Archives for posts with tag: choices
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Step One…

January 1, 2026 //
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It is New Year’s Day, January 1st, 2026. I woke up early, no hangover, feeling pretty relaxed and comfortable in my body after a good night’s sleep. This is only surprising because quite a few of the neighbors were up well into the night setting off fireworks and celebrating the end of 2025. Sounded like quite a lot of enthusiasm to see it end.

I’d gone to bed early, still struggling with lingering symptoms of recent illness and just not feeling up to a lot of fuss and bother. The sound of fireworks did not prevent me from sleeping. No parties, no drinking, no fancy dinner, no company over to ring in the new year; it was a quiet evening at home. It’s not surprising that I slept well and woke without a hangover.

The year ended somewhat painfully, with one final “fuck you” from circumstances delivered on the last day of the year. My parked car was sideswiped by something while I was working yesterday, which I discovered when I left the office to return home. Fuck. For real?! I cried. I pinged my Traveling Partner for comfort and guidance (too upset to easily process next steps), then called my insurance company to file a claim, and then local police department to file a report. By the time I got home, I was merely annoyed, and managing to feel grateful it hadn’t been worse. The damage to the car is cosmetic, and I wasn’t injured. It definitely could have been worse!

I sip my hot cup of cheap gas station coffee, listening to the rain falling at this trailhead, and thinking about how much my choices create my experience in some circumstances, and how circumstances sometimes create an experience I didn’t see coming, in others. I still have to deal it, with regardless of my previous choices or circumstances. It’s a journey. I do have choices and something to say about the experience I have. Powerful. Knowing this does nothing to prevent me from being upset when things go poorly, just reminds me there’s a lot about it that remains within my capabilities to handle, manage, control, or deal with properly.

… I’m still mad, though, I mean, for real? I have lingering “why me?” feelings, but I’ve done what I can for now…

I left the house this morning feeling a muted sense of purpose, and undecided on what trail to walk. It was early. I’ve got options. It is a cold morning, but not freezing. As I get into the car, it begins to rain. My nose is running and I’ve started coughing – taking my noisy sleepless self back into the house would only serve to wake everyone else, too. I don’t feel like dealing with that, so I head out in spite of the rain. It’s not cold enough to snow – I guess I’m grateful.

Now I’m sitting here at the trailhead, waiting for a break in the rain, and maybe for daylight. There’s no traffic beyond the parking lot. The morning is quiet and suited to meditation and self-reflection. It’s a gentle beginning to a new year. I make a point not to look at the news; I don’t want to do anything that might break this fragile moment of peace and contentment. Not yet. Later will be soon enough to begin again.

…

…

…

… I can’t believe I’m still dealing with being sick… Maybe I’ll just go back to bed after I return home? Anyway… Happy New Year!

First light on the trail, first morning hike of the new year.
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Categories Allegories, anger, Anxiety, breathe, Free Will, Frustration, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, meditation, Metaphors, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Practices, solo hiking, The Art of Being, winter

Wind and Rain

December 15, 2025 //
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I’m at a local trailhead, waiting for a break in the rain to walk this trail. It’s dark, not yet daybreak, and a Monday morning. The rain is falling hard, and the wind is blowing hard enough for the strongest gusts to create the appearance of waves on puddles reflecting the lights of the parking lot. If I were to walk now, I’d be soaked almost immediately, and having to fight my rain poncho every step as it whips about. No thanks. I’ll wait. 😆

The weekend was lovely. I sit thinking about the upcoming Giftmas holiday. It is shaping up to be a merry one, if modest in scale (appropriate to these peculiarly dark times here in the US).

My mind wanders to work. I pull it back to this quiet moment, here. Now is mine. At least, this “now”, right here is mine. I make a point to be present, here, listening to the wind and the rain. I think of other rainy moments that left lasting memories for one reason or another. In the distance, I see holiday lights shining through the trees along the creek beyond the vineyard, most likely decorating some otherwise hidden apartment balcony. Seeing the lights makes me smile. Seeing communities “dressed up” for the holidays in colorful lights is one of the best parts of the winter holiday season (to me).

Things on my to-do list for today continue to intrude on my consciousness – or try to. I continue to set a boundary with myself; this is not that time.

The rain stops, starts, and stops again. It’ll be daybreak soon. Can I get down the trail and back to the car before the rain starts up again? I decide to chance it, and grab my cane and pull on my poncho.

…

I’m most of the way along the trail before the rain begins to fall again, softly. I’m almost back to the car before the intensity increases from a soft sprinkle to a seasonally typical downpour. The heavy rain catches up with me just as I reach the car. I feel fortunate. I’m not soaked to the skin, missed the worst of the rain, got a good walk, and managed to avoid tromping through any deep puddles. I’m chilly and damp, but otherwise fine. I get comfortable in the car and start drying off with a microfiber towel from my gear bin, grateful for the gear I keep in the back for whatever emergencies might arise (and for hiking and camping).

The gear bin in my car sometimes gives a sort of “Mary Poppins” vibe; I often surprise myself with what is in there, and how prepared for what sorts of things I actually am. This delights me every time I open the bin with some need to address and find that I’ve got just the thing, although I often don’t recall that I put it there. 😆

The wind is blowing ferociously again. It almost drowns out the sounds of my tinnitus. I close my eyes and am fascinated by how much I am reminded of the seashore.

There’s really nothing particularly noteworthy about the morning. As is so often the case, it’s an ordinary weekday morning. The pain I’m in makes me aware of my fragile mortality for a moment, but as bad as it is, it’s not the worst I’ve known. Far from it. I’m grateful to experience the morning aware that things could be much worse; it is reliably useful perspective. I continue to sit with my thoughts awhile longer. I’ve got a little while left for myself before the desk in the library I’ll be working from today will be available. It’s still too early. I think about coffee.

I think about holiday cards (we haven’t done them this year and probably won’t; at some point I had to admit I don’t have the energy, or the will). I think about the last bit of gift shopping yet to do. I think about Giftmas morning and brunch. Biscuits and gravy this year? I find myself wanting to pair that with Bloody Marys, as my Dad would have done most Giftmas mornings. I rarely drink, and the thought makes me smile; it’s an idea built purely on nostalgia, and maybe some desire to celebrate a certain gratitude for the holiday magic my parents achieved in spite of hardship. I’ve carried that holiday spirit into the rest of my life, year after year, and I’m grateful that it continues to last.

Curtains of dense rain continue to sweep over the car. The wind rocks it with the firmest gusts. I am warm and dry, and grateful that I am not forced to be outdoors in this. There’s privilege implied in being free to choose to walk on a rainy day. I’m grateful for the choices I have in life. I may never be wealthy (nor have any notable affluence), but I do get to choose whether (and when) I walk in the rain. That’s more good fortune than many folks have. I sit thinking about that for a few minutes longer.

In spite of the darkness of the stormy morning sky, eventually daybreak comes, and it’s time to begin again. I sigh to myself, and get the day started.

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

Weapon of Choice

July 17, 2025 //
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I got my walk in this morning, around the neighborhood where the office is located. It’s a pretty middleclass neighborhood, with few sidewalks and lots of lovely landscaping. The summer air was still and smelled of flowers, exotic and vaguely tropical. Very summery. The sun was up and the morning beginning to hint at the heat of the day to come by the time I got back to the office.

…The entire time I was walking, I had a favorite “big beat” track in my head, Fatboy Slim’s “Weapon of Choice“…

It was less about the music, this morning, than the words. I kept turning the phrase over in my head, “weapon of choice”… I’d always heard that as meaning “preferred choice of weapon”. This morning it hit me that it also means… choice, as a weapon (or tool). Huh. Words are fun.

We have a ton of choices in life. The menu of the Strange Diner is – in a practical sense – almost unlimited. (Limits we observe are often self-imposed.) Choice is an important tool in our toolbox, whoever we are, regardless of our circumstances. Volumes are written about choice and choosing and how to make choices. What are you choosing? Are your choices taking you where you want to go? Do they make you more the person you most want to be? Are you trapping yourself with foolish choices? Do the choices you choose to make tend to make the world a better place, generally, or… not? I don’t need the answers to these questions (from you) – but maybe you do? (I know what my own answers are, and I ask myself these questions often.)

…Are you even making your own choices, yourself, or are you following some talking head on the internet, or an app, or an “AI”? Are you aware that it matters?…

I sip my coffee thoughtfully. I think my thoughts, grateful for another day to make choices and to practice practices. Grateful that I was finally able to get my Ozempic refilled, and my “sense of things” feels quite ordinary once again; I’ve clearly grown used to the changes it makes in my headspace (the increased impulse control demonstrably extends even to my ability to manage my temper, as it turns out). I breathe, exhale, and relax, feeling filled with contentment and a certain feeling of internal comfort that only seems to come from feeling very “at home in my own skin”. No anxiety, and for the moment no physical pain (which is a pleasant change). No headache. No allergies. Just a pleasant summer morning and a good cup of iced coffee, and this lovely quiet moment that is all mine.

…I am momentarily distracted by the awareness that a lot of my life is captured in words: emails, fragments of unfinished manuscripts, a rare bit of surviving journaling here or there, letters written in the days of snail mail as the only option, and this blog. I find myself wondering if I should be giving thought to preserving any portion of that (the internet may not actually be “forever”, considering current world events, generally)…

I sigh to myself, and my thoughts move on. Who am I? Who was I “then“? What relationship does she have to me, now? Memory is a thin thread that connects our past selves with our present self, and a bit unreliable at times. Does it even matter? Strange thoughts on an ordinary summer workday morning. There’s value in self-reflection, though, and asking the worthy questions is worthwhile whether I answer them or not. They demonstrate thoughtful curiosity and a regard for the unknown. They light the path ahead in some way I can’t easily describe or explain. They hint at what I don’t know, even about myself. Hell, sometimes they stave off the existential dread and doubt that sometimes accompanies awareness of how precious and limited this mortal lifetime is. I hear that metaphorical clock ticking.

The weekend is coming. What will I do with it? I’ve got a camping trip planned for a couple weeks from now. What will I do with that? I’ve got choices. So do you. What will you choose?

Every choice is a new beginning – even if you choose to stand still and do nothing.

One day I will not wake to begin again… It’s how mortality works. There is much to savor in each waking moment, and less to struggle with than I sometimes choose.
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Categories 2024 Election, Allegories, Anxiety, Brain Injury, breathe, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Practices, Summer, The Art of Being, War and News of War, Words

If It Ain’t Broke…

May 20, 2025 //
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I’m sipping a cup of tea after my morning walk.

My legs ache fiercely, mostly because we purchased a used elliptical machine to improve our fitness strategy (at home), and I’ve been using it. I can “go further, faster” on the elliptical than I can on the trail, with less strain and more emphasis on cardio. I’m hoping this gets me past being a bit “stuck”, and hoping it is a helpful addition for my Traveling Partner, too. Being “stuck” needed attention, and this feels like a win – if we reliably use it. My short-term goal is to add at least 1 mile on the elliptical each day to my routine, and increase that over the next few weeks until I’m managing an additional 5 miles per day on the machine (on top of my trail miles, which tend to be slower).

I’m sipping my tea and thinking about a job opportunity that has developed, with a former colleague I have always greatly enjoyed working with. Here’s the thing, though, unlike the fitness challenge that I was struggling with and needed a solution for, I am enjoying the job I have right now, and wasn’t looking for a change. Weighing the value of the opportunity against my current contentment feels a lot different than “solving a problem”. It’s okay to let an opportunity pass by if the timing and circumstances aren’t “right” for it. I think it over, and sip my tea. What do I want? What does my life need? What takes me further down the path of becoming the woman I most want to be as a human being? These are important questions to answer, before I make a change I don’t really need to make.

…Nice problem to have…

I sigh and stretch. Breathe, exhale, relax. Sip my tea feeling satisfied with the moment and wrapped in love. It’s an ordinary work day, doing a job I enjoy with a team I appreciate and hold in high regard. I’m working from home in a space that feels comfortable and supports my needs. I pull my posture more upright, adjust the position of my keyboard. I notice the pain in my legs (just sore muscles) and in my back (osteo arthritis), but my headache is minimal (a nice change) and my tinnitus is present but not a major distraction this morning (I’m grateful). It’s an ordinary enough day, all things considered. The clock ticks on, questions to ask, questions to answer, moments to live and things to decide – all very ordinary indeed. It’s already time to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, inspiration, joy, Logic & Reason, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Spring, The Art of Being

Night and Day

May 4, 2025 //
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I woke this morning with a song in my head. That’s not so strange. It’s not even strange for it to be a love song; it’s been that sort of weekend. What is odd is that it is a Frank Sinatra version of a Cole Porter classic. lol Nothing against Frank, but he’s not generally my choice of crooner for most jazz standards. lol

… The strangeness didn’t stop me from singing along with the song in my head (and heart) all the way to the trailhead…

It is quite a chilly morning for May. I’m glad I wore my frumpy warm favorite baggy sweater. I almost didn’t and I would have regretted any other choice this morning. It’s almost freezing. There is a dense fog clinging to the marsh lowlands. I swap soft shoes for my sturdier boots and head down the trail.

Dawn beats me to the trailhead these days.

Yesterday was a lovely day. I got home from my walk and spent the day on household tasks, mostly laundry, and made time for some reading and played a video game. It was a relaxed day in my Traveling Partner’s good company. I walked thinking about love and feeling grateful and uplifted, rested and recharged.

I baked the best brownies I’ve ever made.

I tried a new brownie recipe. The results were fantastic. I’ve never made better. I used Joshua Weissman’s Fudgey Brownie recipe from his Texture Over Taste cookbook, which differs slightly from the recipe of the same name online (otherwise I’d link it). Seemed like a good day for brownies – and it was. They were so good my beloved had me talked into baking another batch today (they’re easy), but adulthood caught up with him during the night and he later asked me not to. They’re quite irresistible, and also full of sugar; not ideally healthy, and best served as an infrequent treat.

I ran out of energy before I ran out of daylight, and kept things quite simple for dinner.

Just a bowl of ramen.

I smile thinking my thoughts and hearing the sound of my steps crunching along the marsh trail as I walk. The fog enveloped me in my solitude. I could see sunlight in the treetops as I stepped along. I reach my halfway point and stop with some reluctance; 38 degrees (F) feels colder in May than it did in March. lol Still, I stop and write awhile. It is a thing I do.

I’ll finish my walk (probably with my hands jammed into my pockets for warmth), then go to the store before I head home. It’s another day of housework, minus the relaxed shilly-shallying of yesterday. There is a new week ahead, and it’s time to set aside play in favor of getting things done. Laundry. Tidying up. It’s not really a long list – I’ll even find time in the garden. An ordinary day, in what feels like a mostly pretty ordinary life. It is mine, and there are choices to make, actions to take, and projects to see to completion. I know my results will vary. That’s fine. When I fall, I get back up. When I fail, I begin again. It’s a journey. I smile at the rising sun and get to my feet with a song in my heart…

…”Night and day, you are the one…”

…It’s already time to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, breathe, gratitude, inspiration, joy, Love, meditation, Moments, Perspective, Relationships, Spring, The Art of Being, The Big 5, Uncategorized
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