Archives for posts with tag: Don’t be evil
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A Recurring Dream

July 24, 2026 //
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I have this recurring dream, it turns up now and then, neither a nightmare nor pleasant, nor even hinting at illumination. It’s just a dream, but it haunts me and has since the very first time I heard the adhan in the desert.

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

For some time, (weeks? months? years.) I’ve dreamt that I am walking barefooted across hot desert sand. It is dawn. I walk between rows of ancient stone columns. I hear the call to prayer, at first faintly, becoming louder, as I walk. I feel a breeze against my body. Walking takes effort. I walk towards the sound. I feel tears dripping down my face. I keep walking, east, towards the rising sun. As I crest a hill or dune or reach the edge of something, the light of day spills over into a valley spreading out below me. There are bodies everywhere. There is blood, so much blood. I stand there feeling betrayed and forsaken, hearing the adhan wailing across the desert, bereft. Mournful. The call to prayer goes on, reaching across the desert, across the world… but no one comes. I weep, and see that my hands are covered in blood.

I generally wake at that point, drenched in sweat, hands slick with it, eyes stinging with tears. It’s been years now. I was in the desert when I first had this dream. I woke from it, actually hearing the adhan in the distance. It seemed to call to me, personally.

… How is that not a nightmare, you may wonder. I promise you my nightmares are worse. This dream feels more poignant and deeply sorrowful than frightening…

Last night I woke during the night, from my dream of hearing the adhan as I walk through the desert. No tears, just a deep and abiding sorrow and the weight of collective guilt. I exhaled slowly, letting it go, before returning to sleep. This morning I woke to the soft sound of my Traveling Partner’s voice, a far more comfortable way to wake up. I dressed and began my day, but in my memory that call to prayer lingers, along with the guilt.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. The sun begins to rise on a new day, pearly pink with hints of orange, pale and pretty. A new day. I walk as the sun rises. The trail is firm beneath my feet. The breeze smells of mown grass and summer flowers. The only sound I hear is my tinnitus. I’m here, now. No bombs, drones, or flyovers, here. Sadly, that isn’t true everywhere.

I sigh to myself and begin again.

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Categories Allegories, Anxiety, Brain Injury, breathe, Despair, grief, meditation, Metaphors, Moments, Post Traumatic Stress, Summer, War and News of War, Words

No Words

January 16, 2026 //
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Today I’m sipping my coffee, and waiting for words to come. No AI, no prompts, no hints, no suggestions, I just sip coffee and wander through my own thoughts, sifting through the random bullshit for something to say. This morning, words are not coming so easily. It’s Friday, before a three-day weekend. There’s one more work day between me, and a visit from The Author. I’m looking forward to his visit.

…I’m tempted to stop there, and simply enjoy my coffee and this Ill Gates track. It has samples of Bruce Lee, “Be Like Water”. I try to find a clip of that interview to share, but AI slop is so pervasive right now I don’t find anything from a source I trust to be authentic, so I skip it and move on. My Traveling Partner shares a video – apparently Google has decided to be even more evil, and has integrated their fucking AI into Gmail. Gross. I definitely will not be turning that shit on. My Traveling Partner is right; it’s time to shed Googles tools, including Gmail.

I remember when I was a young analyst learning my trade in the Army. There was so much emphasis, every day, on the strict prohibitions against data collection on US individuals or listening in on their communications. These activities were not merely regulated, they were not permitted at all. Now? Hell, we invite surveillance into our lives through our connected apps and devices: smartphones, TVs, digital assistants listening in ambient spaces, fitness trackers…and even our dishwashers, refridgerators, cars… and our email. Gross. Then there’s Elon-fucking-Musk and his troll army over on X, using Grok to attack and demean people. You realize that if those entities stealing our data and invading our privacy had to pay us each directly for every individual piece of data collected, and sold, they would likely stop doing that shit… or we’d have a comfortable means of providing UBI to everyone. We are living in the worst timeline. Do better humans – before we all run out of chances.

I’m feeling cross and gloomy. Irritable. I don’t have any kind of reasonable reason for this experience, other than I allowed my mind to wander into a minefield of irritating bullshit looking for something to say, and now here I am. LOL I could do better. I breathe, exhale, and relax. I let go of the lingering irritation and let my mind wander on.

I glance at the small straight scar that stretches from knuckle to knuckle on my left index finger. It is a very tidy carefully done reminder of the surgery I had (last year?) to remove some kind of cyst that had formed under the skin there, years ago, that vexed me every time I bumped it and made it hurt all over again. I don’t really remember when it first developed, only that it got a bit larger every time I wacked it on something carelessly, until one day my Traveling Partner noticed it there, swollen and dark looking. I’d given up trying to get a doctor to pay attention to it by that point. He insisted I have it looked at again. My current GP sent me directly to a surgeon to consult, and weeks later it was removed. It could have been something more serious. I’m grateful it wasn’t. I feel a little foolish every time I see that careful very straight scar; I put up with too many years of discomfort that could have easily been resolved by attending to it sooner. The feeling of “learned helplessness” and futility that resulted from routinely being dismissed or just not heard defeated me before I ever really tried. There’s something to learn from that, and I reflect on it every time I see that little scar.

Another breath. Another moment. Another sip of coffee. I glance at the time, and think about the day ahead, although there’s no need. Not yet. My beloved sends me a message – cute “stickers”. I feel loved. I sigh to myself. I’d definitely rather be taking the day off. I chuckle at the silent admission. Obviously. Nothing new there. I decide I’ll treat myself to a daylight walk later in the morning, maybe between meetings…?

I sigh to myself. I guess feeling restless and disinclined to work, struggling to want to focus, is better than being a grumpy jerk. lol It’s enough. The morning feels re-set, and I’m ready to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, Brain Injury, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, inspiration, Love, meditation, Moments, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Sleepless Nights, The Art of Being, Words

The Path We Choose

November 3, 2025 //
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It is early morning on an ordinary Monday. I’m awake, and feeling as if I’d slept in, but that’s more to do with the end of Daylight Savings Time than anything else. I got up and dressed and left the house without waking anyone, as far as I could tell. I reached the trailhead before daybreak and got to my halfway point before sunrise. The sky is just barely showing any hint of daylight yet-to-come.

It can sometimes feel as if my choices are very limited, or potentially even that I “have no choice” in some moment of stress or urgency. That’s rarely true. Just this morning, getting to this ordinary location for an everyday experience that is quite commonplace for me, I made many choices. Fleece or cardigan? Put my boots on while seated on the edge of the bed, or carry them down the hall and put them on right before I leave? Hair pulled back, worn in a twist, or loose? Grab a yogurt drink or a bottle of water on my way out? Do I need to stop for gas? Most of these choices happened almost in the background, requiring very little of my attention. They’re still choices.

I smile to myself in the darkness. I’m okay with my choices so far, today. If I weren’t, I could begin again, and walk a different path (literally or metaphorically). The small everyday choices may seem insignificant, but they say something about my values, and how well I do (or don’t) live them. That’s information worth having. It can be hard to correct the path we walk, if we don’t notice we’ve stepped off that path.

A sprinkling of rain begins to fall. I can continue on, until I reach the parking lot, or I can turn back. In this instance, the choice won’t be about distance; it’s about the same either way. 😂 I laugh and pull my tightly folded rain poncho out of my pocket, and pull it over my head. It was a smart choice to bring it, I think to myself. Then the rain stops, making it completely irrelevant. It rained only long enough to make my poncho too wet to shove back in my pocket. I chuckle to myself. Sometimes choices do work out that way. I don’t really mind being unnecessarily prepared. It’s far better than being unprepared.

I think about the day ahead. Am I prepared? Ready to make choices? Ready to do the many verbs awaiting me further up life’s path? I don’t know… I’m at least ready to begin. Again.

It starts to sprinkle again, and I get to my feet, ready to walk on. Prepared.

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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, The Art of Being, Words

Walking in Fog

November 2, 2025 //
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It is morning. Daybreak seems to come early, but it’s only the end of Daylight Savings Time here in the US. In terms of reality and the nature of time, or the timing of various celestial events, nothing actually changed. I walked the trail in the gloom as daybreak came, wrapped in autumn fog on the marsh, and grateful for my warm sweater and the soft fuzzy fleece I threw on over that.

Halfway to somewhere.

The trees form from the mist as I approach them. The morning is spooky and magical, and very quiet. I don’t hear any traffic on the nearby highway, only my footsteps and my breath. I keep walking, heading for my halfway point, and a moment to pause, meditate, and watch the dawn become a new day, before walking on down the trail and out of the fog.

At my halfway point, I stop. I sit. I write. I think. I observe. As day brightens, I see a small cluster of shapes out at the edge of the meadow. Deer. I think it’s likely to be the same small herd I often see here, when I walk this trail. Two mature does resting in the tall grass, partially hidden, and their young born this year, already losing their spots, are accompanied by a buck who stands alert and watchful a short distance away. He seems less concerned with me than whatever may be unseen in the trees beyond the meadow. I watch quietly. Color slowly becomes part of the view, as daylight begins to brighten the meadow and marsh. I see fall colors on the trees, now. The buck raises his head and changes his posture. Something has his attention, and his movement communicates something to his family. They rise from their resting place and join him, as he walks away. They move along quickly, quietly, and disappear into the fog.

I sit where I am, perched on this fence rail, awhile longer. I’m in no hurry. There is, sadly, war going on in the world, and where there is no clearly defined war going on, there may be conflict with less clearly defined sides. In both cases, the outcome for many innocent noncombatants is unchanged: violence, chaos, trauma, suffering, and possibly death. I sigh quietly. Humanity could already be beyond warfare if we chose to put it aside as an artifact of more primitive times. War is ugly, destructive, and there are no actual winners besides those who profit from it. Everyone else loses. War has no positive outcome that could not be more easily obtained (with greater value) without bloodshed. We’re pretty fucking stupid about some shit, as creatures go.

I breathe, exhale, and relax, and pull my awareness back to this moment, here, in the middle of this meadow, alongside the foggy autumn marsh on a November morning at dawn. There is no war, no conflict, here. Just the quiet and the fog, and the steadfast oaks standing nearby, partially obscured by the fog. It feels rather as if anything could be out there in the mist, waiting to be discovered. I swing my feet contentedly, breathing the chilly autumn air, filling my lungs with it, and releasing my wartime worries into the fog with each exhalation.

I remind myself to make self-care a priority.

I spend a few minutes thinking about the day ahead. There is housekeeping to do, later. I think about my untidy personal space at home. It is my office, my studio, my meditation space, and my getaway when I need a quiet moment. The relative orderliness there (or lack of it) often signals my general stress level and state of emotional health. It’s a bit less tidy than I’d ideally like, right now, and it reflects my background stress level pretty accurately. Maybe today I’ll spend some time sorting that out? I know I’ll feel better once I do, that’s just real (and a tiny bit funny).

I sigh as I get to my feet. I take a big deep breath of the cold morning air on the marsh and look up the trail where it disappears into the fog, so mysterious, so promising. I glance at the time. Just as I thought – it’s time to begin again. 😁

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

Next!

October 24, 2025 //
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The days have been sort of tumbling by in a blur. Some days I am so thoroughly exhausted by day’s end, I fall into bed feeling spent, and sleep overtakes me quickly. Other days, I make it to the end with enough left in the tank to prepare a pleasant meal, and even to enjoy it, and clean up afterwards. Regardless, and seemingly without any direct connection to my relative state of fatigue, I’m looking back on this blur of days and nights. The feeling of constantly scrambling to gain traction on a slick floor, or of treading water in the dark, describes it best, I guess.

I sigh to myself as I walk this trail in the darkness. Walking in the dark isn’t my preference, but it’s the time I have for it. Not walking isn’t an acceptable option (for me, in my opinion). There’s a metaphor in that, or perhaps a lesson.

I get to my halfway point before daybreak. No surprise there; I got an early start. My left hip aches, and it feels like arthritis pain. I frown to myself. I guess it could be worse. I distract myself , to avoid dwelling on pain. It isn’t helpful (at all) to let my pain occupy my mental space for long. Giving it that much attention tends to make it feel worse. I breathe, exhale, and relax, and redirect my attention to the strangely pink night sky. The clouds are illuminated by the community below, in the distance… but why pink? I think about it pointlessly awhile longer. A snapshot taken with my cellphone does not capture what my eyes think they see. There’s probably something worth reflecting upon in that experience, too.

…The pain I’m in persists in distracting me. I persist in letting that go…

I can’t make myself look at the news today.  It’s not worth the stress to be informed about the latest new way our government has found to cause needless suffering, or to find out how else government insiders and Trump cronies are picking our pockets to fill their own bank accounts. I don’t need to be told that another billionaire grifter or criminal has been pardoned; this is the era we are living in. It’s pretty fucking horrible. Reading more details about the same old shit doesn’t make it easier to accept – and not reading about it doesn’t stop the terrible degradation of our democracy, as it spirals into authoritarianism. If you have the means, it’s probably a good time to get out, and go somewhere safer.

I sigh again, and realize I was holding my breath – or at least not breathing. I sit for a few minutes, just breathing, and focused on my breath. It is too easy to let shit get to me, to let the stress and anxiety seep into my consciousness and wreck my mood. I inhale the mild autumn air, filling my lungs with it. I exhale, and let the stress leave my body along with my breath. No, it’s not “easy”, but it is a practice that can be practiced, and with practice it becomes easier over time. After some while, it becomes really effective. (Think in terms of months and years of practice, though, not minutes.)

I meditate, watching the treeline for the first hint of daybreak. I breathe, exhale, and relax, holding myself in this present moment. At least for now, there’s just this timeless moment of presence. I’m okay with that, it’s a pleasant moment, and for now I feel easy, and my heart is light.

Over the past 12 years of this blog, I’ve come so very far! I’m grateful. I’m not certain I could have endured the world as it is, where I was with myself, then. I was thoroughly mired in chaos and damage, and there was a long journey ahead of me before that would change in a notable way. I took it in steps, though, and I just kept at it, practicing practices, and walking my own path. I’ve learned some things along the way, about life, about love, and about finding meaning and a life worth living. It has been very much worth it.

So, no doom scrolling this morning, no news feed, just a woman, a trail, and a moment of pleasant solitude before dawn on an autumn Friday morning. Later, there is work to do, and there are errands to run. I’ll do my best with all of that, and that will have to be enough. In the meantime, I’ll enjoy the moment I’m in. Later, I’ll begin again.

I’m grateful for this pleasant moment, here, now… It’s enough.

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Categories 2024 Election, Allegories, anger, Anxiety, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Oregon Trails, pain, Parables, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, solo hiking, The Art of Being, The Big 5, War and News of War
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