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This Is A Journey

December 28, 2025 //
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There is no map, only fellow travelers along the way willing to share a tip, or offer a warning. Listen or don’t, either way you’re making your own journey, and having your own experience. Sometimes you’ll be the dumbest person in the room. Sometimes it won’t be about you at all. Sometimes the path is clear, the way ahead smooth and steady. Other times, every day will present some new obstacle to be overcome. I guess I’m just saying…

…Keep walking (metaphorically speaking). The “way out” is through, and ultimately, the journey is the destination.

The co-work space is hushed and empty, this morning. I am alone for now, and it will be hours before anyone else shows up to do the things they do to bring home a paycheck, pay the bills, feed their families, and get by for another handful of mortal days. Yeesh. That sounds sort of gloomy, doesn’t it? I sigh to myself. I’ll admit that I’ve been yearning for some kind of retirement, or other opportunity to exit the treadmill of the modern workforce since I was… 17, and just joining the Army. Honestly, one of the selling points of that adventure was being able to “retire” at 38. I probably should have done more homework on that notion – since the practical truth of it is that very few people who retire from the military at 38 are actually able to properly retire at that point. Most go on to some second career, and work until some more typical retirement age, if they are able to retire at all. There’s no point holding back the truth of it; the military does not pay well. Those retirement benefits are often not sufficient to afford even a working-class quality of life, unless one is fortunate almost to the point of ridiculous luck, and living quite a charmed life, indeed. Again and again, I’ve looked ahead to some milestone and hoped to be done with “gainful employment” by then, only to find myself reaching that point quite unprepared to be able to retire (for a variety of reasons, some to do with me, some to do with circumstances). Our dreams and our realities don’t necessarily intersect in some fortuitous way that results in a fairytale life of leisure and good company. Mostly they don’t, actually, and we live the lives we work (sometimes too hard) to have, and we get by on some combination of circumstances and decision-making that falls short of our fantasties – that’s just real. No point being unhappy about that; reality does not care what we yearn for in our fondest daydreams. Everything we want in life has some sort of cost.

…Keep walking, and make wise choices…

I pull myself more upright, and take some deep cleansing breaths. My headache is not as bad today as it was yesterday, and I’m grateful – yesterday’s headache was much, and I got very little done as a result. My arthritis pain is what it is – and it’s winter, so what it is, is pretty awful. I shrug to myself, an expression of some combination of feeling resigned to it, and also being mostly rather unbothered by it; it has been part of my life, year after year, for close to 36 years now, slowly worsening over time. And if I had been offered a choice? Told about the arthritis is clear very certain terms? Would I have chosen not to have the surgery that kept me on my feet, and out of a wheelchair, in favor of some potential imagined future without the arthritis that would eventually develop in my spine? No, I would not have chosen to leave my shattered spine in the state it was in on some fantasy hope that it might magically heal on its own. There was no scenario – no realistic scenario – that was going to see me pain free in my 40s, 50s, and 60s. That would have been magical thinking, and the consequences would likely have been worse than any I deal with now. I’d have been seeing the world from a different vantage point, too (a wheelchair). Very few of the trails I am so fortunate to be able to enjoy walking are accessible to someone in a wheelchair. I take a moment for gratitude; I do love seeing those sunrises from the trail.

…Chronic pain is nothing if not ongoing. It could be worse, though. I got good sleep last night, and I face the new day feeling mostly pretty chill and comfortable, mostly pretty prepared. It is an ordinary enough work day, and the pain I’m in is manageable. I make a point to be grateful for that, too.

Are you making careful choices, or following along with someone else’s?

Our individual journeys are paved with our choices, our decision-making, our actions – and we’re walking a path that we largely create ourselves, moment-by-moment. Where does this path lead? Does it have any potential to take me to my goals? I sit with my coffee, reflecting on my life, my decisions, the consequences of my actions, and incremental changes over time. The new year is ahead. Am I the woman I most want to be? Are my day-to-day actions aligned with my values? Are my choices a reflection of consideration and will? Am I getting all I can out of this journey that is my lived mortal life? If I could change one detail of “who I am” effortless, like toggling a switch, what would that detail be? What would I change it to? Having identified this detail as something I’d like to change – am I prepared to then also make the choices and do the work to see it change over time? I think about how long it can take to make some kinds of changes really “stick”. It can be so much work! Sometimes the path seems unreasonably long as it stretches ahead of me. Sometimes that distance is an illusion. Your results may vary… We do become what we practice. Choose wisely.

…Keep walking…

I think about the pleasant holiday, and the weekend. I feel fortunate to have enjoyed both so thoroughly. I think about the gifts, the sweets, the moments, each so very beautiful, so delightful. We didn’t spend much (didn’t have much to spend), and that mattered not at all – it was all so well done, and there was so much love and genuine joy involved. The company was good. The food was good. The amount of consideration given to each other was exceptional. Presence definitely mattered more than presents, this year – and I’m grateful for all of it.

Stickers, and a novel I’ve never read – simple joys are worth savoring.

I sigh contentedly. I don’t need more out of this moment than I’ve already got. I’ve even got some time before work to enjoy a walk through this suburban neighborhood, still lit with holiday lights. After that? Another opportunity to begin again.

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Categories Anxiety, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, inspiration, joy, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, The Art of Being, The Big 5, winter

Slow Living

November 16, 2025 //
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“Slow down”, I reminded myself. It is a very foggy morning. Visibility is poor on the highway, and in the darkness it would be far too easy to overlook a deer or a person attempting to cross the road. There was no traffic at all, only fog, and darkness interrupted periodically by streetlights.

The phrase “slow down” resonates in my thoughts as I drive up the highway to this morning’s trail of choice. It becomes a song in my head. It’s an old old hit song, full of optimism. I sing out loud as I drive, surprised to remember the lyrics.

The reminder to slow down continues to resonate in my thoughts, rippling beyond the obvious practical meaning and through other thoughts, washing over the recollections of other experiences. Sometimes I “go too fast” and get swallowed up by imagined urgency, or distracted from enjoying life by self-inflicted busy-ness. I reflect on that as I drive.

I get to the trailhead before daybreak. It’s very early, and very quiet. The fog on the marsh obscures my visibility even more than the darkness, and my “view” is limited to the bobbing circle of light cast ahead of me by my headlamp. Headlights of passing cars on the highway adjacent to the edge of the meadow and marsh sweep past casting strange shadows in the fog. Several times I think there is someone else on the trail ahead. There isn’t. I’ve got the trail to myself this morning.

I get to my halfway point, still wrapped in darkness and fog. I sit quietly, enjoying the stillness and solitude. I meditate. I wait for daybreak. I’m not in any hurry at all, and that feels good. Restful. Luxurious. I breathe, exhale, and relax, and contemplate how best to communicate the practical value of slowing down. I’m not suggesting do less, it’s a more subtle consideration. It’s more about presence, awareness, and deliberate mindful action, and refraining from “filling space” with motion and task handling just to stay busy, or to overcome boredom.

…Go ahead and be bored now and then, it’s probably good for you…

… Better than doom scrolling the news, by far.

Daybreak comes. The sky shifts slowly from the undefined foggy darkness to a hint of a paler bluer gray in the sky, the oaks on the hillside on the other side of the trail are silhouetted, a feathered dark edge where the sky begins. I breathe the fresh chilly autumn air. The marsh has a very specific scent of its own. I don’t have words to describe it, and I enjoy it wordlessly. I hear a noise and look down.

Near my feet a young raccoon has approached me unnoticed. I manage to avoid being startled, but hear my own voice call softly, seeming unnecessarily loud in the gloom, “Oh, hey there! Don’t have rabies, okay? You should go back to your mama, Kiddo.” The youngster stands briefly on hind legs, looking me over curiously, before dropping back to all fours, turning and waddling quickly away, into the taller grass between this bit of fence I’m sitting on, and the marsh pond beyond.

I sit awhile longer, grateful for this quiet contemplative time to myself. Vita activa may fulfill a sense of purpose (or one’s bank account), but it is vita contemplativa that I personally find most valuable for finding that sense of purpose in the first place. Our mortal lives are finite and our moments precious and few, but trying to stay busy and occupy that time every moment with purposeful action risks missing out on so much creative potential and pure joy in living some moment, just as it is. I can’t explain myself adequately well, on the value in daydreaming, in boredom, in stillness and in slowing down. I can only do my humble best with the words I have. Instead, I share some other words, more skillfully crafted. (Do you ever click the links? Are you ever surprised by what you discover?)

Ichi-go Ichi-e. Be here now. Breathe, exhale, relax. Live the life you have, while it lasts – we are mortal creatures. Be present in the moment, awake and aware. This too shall pass… it’s all quite temporary.

We become what we practice. What are you practicing? Are you taking time to really live? Put down the device. Go outside. Read a book. Spend time with a friend. Daydream awhile. Slow down. Enjoy the journey.

An autumn morning, a trail, a journey.

I grin to myself as dawn becomes a new day. A misty rain falls on the foggy marsh. I am wrapped in contentment and a soft merry joy fills my heart. It’s a good starting point to begin again.

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

Where Dreams and Plans Differ

September 30, 2022 //
2

I sat down with some water, to write and reflect. My first week at a new job wrapped up quite pleasantly and productively. I’m listening to Lizzo remind me “It’s About Damn Time“. I’ve got a little stack of flower seeds for fall sowing. It’s time to decide specifically where they go and put them there. Other fall seeds are sown in modules, waiting to be planted in the raised bed. Summer-sown veggies are sprouting in the autumn sunshine. We got our first real rain of the fall this week, too – so lovely!

While my Traveling Partner’s son visited us, I made a short trip up the road on a wee adventure to look at garden statues and the sorts of décor suited to turning some corner in a garden and discovering some delight. Why not? It’s the sort of thing (for me) that daydreams are made of. I went to Dundee Garden Art, and wandered their lovely collection of things for gardens. So worth the visit!! I see several things I want for my garden… but this is where planning and dreaming collide; the moment of whimsical speculation, the “what if…?”, the temptation, and the wondering. I don’t need to rush this, or take any sort of immediate action. This kind of aesthetic detail, I find, benefits from some time and consideration. I’ll daydream about it awhile, and eventually probably do the thing that caught my fancy first. lol

Quan Yin is surely worthy of a place in my garden.

My Traveling Partner asks for my thoughts on some upgrades to the shop. His business is developing, and already the small CNC machine that was “enough” when he got started is no longer enough machine to do the jobs he needs to do. It just can’t be counted on to get the job done. We sit down and look over his plan. This is no time for daydreams; we are practical and cautious, with an eye on hopefully just doing this the one time. (Things don’t always work out that way, particular now that so many items have to be purchased unseen, from an online store. Return-and-try-again is a real risk.) Our results vary. We roll with it. Talk it over together. Finalize a plan. Take action.

The Autumn sunshine sneaks through the blinds, filtered and softened. I smile. We’re in a good place together. Sunshine and love.

The new job is hard to assess from the vantage point of the first week. I’ve been doing “onboarding” tasks, and tackling various “annual compliance training” modules. No daydreaming. No planning. Just action, a bit of task processing and box ticking. I’ve got a checklist. 🙂 I’m enjoying the vibe, though, and the company doesn’t waste time on excessive meetings. It’s nice to have the time to get real work done, even if I’m just onboarding right now. 😀 In all identifiable respects, so far, this is a great job for me. I enjoy the team I’m on (and I’ll get to meet them in person next week), and there are enough familiar faces around to feel very much “at home” with my peers. I’m even having fun. No complaints. 😀

Time passes. I’m not the woman I was at 21 (I’m fairly sure I would have found her insufferably arrogant, and doubtless she’d have viewed me similarly harshly). Am I a better person than she was? A better human being? I can’t be sure of that, but I know I am happier, more content, more resilient. Finally. All those new beginnings have gotten me somewhere… and I didn’t even have to give up my daydreams. 🙂

It’s time to begin again; my path does not end here. I think I’ll have some tea. 🙂

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Categories Allegories, art and the artist, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gardening, gratitude, inspiration, Love, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, The Art of Being

Listen to the Band

December 11, 2021 //
1

Yesterday I read that Mike Nesmith died. I broke down in tears and just cried for what seemed an uncomfortably long time. I suppose he was most famous to the world as one of The Monkees. He was “most famous” to me as my first rock-star crush. I had every album. The edges of every one of them was worn and frayed from being held and gazed upon for many hours, song after song after song, daydreaming of the love and life that might one day be mine…

…I don’t live a life anything at all like those adolescent daydreams so long ago, and I don’t think I would enjoy it if I did! I’m not that little girl anymore, and much time has passed. 🙂 Still, to this day, the songs resonate with me. I’m listening to them now, on a long haphazard playlist yanked from YouTube, honoring the loss of a human being so dear to me… though we never met.

Listening to The Monkees, I hear where some important details of “who I am” may come from. Reluctant heartfelt departures? Check! Be sure to say gentle good-byes to the ones you love. Striving for perspective and balanced discourse? Saying I’m sorry? Being willing to change? Check! The Monkees shared an approach I didn’t see modeled at home. (I sure wouldn’t mind being able to do the song-and-dance thing, too… might lighten a tense mood? lol) Frustration with my origins in a wordless way that my adolescent mind did not understand how to express? Even that – The Monkees understood what I was trying to say. They “got me”. It was 1967. I was not even adolescent when The Monkees were on t.v. – the first time. Their music and sketches from their show settled into my consciousness pretty early on. I sometimes wonder if those of us on the tail end of the “baby boomer” generation – not quite a proper “boomer”, not quite Gen X, are more properly The Monkees generation, born to a world with television, and eager consumer minds right at that time when our formative malleable young consciousness ripe for “product placement” was feasting on … The Monkees. 🙂

Hell, for all I know, the earliest seeds of my utter lack of monogamy, and my long-time comfort with polyamory, may also source with those early years, clutching my record albums, seething with hormones, unwilling to really “choose” from among the “pre-fab four” – life with The Monkees looked like a proper romp! Surely there was room for me, with them…? LOL I wasn’t really thinking about sex in any explicit way, just thinking it would be rude to bust up a tight friendship when I really dug them all equally well. lol

Anyway. I’m okay, you know? It’s just a moment. A wee bit of a sorrowful celebration, saying good-bye to “old friends” who meant so much more to me than I had ever really reflected upon so deeply. I listen to Last Train to Clarksville again… the number of times I have happily sung this song at the top of my lungs on a long drive, to stay awake… this time it just sounds like “good bye”, and I cry a bit more. It’s okay though; nothing to be ashamed of in honest heartfelt tears. My Traveling Partner comes into the studio on a practical matter. He’s kind about my moment. I hear Mickey Dolenz remind me to begin again, to move on, to take that next step… they got that before I did, too, but the mere presence of this music in my mind for so long may have made it a bit easier to get my head around new practices, and new beginnings, when I needed to most.

What music moves you? Where do you come from, creatively? What are the songs that fill your heart, and provide a soundtrack to your dreams? The music you first danced to – as a toddler, perhaps. As a tween, certainly. It’s part of your “core programming”, probably. Have you looked it in the face and asked yourself if it became part of your path in a positive way – or if it may be something holding you back? Maybe it’s a good day to listen to the band?

Papa Gene’s Blues begins to play. I think of my life now. I think about my good fortune in life and love. I think about my Traveling Partner on life’s journey. I think about a second coffee, and I think about beginning again. Thanks, Mike.

Bonus track – one of the most fun tracks ever recorded masquerading as a song. 😀

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Categories Allegories, art and the artist, gratitude, inspiration, Love, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Relationships, The Art of Being, Words

Fleeting Thoughts

July 18, 2015 //
2

I slept well and deeply, although I didn’t sleep through the night. I woke for a time, around 1:00 am, and although I was not anxious or in a lot of pain it was clear I was not going back to sleep easily. I did some yoga, meditated, and read a chapter of a favorite book – sleep was not far away at that point. I slept so well, actually, that I overslept my loose plan to take an early morning hike. Since there’s nothing I want or need to escape from, and no necessity to aggressively pursue exercise outside the home, and plenty to do (and to entertain me) right here, I am content with the spontaneous change of plans brought on by sleeping in.

There is enough structure and symmetry in life, there is no need to impose more.

There is enough structure and symmetry in life, there is no need to impose more.

I have the day ahead of me, to think, to be, to write, to do… it doesn’t seem necessary, today, to impose more structure on myself; I have a list of things that I’d like to get done, and I will likely do a great many of them today. It’s a good day for verbs. Some of the tasks on my list are utterly mundane day-to-day things like doing the dishes, cleaning the bathroom, or watering the garden. Other tasks on my list are a combination of tedium and delight that are both time-consuming, and requiring great care and attentiveness, like sorting and archiving my digital images, and updating my art archives with photos of more recent work. Some of the tasks on my list are creative endeavors, such as working on my manuscript, writing poetry, writing in my journal, or painting. Others are social endeavors; I have a long list of people I mean to write letters to.

Enough.

Enough.

 

I have not committed to any specific plan of action for now. I am simply enjoying my coffee. It is a remarkable coffee, too. Brazil Nossa Senhora Fatima – it has amazing aroma and flavor. I find myself wondering why I have explored so few Brazilian coffees in the past. I will no doubt have another cup or two; it is Saturday, and if I choose to ruin the upcoming night’s sleep with too much coffee, it is the one night of the week I can easily do so with few consequences. 🙂

I face the morning aware that I have recently had a number of significant moments that resulted in recognition that ‘this would be a good topic for a blog post’…and failing to write them down along the way, they are lost to me, for now. My memory doesn’t work as well as it might (I make jokes about my corrupted file system), and I know that when I don’t make notes on an idea for writing, or for painting, I am at risk of losing it altogether, and quite quickly. I no longer treat myself poorly over it – there is no ill intent, just this TBI, and being cruel to myself over my limitations has not done anything to ease the limitations themselves, in the past. It was a poor practice, and I have given it up.

The cool morning air pours in through the open patio door. Dawn has become daylight, and the sunlight on the lawn beyond my patio holds my attention for a time. I lose track of the moment, gazing out the window, listening to the aquarium trickling in the background. I wonder, after time passes, is this another sort of meditation, this rapt attentive gaze into the beyond, lacking in active content, simply breathing and seeing…or am I ‘stuck’ on some ‘damaged sector’ of my metaphoric hard drive? My mind wanders again, from thinking on that question, to some other notion. I realize I have been sitting quietly, holding my warm coffee cup in my hand, for some considerable time now. 37 minutes. Is it wasted time – or does this lovely stillness, content, aware, and calm, nurture some part of me that doesn’t get the attention it needs day-to-day in the fuss and bother of busy 21st century life?

Eye-catching bits of morning often catch my eye - is it a distraction, or is it the point of living?

Eye-catching bits of morning often catch my eye – is it a distraction, or is awareness the point of living?

Taking time for me takes many forms. Today is a good day for it – pretty nearly every day is, actually. Today is a good day to enjoy taking care of me, and applying verbs to my to do list, putting my effort where it pleases me most, and meets my needs over time. I build this beautiful life with my choices, and my actions. Today I happily do so with a grin and a challenge – to do so without the need to acquire more, or go elsewhere; I have what I need right here at home. That’s enough.

 

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Categories Brain Injury, Free Will, Healthy Living, Love, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, The Art of Being, The Big 5, Words
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