It isn’t raining yet. My arthritis, the forecast, and the scent of the air suggest it definitely will. I’m okay with that. I like the rain.
[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]
Blue hue at daybreak.
I’ve been sitting here at my halfway point for some while now, just sitting with my thoughts, no point or specific purpose, allowing minutes to pass unnoticed and uncounted. Some mornings are like this, quiet and lacking in clear purpose or any particular drive to do anything any differently. I’m okay with this, too.
…We create a lot of our own bullshit and drama simply by resisting what is in some moment, when we could face the challenge with acceptance, first, before we consider fighting it at all…
I breathe, exhale, and relax. Nothing to see here. It is an ordinary enough sort of morning on a cloudy day late in the summer. I take time to meditate in the darkness, watching the blue hue of the morning develop slowly, revealing the gray sky instead of a sun rise. Somewhere beyond what I can see, the sun still rises. There’s a metaphor there. I reflect on that awhile.
I get to my feet, grateful for a new day, and a chance to begin again. Maybe I’ll make it back to the car before it begins to rain?
The air feels somehow heavier than usual. Daybreak is yet to come. My bones ache, and years of arthritis tell me it’s going to rain sometime soon. Today? Tomorrow? I have no idea. The sky is blank smooth darkness, no visible clouds, and also no stars at all. This suggests a dense cloud layer overhead. I step out on the trail, turn my headlamp on and start walking.
[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]
I get to my halfway point and stop to write and to meditate.
… I had an interesting idea in mind for this morning’s writing, yesterday evening. It’s gone now…
I’m peculiarly groggy this morning. I check the app for my CPAP machine to see how I scored as a representation of how I slept. It looks nearly perfect. I scored 100. So, I would appear to have gotten enough sleep. That’s the sort of silliness that comes of trusting a fucking app. 😆 I slept okay, based on my subjective experience. I’m also groggy. These experiences coexist in this moment. An app has nothing whatsoever to say about it.
Making assumptions based on what some app says, or clinging to expectations obtained through some app is just as foolish and fraught with problematic consequences as any other means of acquiring expectations and assumptions. The app doesn’t make a poor practice better… and if there are verbs involved (and there nearly always are), an app isn’t going to do them for me. The effort to walk my own path is mine.
Scrolling through some feed on some app? Do you really not have better, more entertaining or educational, ways to spend time? Seriously; the app is not the world, and it is not the experience, and it is not a gateway to human connection. I think more people are catching on to a better understanding of all that they lose by becoming dependent on this or that app. I’m encouraged to see it, and I hope it continues.
… there’s so much AI slop and algorithmic bullshit in the world right now…
… Maybe make a point to go outside..?
Daybreak comes, confirming my suspicion that the day would be quite cloudy. There is only the thinnest sliver of pale blue sky down low on the western horizon showing through the dense gray clouds. The rest of the sky is gray. The clouds to the east are quite dark and stormy, and sitting here in jeans and a T-shirt no longer feels like an appropriate choice.
I stretch and get to my feet with a sigh and get ready to begin again.
Some time ago, I left myself a note scrawled in a notebook I keep tucked in my handbag.
Write about death, art, what we leave behind, how little anyone will care or remember. Talk about how we yearn, and take, and build, and how little it matters and all of our destruction for what? Admit to the hypocrisy of even writing about it. Ponder meaning and impermanence.
Yeah…or don’t? I read about Dolly Parton dying with little surprise and an unexpected feeling of real sorrow. I don’t listen to her music much, and she still managed to touch my life. How strange.
[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]
I head down the trail in the darkness. Sunrise is a way off yet. By the first hint of daybreak I reach my halfway point, still pondering Dolly Parton. She seemed to have been equally famous for her music and her genuine goodness, and I saw her relationship as a powerful model of what partnership over a lifetime could look like. How often are truly decent good people ever famous? She did a lot in life to spread that around, too.
…In a world where you can choose to be a Donald Trump or a Dolly Parton, wouldn’t being Dolly be by far the better choice? I’m just saying, clearly being a good person didn’t hold Dolly back at all. Choose wisely. The path ahead is your own.
I sit thinking about choices, and kindness, and being the best version of myself I know how to be, in spite of physical pain, in spite of chaos and damage, in spite of circumstances. Dolly made it look easy, but looking at those hairdos and those outfits, and reading some of her backstory, I very much doubt “easy” was part of the package. She did the verbs, though, and this does tend to support the idea that they can be done.
… And she leaves behind her art, as a musician, and so many memories for people whose lives she touched. As legacies go, that’s pretty big. Impermanence is what it is, and someday everything and everyone that ever existed on this earth, and even the very planet herself will be gone, and maybe then, Dolly will be forgotten, along with the rest of us… But for all the time humanity lingers, creating lives and memories on this mud ball hurtling through space, we have a chance to be better than our worst impulses, and to create a world that says something wonderful about who we were, once we’re gone. That seems worthwhile.
I sit with that thought awhile. Daybreak comes. It’s a bit cooler today. I’m grateful for the cool of the morning. It’s likely to be another hot day. I slept well and deeply, waking only once, and rather early in the night, for no obvious reason. I’m rested, but also uncomfortable. It’s mostly just arthritis, and I do my best to let it go with minimal success. I find myself a little aggravated that today is a work day, but also grateful just to have a job at all.
I sigh to myself. Sometimes life feels like an endless series of compromises between equally unpleasant choices, although I know that is an illusion. There are so many more choices available, and my choices to compromise this or that are my own. I smile to myself at the reminder and stretch, feeling my body welcome the movement. I feel okay for most values of “okay”, and it’s a lovely morning to begin again.
It’s a quiet morning. The sky is clear and starry overhead. The air is still and cool. My steps are steady and even as I walk down the trail. It is a new day.
[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]
I walk along, letting my steps follow the familiar path, while my mind wanders elsewhere. Work later. Errands. Pick up prescriptions from the pharmacy. I remind myself to save some energy for later, so I can help my Traveling Partner with a repair that may need three hands. I get to my halfway point and observe that I’ve been so much in my own head, the walk itself has left no impression on me. My body was merely a vehicle. My mind traveled a different path entirely.
I sigh to myself as I take a seat on a big rock for a few minutes. I look around in the dim twilight. Daybreak soon. The treeline blends in against the darkness of the night sky. No bunnies or birds at this quiet hour. I take a deep breath and exhale slowly.
The peace is ruptured by screaming. Angry screaming, incoherent words , the sounds of rage reach me from the apartments across the creek. My whole body tenses up, and my mind tries to block the sound or my awareness of it. It’s real, though, and I’m suddenly deeply anxious, alarmed, and on alert. There’s no legitimate threat to my safety from this painful human experience happening on the other side of the creek in some apartment, but the sounds of it definitely affect my peace. More yelling, then the sound of breaking glass, and silence.
… The silence feels ominous…
… I breathe, exhale, and relax (as best I can), and repeat, until I feel my heart rate slow down again, and stop hearing my heartbeat in my ears. Nothing over there is happening to me. I’m having my own experience – and I’m grateful it isn’t anything to do with angry screaming or breaking glass. I’ve got it pretty good these days.
Daybreak comes while I sit wondering about things. I’m grateful for this peaceful solitude. I’m grateful to have survived domestic violence (it’s part of my distant past). I’m a little surprised by how quickly the years between then and now melt away so quickly; I’m still trembling, my body still feeling “ready to run”, although no longer full on triggered. I take a deep healthy breath and exhale, and repeat that a few more times, feeling the slow steady breathing begin to calm my body. I think about my beloved Traveling Partner – I am grateful to know love like this.
Gratitude is a good beginning to a new day. I watch the sky lighten and silently list things I am grateful for, allowing myself a moment to savor each detail and really appreciate the qualities in my life that make it a good one. It’s a useful practice, in spite of sometimes feeling a little forced or silly; the results are reliably good.
…We become what we practice…
My beloved pings me a good morning greeting. I’m grateful to be so loved. I smile to myself, also grateful for the pack of tissues hastily stuffed into my pocket as I got out of the car. Tissues that happen to be available to me through the love of my partner, who remembered from my writing that I had run out (or soon would) and made a point of giving me the extras from his truck.
(Well timed, my Love. Thank you!)
The sunrise begins with an unimpressive smudgy orange along the horizon. I’m fine with it. I’m definitely not criticizing since I can’t create an actual sunrise myself, at all, and have no useful tips for making a better one. I sit watching, grateful to see another rising sun.
I breathe, exhale, and relax. Another day, another opportunity to be the person I most want to be. Another day to choose wisely. Another day to love and be loved. Another day to feel grateful and to be kind. Another chance to begin again.
Like, subscribe, comment… it’s a trap. The “hype cycle”, the outrage machinery, the click farming, and trying to get “engagement” from the bored and uninterested; it’s all part of monetizing our attention as consumers (of content). Pretty gross.
[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]
Add to all of that the pestilence of AI slop and enshittification and what have we got? Incentive to put down the device, step away from the screen and go outside.
On the trail at first light.
It’s a gray morning, overcast and cloudy. Looks like rain, but it doesn’t feel like rain. The forecast has no rain in it today. I set off down the trail as soon as I have enough light. (My replacement headlamp should arrive today or tomorrow.) I don’t mind the few quiet minutes waiting for daybreak. I spend the time, this morning, thinking about… Ozempic. 😆
I started on Ozempic in April, 2024, more than two years ago. I’ve lost some weight, sure, but I take it for my diabetes. I could stand to lose more weight, I’m definitely carrying around an unhealthy surplus (just being real). I’ve been improving my strength training a bit at a time, recently, with my Traveling Partner’s encouragement, which is helpful.
“Healthy” and “thin” are not synonyms. “Heavy” and “healthy” are not antonyms. It’s more complicated than that, but in my own case, I’m heavier than is healthy for me, and certain “features” of my brain injury complicate my impulse control and self-awareness. The Ozempic controls my blood sugar, reduces my interest in food, and eating becomes notably less gratifying, and the Ozempic profoundly improves my impulse control, generally (a very helpful side effect). I’m fortunate I haven’t had to deal with unpleasant side effects like nausea or constipation (only very rarely and not for long).
… There’s nothing shameful or embarrassing about taking appropriate medication for medical conditions…
I’ve never felt embarrassed, ashamed, or awkward about taking Ozempic, although I was very reluctant to try it at all. I’m often puzzled by the weird criticism of strangers regarding people using GLP1’s for weight loss, as if it amounts to “cheating”. (And I had to deal with that face to face with myself, before I was willing to try it.) Life isn’t a proctored exam. We’re each having our own experience. One person may find managing their weight (or their blood sugar) quite easy. Someone else may find it quite difficult. We are individuals. Ozempic may cause terrible life threatening side effects for one person, and no side effects at all for another. Keeping it real, though? It’s not anyone else’s business in the first fucking place. Take it or don’t; the choice is between you and your doctor.
…As with using Ozempic, talking about that is also a personal choice (stay out of the comments section 😆 the Internet trolls may be hangry – or jealous)…
I sit with my thoughts awhile, at a favorite stopping point. The trail is still mine. I love these quiet moments. This trail is very popular with dog walkers, though, and on such a mild morning there will no doubt be dogs tearing around in the brush and tall grass (because in spite of prominent signage with rules about keeping dogs leashed, people do as they please). Rude. It is the same disregard for basic consideration and manners that make people think it’s okay to criticize someone for following their doctor’s advice about their medication.
… Sometimes it feels like the idiots are winning…
I breathe, exhale, and relax. I’m in a good mood, on a pleasant morning. No reason to undermine that with cynicism or petty anger and disappointment with humanity, generally. 😆 Later, housekeeping, exercise, and some hang out time with my beloved. I smile to myself. Useful perspective. Why was I even thinking about any of that other crap on such a lovely morning? Oh, right. My weekly dose increases today (and for the foreseeable future). 😂 I’m facing it with some unnecessary trepidation. I shrug it off and remind myself to drink plenty of water.
See, that’s the thing, isn’t it? Nearly every challenge we face also has steps we can take to directly improve our experience, we just have to choose to take that step. “Do the verbs.” It is also necessary to be open to the possibility – and to allow myself awareness of the options available to me. Small steps. Choices.
I breathe the fresh summer air. It smells of mown clover drying in the sun, and summer flowers. I think about maybe going to a cafe that serves a particularly delicious Borgia mocha (a nice treat), then wonder if I can even be bothered? Maybe I’d actually rather head home and do laundry and clean my bathroom? How delightfully adult of me. 😆 I sit smiling, enjoying the moment. It’ll be time to begin again, soon enough.
