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What a Weird Messy World

February 19, 2026 //
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I woke up feeling restless and strange. Nothing specifically “wrong”, just feeling vaguely troubled by dreams already disappearing from my recollection, and starting the day in more pain than usual.

I dressed and slipped away into the darkness as quietly as I could, which wasn’t very quiet this morning. I dropped my phone, my key fob, snagged my handbag on a door knob causing my keys to jingle… It’s been that kind of morning; intention and effort rewarded by clatter and chaos.

I considered taking a seat at the local Big Coffee Chain cafe, but I seriously just don’t want to deal with people, at all. It’s pretty cold for walking (37F/2.8C). I vascillate as I drive… coffee? Walk? Back and forth, even as I pull through the drive thru and get coffee, before heading to the trailhead. I still haven’t started drinking it. I get to the trailhead before daybreak and reflect on how much I have appreciated recent later start times to my days, wondering again what woke me this morning? I sigh to myself, and prepare to start down the trail…

…It begins to rain. Steadily, and hard enough to chill me to the bone quite quickly, I rethink walking. Having lost interest in a cold rainy walk in the predawn darkness, I sit in the warmth of my Traveling Partner’s pickup, feeling loved. I’m grateful to have the use of it while my car is still at the body shop. The comfort and features have even changed my thinking about what vehicle will replace my car when it has reached the end of its serviceable lifespan. I’m not a huge fan of brand loyalty generally, any more than I think mindless partisan voting is a smart strategy. Smart for whom? Only for the brand or party, not for the voter or consumer. I shrug and let it go; it’ll be awhile before I buy a new car. Now is not that time.

The city beyond the horizon illuminates the cloudy sky above.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. The morning quiet here is well-suited to meditation. I feel calm and centered, ready for a new day. It looks likely to be an ordinary work day. My Traveling Partner invited me to work from home today, and his welcoming encouragement had me seriously considering it when I went to bed last night, but here in the darkness with my pain and somewhat antisocial feelings, I’m inclined to head to the university library once it opens and take a seat in one of the quiet study cubicles in the back. I’ll be close to home if anything urgent arises, and my beloved will be unbothered by my bullshit. Lest it seem I’m being overly considerate, this is quite a self-serving decision; I will be more easily able to focus on work without having to juggle consideration of my partner’s needs, too. Generally easier on both of us.

I sit with my thoughts, avoiding the news. The rain continues to fall. I don’t need to scroll through the news feed to know the world is a messy terrifying place right now. Genocide and violence are ongoing. American democracy is at risk, with key positions in government filled by grifters, and wholly unqualified unethical assclowns. Big tech companies are continuing to go about the business of making shareholders and CEOs rich at the expense of the sanity, health, and resources of everyone else. Human primates continue to be vicious, petty, greedy, and unkind to one another. It can be a pretty awful place, this peculiar mudball hurtling through space.

…but…

There is beauty here, too, in every sunrise and sunset, and every smile. I focus on that, this morning, as much as I can. I owe this to myself! The choice where to put my attention is my own. Drowning my consciousness in global misery does not make me more effective at making useful changes, or speaking my mind with clarity. We all need a break now and then,  a chance at rest and opportunities for joy. I breathe in, filling my lungs with rain-fresh winter air. I exhale slowly, thoroughly, letting go of anxiety and concern and worry over things I can’t control here, now.

Daybreak comes. The rain slows to a dense drizzle. I still don’t feel like walking, this morning, too much pain for walking in the rain. I sigh contentedly; the solitude is enough. A few more minutes, and then I’ll begin again.

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

Too Early, Too Much

October 20, 2025 //
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I woke around 03:00, to some noise most likely, or perhaps my Traveling Partner’s wakefulness, though when I returned to bed from the bathroom, he seemed to be snoring softly, asleep. I hope he gets the rest he needs. I sure didn’t, not last night. Took me some time to fall asleep, and I was awakened abruptly at some point by raised voices. I returned to sleep shortly after waking, but my dreams were restless, irritated, and unsettling. I was tired when I finally woke, too early, but I couldn’t find sleep again, and gave up – hopefully before my restlessness woke everyone else.

…I got up, dressed, and slipped away quietly…

I don’t much feel like walking, this morning. Aches and pains and bullshit, nothing of real consequence. I sit with my thoughts, perched on a picnic table near the trail, ready to walk if I get past my moody and irritable moment of ennui. I listen to the background noise of machinery, traffic, HVAC systems on nearby buildings… the sounds of humanity mismanaging a planet. There is a glow along the western horizon, the clouds overhead being illuminated by the city below. Pretty mundane stuff. I sigh quietly. My ankle aches, even within the comfortable security of my hiking boots. My left hip hurts in a way that suggests arthritis may be developing there. My head aches, feels mostly like fatigue and the studious, focused, effort to maintain top down control in spite of it. I catch myself gritting my teeth, and purposefully relax my jaw and let go of that bit of stress. My tinnitus is shrieking and whining in my ears. I’m not bitching about any of it, just noticing each detail, as I inventory my sensations and experience the moment with as much presence and awareness as I can.

… And I still don’t feel like walking…

I had an excellent brunch with a colleague on Sunday. Feels like, potentially, a real friendship forming. Maybe. Harder to be sure than it might have seemed when I was younger…or… before the pandemic, although I’m not at all sure how that is relevant. I really enjoyed the conversation. The food was good, too, but that clearly wasn’t the nourishment I was seeking – or what I found. It was more about the human connection. We talked about doing it every month, and talked about having some kind of holiday get together with our families, in December. That might be a lot of fun.

I sit enjoying the morning quiet. I think about love and my Traveling Partner, and how much faster his recovery is going these days. He’s able to do so much more now, and more every week. It’s a relief to feel some measure of day-to-day work being reduced as my beloved begins to resume tasks that he was handling routinely before his injury. Out of habit, I sometimes forget to give him the opportunity to do for himself. I’ve got to knock that shit off, for myself as much as for him.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I meditate in the chilly autumn darkness before dawn comes. For a moment, the world seems peculiarly peaceful and undisturbed. I find that it often does in these solitary moments. The world’s chaos and hardship is almost entirely created by the human primates clinging to the surface of this mud ball hurtling through space. I almost sympathize with the “burn it all down and start over” cynics and nihilists. I was once among them, a like-minded sort, but it seems like a wasteful approach to problems that could be solved quite differently, and with a greater good in mind. Another distracting argument keeping us all preoccupied while billionaire grifters empty our bank accounts in exchange for empty promises.

…I sigh and let that go, too…

There is still no hint of daybreak, yet. The clock is ticking, though, and this moment is finite. I get to my feet with an impatient sigh, feeling more resigned than purposeful. I commit to dragging myself along the trail again this morning. I’ll feel better once I’ve gotten a walk in, I know. I just don’t happen to “feel like it”, but I also decide not to let that stop me.

…Fuck, I really want a nap. 😂 Instead, I begin again.

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Categories Allegories, anhedonia, Anxiety, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, health, Healthy Living, meditation, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Sleepless Nights, solo hiking, The Art of Being, War and News of War, Words

Versions

October 4, 2025 //
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I reached the trail before daybreak. I walked down the path in the darkness, the bobbing half circle of light cast by my headlamp lighting the way ahead of me, but obscuring anything I might have seen beyond that bit of light. I consider that metaphorically for some distance, until my thoughts wander on.

Daybreak, and a new day.

By the time I get to my halfway point on the trail, I am thinking about the many “versions” of “myself” I have been over a lifetime. Each of the many jobs, addresses, relationships, traumas, and triumphs, have left their mark on the woman I am today. Steps on a path. A journey that is its own destination. I find myself asking some questions as I reflect on my life and the changing context(s) in which I have lived it. I think about the “here and now”, and the changes that brought me to this point.

  • In what version of myself have I been happiest, most often?
  • In what version did I most respect myself?
  • In what version did I enjoy the greatest sense of consistency between my values and my actions?
  • In what version did I seem to be most likeable?
  • In what version was I most likely to compromise my values for personal gain?
  • In what version was I villain, hero, or “NPC” in my life?
  • Are there versions of me that I regret so thoroughly that I am ashamed of the person I was?
  • How do I hold on to the best bits of all of the many versions of the woman in the mirror, and discard the worst, to become truly the woman I most want to be? (And is that version truly worthy of the effort required?)

I find self-reflection a worthwhile practice. I sit with my thoughts, listening to the sounds of an autumn morning between marsh ponds and meadow, breathing the chilly air carrying the scents of fall flowers and some hint of…mildew? It is a gray morning. The sky lightens slowly revealing a cloudy sky. The threat of rain exists in the scents on the mild breeze, and also in my arthritis pain.

The pain is annoying. I think (and write) about it too much, probably. It sometimes feels inescapable.

My Traveling Partner and I both deal with chronic pain. I do my best to manage my pain. When we’re hanging out, in pain, we each do what we can to take care of ourselves and each other. Our efforts are not reliably successful. Last night was difficult. I’d find some position in which my pain was lessened, and hold myself rigidly trying to hold on to that bit of improved comfort. He perceived it as “tension”, which I guess it was, in a sense. My tension is uncomfortable to be around, for him. He wants to help if he can (but he can’t really, it’s not that sort of thing).

His experience of pain had him squirming in my periphery, trying to get more comfortable, which I find uncomfortable to be around. I’d very much like to help, if I could (but I can’t really, it’s not that sort of thing). We do our best to be kind to each other, compassionate, empathetic without fusing with the experience of our beloved partner. It’s difficult. Pain “shrinks our world” and we’re sometimes terse with each other, when it’s actually the pain itself that is annoying us.

We ultimately ended the evening early, withdrawing to separate spaces to seek some kind of relief, if only from dealing with each other’s pain on top of our own. Seems a harsh and rather isolating approach to take, but it’s probably better than hurting each other’s feelings or taking out our discomfort on the person we love most.

I didn’t sleep well. Pain, again. I struggled with falling asleep, and once I had, I was awakened multiple times by one noise or another, or light, or the sound of angry voices, but each time I woke, the room was dark, and the house was quiet. It was weird. I woke abruptly, around 02:00, feeling a sense that “something wasn’t right”, but again all was apparently well and quiet. I returned to sleep and dreamt that I was awake… really thought I was, until my artificial sunrise woke me from a deep sleep. I had forgotten to turn it off for the weekend. I was still feeling groggy and a bit out of sorts even as I began my trek down the trail, some time later.

Saturday. No hurry, and there’s certainly ample time for self-reflection, and this is as good an opportunity than any – better than most. I breathe, exhale, and relax. I let my awareness of my pain recede into the background (for as long as I can). Daybreak becomes dawn, then daylight. I watch from my seat on this fence rail. A soft sprinkling of rain falls briefly.

I sigh to myself, suddenly missing old friends far away, and yearning to sit down over coffee and conversation. I’m momentarily overcome with a poignant feeling of nostalgia… Annapolis… Killeen… Monterey… Augsburg… Fresno… Times and people, long ago and far away. My eyes tear up a bit. The moment passes. My thoughts move on.

It begins to rain softly. I look down the path toward other places and new experiences. I admit to myself with some reluctance that it must be time to begin again… and I get to my feet, and walk on.

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Categories Allegories, autumn, breathe, Free Will, grief, health, Healthy Living, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Sleepless Nights, solo hiking, The Art of Being, War and News of War, women, Words

Do Not Become The Thing You Despise

September 18, 2025 //
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I’m just saying, it’s a short distance from anger, resentment, and thoughts of paybacks to becoming the person you despise for the same characteristics you’ve adopted over time, as your anger and hate ate away at your good heart, good values, and sense of self. We can’t correct the injustices we see in the world by becoming less just, ourselves. We can’t force the world to be a kinder more compassionate place through violence. Worth thinking about, isn’t it? I mean, generally speaking, there is value in self-reflection, self-awareness, and becoming the person we most want to be through willful practice of those qualities we value most highly, isn’t there?

… I’m not telling you what to do, just pointing out that you are making choices (we all are)…

I breathe, exhale, and relax. It’s a week of cool nights and warm afternoons. In the morning, I wear my fleece. In the afternoons, I remove layers and enjoy bare arms and the sun on my back. The darkness on the trail before dawn requires my headlamp. The walk after work from the university library to the parking nearby is lit brightly by summer sunshine. It is time for the season to change (here), and I feel it everywhere. Fall is coming.

The trail is dry under my feet, and the night sky is dark. I get about half way, and it’s still quite dark. I turn off my headlamp and sit quietly, gazing into the night sky, scattered with stars, the thin crescent moon rising in the east. I enjoy the quiet.

“A season for change,” I say to myself, softly. Aren’t they all, though? Change is. I sit awhile listening to the zing and buzz of my tinnitus, and the sound of my heartbeat in my ears, like a ticking clock. I remember a time when even the recollection of a ticking clock (and definitely the sound of one) could immediately transform me into a seething quivering wreck, breathless with anxiety, and keep me from sleeping. Not now. Now a ticking clock is only a ticking clock. Oh, surely, a ticking clock is also a useful metaphor, a reminder that time passes, that moments are individual and precious, and time itself finite… but it no longer has the power to keep me awake at night or cause an internal solitary war of nerves. We made it up, that ticking clock, and it need not hold power over us.

… Let the clock tick. It will, regardless. Be here, now, in this present moment. Let change happen. Embrace it, and make each change another milestone on your journey. Better to grab each moment of joy and savor it before it passes, than to fight circumstances we do not control.

I sit with my thoughts awhile. I’ve got time. The day begins quite early, this morning, and this lovely moment, now, is mine to enjoy. “Nothing to see here.” True. I’m just one woman, alone in the darkness, waiting for daybreak, enjoying the quiet, alone. Where will this day take me? To my desk and to work, and later to return home. It’s not fancy or extraordinary or particularly interesting as moments go, but it is a lovely quiet one (aside from my tinnitus, which is very loud this morning). It’s enough to see another sunrise. I sit waiting for the inevitable changes.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. Later, I’ll begin again, and face new, other, changes.

It is a new day. Daybreak comes, revealing the trail I walked to get to this place, and the trail ahead that I will follow next. The map is not the world. The trail is not the journey. The plan is not the experience. The choice is not the outcome. The whole of our lifetime is not any one moment we live. It is a worthy endeavor to live each moment fully present, to find out where our path truly leads… but it isn’t as easy as wanting to. There is effort and will involved. Choices. Action.

I smile, watching the sun rise on this new day.

Ask the questions. Do the verbs.
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Categories Allegories, anger, Anxiety, autumn, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, Healthy Living, joy, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, solo hiking, The Art of Being, War and News of War, Words

The Uncertainty Factor

August 15, 2025 //
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People are funny. We like “certainty” – a lot. Which is sort of inconvenient considering just how much uncertainty there really is in life. In the world. In the way events play out over time. Change something, and other things also change. Make a choice, and events unfold differently than if a different choice were made. Seems like something that could be very useful, if embraced and understood, but understanding uncertainty is not the easiest thing… Perhaps better to simply accept it?

Uncertainty often comes with a measure of anxiety – maybe that’s why we seem to dislike it so much? (I say “we” because observation strongly supports that this isn’t a “me” thing at all; it’s quite common.) It’s often easier to just lock in on a particular way of thinking, or a particularly useful piece of “knowledge” in some moment, and insist on the rigid truth of it, compared to gently accepting a lack of knowledge and making room for curiosity (or unknown truths to come). It’s scary to be uncertain (sometimes).

I sip my coffee, thinking about yesterday. I drove home feeling more and more ill. Knowing a colleague had tested positive for COVID that very morning, and that I’d had some measure of exposure, I allowed myself the thought that maybe it was “all in my head”, just from hearing that news. My Traveling Partner looked at me when I arrived home; I definitely did not look well. So, maybe it isn’t COVID (test was negative), but I’m down with a bit of something or other. Uncertainty. I don’t even know “how sick I am”, or whether this will pass quickly. I just feel like crap. I woke after sleeping something more than 13 hours, interrupted briefly a couple times. I know better than to return to sleep without having my coffee; that’d just be an unwanted headache later. So. I’m up for a little while, sipping my coffee and thinking my thoughts, which are sort of gloomy and unsettled, probably because I’m sick and just not feeling my best. Harder to be positive.

Aches, pains, symptoms… The coffee is good, though, and I’m “okay” for most values of okay. There’s nothing really going on. It’s just a sick day at home. I’m grateful that it isn’t a whole lot worse. I’m grateful to have sick days. I’m grateful for an employer who strongly discourages working while ill. I’m grateful for a Traveling Partner who cares for me, and the Anxious Adventurer, who was willing to run to the store for sick day supplies so I didn’t have to go out and spread this around. This is a good place to be. It could most definitely be worse.

I reflect on the value of “leaning into” uncertainty, and take a moment to contemplate what could be driving my background anxiety lately. Work, maybe? I face things head-on. I look over my resume. I love the job I’ve got, but there’s still “uncertainty”. The human mind is an amazing thing; it’s hard not to be aware (on some level) that my average churn point professionally as been around two and half years for almost two decades. I think that’s on my mind as I approach my two year anniversary on this job. Instead of being fussy and anxious, I update my resume and reflect on the work, the job market, the opportunities (or lack of) for advancement. I think about “what I want to be when I grow up” (still my favorite way to frame the question of what to do professionally). Most of my job changes have been about better benefits, or more money, some have been about redirecting my skills into a different role or industry. I think about money, and debt, and the distance from here to retirement. I think about life. There’s a lot of uncertainty. Running away from it doesn’t change that. I make some updates to my resume, and look at job opportunities in my areas of interest. Curiousity is a soothing anodyne to anxiety, and I use it frequently. It has been more effective than any of the drugs I was ever given. (CBT for the win!)

I breathe, exhale, relax, and let all that go for awhile. My head aches, but I don’t know if it’s “just the usual headache”, or if it’s “viral”. Uncertainty. Doesn’t matter. Once this coffee is gone, I’m going back to bed anyway. I decide on a video game to “go with” the last of my coffee. I’ll begin again later.

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Categories Allegories, Anxiety, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, meditation, more than a little bit of bitching, Perspective, Practices, Relationships, Summer, The Art of Being, The Big 5
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