Archives for posts with tag: choose wisely
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Just a Glimpse

October 26, 2026 //
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I woke at my usual time, my usual way. I guess I’m over being sick. I dressed and headed out, eager to walk in spite of the darkness.

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

I spotted the full moon overhead as I left the house. It rested on a bed of clouds like a pearl on fluffed cotton. I could still see it as I arrived at the trailhead. It ducked behind the clouds before I could get my camera out to get a picture of the “Hunter’s Moon”. It’s been rainy, I keep an eye on the clouds hoping to see the moon again, as I put on my rain poncho.

As I set off down the trail, the moon reveals herself. I turn off my headlamp and walk in the moonlight.

Is it a great picture? No. It doesn’t need to be. It’s enough to remind me, later, of this beautiful moment.

I put my phone away, and walk on. As if aware I’m watching, the moon stays out, lighting my way.

I get to my halfway point, grateful that I made it so far, comfortably, after being sick for days. I breathe, exhale, and relax, grinning happily to myself as I recall the pleasant hours in the studio yesterday afternoon – a glimpse of what retirement might feel like. I smile to myself, like I’ve figured something out. I’m not certain I have, but there’s the hint of an idea, and the feeling of having turned a corner, or having set down some baggage. Something to do with the weekend painting on the coast, something to do with painting at home on a weekend afternoon – something to do with making things work in a meaningful way in spite of less than ideal circumstances.

… Maybe I just needed more restful sleep to process things? I’ve definitely gotten that over the past week! 😆

I sit watching the moon pass behind the clouds, then peek out at me again. I fill up on inspiration as I sit watching, breathing, and waiting to begin again. It’s not yet time for that. I meditate and reflect awhile. I watch the moon shining down so very brightly. “Can I capture that luminous glow in pastels?” I wonder.

“Foggy Autumn Morning”, 5″ x 7″ pastels on pastelbord, 2026

I’ve been painting foggy mornings. Maybe I will paint moonlight, next, after I figure out fog?

“Strangers in the Fog”, 9.5″ x 12.5″ pastels on pastel card, 2026

The moon disappears from view. The dense clouds remind me why I reliably bring my headlamp along. My rain poncho is another welcome addition this morning, as raindrops begin to reach me, sprinkling my glasses with tiny droplets. I sigh as I get to my feet. Apparently, it’s time to begin, again.

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Categories Allegories, art and the artist, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, inspiration, joy, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, solo hiking, The Art of Being

Something for Me

September 19, 2026 //
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It’s a foggy morning. On the other side of a short list of errands, I’ll head to the coast for a few days for some solitary time, painting. I’m eager, but not anxious. There’s no hurry. I planned with care and stayed mindful of my current capabilities and limitations when I did so.

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

I’m sitting at a favorite trailhead, waiting for the gate to open. A short walk will be enough this morning. I want to leave myself enough energy at the other end of the day to easily enjoy hanging out with the ghosts of Claude (Monet), Vincent (Van Gogh), and Peter (Max). I’ve already got my pastels packed up, ready to load into the car.

… Definitely eager…

When the time came to end the work week and pull my head out of the spreadsheets and tool portals, yesterday, I found it difficult. I’m definitely for sure over that, already! My thoughts now are of colors, hues, shades, tones, and the challenges of bringing light into pigment, and giving life to an image on paper. I am expanding into the sense of self that feels the most me. It’s comfortable and familiar, and natural; there’s no need to mask anything or operate from some pretense of whatever is defined as properly professional this year, for this or that industry. It may take hours to really sink in, that the next three days are wholly about where inspiration might take me. This is my time.

I breathe, exhale, relax. Some things don’t change. Some practices have value no matter what may be on the calendar. Meditation. Writing in the morning. Enjoying a pleasant walk. We become what we practice. Taking myself to some other physical place to paint doesn’t change what I need to do to care for myself, manage symptoms, and preserve my emotional resilience. I reflect on the successes and failures of various practices over the years. They don’t all work out, and there’s been some trial and error to “finding my way”.

… Shit… I already miss my Traveling Partner and I’m not even gone yet! 😆 Well, I knew that would be a thing. I adore him. We’re deeply connected. Our lives are intertwined. I feel obvious “separation anxiety” when we’re apart – but there is value in the reminder not to take love for granted. We get the benefit of perspective from a chance to miss each other, and reconnect more deeply when we reunite.

So much of life is about love and loving.

At the halfway point of my walk, I sit with my thoughts of my beloved, sleeping at home. I could have set things up to take off for the coast at first light. I didn’t set up my plan that way specifically to run these couple of errands and take the time to hold each other a moment before I go, and do some little things to make him more comfortable and less inconvenienced by my absence. This doesn’t just feel like the right thing to do for him, it meets needs of my own, to support my partner. Without these courtesies, I’d be distracted the whole time I’m away, wondering about his experience, instead of living mine.

… I think about that for a little while…

Daybreak comes. The fog muffles the sound of traffic on the highway adjacent to this nature preserve. The darkness lifts slowly, revealing more fog, and the dark silhouettes of the grand oaks on this hillside. It seems a good setting for self-reflection and meditation. Inspiring. Lately I have been feeling so deeply inspired to paint, it spills over into other things. I’m looking forward to giving in to it for a couple days.

Daybreak comes.

I hear voices, approaching from up the trail. When they come into view, I wave and call out a good morning greeting, to avoid startling two photographers, approaching preoccupied with their conversation and their gear. They return my greeting and walk on past, towards the photographer’s blind out on the marsh. It’s a good time of year for it; migratory birds are passing through, and the weather hasn’t turned shitty yet.

I sigh to myself and bring my thoughts back to my own experience. Here. Now. Nice moment to be. I sit with my thoughts a short while longer, finding it a luxury to do so. I consider my pain, and pain management. Look over my shopping list one more time, before admitting to myself that it’s probably time to begin again. I smile like I know a secret, as I get to my feet, stretching.

… Travel tissues! I add them to my list and get going.

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Categories Allegories, art and the artist, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, inspiration, joy, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, Summer, The Art of Being, The Big 5

We Made This

September 17, 2026 //
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This world we live in – we created it. Together, all of us. It’s a strange thought, isn’t it? Every choice, every action, every mistake, every great new idea; it is through us that we make our world. Choose wisely, eh?

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

This morning I read that Peter Max had died. Monday it was. There’s a little less color in this world with his passing, but realistically, the colors he juxtaposed on canvas (or on envelopes), were not enough to render the world as beautiful as he saw it. I wipe away a single tear with a sad smile and think of Van Gogh for no particular reason.

…I offer them both a silent salute, raising my water bottle to the starry night sky, before I head down the trail…

I rub my hands together a bit for warmth as I reach my halfway point and take a seat for a moment or two. I think of Monet’s failing eyesight, and feel the pain in my thumbs. He kept painting. No doubt I will too, for as long as I’m able.

I sigh to myself feeling the threads connecting my work to theirs. These are more pleasant thoughts, generally, than contemplating the mess humanity has made of the world. Artists and makers know, perhaps more than most people, we are creating this world we live in, all of us, together. So, what are we choosing to make? Is this really what we want? Can’t we do better, relatively easily? I think about that awhile, watching Orion slowly rise in the eastern sky. He’ll vanish from view when daybreak comes.

What exactly are you doing to make the world a better place? I mean the easy stuff, close to home, like treating your partner and family well, and being helpful to a friend, a neighbor, a stranger of another ethnicity. I mean the somewhat harder stuff, too, like speaking truth to power, like standing firm on explicitly calling genocide “genocide”, even if doing so seems to be at odds with national pride or political interests. I mean the obvious stuff, like picking up trash, and keeping things tidy, too. It all counts. It adds up. We could do more, and better.

I think about the weekend ahead. My beloved Traveling Partner programmed the marine traffic radio frequencies into my radio, so I can try listening to the shipping traffic while I’m on the coast. I grin to myself, feeling very loved.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I meditate on gratitude and wonder. I reflect on painting inspiration as yet unfulfilled. I reflect on love and prematurely experience a pang of wistful loss and absence – I will miss my Traveling Partner (I always do). He is my beloved, my muse – why not just paint at home? Why not bring him along? It’s honestly this; I need some solitary time to thrive, and more than that, my passion for my partner is both deeply inspiring, and also an incredible distraction. 😆 When he is near, I will reliably choose his company over most other things, however needful, urgent, or pleasant, those things might be. (It’s admittedly not ideally emotionally healthy, and I am frankly unconcerned.) Since I need to paint and write to be emotionally and mentally well, this sets up a bit of a self-care conflict, internally, so vacations and getaways with my partner are quite a separate thing. This has worked for us. Your results may vary.

I breathe in the autumn scented air. I watch a brightly lit farm machine moving back and forth among the vineyard rows, a way off. Earlier a heavily loaded, slow, quite long freight truck pulled through, on the narrow agricultural access road that cuts through the vineyard. It’s bright colorful lights made a merry display as it bounced slowly along. There’s a hint of sweetness in the air… grapes? Am I imagining the scent?

It’s a lovely beginning to a new day. I slept well. I hope my beloved did too. I think about dinner later – leftover enchiladas. It’s not fancy but the company and conversation will be excellent. My partner is working on a new (work) project. I hope he has a fantastic day working on it. I’m eager for him to tell me more, over dinner.

We live in the world we’ve made. Let’s make it a good one, for everyone. We can begin again. We can do better.

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Categories Allegories, art and the artist, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, inspiration, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, Summer, The Art of Being, The Big 5, thoughts on AI, War and News of War, women, Words

The Plan Is Not The Experience

September 7, 2026 //
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I made my plan yesterday evening, after returning from the coast. I’d take my walk in the morning, and return home, do a needful housekeeping project, do laundry, and paint. My plan has already begun to unravel.

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

I stepped out onto the trail and it … squished. Mud. Quite a lot of mud, actually. I guess I’m not surprised; we’ve had a couple days of rain. In late fall and winter, I don’t bother with this trail, because it becomes treacherously muddy and difficult for me. I sigh to myself. It’s not going to be that bad, but I don’t see enough with my headlamp to feel wholly secure tackling this trail that runs alongside the Willamette River for quite a distance. Sliding off some bit of river bank into that icy water is not on my list of desirable adventures to enjoy on a Monday off! 😆

I get back in the car to write and meditate and wait for daybreak.

When daybreak comes, I embrace the opportunity to see the world with new eyes.

The trail is slick in spots and muddy, but not impassably so. I slow down, grateful for my cane. The morning is cool and still smells of rain. The robins are out, calling to each other from the trees, and scurrying along the ground, looking for tasty morsels. Chipmunks, squirrels, bunnies – it’s a fun morning to spot creatures along my route. Before I got started, there was an owl calling from somewhere very nearby. I take my time and enjoy the walk.

One of many bunnies. So many bunnies. 😆

The bunnies – young from this year, I think, based on their size – cavort happily in the weeds and shrubbery along the path, now and then darting across the path to the other side. They disappear into the brush as I approach, and reappear behind me after I pass. I wonder to myself how many will survive the hungry owl I heard earlier?

I notice leaves already beginning to turn. It seems “too soon” for those changes, but the equinox is only two weeks away. I keep walking.

The sun begins to rise above the trees on the opposite bank of the river, to the east. It shines golden through the trees. Hints of gold, amber, and russet hues among the leaves and dense summer foliage are more pronounced in the sun beams stretching across the path. Seasons change. The clock ticks on.

Annoying loud voices approach from behind me on the trail. I pause and step to the side, turning to have a look. Loud older men, with fishing gear and a rather ridiculous amount of genial camaraderie, making their way to some favorite fishing spot, with as much right to be here as I have myself. They’re still fucking annoying, being all loud and stuff on this lovely quiet morning. They each raise a hand in greeting and offer me a boisterous good morning greeting. I nod, wave, and return their greeting, staying back from the path until they pass by, then continue on my way, happy that the branching trail takes me up the hill and around the other side of the meadow, in the opposite direction.

A new day will come, and with it a chance to begin again.

“Softly, as in a morning sunrise…” I begin to sing as I walk, feeling the moment differently as the golden light fills the space between the leaves of the trees along the path. Oh, to be sure, the legacy of Nancy Wilson has nothing to fear from me. 😆 I can’t carry a tune – but I love the way it feels to sing the song in my heart.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I definitely still plan to paint today, but I know the value of a plan, and I have been humbled by circumstances too often to count on a plan becoming reality. Maybe it does, maybe it doesn’t. Maybe I sit down to my easel, but inspiration won’t make the short trip from my mind to my hands, or maybe my hands won’t cooperate in bringing my inspiration to life? Maybe my Traveling Partner will ask for my help with something else? Maybe… Life is a sea of maybes and the plan is not the experience.

Practice non-attachment. Count on impermanence. Change is.

My headache reminds that this fragile vessel has its own limitations to be accounted for. I sigh quietly. I keep walking. The clock keeps ticking. The sun rises on a new day.

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Categories Allegories, art and the artist, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, inspiration, joy, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, Summer, The Art of Being, women, Words

Easier Said

September 5, 2026 //
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I get to my halfway point on this morning’s walk just at daybreak. On one side, a slope of meadowed hillside dotted with oak trees. On the other, a view across the expanse of meadow that will soon become marsh once again, as the season changes. This is my way; I wake, I walk, I clear my mind as the steps become miles. It’s not fancy or costly, and as practices go, it seems to me to be one of the easiest to start and to follow. On the other hand, “easy” is pretty subjective.

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

It’s a better view in real life. Be present in your lived moment.

I hadn’t noticed until the night sky began to yield to the new day; there is an autumn mist clinging to the ground all around me and over the meadow. A couple days of rain have returned hints of green to the amber and gold hues of the dry grass. Well, and the cooler nights have resulted in some trees beginning to turn their summer greens to autumn hues of russet, yellow, and hints of red. Fall. The equinox is approaching, too.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I’m comfortable and content with this moment just as it is. The air still smells of recent rain, and a little bit of something musty. No breeze, really, but the slow movement of air currents brings with it a hint of a fireplace somewhere, a pleasant reminder of being cozy at home.

I consider my general good fortune in life (at least this portion of it, say the most recent 10 years, about) has been mostly pretty good, and generally getting better as things go along. Certainly, I’ve made a lot of progress, myself, and I find myself feeling grateful. I sit with that awhile.

… Everything is a little damp from recent rain, and I notice my jeans have soaked through, sitting on this fence rail. I don’t mostly care about that, I just happened to notice…

The thing about practices, whether they are to do with walking every day, or practicing gratitude, or practicing the four agreements, or practicing good self-care, or practicing anger management… “practice” is a verb. There is real work to be done. We may commit to a practice and discuss it enthusiastically, but if we’re not doing the practice..? Well, obviously, if we’re not doing it, it isn’t being done. We become what we practice. So…yeah. Got to do the verbs.

I sit thinking about my strength training. So many verbs. Very verb-y ones, too. There is unquestionably doing going in when I am strength training, even with my small dumbbells. Some practices are less visually obvious, like meditation, but the effects of the thing being done are profound. Still takes effort. What I’m getting at is that simply talking about practices isn’t enough. The doing matters more. That’s the practice.  I sit with the thought awhile longer.

No colorful sunrise this morning. The day begins quite gray and overcast. I don’t need it to be anything else. I’m just over here practicing. Self-care. Meditation. Gratitude. Anchoring myself to this moment and being present. Walking in the morning. All practices. It adds up. To what exactly? I guess that depends on the path I choose.

… it’s a very human experience. Choose wisely…

I stretch and get to my feet. This walk won’t finish itself, and I’ve a way to go to get to the other side of the nature park, and back to the trailhead. Then some errands, and maybe painting this afternoon? I sigh contentedly, looking down the trail into the mist. Seems like a good time to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, anger, Anxiety, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, Frustration, gratitude, Healthy Living, joy, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, Summer, The Art of Being, The Big 5, weight loss secrets, women, Words
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