the trail with nothing else on my mind but the trail ahead and the dawn on the horizon.

My footsteps crunched along the frozen path. The frosty marsh grasses sparkled as I passed. The marsh ponds were frozen along the edges, the smallest of them frozen all the way across. The sky was streaked with abalone pink, and the air was quite still. Even the flocks of geese passing overhead were silent.

Further along the path, oaks stand watch.

I walked the trail without much on my mind this morning. Breathing the cold winter air, grateful for the solitude. Some mornings I walk with my thoughts, this morning I just walked, watching the dawn become a new day. It was too cold to take many pictures, and it was lovely to simply walk and be, focused on the moment, present in the marsh around me, without preoccupation or concern. The world can wait. These moments were mine.

I walked on, cherishing the familiar miles. Grateful for this beautiful place to walk. Content and joyful, and satisfied with my life as it is, and feeling a little foolish to ever doubt or feel discontented when I am so fortunate. I breathed the winter air, and exhaled my warm breath as a fog. I relaxed as I walked on, present in the moment I was living and feeling pretty good in spite of the humdrum reality of physical pain. The joyous moment seemed quite sufficient and then some.

I returned to the car, ready to begin again. Grateful for the lovely morning, the beautiful sunrise, and the life I am so fortunate to live. It isn’t “perfect”, but it’s definitely enough.

… Later I go get my hearing aids…

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Categories Allegories, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, inspiration, joy, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Practices, solo hiking, The Art of Being, winter

Uneasy

January 20, 2025 //
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I arrive at the trailhead before dawn. Already, the sun rises earlier and I’ll likely see it as I reach the end of my hike. One last breakfast with The Author before he returns home and life settles back into something like a routine (after a flurry of doctor’s appointments). This morning is not an unpleasant one, nonetheless I feel uneasy; it is inauguration day. The start of Trump II, and I’m not reluctant to admit that I am concerned about the outcome(s).

… I have my own thoughts answering the question “how the fuck did we get here?, but I’m sure everyone does, and mine are perhaps best left for another time…

I breathe, exhale, and relax, and pull myself back to this quiet, pleasant, moment right here, on the edge of a favorite trail, a few minutes before daybreak. Another breath. I’m in a lot of pain this morning. It’s just my arthritis; the weather is quite cold and my pain is reliably worse in cold weather. (This is the likely cause – or one of them – for so many people moving to sunny warm places to spend their retirement years.) I’ve got my cane. I put on gloves and scarf. I’ll warm up as I walk. My pain will be both improved and worsened when I get back to the car. My osteoarthritis stiffness and pain will have eased some with movement. The pain in my left ankle and right knee will increase with each step. I snarl something irritable at past versions of myself for not taking better care of this fragile vessel – then remind myself to practice better self-care, myself, now, too.

…Time keeps passing. Aging is…

Still. Things could be worse. I passed several homeless people walking their carts of belongings down frosted sidewalks on this icy cold morning. I am fortunate to be housed, warm and secure. I’ve got good healthcare coverage (for many values of good, though limited by our 100% craptacular US healthcare system) – I can (and should) continue to work with my (new)(good) physician to improve my health and manage my pain more effectively. My Traveling Partner’s care is also in pretty good hands, and we have each other’s support and care, too. Things could definitely be worse. We never know when they might be.

I lace my boots, and think my thoughts, before I hit the trail. Martin Luther King Jr Day, today. I wonder what that means to people… Shouldn’t it be more than just a day off from work? I think about the ways in which the world has changed since I was a child, in the early 60’s… Pretty significant changes, mostly profoundly good, but often seeming “not enough” – how is there even any discussion over the Equal Rights Amendment? It’s 2025, how are we still at war? How are poverty, disease, and inequality still major, noteworthy, progress impeding, concerns around the world? How are there still people who want to work but can’t find jobs? How are there people who want to dedicate their lives to creative endeavors but can’t find (or afford to take) the time?

I sigh to myself. I’ll walk with my thoughts awhile, solve nothing (but maybe learn something about myself), and then begin again.

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Categories 2024 Election, Anxiety, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, Frustration, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, meditation, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, solo hiking, The Art of Being, War and News of War, winter
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