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About Impermanence

July 28, 2026 //
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Today is a new day.

I woke to my alarm lightening the room. I switched it off, turned my lights to dim, and sat up. I took a minute to catch my breath and “get used to being awake”. I got up, dressed, and headed out, seemingly without waking my Traveling Partner. Nice.

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

On the trail at daybreak.

The air this morning has almost a hint of autumn to the scent and the feel of the morning air. I yawn sleepily and head down the trail.

As is generally the case, the morning’s discord between my partner and I yesterday was resolved before lunchtime. We enjoyed what little time there was of the evening after I returned home from work, but it wasn’t much. He is working a job that is reaching the finishing stages just before delivery to the customer. It keeps him busy. It worked out okay; I appreciated the time with my thoughts.

I get to my halfway point thinking about Impermanence, and non-attachment. Both ideas contain useful perspective. Non-attachment makes an excellent practice. Impermanence is another way of observing that change is. I’m grateful for perspective and resilience, this morning.

… This morning, no tears…

I watch the sun rise. It is the time of year when the western states catch fire. Scary how much is burning this summer. For now, the winds are pushing most of the smoke east. Here the sky is blue – for now. The wind may change direction any time, it is in the nature of both the wind and of change itself to do so.

There is a song in my head this morning that seems relevant. I sigh to myself, thinking about changes.

Another day, another opportunity to be the person I most want to be. It takes practice – and changes. I breathe, exhale, and relax, and make time for meditation by this trail on this pleasant morning. Changes. It’s time to turn and face the strange. It’s time to begin, again.

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

Going Anyway

July 17, 2026 //
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Local news outlets reported that more than 8000 lightning strikes occurred yesterday in this region (Oregon/Washington) – in an area where proper thunderstorms used to be rather rare. Wild. (I think we broke our planet, y’all…) This morning the sky still looks stormy. Gray cottony clouds cover the sky, threatening rain.

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

… I definitely need a little time away…

More stormy weather.

… and I’m for sure heading into the forested mountains of the Tillamook State Forest for the weekend. My car is already mostly packed. I think over the things I decided to pack, and the things I decided to leave behind. I nearly always bring way more than I need, and this time I’m trying to be less wasteful with my energy, and my resources.

I run through my mental list of things I’ve yet to pack. I’m nothing if not serious about making lists (and checking them twice 😆). I’ve got time and I’m not rushing. It is early morning and I’ve still got a work day ahead of me. I don’t plan to leave before about 13:00… but I do want to do a load of laundry…

I chuckle to myself as I sit trailside with my thoughts; I could have skipped my walk today. 😆 Why not? There will be more walking later, and there’s manual labor involved in setting up camp. It didn’t even occur to me to skip my walk this morning – how to tell when a practice has become a habit. 😁 I breathe, exhale, and relax. No colorful sunrise this morning, still a good time for meditation.

… I still need to pick out a book (or two) for this adventure, pack up my paint box, make sure to put my CPAP machine in the car, load the last few things into the car and double-check for missed essentials. I sigh to myself and reassure my busy eager mind that there’s plenty of time.

… but I’m counting the hours, and the clock is ticking…

I watch the cloudy sky doing cloudy sky things, and double-check the weather forecast. It’s fine. (Yesterday’s thunderstorm was not in the forecast, my brain “helpfully” reminds me.) I’m going anyway. My tent is waterproof (for many values of “waterproof”), and it has never failed to keep me dry.

I sit by this trail, comfortable and unbothered, grateful to be so easily able to just take a few days when I need them. Grateful for the partnership that is okay with my getaways. Grateful for the job that pays for the time off. Grateful to have adequate well-maintained gear. Grateful that I can drive an hour in anyway direction and feel “away”. I’m looking forward to a couple days of solitude.

I look at the time and get to my feet. Less than 8 hours until I’m in a forest, setting up camp somewhere utterly new for me. Exciting. It’s time to begin, again.

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

Pleasantly Uneventful

July 10, 2026 //
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It’s a pretty morning. Nothing fancy, a pretty sunrise, a nice walk on a summer morning, and it is Friday. The morning is chilly, the sky is a clear and soft cerulean blue hue, with faintly yellow edges down low on the horizon.

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

I walk thinking about stress, anxiety, mental health, and what it takes to thrive when the news of the day is a toxic cocktail of AI slop, advertising, and propaganda with only a sprinkling of actual news thrown in (most of it bad).

… Maybe I should paint more..?

Yesterday evening, background stress I wasn’t explicitly aware I was carrying got identified and called out by my Traveling Partner, gently. Instead of fussing resentfully, I used the opportunity to head to my studio. The timing seemed excellent for it; I’ve been trying to nudge myself to paint more – and more often! This turned out to be a good choice.

Untitled pastel, 5″ x 7″ 2026

Make of it what you will.

I definitely need to paint more! I sigh contentedly from the side of the trail. Beautiful morning, sunshine illuminating the tall oaks and the tidy vineyards. I feel inspired and unbothered.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. Nice morning for meditation. A good morning to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, Anxiety, Art, art and the artist, Brain Injury, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, inspiration, joy, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, solo hiking, Summer, The Art of Being, The Big 5, women, Words

One Day of Many

July 9, 2026 //
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I have a splitting headache and my sleep was interrupted. I’m tired and cross, and feeling very much that I’d like to be left alone. I’m grateful for these few moments of solitude in the morning.

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

I’m sitting at the edge of this trail wondering. I take a welcome sip of the coffee I carried down the trail with me. The morning feels chilly. It’s probably me, not the weather. The coffee is warm in my mouth and down my throat. I’m grateful for the moment of self-consideration that directed my groggy decision making this morning. Coffee sooner was a good choice this morning.

Tears fill my eyes and threaten to spill over. I brush them away angrily. “I don’t have time for this weak ass shit this morning,” I snarl to myself softly, “and fuck this headache, too.” My tinnitus is loud in my ears. I didn’t get enough restful sleep (haven’t for days) and my thought processes are slowed way down. My pain is poorly managed. I’m feeling very human and very fragile. My eyes sting from tears that finally begin to fall. Too much? Not enough? I feel broken and out of alignment. Out of step. Faltering on a path that has seemed certain and clear on other days.

… Moments pass…

I’m finding little reassurance in aphorisms and platitudes this morning. This morning I am uncomfortable with uncertainty and impermanence, and I feel myself clinging. Wanting certainty so much. Yeah… good luck with that shit. I take a deep breath in, and as I exhale I find myself weeping. Just fucking crying by the side of this trail, sitting in the summer sunshine on some random Thursday morning. Wondering.

…Is the sky still blue…?

I begin again. Breathe, exhale, relax. I shift gears. Meditation. Failure. Breathe. Repeat. The morning is not off to an ideal beginning. I’m struggling with my demons, and although for the moment I’ve got some sort of tearful stalemate, I still feel pretty shitty. My pain meds begin to kick in. So does the coffee. Eventually, I’ll “mask up” – put my work face on – and begin the work day. I don’t know, maybe the utterly disappointing ordinariness of it all will anchor me to here, now, and I’ll feel less hopeless.

… The clock is ticking…

The sunshine in the oak trees is beautiful. The air smells sweet. Songbirds sing merry songs. The tidy vineyard rows are a playground for so many little birds. I watch them flitting about, and try to identify as many as I recognize, but don’t put much effort into it. I am distracted and preoccupied. I keep letting this shit go. I breathe, exhale, and relax… and find myself back in the mire again and again.

I sigh out loud, frustrated with myself and the shitty start to the day. (And also? Fuck this headache.) I watch the dawn become day. Sooner or later, I’ve got to begin again… only I don’t know where this path leads, and I lack enthusiasm for walking it.

…

…

… This too will pass. Everything does. Change is.

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Categories Allegories, anger, Anxiety, Brain Injury, breathe, Despair, Free Will, Frustration, gratitude, loneliness, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Sleepless Nights, solo hiking, Summer, The Art of Being, War and News of War, women, Words

Like Ripples on a Pond

April 3, 2026 //
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Yesterday was busy. So busy. Changes. I took off work to help the Anxious Adventurer finish moving out. It was a lot of manual labor and by the time we were finished, I was “done” – but there is so much more to do.

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

I’ve spent the past two years accommodating a relative stranger in our home. No ill will; it seemed like the right thing to do at the time. I got used to a lot of compromises. Now… I’ve got my space back. My own bathroom once again, and my studio, my library… my peace. I’ve also got to deal with the changes, and it is a lot for me. So much upheaval, so suddenly.

Around 17:00 in the evening, I “hit a wall”, figuratively speaking. My feet were hurting. I was fatigued. I just couldn’t move one more thing and started weeping. My Traveling Partner, set up a lovely footbath for me, it smelled of orange blossoms. It felt wonderful. We relaxed together and watched a favorite show. He reminded me there is no hurry and to have fun with the process. I feel very loved and understood.

Last night we both slept well and deeply, through the night. That has been rare for the past two years. I woke to my alarm, also rare. My routine is a bit broken, but I’m adaptable as hell, and a new routine will quickly develop. This morning, though, was a bit chaotic. “Be careful what you wish for,” I muttered, as I wandered around looking for my boots.

… I still managed to be on the trail by sunrise, with plenty of time for my walk before work…

This morning my muscles are sore, and very few things are where I remember leaving them. There are paintings to rehang, and paintings in storage to bring home (to store in better conditions). There are work surfaces to return to my studio, and books to put back on shelves. It is all joyful work, really, but change still feels like a lot to take. For me, that’s a complication that exists at the nexus of brain damage and PTSD. I’ve learned to deal with it more skillfully than I once did. That’s not nothing. In fact, it’s an important improvement in my experience and I’m grateful for how much better this experience feels now, because of it.

… That, and having a partner who is willing to help, and to love me as I am…

One moment of many. Change is.

There’s so much yet to do. I’m okay with that, I just have to give myself time and some consideration. I sit with that thought at the side of this trail watching the dawn of another day. I’m grateful to see it. I’m even grateful for the joyful work ahead. I look up the path. It disappears around a bend. That’s a bit how life feels. Or, perhaps more like ripples on a pond after a stone is cast into the water? I consider that for some little while.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I meditate. I write. I enjoy the quiet of morning on this trail. I glance at the time and get to my feet. It’s time to begin again, and this trail won’t walk itself.

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