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Darker, Chillier

September 14, 2026 //
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Autumn is definitely approaching, although I won’t be surprised if we get another stretch of hot weather, later, we often do. This morning is cooler and feels chilly. The receding darkness of night seems somehow darker, reinforcing the perception of seasons changing.

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

I got down the trail to my halfway point still in darkness. Beating daybreak by some minutes, I sit quietly in the darkness, listening, watching, and simply being. It is a Monday morning, and the weekend felt too short.

… I sit thinking about seasons and cycles, and the ticking clock of mortality…

Next weekend I will enjoy a brief rest from the day-to-day demands on my time and attention; I’ll be painting on the coast. I’m looking forward to it, but having been planned, I’m no longer preoccupied with it. The recollection forms, I acknowledge it, and my mind moves on to other things. It’s not that I don’t need the break, I for sure do, it’s more that I don’t benefit from picking at it like a wound. It’s soon, and the time will pass in the usual way, moment by moment, and that’s enough.

… What is “enough”? It’s an important question, and a very personal thing. Your results may vary…

I twist and stretch, seated uncomfortably on this rock. It’s not the fault of the rock; I often sit here and it’s fine. This morning I ache, mostly strangely sore muscles. Not all that strange when I remember I’ve been making a point to do more, and have added strength training reliably to my exercise regimen. Slipping without falling on the muddy trail yesterday probably also used my muscles differently. I feel the most sore in muscles that I relied upon for my balance in those moments.

I yawn and watch the sky lighten. Daybreak(ish). I’m ready for a new day, and also a little reluctant to “deal with all that”. Typical human bullshit. 😆 I’d rather be at home, in my Traveling Partner’s embrace, living a life of ease and leisure. Turns out the world doesn’t give away such lives as freebies very often, and I didn’t take the steps necessary to get to that place, when I was younger. It would have taken very different circumstances, too, most likely. I’m not bitching – I’ll walk the path I’ve chosen (we all do), and hope to choose more wisely in all kinds of things than I did when I was much younger. We don’t know what we don’t know, and mortal lives are surprisingly short. I sigh to myself. I’m grateful in spite of challenges; it could be much worse. I’m fairly fortunate.

I’m waxing a bit philosophical perhaps. Life is pretty good, for most values of “good”, and I’m content more often than I’m not. That’s a big deal. I stretch and yawn, and get more comfortable for meditation. Then I stretch more, again, and write awhile. It’s quiet and so far the morning is lovely and peaceful here. I think ahead to coffee. That’ll be nice, too.

My hands are stiff and the morning chill seeps into my bones. I remember feeling warmed from within, in my 20s and 30s, as if my heart was a tiny white hot sun burning inside me. I rarely wore a coat and mostly didn’t feel a need to. I often walked a brisk two miles to grab lunch at my apartment, instead of on base, and my walking pace then was such that a two mile walk (each way) still left ample time for lunch. Funny to feel (and be) so much slower now.

The sky is still mostly dark. Somehow it’s already time to begin again.

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

Something Like That, But Different

September 11, 2026 //
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Weird morning… but, not really, I guess. That is part of the sensation of strangeness; the morning has been so utterly ordinary it feels rather strange.

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

I reached the halfway point of my walk in good time. My thoughts are my own.

Very bright (excessively) outdoor lights on a nearby farm building have all been turned on, and they irritate me a bit, but I imagine the farm workers prefer not having to work in the dark. I was grateful when the path turned and put those lights behind me. Walking towards them, they were blinding me a bit. Walking with these very bright lights at my back, the trail ahead is well lit, and my headlamp is not necessary.

Here at this spot along the trail, I can still see those lights, but they are neither helpful nor blinding, only specks of light in the greater darkness. I think about that awhile. A useful metaphor.

I yawn and stretch. How am I this stiff and sore?! I feel like I was in a fight, or endured hours of intense exercise – and I have had no such experiences recently. I definitely could have slept longer. I sit with that thought for a slow moment, doing nothing else. I’m looking forward to a few days of painting on the coast, and watching the tides come and go, over the Equinox… and sleeping in. I’m definitely looking forward to sleeping in.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I meditate. I reflect on this and that. More breathing (best to keep that going, yeah? 😆).

This is one of those quiet, easy to take for granted, sort of mornings on which everything seems…fine. Pleasant. Quite enjoyable all around, save for the subtle nagging sensation that it won’t last. I chuckle to myself at the very idea that it could be any other way. That’s the tempting lie; imagining that life might ever be other than it is, (which is generally fraught with trauma and turmoil, and challenging circumstances) for anything more than a moment. I smile feeling a little like I know some notable secret that unlocks the mystery of life (I don’t). “Go with it,” isn’t much of a secret. Neither is “be kind to yourself,” nor is “enjoy the moment you’re in”. These are potentially mere platitudes with limited utility. It matters greatly how (and whether) I put them to some kind of use.

…Verbs…

It was nice to get into the studio for a little while yesterday, after work. Productive time for and about me – and considering how good that felt, I should clearly be doing it more often. Hell, I even ended the day with enough left in me to cook a proper meal! (I make an excellent and thoroughly delicious stir-fry.)

…I forgot to grab my lunch as I left the house…

I barely notice daybreak when it comes, sitting here with my thoughts. I sigh and get to my feet. Like a child pulling the covers up over me to be warmer, finding too late that my feet have become cold, I consider beginning work early to end the work day earlier. I laugh at myself. I’m familiar with how that tends to work out in practice; working longer for no good reason, and with little value. I commit to relaxing with my thoughts a few more minutes.

…Then I begin again. I’ve got a whole new day for being and becoming, and practicing practices. I hope I choose wisely.

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

The App Is Not The World

September 1, 2026 //
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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.

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

Cloudy With a Chance of Imperfection

August 31, 2026 //
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Yesterday was a mixed bag of joy and aggravation. I really wanted to paint after returning home from coffee with a friend. I was in so much pain that I was uncomfortable to be around, even for me.

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

I couldn’t make it work, and inspiration got hung up in my Traveling Partner’s irritation and my own discomfort. I took more pain medication and laid down for awhile.

My beloved kindly woke me some time later, so I wouldn’t miss the entire day. I got some laundry done. We hung out a bit. It was fine. It was a quiet, mostly pleasant evening together. I went to bed early (crazy early, like 6:30 pm) still dealing with pain. I slept through the night, waking only once, briefly. I must have needed the rest.

This morning I woke rested, mind empty, heart serene, feeling content and unbothered. I dressed and left the house, seemingly without waking my beloved. I hope he sleeps deeply and wakes rested.

Heading down the trail, the morning seems almost spooky it is so quiet. I gently touch my left ear, checking that I actually do have my hearing aids in. Yep. It’s just an unusually quiet morning. My footsteps seem quite loud, generally I don’t notice them at all. My breathing, too, is audible. My tinnitus? Not as bad as usual, seems like. I do a simple “body scan” as I walk. Vertigo? Nope. That has thankfully cleared up. Headache? Mild. Arthritis pain? It’s there, but not yet bothersome, today. My gait feels steady, and if not effortless, at least comfortable. Good enough. Generally speaking, a mostly comfortable Monday.

The first hints of daybreak reveal the trees, silhouetted against a dark sky, not yet at all blue. I’m also not blue, which is a nice feeling, although I know my Traveling Partner would ask me irritably to rephrase it in terms of what I am feeling, which does seem reasonable. I guess this morning I am feeling…calm? Calm. Contented. Yesterday I felt the weight of considerable sorrow, though I never really sorted out why. Sleeping it off was probably a good choice.

So… here I am. Today. I get to my halfway point and stop to meditate and to write. It is an ordinary work day. I don’t really have anything on my mind at the moment, and don’t feel like digging around in my brain trying to find some worthwhile kernel of an idea to get started with, so it’s just me, and this moment. That’s fine, too. It’s enough. I breathe, exhale, and relax.

As I watch the sky lighten and change colors, dawn becoming day, I think about the powerful advantage (and convenience) offered by having dedicated studio space again. I can paint after work, any time. I smile; the thought feels like a quick shot of high potency joy straight to my soul. I grin to myself and fidget excitedly like a kid about to receive a gift they just know is exactly what they wanted. I chuckle aloud. I’m pretty easy to please. My Traveling Partner is right; I need to take better care of myself, and do more things for me. He is far more capable than he was after his injury, and I can trust him to tell me when or if he needs help. That’s a huge weight off my shoulders, and peculiarly, I am having some difficulty adapting.

I breathe deeply, and as I exhale I visualize releasing my stress and baggage. It’s a simple, perhaps slightly silly exercise, but I find it effective. I relax and return to meditation. I write. I watch the sun rise. I begin again.

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