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89 Seconds to Midnight

October 30, 2025 //
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I left work early yesterday (by a few minutes) with a wicked headache. Not my usual headache, this one felt…viral. By evening I was definitely not feeling well. I crashed at 18:30 and slept through the night waking only twice for one biological need or another, and quickly returning to sleep. I woke at my usual time, and went back to sleep, waking later to make coffee and slowly start getting myself together for the day, figuring I’ll work from home, at predictably lower productivity, but “being there” for my team and still getting needful things wrapped up for October. A reasonable plan.

The first notification to reach me this morning is a DM from a friend. “Are you worried?” Well, damn, yeah, honestly, more often than not lately – at least any time I step outside my safe-seeming home. But, I feel certain she means something specific, and I ask. I immediately wish I hadn’t, when she replies “he wants to re-start nuclear testing”. I know which “he” she means, and my response is… to make a cup of coffee. I mean, damn, even if the end of the world were literally upon me, at this hour of the day I’m definitely going to want to face that shit with a fresh cup of coffee. lol I’m not meaning to make light of something that is truly horrific, but I honestly don’t know how else to take it. The notion is completely fucking ludicrous – what is there to test? What don’t we already know about the profound destructive power of nuclear weapons, and the lasting damage to this one planet we live on that inevitably results? Have we forgotten all the other nuclear tests that have been done? It’s an ugly dick measuring contest. A toddler’s demonstration of power (that they clearly should not have in the first place). Renewed nuclear testing achieves nothing good and protects no one. It does nothing to improve the stability of global trade or diplomacy. It’s also fucking expensive, which seems odd from a guy who campaigned on how good he was going to make America, and how much he would bring down the debt, the deficit, and the cost of fucking groceries. I’m annoyed by all of it, so I…

…Take a breath, followed by a sip of my coffee, which is exceptional this morning. I get my work tools set up. I seem to manage to avoid waking my still-sleeping Traveling Partner, which pleases me (I hope I’m right!), because I’m fairly certain he will have slept restlessly, worrying about me during the night. Then I check The Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists to see if the clock has changed since January 28th… it hasn’t. I let it go, with a sigh. Not relief, just… I don’t know. The madness of renewed nuclear testing is not something I can change, or fix, or act upon, really. I’ll write letters to representatives later.

It’s not that I’m ignoring the crazy going on around me, nor the costume ball of assholes, douchebags, and clowns in Washington haplessly proclaiming that this or that new horror is somehow not their fault. I’m not ignoring any of it. I am refusing to let those fuckwits camp out rent free in my consciousness full-time, though. I will continue to live my life as well as I am able until the world actually ends. I’ll do my own best to be kind, to be a good neighbor, to be compassionate, to make wise choices, to care for home and hearth, to love with my whole heart, and to refrain from making shit in the world worse – for anyone – if I can. I’ll continue to call genocide “genocide”, when I see it. I’ll continue to speak truth to power. I’ll continue to refuse to laugh at “jokes” that hurt people. I’ll turn my attention away from the click-bait headlines, sponsored content, and AI slop. I just don’t have time for attention-getting bullshit.

I dislike being sick, but compared to some of what is going on in the world, a headcold isn’t that big a deal, is it?

I sip my coffee. I meditate. I run a brush through my hair so that on my calls I don’t look like a muppet does my styling. I move my keyboard a litte more to the left… Then after I shift my chair, I move it back to the right some. After a couple of repeats, I realize I’m just fussing, and willfully stop my restless fidgiting. I breathe, exhale, and relax, and let my lingering stress and irritation go with my exhalation. I feel my posture become more relaxed, more upright, more “easy”. Feels better. I don’t always easily recognize “discomfort” for what it is, at least not immediately. I take a moment for a “body scan”, feeling various tight spots, and letting myself relax further. There is endurance, resilience, and comfort in self-care. I take my time with myself, and my coffee. I’ve already set expectations that I’m not at 100% this morning, and that I may begin the day a bit later than I generally do. Clear expectation-setting and managing healthy boundaries is also self-care.

What matters most? The moment of panic over a madman’s idiocy – or how I live my life, moment to moment? I realize that I hadn’t sent my friend a proper response to her concern. Am I worried? Of course I am. Am I letting that worry take over my experience? Nope. Not a chance – there is nothing whatsoever about the terrible crap in the news that requires that of me, or over which my reaction in this moment would be some sort of catalyst for change. I tell my friend I am taking a wait-and-see approach, and staying prepared for disaster, but that I won’t be allowing such things to wreck my day-to-day experience. I send her laughing emojis and tell her I have too much “real stuff” to do. She laughs, too, and tells me she appreciates my practical level-headed perspective. I’m grateful that she sees me that way, and I let those words remind me that this is who I am – with practice.

I remind myself to sit down with my Traveling Partner and the Anxious Adventurer, and have a conversation about cold-war era fears of nuclear disaster, and ensuring that together we have disaster plans that are appropriate, and that our level of preparedness for the “come what may” is sufficient. It’s a conversation for another time, and needs no further thought from me now. I set it aside for later, along with my general disappointment in humanity that we’re even in this predicament in the first place. We could do better. Honestly, it’s such a simple thing; it begins with electing people of good character who have the necessary skills and willingness to govern accountably and ethically. Without that, we just end up right back here. I sigh to myself, and let that go, too.

I glance at the clock… It’s time to begin again. There is no time to waste. The clock is always ticking.

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Categories 2024 Election, Allegories, anger, Anxiety, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, Despair, Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, The Art of Being, War and News of War, Words

Drowning in the Details

October 14, 2025 //
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G’damn life feels too busy. Appointments. Meetings. Calls to make. Errands. Laundry. Household upkeep. Caregiving. Working for a living. Self-care. Sometimes doing the needful feels like an unreasonable amount of work, and this year I’ve rarely found myself able to make time for painting, gardening, reading, or writing (aside from this one sliver of my day early in the morning, when I can indulge myself in solitude and write these few words). I’m exhausted at the end of most days, barely able to stand by the time I take those last steps down the hall to bed.

… I feel like I’m working three or four full-time jobs…

Each morning I get up and do it again. Each day, I get my ass to work. Each day I tackle the errands on my list. Each day I give as much of myself as I can to caregiving tasks, and housekeeping chores. Each day I compromise on some detail of my self-care – because I just can’t do everything, and something has to be put aside for another day.  I’m grateful to enjoy the life I do. I’m grateful to have such a strong and loving partnership. I’m annoyed with myself for griping about how much work life is, when I’ve got it so good, generally speaking. For sure there are people who have it far worse and would happily trade places with me.

I’m tired, I guess. I’ve sustained this for too long. I do make attempts to treat myself a bit better than I often do, but it’s not uncommon to return from a camping trip, or a day spent in solitary meditation, to a whole new list of errands to run, or chores that need doing. I almost immediately use up any reserves I may have built. It seems neverending… because it mostly is. It’s life, and there’s a lot to do.

… It’s only Tuesday…

I sigh quietly to myself, sitting at the halfway point on my morning trek around a favorite local trail. It’s still dark. I don’t mind. Is it my preference to walk in the dark? No. It’s the time I have, though, so it is the time I walk. I feel fortunate to still have my legs under me, and that I can still walk these trails on my own. That’s something worth a moment of appreciation and gratitude; it wasn’t a given that things would turn out so well after I broke my back in the early 80’s. There was a real chance I’d never walk again, at all. I’m deeply grateful my surgeries turned out so well. I keep walking.

I sit with my thoughts awhile. I can remember how difficult it was to understand how fortunate I really am. Understanding my relative privilege and general good fortune in life was hard – complicated by a deeply subjective perspective on life that focused on the trauma, the chaos and damage, the lifetime of hurt and anger. For a long time I was “trapped in the mire“. Resetting my own expectations was a complicated journey of its own. I keep working at it. It’s too easy to resent how much fucking work life requires for that to be “the right answer” (or even a right answer). I breathe, exhale, and relax. I’m grateful for this simple practice (meditation) that does so much to give me the calm and resilience to just keep at it, day after day after day. It’s not “everything”, and life still needs a lot of real work to “run smoothly”, but… it’s something, and mostly it’s enough.

The sky has lightened a bit. It is a deep charcoal gray, barely lighter than the darkness of night, but now I see the treeline silhouetted, where moments ago was only darkness. Meditation and self-reflection work that way for me; slowly illuminating my way, over time. Worthwhile, reliably restorative practices that bring a sense of balance and perspective are few – and worth the effort to cultivate them.

I sit watching the horizon. Daybreak soon. It’s almost time to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, Anxiety, art and the artist, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, Frustration, gardening, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, solo hiking, The Art of Being, War and News of War, Words

Memento Mori

October 12, 2025 //
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I don’t really feel like walking this morning, but I’m here at the trailhead nonetheless. It is not yet dawn, and daybreak is almost an hour away. I would have slept in, but I woke to a noise, and it was quickly clear I would not be able to return to sleep, so I got up, dressed, and left the house.

On my way to the trail, I got an iced coffee.  Turns out to be one of the worst coffees I’ve ever had. It tastes bitter, stale, and over-roasted. It is thoroughly disappointing, but it is liquid, cold, and manages to serve it’s purpose in spite of its flaws. It’ll have to do. Coffee is expensive and I am not going to waste it.

So, I’m here. It’s early. I’m cross about not getting to sleep later. I remind myself to be grateful I’m at least getting an adequate amount of sleep, if not a restorative amount. By being flexible and adaptable, I’m doing my part to ensure my Traveling Partner gets the rest he needs to continue to recover from his injury. That’s an important detail, and I wouldn’t change it, and I don’t begrudge him the opportunities he has to get more rest. I know he needs it, and that matters to me. I’ve had sleep difficulties quite literally all my life, even sleepwalking and profound nightmares and insomnia as a toddler. My sleep these days is the best, by far, that it ever has been, other than during periods in my life when I lived alone (although even then, good sleep was unreliable at best). 

It doesn’t take me long to get over feeling annoyed. Certainly, it isn’t worth taking personally. G’damn this coffee is terrible, though. I still manage to feel some gratitude that I’ve got this cup of coffee at all. Grateful, too, for a partnership and abiding love that nurtures my spirit and enriches my life.

I sit quietly, reflecting on how brief this mortal life may be. We have a finite time in these mortal bodies. The moments are precious and too brief. There’s no time to waste on vexation and bullshit. It makes more sense to enjoy another sunrise from the trail than to fuss about being awake “too early”, doesn’t it? The clock is always ticking. The grains in life’s hourglass are steadily trickling away. Living life becomes cherished memory too quickly. It makes sense to be present, to be grateful, and to really live. Doesn’t it?

I sip my dreadful coffee. I meditate. I wait for the sun. I see the earliest hint of daybreak in subtle changes. The horizon hints at dawn. The clouds overhead seem more defined. A sense of the trail leading away from the parking lot begins to develop. Close enough, I guess. I put on my boots and get ready to begin again.

…

…

…

… halfway down the trail, it begins to rain…

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Categories Allegories, anger, Anxiety, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Sleepless Nights, solo hiking, The Art of Being, Words

Like a Fingerprint

October 5, 2025 //
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I’m waiting for the sun, before I begin my walk. No particular reason for doing things this way, this morning. It’s just what I’m doing. The morning is dark, and it isn’t yet daybreak. I sit in the predawn stillness, my tinnitus is the loudest thing I hear. The overcast sky here at the trailhead is a peculiar dim dirty looking mauve, lit from communities and businesses below. Dark shapes of trees are silhouetted against the strange sky.

… Funny… I haven’t traveled far to get to this trail, but the sky is very different here. When I left the house, the night sky was clear and starry, and the full moon was visible above the mountains to the west. 25 miles away, here, now, there are only clouds.

Yesterday was… complicated and difficult, but it seemed clear throughout that my Traveling Partner and I were each genuinely doing our best under the circumstances. Dealing with pain is hard, and it can easily make it hard to also deal with each other. That sounds a little bit (to my own ears, at least) as though I am minimizing or making excuses. It’s more accurate to say that things weren’t actually all that bad, looking at it in the “rear view mirror”, from the perspective of a new day, and aware that the evening finished gently, together, cherishing each other’s good company. (Does he feel similarly? Perhaps I should ask…?)

…I nudge my thoughts toward gratitude…

I enjoyed yesterday’s shopping, and I’m eager to make the meals I’ve planned. When I’m not exhausted or struggling with one physical impairment or another, I greatly enjoy cooking. I enjoy connecting with friends and loved ones over a meal. I am delighted by how much my cooking has improved since 2015, and even more so since the pandemic. (Like a lot of people, I spent time in the kitchen as a fun distraction during the lockdown.) I’m grateful that my Traveling Partner was comfortable sharing his honest opinion of my cooking, and even more that he wasn’t merely critical, but also eager to be helpful, encouraging, and open to the necessary trial and error that resulted from properly learning to cook. I wouldn’t hesitate to invite people to dine with us. The kitchen is clean. Food storage is held to a high standard, and at long last my cooking is reliably something I’m proud of, and enjoy sharing.

I’m grateful, too, that my outing yesterday took me by a clothing store I like. 50% off fall sweaters? The timing was excellent. The new job has high potential to require me to come to the office a couple times a year – San Francisco. The “feel” of “casual” there is a little dressier than the Pacific Northwest. My tatty too-large frumpy cozy sweater isn’t a good choice for such things, so the timing was good, and the price acceptable. I was able to find three nice sweaters for work and a warm cardigan that looks more appropriately grown up than my soft gray fleece (which is branded corporate swag from my previous employer). I’d rock the swag from the current employer, but I don’t yet have any.

Daybreak comes, and I hit the trail, walking and thinking.

I can judge the new day on some limited view, or I can embrace it with gratitude and enthusiasm. It’s my own choice to make.

I get to my halfway point thinking about perspective. I consider the way the almost unique context of my individual lifetime has shaped (continues to shape) my perspective and my understanding. World events, personal trauma, day-to-day stress (and joy), all become part of the lens through which I see the world, and the context in which I understand myself. It’s like a fingerprint on “who I am”. I contemplate how “generational differences” in cohorts of human beings are defined (and influenced) by these shared experiences. I watch some geese drifting slowly across the pond nearest to me, and wonder whether such things affect other creatures, too? I find myself wondering what the “MAGA generation” – meaning Americans born between 2014 and 2028 – will be like as human beings? Who will their heroes be? What will matter most to them, culturally, socially, and politically? How will they change the world when their turn to vote comes?

I sit awhile longer with my thoughts (and my headache). In some little while, I’ll get to my feet and put another mile on my boots. Maybe I’ll be a better person today than I was yesterday? I’d like that. I’ll have the chance, as soon as I begin again. For now, this quiet moment of gratitude and reflection is enough.

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Categories 2024 Election, Allegories, anger, Anxiety, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, The Art of Being, War and News of War, Words

Finding Peace

October 2, 2025 //
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It’s still quite dark. Daybreak will be soon. It is one of those moments that feels hopeful and filled with potential. I sit with that feeling, savoring it, and enjoying the experience of existing.

… Sometimes that’s enough…

As I pulled into the parking lot at the trailhead, I saw another car parked on the far side, at the edge of the lights. A man was laying on top of the car, looking up at the sky. Not the sort of thing I see, most days, it is unusual to the point of being noteworthy, most especially on a rainy cloudy morning – there are no stars visible to gaze upon. I park well-away from him, partly to avoid disturbing his peace, partly to avoid disturbing my own. Peace is hard enough to find, right now, and I’m happy to be considerate of someone’s small success when I happen upon it.

The morning smells of rain. The trail is still wet with rain that fell during the night. The ground on either side is squishy, muddy, and slick. I don’t mind any of that, but I’m glad I wore my fleece over my sweater, and that I carried my rain poncho with me (handy for creating a dry place to sit). I look into the darkness of the trees at the edge of the creek. There’s nothing really to see just yet, it’s too dark. Looking across the vineyard, back toward the parking, I see the lights spaced regularly, creating mysterious shapes among the oaks along the trail on that side. There are no real mysteries here, just illusions created by patterns of light and darkness. True of a lot of circumstances. I sit with that thought awhile.

I’m honestly okay right now, for most values of okay. That’s something. I can’t change the world with a single decision in any detectable way, and certainly life, more broadly, is not “all about me”… but…me being okay, myself, right now, is a good enough starting point for most journeys. Definitely this one. I breathe, exhale, and relax. I turn my attention to my own subjective experience. I feel this moment, and allow it to be enough. I need this peace. The chaos of the world won’t dissipate because I’m staring it the face, neither will it worsen if I’m not scrambling to do something, say something, right fucking now. I’m not that important – few of us are. Even among the powerful, very few people are so significant that their moments drive the world, and of those who are? I have no direct influence over them, nor, frankly, do I have to allow them such influence over me. There is distance between us, and in that distance, I can find a moment of peace.

I breathe, exhale, and relax, sitting in quiet contentment on a weekday morning. I am grateful to be employed, and to mostly have my shit together, most of the time. It’s enough, generally speaking, and chasing more has rarely resulted in anything but stress and misery, for me. Exploring sufficiency has been more worthwhile and satisfying. (I’m not seeking to discourage your ambition; we are each walking our own path.) As it turns out, “enough” really is enough.

A sprinkle of rain begins falling. My mind wanders to dinner, later. I smile when I think about how much my Traveling Partner enjoys my cooking. I feel supported and appreciated when I think about the help I’ve been getting around the house lately, from both my beloved, and from the Anxious Adventurer. Without that help, I quickly exhaust myself trying to do everything, all the time. That exhaustion becomes enduring fatigue that undermines my emotional and physical wellness – and my ability to find peace. This is better. I remind myself to say “thank you” explicitly.

I sigh contentedly, as I stand and stretch. It’s a new day, although sunrise hasn’t yet happened. It’s only barely daybreak, but I walked a bit further this morning, and didn’t walk the short loop. It’ll be a longer walk back to the car… I think it’s already time to begin again.

… I found my peace out here on the trail. Where will you find yours?

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