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Resilience In Practice

October 25, 2025 //
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I woke later than usual. It was almost 05:00 when I woke. I felt rested and positively merry. I dressed to head out for my morning trek down the marsh trail that circles the nature park.

As I checked the weather, and the time, I see I’ve got a message from my beloved Traveling Partner. The love and concern in his words is clear. He suggests I keep my walk short, maybe local, and proposes I maybe stay home entirely and get my miles on the elliptical, while watching a favorite show. He proposes that we could do something together, later, an idea that appeals to me. I feel loved. I sit with that feeling for a moment, letting it fill my consciousness.

The idea of a shorter walk and better self-care is a tempting idea, for sure, I admit. I really like being out on the trail, though, enjoying the short quiet interval of solitude… and my walks at the nature park put me nearby a favorite grocery store, and I generally stop there after my walk on a Saturday morning… The temperature is mild… I head out, remembering my commitment to one of the grocery checkers to share some items my Traveling Partner made, and deciding to keep my walk short, any way.

The drive to the nature park was quiet. No traffic. I enjoyed it, smiling to myself as I drove with my thoughts, grateful for my loving partner who cares about my well-being, and for the lovely morning. Before I reach the nature park, it begins to rain, first just a sprinkle, then as I reach the trailhead parking, a proper steady rain. I grimace, and laugh, betting my Traveling Partner had checked the weather report more closely than I had.

Now I sit, waiting for a break in the rain. I’m unbothered and relaxed. Hadn’t I already decided to make my walk a shorter one, anyway? No stress. No agitation. Just change. I breathe, exhale, and relax, listening to the rain on the roof of the car.

At its heart, resilience is simply that ability to bounce back in the face of change, uncertainty, emotional disregulation, or even trauma. Resilience needs development, as with things like muscular strength. Specific practices build resilience. Meditation, as a practice, helps build resilience. The practice of “taking in the good” is another that directly builds resilience. Forgiveness, as a practice, is another that contributes to resilience, by limiting how long our hurt feelings or injuries inflicted by another can dominate our thoughts. Practicing non-attachment and embracing related ideas such as impermanence, sufficiency, and building depth and breadth into our perspective on life, generally, are helpful for building resilience.

What’s it good for, though (resilience, I mean)? Why do I put so much value on it? Partly due to this; it improves pain management results.

Resilience let’s us bounce back and carry on, without becoming mired in our pain, sorrow, or anger. Resilience is that quality that gets us quickly past a difficult moment, and on to enjoying the next. Well-established resilience, over time, may become the difference between having some troubling mental health episode or meltdown, and simply acknowledging a difficult experience, dealing with it, and moving on with things calmly. I don’t know about you, but that sounds pretty good to me.

…So I practice…

Sometimes, I fall short of my commitment to one practice or another, but that’s also why I see such things as practices in the first place, instead of tasks to be checked off as completed, or skills to be mastered. Mastery is inconsequential. Practice is ongoing. It is a doing that doesn’t really finish. Each practice with real world value in my lived experience becomes a lifestyle change, over time. Each practice becomes part of my routine, and part of who I am. The result? I am more resilient. It becomes a character trait, and in that regard, it also becomes easier to maintain. Such results don’t mean no practice is required, just that the effort and will involved in the practice itself is greatly reduced. Sometimes, though, I still find myself not practicing some practice or other, through circumstances or forgetting. I’m human.

… I just begin again, and get back to practicing…

The rain stops, but it’s not yet daylight, and I’m not in a hurry. There’s no need to rush my walk, or hurry home to barge in on my beloved’s quiet time over his coffee first thing. I sit quietly a little longer. Daybreak soon, and I’ll walk the short loop, and watch the sunrise – then, I’ll begin again.

…It is a good day for self-care.

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

Something for Nothing

October 17, 2025 //
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Everyone is after “more for less”, “something for nothing”, or some sort of advantage. Everyone else (also) is looking to “make a buck”, or gain a personal advantage, or seeking to “get ahead”. It’s something to think about. The desire to profit, or to accumulate wealth (or power), drives a lot of human behavior.

…Let’s talk about “greed”…

When human beings strive, struggle, and yearn for something they don’t have, you might be inclined to think they would be satisfied once the need is met. That isn’t often how it goes though, is it? People pretty commonly seem to want more, different, other, or better. We have tendencies toward accumulating resources, even to the point of ruinous hoarding, sometimes money, sometimes empty cigar boxes or old magazines. It’s weird, isn’t it? Sufficiency – and being content with “enough” – seems to take as much (more?) practice as working to acquire more, and comes less naturally to many people. Is greed an inmate character trait that requires us to carefully teach children to share and to be modest about their relatives means in an unequal world, or is greed something we’re taught to see as having practical value in spite of being a distasteful character trait? I often wonder.

I’ve been poor (very). I’m not “rich” now. I am unlikely to achieve great wealth; I’m not chasing that dragon. I work (and I am grateful that I can). I enjoy small luxuries, but don’t lust after expensive sports cars, or haute couture clothing. I’m content with what I have, generally, and I am grateful and fortunate that when we bought our little house in the suburbs on the edge of Oregon wine country, my most profound material yearning was fulfilled. I have a home. I don’t also want or need diamonds or Louboutin shoes.

For me it is sufficient luxury to pay the bills, keep the pantry stocked, and be able to fill the gas tank of my car anytime, without having to double check my bank balance. I struggled enough through many years that I still see sufficiency itself as a luxury, in spite of very much wanting everyone to have enough, and feeling that this opinion is right and good. The resources of the world seem likely to be sufficient to provide enough for everyone, were it not for those few who aggressively secure the biggest possible piece of the pie for themselves. I frown, thinking my thoughts as I walk, before getting to my halfway point to stop, write, and reflect further.

Greed is a “question” for which I have no answer, aside from my own thoughts on it as a character quality (toxic, corrosive, terrible, wasteful, cruel, ugly), and my earnest desire not to be that, myself. Sufficiency feels like enough, generally. Oh, I’m not super human. I find myself prone to greed, too. It turns up in strange places – like Halloween – which is probably why it is on my mind.

It’s time to buy sweets for roaming goblin children and costumed tweens doing their best to look bored, and I will reliably buy too much, if history teaches me anything. It’s a mark of greed, and I recognize it in my fondness for the excess available in the overstuffed bowl of candy that will be by the door on Halloween. I like the having of too much. That’s greed. Not a good look, and a poor practice from a social perspective. I should not even be eating any of that crap myself, at all. It’s terrible for my health. The children will themselves model whatever lessons they have learned about greed or sufficiency, when they come to my door. Halloween is weird this way. Making it about candy in the first place was someone else’s greed, and here we are.

I think about it awhile longer. “Do better,” I tell myself silently. I sigh to myself. Enough is enough – that’s why we call it that. 😂 Humans are weird. You might think we’d do more to ensure our own lasting survival and to preserve the shared habitat we (and so many other creatures) call home. You’d be wrong. We are greedy and shortsighted.

I sigh again. Daybreak comes. I take a moment for gratitude. Even having enough may (can, often does) require a lot of work. I’m grateful for the job I’ve got. I’m grateful for the good night of sleep I got last night that will make the work day so much easier. I’m grateful for a partner who knows what he wants and understands the limitations of our resources. I’m grateful for this quiet time in the morning.

I breathe, exhale, and relax, and take time for meditation. Dawn comes. The sun begins to rise. I feel at ease and filled with contentment. It’s a nice starting point to begin again, and I am grateful for this too.

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Categories Allegories, Anxiety, autumn, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Practices, The Art of Being, Words

Well, Look At That

October 7, 2025 //
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After a restless night, I woke gently, dressed, and slipped out of the house as quietly as I could. The big bright full moon led me down the trail to my halfway point. I didn’t bother with my headlamp until I was in the forested stretch of trail along the creek, where the darkness could not be pierced by the moonlight. It is a chilly morning.

Yesterday was weird and tense, but finished gently, harmoniously, and with the calm that comes from everyone being “on the same page”. I had started writing about the circumstances, making some notes about details and feelings, but this morning feels quite different and I don’t resume writing that. We’re each fine. Each having our own experience.

The simple truths that cohabitation as a family is more complicated than we anticipated, less convenient, more uncomfortable, and problematic for each of us in various ways isn’t to do with whether we care, or what we wanted. It’s an adult household and our lifestyles and needs don’t mesh easily. Together we’ve decided not to fight that and to work productively toward a better solution. The Anxious Adventurer will move out, and we’ll give him a hand with that, and until then, life is…life. We’ll live it, each doing our best and enjoying the time we have.

I’m deeply grateful to have had the Anxious Adventurer’s help while I did, as much as he was able to provide at the time. Did I need more and other help? Yeah. Sometimes. Has it also been hard dealing with the additional emotional labor? Yeah. Sometimes. Has it been worth it? Yeah. Mostly. Definitely. A lot got done that couldn’t have been done without his help. Is it sustainable to continue? Nope. The lack of willingness to continue, though, doesn’t reduce my gratitude for his help while my Traveling Partner got through surgery and began his recovery.

So here we are. I wasn’t wholly certain we were “doing the right thing” – it felt like we were nudging the Anxious Adventurer in the direction of a particular choice, perhaps. Then I saw his face when his Dad mentioned some of the things he’d be returning to… and understood that he wants this, too. Mixed feelings all around. It was sharing these mixed feelings together that brought me clarity. I hope the both of them feel as I do now, that this makes sense, and without regret or sorrow. The Anxious Adventurer is welcome back to visit – I hope he does! Holidays as a family can be fun and warm and deeply joyful.

I sit watching the moon set, reflecting on life and choices and how we get from our past to our future. I’m proud of my Traveling Partner – setting boundaries is hard. Self-care decision-making is sometimes fraught with self-doubt. He did well. I’ll reflect on this for a long time. I’m proud of the Anxious Adventurer, too. He kept his cool under stress, and he has come so far in the time he’s been here. I hope he takes all that growth and progress back with him and enjoys his life more, and more easily, with the knowledge and understanding he has gained. Growth can be uncomfortable. I’m proud of myself, too. No stress related meltdown, and no attempt to force an outcome that felt “safe” to me, personally, but wasn’t at all what anyone wanted. Well done, us. 😃

Today feels… easier. Clarity of thought has that effect (for me). Oh, there’s a bit of work and planning ahead, and some cost, but even that can be spread out over the upcoming weeks. I breathe, exhale, and relax. I let myself think about the holidays ahead, without any stress or doubt.

I remind myself to plan my day around my Traveling Partner’s appointment – I’ll need to check whether our current eye doctor takes our new insurance… I forgot to do that sooner…I sigh, and laugh. It’s already time to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, Anxiety, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, The Art of Being, The Big 5, Words

Like a Fingerprint

October 5, 2025 //
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I’m waiting for the sun, before I begin my walk. No particular reason for doing things this way, this morning. It’s just what I’m doing. The morning is dark, and it isn’t yet daybreak. I sit in the predawn stillness, my tinnitus is the loudest thing I hear. The overcast sky here at the trailhead is a peculiar dim dirty looking mauve, lit from communities and businesses below. Dark shapes of trees are silhouetted against the strange sky.

… Funny… I haven’t traveled far to get to this trail, but the sky is very different here. When I left the house, the night sky was clear and starry, and the full moon was visible above the mountains to the west. 25 miles away, here, now, there are only clouds.

Yesterday was… complicated and difficult, but it seemed clear throughout that my Traveling Partner and I were each genuinely doing our best under the circumstances. Dealing with pain is hard, and it can easily make it hard to also deal with each other. That sounds a little bit (to my own ears, at least) as though I am minimizing or making excuses. It’s more accurate to say that things weren’t actually all that bad, looking at it in the “rear view mirror”, from the perspective of a new day, and aware that the evening finished gently, together, cherishing each other’s good company. (Does he feel similarly? Perhaps I should ask…?)

…I nudge my thoughts toward gratitude…

I enjoyed yesterday’s shopping, and I’m eager to make the meals I’ve planned. When I’m not exhausted or struggling with one physical impairment or another, I greatly enjoy cooking. I enjoy connecting with friends and loved ones over a meal. I am delighted by how much my cooking has improved since 2015, and even more so since the pandemic. (Like a lot of people, I spent time in the kitchen as a fun distraction during the lockdown.) I’m grateful that my Traveling Partner was comfortable sharing his honest opinion of my cooking, and even more that he wasn’t merely critical, but also eager to be helpful, encouraging, and open to the necessary trial and error that resulted from properly learning to cook. I wouldn’t hesitate to invite people to dine with us. The kitchen is clean. Food storage is held to a high standard, and at long last my cooking is reliably something I’m proud of, and enjoy sharing.

I’m grateful, too, that my outing yesterday took me by a clothing store I like. 50% off fall sweaters? The timing was excellent. The new job has high potential to require me to come to the office a couple times a year – San Francisco. The “feel” of “casual” there is a little dressier than the Pacific Northwest. My tatty too-large frumpy cozy sweater isn’t a good choice for such things, so the timing was good, and the price acceptable. I was able to find three nice sweaters for work and a warm cardigan that looks more appropriately grown up than my soft gray fleece (which is branded corporate swag from my previous employer). I’d rock the swag from the current employer, but I don’t yet have any.

Daybreak comes, and I hit the trail, walking and thinking.

I can judge the new day on some limited view, or I can embrace it with gratitude and enthusiasm. It’s my own choice to make.

I get to my halfway point thinking about perspective. I consider the way the almost unique context of my individual lifetime has shaped (continues to shape) my perspective and my understanding. World events, personal trauma, day-to-day stress (and joy), all become part of the lens through which I see the world, and the context in which I understand myself. It’s like a fingerprint on “who I am”. I contemplate how “generational differences” in cohorts of human beings are defined (and influenced) by these shared experiences. I watch some geese drifting slowly across the pond nearest to me, and wonder whether such things affect other creatures, too? I find myself wondering what the “MAGA generation” – meaning Americans born between 2014 and 2028 – will be like as human beings? Who will their heroes be? What will matter most to them, culturally, socially, and politically? How will they change the world when their turn to vote comes?

I sit awhile longer with my thoughts (and my headache). In some little while, I’ll get to my feet and put another mile on my boots. Maybe I’ll be a better person today than I was yesterday? I’d like that. I’ll have the chance, as soon as I begin again. For now, this quiet moment of gratitude and reflection is enough.

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

Strange, Vile, Cruel

October 1, 2025 //
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It was raining when I reached the trailhead before dawn. I sat for a few moments quietly, waiting for a break in the rain. Eventually, I gave in to the temptation to scroll through my news feed and immediately regretted that obviously poor choice.

… People can be incredibly cruel, shortsighted, callous, petty, vengeful, stupidly focused on personal gain without regard to long-term consequences, and seriously strange. I don’t even need to give examples, you can see it for yourself, anytime, though I do recommend treating yourself with kindness and consideration, and that you limit your exposure to the fraudulent claims, boldfaced lies, and excessive trolling. It’s much, and can’t be healthy. … And also? Maybe do your own personal best to be a good human being, and a person of good character? It really does matter, every moment, every day.

The rain stopped, and I got out onto the trail, phone in my pocket, and walked to my halfway point before stopping. It’s barely daybreak and still quite dark. Another work day, but I’ve now cleared the 30-day hurdle, and I feel more relaxed.  I watch the storm clouds overhead shifting and slowly drifting across the sky, the lowest ones illuminated from below, the trees silhouetted darkly against them.

… I don’t have anything much to say about the government shutdown. I’m disappointed that the clowns we’ve elected treat governing as a weird sort of partisan game, instead of simply partnering with each other to efficiently run the fucking country, ensuring Americans are provided with the services they need, and agencies are appropriately funded so they can fulfill their roles effectively. Why the fuck is running the government a partisan matter in the first place? Do the damned job! How fucking hard does that have to be? I sigh to myself, then let it go for the moment. This is not the time.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. There’s a lot going on in the world, and a lot of that is unpleasant, or even horrifying. War. Genocide. Femicide. Fraud. Deceit. Assaults and kidnappings by masked government agents. Gross inequality. Child labor. The erosion of personal rights and freedoms. Legislated cruelty. I could easily spiral into despair, it’s that bad. Soon enough there may even be armed soldiers in the streets of the largest city near me, which is strange to the point of dystopian surrealism. If I let that shit become the entire focus of my experience moment to moment, it could destroy my perspective and my mental health.

I let that crap go and pull myself back to “here, now”. The sky is beginning to lighten. Daybreak comes. Here is a new day filled with new potential, new opportunities, and new promise – and a chance to begin again, to do better, to be the person I most want to be. Every day, we each get this chance to reset, to start over, to choose more wisely and behave more graciously than we did yesterday. Hard times or easy times, we choose how we respond to events and people. Our choices will determine a lot about the experience we go on to have. I think about that awhile.

My head aches this morning. I pay it little attention, it’s nothing new. My back aches, too. I shrug it off as “just arthritis”. My tinnitus is crazy loud, like a chorus of buzzing insects, unavoidable and annoying, but this too is just part of my experience. I try to pay it no attention; it seems louder and more aggravating when I focus on it. I’m not listing my aches and pains to complain, nor to one-up you on your own, I’m just pointing out how utterly ordinary these experiences are – for me, for other people, probably for you (most especially if you’re over 50). Deal with it or don’t, it’ll still be there. Letting pain shut me down would be worse than the pain itself, most of the time. I try my best to limit how often I allow my pain to determine my choices. I’ve got a life to live and shit to do.

A new day dawns.

The cloudy sky begins to turn blue and gray and the trail is visible without my headlamp. Details emerge from the darkness as it gives way to dawn. I’m surprised to see “someone” lounging in the vineyard between the rows. A few minutes later and I can see it isn’t a “someone”, it is a small herd of deer, resting together, a pair of does and their Spring fawns. As the morning light increases, I can see a young buck further down the row, quietly standing watchfully.  I am quiet and still. They pay me no mind.

I sit watching the deer, and the dawn. I fill my thoughts with gratitude for simple things that matter most. I reflect on life, the world, and being authentically the best version of myself that I can be.

…”Department of War,” I say softly, out loud, “Assholes.” The words come unbidden, and I am surprised to hear myself speak. On some level, I’m not surprised at all by the sentiment – I’m angry, and disappointed. We’re better than this – or, I thought we were. I guess maybe we’re not.

I sigh and pull my attention back to this moment, here, and the deer in the vineyard. Cars begin to arrive with farm workers. The new day is here. It’s already time to begin again.

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