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Facing the Darkness

July 23, 2026 //
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(Most of this post was written during the wee hours my last night of camping last weekend.)

I’m awake. The forest is dark and quiet. In the distance, the sound of truck traffic on the state highway that runs through the state forest is audible. For the moment I am not sleepy. The forest seems very still. I sit awake awhile, unbothered by the wakefulness itself, but it does tend to force me to reflect, and there is no where to go, and no distraction handy.

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

I sit with my thoughts for a very long while, sorting the useful learning and interesting questions from the slop, earworms, and nonsense. Somewhere an owl calls into the night. She sounds very nearby. I am on alert when I hear something scuffling in the leaves next to the tent. Something small, busy, and I wonder whether it is trying to find a way in. I hear… something… the tent is hit by some sort of glancing blow in the darkness. I freeze, not exactly frightened, but my heart is pounding. I hear the squeak and the silence at the same time I hear something brushing against the outside of the tent, and then… the quiet returns after the sound of… wings? Some time awhile later, I hear the owl call into the night from some further distance…

I sit in the darkness for a long while, just me and my thoughts. There’s a lot to contemplate in life. It’s healthy to take real time for that, I’m glad I do. I make notes for later writing, for other conversations, and for further reflection. This time is for me. My thoughts, this moment, and the few things that cross my awareness that I’d really like to share are very much at risk of getting lost in the volume of thoughts that have accumulated and even grown stale trapped in my mental “buffer”. Making a few notes helps prevent me losing track of one idea or another from this large quantity of thoughts. 😆

After some long while, I sigh to myself and wrap this up, and put my restless mind to rest. It’s still hours before daylight. I’ll begin again then.

…

Here it is, a different now, a morning days later, and I’m looking back on those solitary moments alone in the darkness on a mild summer night with a certain fondness. I’m happy to be home, sure, but the fondness for that quiet solitude isn’t about how I feel about home nearly as much as it is about how I feel about the quiet solitude.

My morning, this morning, began vexatiously. I guess I’m already over it, but the feeling lingers like a bad taste. I look out into the peculiarly brownish, orangish dawn sky from the side of the trail. It rained during the night, but it wasn’t enough to rinse the smoke of distant fires from the sky. I sit with my thoughts, feeling cross and strange, and wondering what to do about any of it. I’ve certainly got options; the menu of life’s “strange diner” is vast.

I sigh to myself. For me, today is another day in corporate purgatory. I hope my Traveling Partner wakes feeling rested and capable.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I’m walking the path I choose. I can choose differently. I sit with that thought awhile. I watch the sky lighten. Soon enough, it’ll be time to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, Anxiety, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Sleepless Nights, Summer, The Art of Being

Inexplicably Anxious

July 13, 2026 //
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It happens. It’s an ordinary Monday. I got enough sleep. I woke on time, when my lights came on. I got on with readying myself for a new day, and headed out, stopping only to water the lawn. So… what’s with the crushing fucking anxiety this morning?

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

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I arrived at the trailhead without any difficulty – and I hadn’t expected any sort of difficulty. Everything seems pretty routine and ordinary this morning.

… and isn’t it? So ordinary and routine, and yet I am vexed by my anxiety…

Anxiety is a liar. Anxiety is an emotional and physical experience backed by a powerful cocktail of hormonal signals and internal chemistry. Learning to let it be what it is (and nothing more) is a huge step towards learning not to struggle with it. Whether or not a given moment of anxiety has any basis in reality (a real cause that makes some rational sense) is a wholly separate concern from the experience of the anxiety, and would need to be dealt with separately in any case. I sigh to myself. Fuck anxiety.

“Anxiety” 2011

I breathe, exhale, and relax – again. I keep repeating the exercise until I feel the knot in the pit of my stomach loosen, feel my jaw unclench, and begin to find the simple act of breathing actually simple once more.

Anxiety as a disorder (or element of a disorder) is not reliably attached to a real world experience or trigger. It may surface in response to something as mundane as a random thought or a brief moment of uncertainty. Trauma changes our brain, and one byproduct may be anxiety as a disorder. Why did I wake up anxious this morning? Unknown. Nothing obvious. Maybe genuinely nothing at all, or perhaps the remnant of a dream already forgotten? The important thing is to recognize that it most likely isn’t about anything, and to not bother with troubleshooting for a “root cause”. Having an anxiety disorder is the cause of disordered anxiety. So, I let that go. No point in chasing a cause.

I let my steady steps carry me down the trail as I focus on my breathing and the sights and scents of my immediate surroundings. It’s a pretty morning. The forecast says it will be quite a hot day. (I’m glad I watered!) I walk along with my thoughts, staying focused on this moment, here. The sun rises, casting a golden glow over the oaks. I get to my halfway point and stop to write a bit.

Can I lift myself out of my anxiety? Maybe. I can at least avoid making it worse by refusing to let it pull me further in, and refusing to allow it to spiral out of control, by recognizing it, acknowledging it, and keeping it firmly confined to a narrowly defined experience that I understand. It will pass. No point at all in feeding it.

Funny thing, my Traveling Partner noticed my anxiety beginning to flare up in the background before I did. Two days ago, he began observing it, calling it out, suggesting I do something more to care for myself… I didn’t feel it, and said as much. Well… I fucking feel it this morning. 😆 G’damn. Also… how annoying is that? I sigh again, feeling the weight of my emotions in my exhalation.

I stare at a lock of my long-ish brunette-ish hair in the morning sunlight. It is shot through with gray. I rarely give thought to it. My internal sense of self is much the same as it has always been… I think. Maybe not. I definitely don’t have a feeling of “being old”, yet, but I do feel my years now and then. Not so much this morning, and the gray hair surprises me a little. It is real though, more real than my anxiety.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. An ordinary day in all regards, aside from the anxiety, which I feel ready to ignore, although I know ignoring the sense of it doesn’t change the tightness in my chest, or the sensation of being out of breath, or the feeling of my pounding heart. I just have to give my chemistry time to adjust to something more commonplace, and calmer. In the meantime, I’ve got this walk to finish, and an entire day ahead of me. I guess I’ll begin again. What else?

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

An Unwelcome Presence

July 11, 2026 //
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I woke early, with my alarm. I dressed quickly and quietly, and watered the lawn before heading for the trail. I arrived just at daybreak – ostensibly when this park opens – and as I drove into the park to the trailhead, I passed one, then another parked car. Imagine my surprise (and, frankly, my irritation) to see random cars parked willy-nilly on the narrow access road. These were no early morning hikers, either, these were over night visitors or people parked out of view, sleeping in their cars.

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

I sigh crossly, grateful I don’t speed down this road in the twilight of dawn. I easily could have hit one of them, parked well into the road (there being no parking at all along the access road and no pullouts).

I get to the trailhead parking. Another overnighter parked in just the stupidest fashion in a spot very much outside the actual parking and blocking the path down to a lovely river view. I swear to myself, thoroughly vexed by this bullshit. I start down the path, stepping around the truck quietly, and find myself startled by the guard dog chained beneath the truck, who lunges at me barking furiously. Well fuck that shit. I turn back even more annoyed, but not wishing to risk a dog bite.

…G’damn, fuck rude people abusing park spaces with their entitled bullshit…

I turn down a different path as I wonder “who even does this shit?!”, but I don’t really want to know – I just want my peaceful morning walk. Disappointing start. I inhale the fragrant summer air as I walk down the path into the meadow. It had been dense clover, blooming with sweet smelling purple flowers only a couple weeks ago. It has been mown since then. The tidy arrangement of rows makes me wonder what sort of farm equipment was used for the purpose. The view isn’t as lovely as when the meadow is lush and blooming. An altogether disappointing start to the day.

I get to my halfway point on this loop trail.  The rock I generally sit on has a fat pile of dog shit dropped right next to it. Gross. “Fucking hell, people, clean up after your g’damned dogs”, I mutter crossly as I walk on. I have the recollection of a convenient rock or log somewhere along here… Now my walk becomes a vigilant search for somewhere to sit, instead of a peaceful, mindful, meditative progression of steps on a path. 

…I feel my awareness of my own disappointment begin to evolve into seething irritation, almost anger, that sits at the edge of becoming a feeling of entitlement…

I sigh and stop. I just stop on the trail and stand for a moment, listening to the birds chirping, peeping, and singing. I lean against a large-ish maple of some kind, resting my feet. My back aches already, today. My tinnitus whines loudly in my ears, and I focus on the birds singing to assure myself that the tinnitus isn’t “real” and hasn’t actually deafened me. I breathe, exhale, and relax.

… It’s a beautiful moment, in a lovely spot along a wooded trail, on a cloudy summer morning. It’s worth redirecting my attention to here, now…

I let my irritation and disappointment dissipate. I watch robins foraging in the leaf litter at the edge of the trail. It’s a beautiful quiet morning. I hear Spring Valley Creek trickling past nearby, unseen beyond the thicket of shrubs and berry vines. Young chipmunks chase each other through the trees. The leaves of the trees shake and rustle in the breeze. The clouds hint at rain that may not come and I find myself wondering why I am in so much pain this morning? I have no enthusiasm for the work I committed to helping my beloved Traveling Partner with, today, but maybe I’ll feel more like it later. I don’t dwell on it, or on my pain.

I walk on down the path, and find myself in a pleasant glade near a bend in the path. There is an old picnic table tucked back away from the trail, in a regrettable state of disrepair, but adequate as a place to sit that isn’t on the ground (harder to get back up at 63 than it would have been at 30).  I sit awhile. I write. I meditate. I wait on a moment that hasn’t yet arrived. I breathe, exhale, and relax. It’s so easy to take shit personally that isn’t personal at all. Reality isn’t going to bother with correcting our mistakes for us, it will simply punish us when we’re incorrect. I sigh to myself and remind myself to do something about my pain when I get back to the car.

I don’t bother with the news today. Why would I? Ads. AI slop. Sponsored content. Cookies. Paywalls. Slanted opinions instead of clean emotionally neutral factual reporting, or honest authentic and explicitly stated personal biases revealed openly. All of it on repeat, and supplemented by copies of copies of copies shared across media groups and individuals. Completely pointless, and all of it seriously joy destroying crap targeted at getting all of us to pay someone for something. Bleh. No thanks. I sigh, feeling a little impatient even having the thought, and pull my attention back to “now”.

“View of the Willamette River” “7 x “9.5”, soft pastel on Pastelmat

It’s not reliably easy to find, make, or preserve our peace or our joy. There are verbs involved, and a willingness to persist. I’ve been finding it helpful to spend more time in my studio, painting. I smile to myself; the view I missed this morning is the view I painted from memory last night. I find some little bit of comfort, joy, and peace in that idea.

I take a deep breath of the cool summer air, smelling the scent of recently mown clover mingling with the scent of wildflowers. A bird of prey somewhere nearby screams about whatever is on their mind. The chipmunks all vanish. This moment may not be “perfect” (what ever is?), but it is mine, and it is enough. I think about the day ahead and wonder if my partner is also in more than usual pain this morning?

… Sometimes the best I can do is to keep walking, putting one foot after the other, until I get somewhere. Each day offers a new beginning, and each moment is a new chance at peace and joy. What will I do with it (besides “my best”)? The clock is ticking – today I feel it more. The clouds overhead are definitely threatening rain now – I guess it’s a good time to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, Anxiety, art and the artist, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, joy, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, solo hiking, Summer, The Art of Being, The Big 5, War and News of War, Words

Taking Note(s)

July 5, 2026 //
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In the quiet minutes after tempers flare and the uneasy peace that follows, I take some notes. New or unremembered metaphors, insightful analogies, deep questions, and revealed underlying hurts of times long past… Notes for meditation, for self-reflection, for discussion with my therapist. Tripping hazards on life’s path.

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

It’s a very human experience, and a lot to think about. I will think about the path ahead, and also the path that has lead me to this point. I’ll consider my behavior, my choices, and my options. The menu of life’s Strange Diner is vast and the options are many – nearly always more than I can imagine, or accept.

I sigh to myself, and set my notes aside for tomorrow.

A new day, another sunrise, a chance to begin again.

I woke early this morning, from the sound sleep I had sunken into after the neighborhood fireworks finally stopped. I got up, surprised to find my Traveling Partner also already up. I started the watering and caught up on messages, then headed up the highway for my walk.

I walk along the marsh trail, more meadow than marsh this time of year. Swallows swoop and dive, chasing their breakfast. Meadow flowers bob gently in the soft breeze. The bold magenta sunrise begins to fade, first to pink, then to a softer pale salmon hue, before fading away to blue sky streaked with white clouds. I sigh and wonder what distant wildfire is responsible for that crazy magenta sunrise? It was beautiful.

A convenient place to stop and reflect.

I get to a spot that I’ll call “halfway” (it isn’t, but it is a convenient spot to stop and there is a fallen oak adjacent to the trail which makes a relatively comfortable seat). I stop with my thoughts, and my baggage, and sit with the moment for a little while.

… This is me, here, now…

I sit contemplating emotions and behavior, and what separates and defines them. Emotions tend to be what they are, and we don’t have much opportunity to manage or control our feelings, themselves. They are an internal, often immediate, experience. Behavior, on the other hand, we have clear opportunities to manage and control that (and often explicit societal expectations that we will do so effectively). That isn’t any sort of statement that it will be easy, at all, especially if we haven’t been in the practice of doing so regularly. It really does take practice. For some of us, it requires a lifetime of continued, focused, dedicated practice – and we’ll still lob some wildly inappropriate behavior into the world (or an important relationship), in spite of all that fucking practice, far more often than we expect. Humans being human. Some of this shit is a bit complicated, whether by brain damage, poor upbringing, ignorance, trauma, medication, or circumstances.

… Most of the time, most people are probably doing some version of their best in the moment, however thoroughly inadequate it may seem from our own perspective. We’re each having our own experience…

“Emotion and Reason” lit differently – how we view emotions, and how we use reason, make a difference.

I do my best to lead with kindness and empathy. I’m surprised how often and how easily I manage to fuck that up. Deep listening is a more challenging practice than it seems it would be. Practicing healthy boundaries is more difficult than I ever expect it to be, but frankly I’m a relative beginner on that topic, so perhaps that is easy to understand? I sigh and remind myself to also treat myself with kindness, compassion, and understanding. My beloved’s expressions of hurt, frustration, and disappointment in some moment may define the moment, but they don’t define me as a human being. Nor do his missteps or difficult moments define him.

I reflect on my mistakes in the context of my values. I give myself time to think about them as snags and potholes on a clear path. I visualize various moments differently than they occurred, incorporating the changes in my behavior that I’d ideally want to see. I compare and contrast with similar moments that went very differently. I let myself recognize the differences in a useful way, to build additional implicit understanding.  I remind myself to be patient and slow down, to take the time I need to do things right, and to avoid taking it personally if (when) the world doesn’t slow down with me.

… The journey is the destination. I walk the path I create with my choices. I have opportunities (so many) to change that path by changing my choices. It sounds easier as words than it is in practice – but “practice” is an ongoing thing. I’ll keep walking (and practicing).

… I keep my focus on my own behavior, because that is what is within my control, and it is what I am responsible for, myself…

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I don’t know what is around the next bend. I’m walking this path, enjoying the journey, and doing my best to be the person I most want to be. There’s work yet to be done. Where does this path lead? I guess I’ll find out when I get there. In the meantime, I guess I’ll begin again. Again.

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Categories Allegories, anger, Anxiety, Brain Injury, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, Frustration, gratitude, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Summer, The Art of Being, The Big 5, women, Words

Not Bad, But…

June 30, 2026 //
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I was up too early. It is another gray day. I’m tired, and I’ve got a headache I would describe as “my third eye hurting”. I’m tired. I walk the loop around the vineyard, and I’m back at the car before dawn.

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

So… I nap in the car awhile and wake to heavy gray clouds and a stormy forboding sky.

Say hello to a new day.

I sit up, groggy and a little dizzy, surprised to have actually slept. I take my morning medications with a swallow of cold black coffee left over from yesterday. I yawn and stretch. The morning seems unremarkable. I’m fine with that. Another day.

…I’m grateful… but I’m also thinking about coffee 😆

It is a payday. Later I’ll do all of the budget stuff. Pay bills. Buy groceries. Ordinary mundane activities. Routine. Unexciting. I’m fine with that, too.

I sit listening to my tinnitus and the HVAC on the roof of a nearby building. Robins hop about, singing their cheerful song. I take time for meditation. I eye the gray clouds overhead. Looks like it might rain, later.

I sigh to myself. I really want coffee. I stretch and yawn, and decide on a course of action. I click my seatbelt into place, and get started on this new day. It’s as good a beginning as any.

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