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Hyperacusis

January 8, 2026 //
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By the end of the day, yesterday, my tinnitus, my headache, and my lingering irritability had joined forces and invited a flare up of hyperacusis (sound sensitivity). I felt as if I couldn’t find a quiet moment. Every little noise annoyed me. Every moment someone was speaking was making it almost impossible to hear anything else. Every sound seemed unnecessarily loud. I figured out it was me before I was a complete asshole about it, but it was unpleasant. It lasted the rest of the evening. Seems like I woke without it this morning, and I’m starting the day feeling hopeful.

The highpoints of my day, yesterday? A book arriving that my beloved Traveling Partner bought for me as a gift, which I’m eager to read; everything he’s recommended over the years has been worthwhile. (This one is The Stand, by Stephen King, which I haven’t read.) The other highpoint? A dark quiet room, alone with the silence, before I slept. It wasn’t even actually silent. Not at all. My CPAP machine was running, and the little ambient noise generator the VA gave me that helps me sleep by masking background noises (and to some extent, my tinnitus), was also on. Everything seemed “too loud”. Everything was turned down to the quietest settings. Hyperacusis.

I gave up, hoping it would be better in the morning. I’m grateful for the morning; it is gentle on my consciousness, so far. One more workday, this one, and then a weekend. I chuckle softly to myself; I’m back to counting weekends and looking forward to Friday on Mondays. Very human.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. My hands pause motionless above the keyboard for an unmeasured weirdly long time, as my thoughts drift through my head without transmitting anything to my fingers. I finally notice that I am sitting in this odd anticipatory state, and I make a point to observe that in writing, just to break the spell.

It’s that I’m struck speechless, perhaps, by the weird shit going on in the USA right now. It’s simply so much incomprehensible corrupt cruelty and self-serving grandstanding and grifting that I can’t wrap my head around how this is even real, sometimes. In America. Freedom of speech under direct attack. The administration pulling the nation out of important alliances, trade groups, and treaties, and withdrawing previously approved funds that throw valued lifelines to real human beings. Citizens being shot in the streets or kidnapped from their homes or jobs by masked thugs paid by federal dollars. And in possibly one of the most hilariously ludicrous re-enactments of a South Park episode, the US Dept of Health and Human Services announced a “new food pyramid” that puts red meat, dairy, and saturated fats front and center. (South Park did it first, Season 18, episode 2, “Gluten Free Ebola”, 2014) I’m still laughing. I sometimes feel like I should be resigned to waking up every day wondering what the fuck is even going on, because so much of this shit just doesn’t make any sense. I sigh to myself.

The new food pyramid isn’t the worst of all the things going on, inasmuch as eating whole real food of good quality that isn’t preprocessed and full of preservatives and additives is a better choice for our health, but suggesting (if only visually) that red meat and dairy should make up some majority portion of our intake is probably not ideal. I’ll admit I haven’t yet read the dietary guidance more closely; I’m still laughing too hard. So much of this shit doesn’t make any real sense, and that’s probably the point – because keeping us all distracted with this craziness may be intended to keep us from looking more closely at things that matter a great deal more. (How about those Epstein files? Where are we at with those?) One of the challenges, I guess, is that I find so many (all?) of this administration’s cabinet members and department heads thoroughly unlikeable and untrustworthy. They make it really clear where their interests lie, and it is not with the citizens they serve. They lie openly, as if the internet just doesn’t exist for immediate real-time fact-checking. This is without a doubt the dumbest administration in the history of American governance…or we are the most gullible population.

“Enough,” I tell myself, and I let it go. I sip my coffee, enjoying the warmth in my hand, and the mellow flavor. I enjoy the smooth jazz in the background this morning, uninvasive and subtle. Coffee and jazz on a quiet morning, a good combination, a good beginning to the day.

This weekend, at long last, the Giftmas decorations all come down and get put away for another year. I’m behind on that. I had meant to do it last weekend, but chose to rest and give myself more time to recover from having had the flu – which I feel pretty completely over at this point. Damn that was pretty bad. I’m glad I’d been vaccinated. It could have been much worse. The flu has already killed thousands of people this year, in the US alone. I’m grateful for the vaccines that make it less likely to be fatal, for so many of us. I wish more people took getting their vaccinations more seriously, and put more consideration into the value of herd immunity and community wellness, but honestly? I get it. Look at this mess; would you take health advice from the circle jerk of unqualified nitwits making vaccine recommendations right now? It’s a top down problem, too. This isn’t about the science or the scientists doing the real work of creating vaccines. It’s the administration. The stupidity and lack of qualifications of so many of this administration’s talking heads make it almost impossible to trust a word they say.

For me this shit is not a partisan issue; I dislike unethical grifters of any political alignment, and I don’t think choosing a political party is a clear indicator of intelligence or qualifications for a policy-making role. Ethical governance ought not be a partisan issue, at all. Once elected or appointed, every one of those assholes is expected to get to work – together – to govern skillfully, wisely, and in the service of every citizen, not just the ones who think like they do. Isn’t that obvious? I’m so thoroughly disappointed with both Democrats and Republicans – but the math doesn’t work for 3rd parties, because the system is set up to fail them. We’re probably long overdue for direct democracy…but I don’t exactly have a lot of confidence in how that will turn out, either, just considering what people seem willing to vote for, and why.

I sip my coffee and let my thoughts wander on.

I sigh to myself and think about suffering and changes and choices, and this journey that is one human life. One woman, one path. I am finding it hard to settle down and meditate, today. Human. Some days it is easy, some days it isn’t. It’s a “practice” because it really takes an active commitment and daily decision-making, followed by real action, and that never really changes. There are verbs involved. We become what we practice, though. I benefit so much from keeping a consistent meditation practice, I know not to let it slip. When I falter, I begin again.

I’ve still got this persistent desire to fill my tank, get in the car, and just…drive toward the horizon, until I find myself, somewhere.

…The clock ticks on. The future is unwritten. The journey is the destination – and there is no map. Where does this path lead? I take a breathe, exhale, and begin again.

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Categories 2024 Election, anger, Anxiety, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, meditation, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, The Art of Being, The Big 5, War and News of War, winter

The Stupidest Timeline

January 7, 2026 //
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Do you ever wake up thinking, “good grief what a stupid fucking world we live in”, more in disappointed astonishment than anything else? Yeah… Looks like that kind of day. Distressing dreams, though I slept deeply and well, and only woke once briefly. I don’t dare look at the news this morning. I’m sure it will be more of the same bullshit: pointless dick-measuring by egotistical grifters in office, pettiness, violence, AI slop to dodge, and… sponsored content. No thanks. I’ll just have this coffee and then start the work day.

Yesterday evening I watched a favorite action movie to put myself in a better mood (totally worked). Why do people love action movies and superhero movies? Maybe because, generally, the good guys win – and it’s usually clear who the good guys are. Why movies about underdogs who make it? Because people want to feel, for a moment, that it is possible for anyone to overcome the impossibly unfair “rules of the game”, if only they “really try” (and get some lucky breaks). Time travel movies? Those fill a need to believe that some moment in the past was significantly better – or perhaps that some moment in the future may be – and that it is possible to get there. We don’t look too closely at the role we each (and all) play in the state of things as they are, here and now. (Who did you vote for in the most recent elections? How many letters or calls have you made to your representatives since then making your voice heard? Where are you protesting? What are you practicing?) I sigh to myself. I’m grateful for this cup of fairly average coffee; it’s hot, it’s coffee, it’s here, and it is a reliable small pleasure in life, no wishful thinking required.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. Yesterday got off to a difficult start and I felt tired and worn down all day. A night of rest helped immensely, and today looks brighter. The world hasn’t changed (much) in 24 hours. It’s still a fucking mess. I’m okay. This moment is okay. This cup of coffee is okay. The quiet conversations of the baristas working the early shift is calm in the background. One barista, about my age I think, calls me “hun”, and it is clear she worked a long time as a waitress in local diners; it is a particular kind of friendliness. A lucky bank-shot drops the tissue I used into the appropriate waste recepticle, without having to get up to pick it up off the floor. Small things can really color a moment or change the feel of an experience. I let myself enjoy the moment as it is. Here. Now.

How’s your moment? What will you do with it?

I take a breathe, which turns into sneezing and a couple more lucky tissue tosses into a waste recepticle I should probably step to, instead. I am feeling mostly completely over the flu, now, but I’ve got congested sinuses first thing in the morning to deal with, and some coughing as I call it a night, and a less than ideal limitation on my voice, which starts to give up on me about 45 minutes into any meeting that I attend. It will pass. All of it will pass, and it isn’t even strange for me; once that shit had moved into my lungs, I knew this was coming. I know it will pass – so long as I continue to get the rest I need, and practice good basic self-care. There are verbs involved and I do play a role in my successful recovery. I have to continue to make healthy choices as I get well.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I take some time to meditate, just here in this warm coffee shop, before they turn on the background music for the day. I soak in the feeling of things being okay, here, now, without looking beyond this moment, or this place. Thoughts cross my mind like clouds in a breeze, observed but distant. Another breathe, another thought, another exhalation, another release of background stress or some element of anxiety. I relax. I sip my coffee. This simple practice is such a pleasant start to a day.

It is a busy month. I’ve got an old friend coming to visit over a week, about 10 days from now, and a return to the office in San Francisco at the end of the month, between those we’ve got to move our stuff from one storage place to another storage place. For me, this feels “busy”. I know people who would embrace such a “relaxed” calendar as “down time”. It used to be that I would ferociously push myself to approach life at a much more intense pace, with multiple events or activities on my calendar every day. I felt constantly harried, pushed, and often overwhelmed, my eye always on the clock. My temper flared with my impatience or my frustration, and I carried multiple sources of reminders, from sticky notes and calendar entries, to alarms, reminders, and notifications set in this or that app (once apps were a thing). I lived in my Franklin-Covey dayplanner. lol I thought it was a requirement of life, or perhaps unavoidable. I learned over time how many choices I was making, and I learned to make those differently, and accept who I am. I don’t like feeling “busy” or rushed, or harassed, or hurried. I like to focus, and work through a single task with my mind on that task while I’m doing it. I do my best work that way. It was a comfort to allow myself to move away from the internal “I’m great at multitasking!” lie and feeling chronically overconstrained and chased for my time and attention, to choosing what to put my attention on, and setting boundaries about my time and attention. I make different choices. I’m less anxiety prone, less forgetful, less irritable, less overwhelmed. This is better for me.

…It’s not a sprint, it’s not even an endurance race, it’s a very long walk on an undefined trail – without a map, just a hint of a sense of a destination in mind. lol Good thing I like to walk!

I’m not yet walking in the mornings, again. I do miss it. It’s quite cold right now, though, and my Traveling Partner has asked that I take better care of myself, and not be out in the cold and darkness, walking when I’m not at my best. That seems reasonable and sensible, and I agreed to “slow down” and take care of myself. It seems to be working out for the best. I’m still looking forward to mornings out on the trail, but circumstances play a part, and it may be February before that happens, just because there is a lot going on, and I’ll no doubt need my energy for those things in the short-term.

…I remind myself to mask up for travel at the end of the month; I’m fairly certain I was exposed to the flu on the aircraft that returned me home. I at least observed definite direct exposure to someone ill, when some mother’s half-wit feral adult-ish boy-child lumbered through the aircraft gracelessly, coughing down on other passengers as he passed by, not even covering his fucking cough with his sleeve. Rude. I was annoyed at the time, and that made the moment somewhat more memorable than other casual exposure was. I’d likely have gotten sick even if I never saw that guy coughing all over everyone so carelessly… I was on an airplane; the air is recycled.

You’d think we all learned one thing during the COVID pandemic – that wearing a mask (properly), washing our hands, and practicing a measure of social distancing reduces exposure to contagion. I mean, are you kidding? How is that not all so super obvious, given a moment of thought? …Or are you among the “you can’t force me to wear a mask!!” group, or the “the vaccine has more risk than the disease” group? Maybe you’re simply one of the “you can’t tell me, I’ve got my rights!” people seeing conspiracies everywhere? If you are, I mean you no harm. I’ve simply got my own opinion about these things (just like you) and I am doing what appears to be most effective and appropriate, with greatest potential benefit to my entire community. It’s not about me, really, is it? It’s about taking steps to create and maintain a healthy world in which humanity and all manner of living thinking creatures can thrive. Right? …Although I do prefer to take the steps that reduce my own exposure to illness, and increase my chances of survival, myself, because I have found life worth living. (Shit – I need to pick up more masks! I jot down a reminder on my shopping list, then remind myself to ask my Traveling Partner if we already have some at home and I’ve just forgotten where they are.)

…It took a while to get here…

I frown cynically at my coffee cup – Starbucks. Yeah, yeah, okay. I know. Conspiracies pull people in because – more than anything else – some prove to be actually based on real shit going on. Governments actually do some terrible things (looking your way ICE, and DOD) – and lie to hide those terrible things from view. That’s real. Honest ethical behavior in governance is rather unfortunately rare, and very unreliable. Conspiracy theories develop because corruption, lies, and bad behavior really exist, and are often covered up intentionally by the self-serving individuals who benefit from the bad acts. That’s real. When does a “conspiracy theory” become simply some terrible thing that a government, agency, enterprise, or individual has actually done? As an example torn from current events… “conspiracy theories” about Epstein now seem less like distortions of fact than legit actual coverups. People who were associated with him, or who have powerful friends who were associated with him, scramble to cover their involvement, but… It’s likely that it will all come out, eventually. Just like Watergate, just like MK Ultra, just like the Tuskegee Study. It’s even harder to pull off a really grand conspiracy in the digital age than it was in the days of snail mail and paper documents. I snicker to myself, pretty certain that the elected elderly of our gerontocratic government still don’t get that. You can’t hide secrets from the future.

I sigh quietly, thinking again that maybe there should be an age limit to holding office? I mean, seriously? I’d retire now if I could afford to – I’ve got plenty of my own shit to do, and so little free time. Why the hell do we persist in electing people to office who are old enough to be reliably out-of-touch with current science and the real, lived concerns and struggles of everyday people? I’m not saying we’d do any better to fill the government with Zoomers… they lack life experience and depth of knowledge (although, I can imagine scenarios where that might be an advantage) and their childhood basic socialization was impaired by the pandemic. I think the ideal is somewhere between the extremes; sufficient lived experience to have begun building wisdom, but young enough that resilience and passion prevent cyncism and resignation… 35 to 65 maybe? If the “full retirement age” is 67, wouldn’t it be easiest to simply make that the end point for a career as an elected official? I’m not chucking asparagus at my elders – far from it – but look where we are with a gridlocked partisan government of elders faced with the real issues springing up from new technologies they have yet to embrace and understand fully? This isn’t working. I sip my coffee and think about that. There could also be a case made for only electing people who have retired from successful first or second careers, who are “taking a step back” into governance, maybe as a measure of “return on investment” by bringing their years of experience into administration that benefits everyone? I still see potential improvements in our shared experience that could come from an age “cap” on elected officials, in the sense that advanced years definitely come with some cognitive and intellectual limitations for many people. It’s complicated, isn’t it?

I correct my posture and shift restlessly in my seat, as I write and drink coffee, killing time before the library (where I’ll be working) opens (it doesn’t open until 08:00). This is a nice start to the day; I hope the entire day is similarly pleasant. I smile quietly, thinking of my Traveling Partner sleeping at home. He seemed pleased yesterday that I found an option for my morning that neither had me knocking about the house noisily, nor out on the trail before dawn, while I’m getting over the last symptoms of the flu – a solution that also allow him to sleep later than I do. Today also being a work day for the Anxious Adventurer, my beloved will have the house to himself for awhile, and being winter there is no chance at all that people will be mowing or making a ton of noise. I envy his many opportunities to enjoy solitude at home, but it also vexes me that he has to endure that solitude far more often than he needs it. It’s hard to find the right balance and maintain it. I’m glad he’ll get some rest today; I know he needs that.

The minutes tick by. I’m content to let them, and powerless to stop them anyway. I think about the weekend ahead; I’m overdue to take down the holiday decor. I usually do it on New Year’s Day, a sort of ritual for starting the new year with “order” from the merry chaos of the holidays. This year, having been quite ill for a couple weeks, I just didn’t have the energy for it. This weekend, I’ll get that done. My new friend from work may come down to visit on Sunday… maybe. We take turns canceling plans for “reasons”, and enjoy a friendship that respects that. We’ve both got disabilities that make changes of plans rather common. We’re not frustrated by it, because we see each other, and we “get it”. She’s a “Millennial” (as is the Anxious Adventurer), and once we set clear expectations for each other regarding communication we’ve had no stress over it (neither of us treat text communication as “real-time”, prioritizing IRL interactions over texting, but neither of us care to pick up the phone, either). I grin, thinking about how much I enjoy her conversation… haven’t yet given her a pseudonym. I think about her for a moment, her smile, her current buzz cut colorful hair, her humor, her drama, her story to tell… After a few minutes, I realize this is not going to be an easy one. She’s chaotic, and has a good heart – like me. We like so many of the same things in a similar way, it sometimes feels a little eerie…we’re fun together. I realize that in some other life I could perhaps love her differently, but that’s not where/who we are in this lifetime. Romance isn’t what we’re looking for out of this, and friendship is definitely something we are enjoying, and which meets a real need (at least for me). I sip my coffee. The Chaotic Comic… I smile, because the words bring to mind her face, and the alliteration amuses me. This will do nicely.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. The cafe turns on their mediocre background music (sorry Taylor Swift, I can’t listen to you every day, just not my thing, personally). I pick up my phone and turn on private background music – Bluetooth straight to my hearing aids. lol Sometimes I fucking love the modern world. 😀

The clock ticks on – and it’s time to begin again.

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Categories 2024 Election, Allegories, Anxiety, Brain Injury, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, inspiration, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, The Art of Being, The Big 5, turning 60, winter, Words

The Real Gets Real-er

January 5, 2026 //
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First “proper” work day (for me) of the new year. I sip my coffee considering the moment, and the day ahead.

I push thoughts of worldly matters aside, in favor of here, now. The coffee is good. Hot on my tongue, soothing on my throat. I had planned to work from home. Plans change, and I am waiting for the university library to open in 15 minutes. A quiet uninterrupted work day will be just the thing to get me caught up after being ill. The morning is gray, and it has been a rainy night. It’s a cold drizzly morning in the Pacific Northwest. Winter.

… When I moved to the area in 1998, we would reliably have at least some snow before the new year, and plenty of freezing mornings and icy cold days, but it’s been awhile since that has been true. Winter (at this altitude and location) is more about gray rainy days, now. Cold, but rarely freezing. It could be that I personally prefer this, but I don’t think that has anything to do with what is good for the health of the planet.

Permanence is an illusion. Change is. I sigh to myself and think about life. Where does this path lead? How many more years? What quality of life will I enjoy over time? Will I live to see global peace…or global war? I sip my coffee. The clock is ever ticking.

I breathe, exhale, and relax, and take a few minutes for meditation, before I begin again. Say hello to 2026 – what will you do with it?

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Categories 2024 Election, Allegories, Anxiety, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, health, Healthy Living, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, The Art of Being, War and News of War, winter, Words

Caring and Coffee

January 2, 2026 //
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This morning I’m writing from my home office. It’s later in the morning than I usually wake, and I’ve a short work day between me and the weekend, but it begins a bit later. This is time I’d usually spend out on a trail somewhere, walking with my thoughts. This morning I am at home. Still dealing with lingering symptoms of illness, especially first thing, and yesterday evening my Traveling Partner took notice when I described my plan for the next morning.

“What kind of symptoms are you still dealing with?” was quickly followed by “I don’t like the idea of you being out in the freezing cold and dark when you’re sick, please stay home tomorrow and take care of yourself.” So… Here I am. Taking care of myself, and enjoying an excellent cup of coffee at home. Of course, I managed to wake my Traveling Partner when (or after) I woke. He greeted me in the kitchen as I attempted to prepare coffee quietly, and checked on how I was doing. My congestion, weak voice, and occasionally coughing validated his concern (and confirmed his suggestion that I stay home was a good one). He doesn’t grief me over waking him; he is sympathetic, caring, and concerned for me. I retreat to my office space to drink coffee and deal with my symptoms, and work on breathing comfortably. I go through a few tissues. I drink my coffee.

…Before the work day even begins, my Traveling Partner checks on me, and notes that I “sound awful” and that he really doesn’t want me wandering around out in the cold early in the mornings, encouraging me to just stay home for a couple days and take care of myself. He reminds me that either he or the Anxious Adventurer can go to the store for anything we need and handle whatever has to get done, while I put my energy into getting well. I know he’s right. He gives me more suitably useful advice, which I am grateful for; my thinking isn’t too clear, and the longer I’m up, the more aware I am of how much I’d rather be in bed. LOL

… I decide to call out sick and just rest and work on getting well…

… My Traveling Partner encourages me to take a hot shower to ease my congestion. It’s a good idea and I’m grateful to have clean water, reliably hot, whenever I want it. I’m fortunate. It wasn’t so long ago that indoor plumbing for bathing, drinking, and cooking, were real luxuries only available to a privileged few. I stood in the steam under the running water, wondering how many people in the world still lack safe drinking water, and indoor plumbing. Too many, I’m sure (since, ideally, that number would be 0 in any truly fair world in which resources were appropriately distributed to maximize quality of life for all). I knew people who had only a well for water, and an outhouse for waste, when I was a kid, though it was becoming rare anywhere in the US besides way out in the country by that time.

I felt some better after a hot shower, for a little while. Eventually, my body reminds me I am not well yet, in the form of fatigue. Yep, I tired myself out taking a shower, putting on clean clothes, and sitting up for half an hour. I don’t actually fathom how I thought just pushing myself harder/further day after day was going to be the best approach to taking care of this fragile vessel. That was dumb, but holidays are special and I “wasn’t sick enough” to just skip it and go back to bed… and so, here I am, three weeks into what began as a relatively mild flu, now forced to take it seriously, because my symptoms haven’t cleared up and even seem worse this morning. Fucking human primates – we are pretty bad at admitting we’re ill and properly taking care of ourselves. Well, a lot of us are. lol I am. I meant to do better by the woman in the mirror, but I failed.

S’ok. It’s a journey. I’m having my own experience. I can choose, change, and choose some other change some other time. Today I’m choosing self-care, and going back to bed. I’ll begin again later.

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Categories Allegories, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, health, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Perspective, Practices, The Art of Being, winter

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
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