Archives for posts with tag: grief
« Older Entries

Yesterday’s Sunrise

October 2, 2026 //
0

Yesterday’s sunrise was beautiful. Maybe I’ll paint that sky this weekend.

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

Every sunrise a new beginning.

I spent yesterday taking (Rx) drugs and wracked with pain, mired in irritability, working, and listening to Bauhaus, NIN, and The Stooges. Not exactly cheerful stuff, but infused with a dark moody energy that just seemed to fit. I was even wearing black, though the choice was unintentional.

… This morning is better, so far…

I enjoyed a quiet evening with my Traveling Partner, though I still don’t understand why he took a chance on my company last night; I wasn’t in a good place at all. We both made the necessary effort and it was a relaxed, generally pleasant evening.

This morning? New day, new beginning. I walk the familiar trail in the familiar darkness, grateful it is largely an external experience of circumstances – it’s still too early, not yet daybreak. Nothing like yesterday, when the darkness seemed to ooze from my being. I breathe in the mild autumn air. We haven’t yet had our first frost.

I breathe, exhale, relax. I meditate under the stars. It’s beautiful. I hear something loud, not too far away. The sound of impact, of things breaking, and a short time later, sirens. Someone else is having a bad morning today. Every one of us will, eventually. Very human. Our results may vary, whatever our circumstances or our practices.

“Maybe a shorter walk in the morning?” my beloved had suggested to me. It was a good idea. I sit with my thoughts another minute or two. Self-reflection is a useful tool for gaining perspective.

The sky takes on a hint of blue, and I stretch a gaze at the few stars I can still see. Short work day, and an appointment with a specialist later about this fucking headache, then the weekend. I hope to spend a substantial portion of it in the studio. I’ve got a playlist ready…

… I get to my feet, and hit play, before I walk on. “….Bela Lugosi is dead…” And it’s time to begin. Again.

Tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,
Categories Allegories, art and the artist, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, Despair, Free Will, gratitude, inspiration, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Moments, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, The Art of Being, War and News of War, Words

Bad Dreams, But…

September 29, 2026 //
0

Okay so, yeah, I’m having a lot of bad dreams lately. Even when they aren’t “nightmares”, they’re often deeply unpleasant.

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

I woke this morning, grateful for the bright light of my silent alarm; better than the dream I was having. Hell, I’m not surprised by the bad dreams – have you seen the state of the world? The shameless exploitative corporate greed? The thoroughly corrupt government? The war in Ukraine? The genocides? Oh yeah, more than one of those going on, it isn’t limited to Palestine. How can human beings be so incredibly vile?

I’m struggling to maintain perspective, I admit it. I feel disappointed (in humanity, generally) and I feel betrayed on an unreasonable personal level. I was stationed in Germany when the Berlin Wall came down. It was such a proud moment for humanity and I felt such hope for the world. I sigh quietly as I walk the dark trail with my dark thoughts.

I get to my halfway point and stop. I just stand there in the dark awhile, after turning off my headlamp, letting my eyes adjust, watching the stars. After a handful of uncounted minutes gazing into the eternal darkness of the vast night sky, I sit down and cry awhile. I don’t fight the tears. No shame. No guilt. Only emotions I can’t quite process without allowing for the grief. Grieving is powerful stuff and difficult to control or limit or reason with, and now and then I am flooded with tears over what we have all lost – all those lives, all the wasted potential, all the hurting and the sorrow.

…We could do better…

I was once a soldier in an army. I have been to war. I have looked directly into the eyes of my enemy and found that he was every bit as human as I am myself. No one walks away unchanged. We live with the consequences of our actions,  that’s just real. I sigh to myself. I’m grateful to have gotten out alive. I’m grateful to see another sunrise. I’m grateful to have my Traveling Partner’s warm, loving embrace when the weight of the world threatens to pull me down into the depths of madness and grief (and even when he’s dealing with his own shit, he is there for me).

Being human is hard. Being the best human being the resources and experience available permit a person to be is harder still, and it for sure feels like a lot of people aren’t even trying.

I’m grateful for this solitary time to just get shit right in my head before a new day begins. Most days this is the only solitude I have. The rest of my day is interacting with people at work, and out in the world, some days so continuously that by the time I get home to my beloved I have nothing left to give. That seems thoroughly unfair, to the two of us. I embrace the little bit of “me time” life permits me to have and try not to bitch about it not feeling like enough. …At least I don’t also have children.

My beloved pings me. We converse a bit. The clock ticks on. My head aches ferociously and slow tears fall for a moment and stop. At 14 I once felt very similarly, I think, sort of lost, and frustrated-angry-sad. I dealt with it by packing a small bag with everything I thought I would need (it wasn’t), and I walked away. (It would be weeks before I turned up and ultimately went back, but that’s a story for another time.) I hadn’t yet learned that we cannot escape who we are so easily. I’d hug her if I could and assure her it gets better…then wonder if I should also tell her it’s going to get so much worse, first?

I breathe, exhale, and relax. The world is a pretty chaotic and sometimes grotesquely frightening place, but right here? Right now? This moment? It’s fine. A woman on a hiking trail looking at the stars. It is peaceful and beautiful. I make room to enjoy this moment as it is. A lifetime is built on moments; it important to savor the pleasant ones, whatever the circumstances.

The mild almost warm morning wraps me gently. The first hints of daybreak begin to develop. I watch the sky quietly. I think about these mortal lives and the place we hold in the cosmos. We are so tiny, so fragile and finite – how is it these moments feel so important? I sit with my thoughts until it is time to begin again.

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

Facing the Day

December 1, 2025 //
0

We don’t always wake to a new day feeling eager and encouraged and excited at the possibilities. Sometimes it’s harder than that. That’s just real, eh? What I like to do on mornings such as that is “anchor” to some event or experience that felt joyful, fulfilling, safe… whatever positive emotional alternative that feels most “opposite” the emotional drag I woke to is “coming from”, if I can tell.

…This morning did not need that practice…

Yesterday was lovely. I got a nice walk, in the early morning sunshine. I got some things done that I’d planned to do, and also a few things that were sparked by some observation, or by a request by my Traveling Partner. My beloved and I hung out together quite a lot, and enjoyed each other’s company. Later on we shared the sort of intimate connected time that adults are fortunate to enjoy in a loving partnership. It’s nice to still be able to enjoy those “sexy fun times” together. My soul is still humming a merry tune, and I woke feeling wrapped in love, this morning.

Tis the season

The Giftmas tree is up, decorated, and greeted me with soft colorful light when I entered the living room. I smiled on my way past. I really like the tree this year. Each ornament tells a story of some other time or some special moment. My beloved Traveling Partner has kept the 3D printers busy making holiday items, and this year’s new ornament delights me. I am still thinking fondly of the weekend, although it is now behind me.

I hope I never lose my sense of fun and whimsy.

The work day peers over my shoulder, tapping at my consciousness impatiently. Four day weekends do that to me, sometimes. I get back to work ready and rested, almost impatient. The trick is to avoid succumbing to that subtle pressure and simply “stay on the path”, relaxed and unbothered. I breathe, exhale, and relax. I settle in and catch up on email and plan the day. “Nothing to see here,” I think to myself, feeling amused by the sense of “performance pressure”. I remind myself that consistency and a good plan produce a steady result over time, and that frenzied action most commonly results in errors and half-baked bullshit. My best work usually results from my most patient and well-considered effort, attentive, and focused. Funny that it took so long to learn that. I think on that awhile.

…On the other hand, I hope I never stop learning and growing…

I sip my coffee and think, too, about my Dear Friend. I miss her greatly this time of year, and broke down in tears once or twice over the past few days because of it. We shared a fondness for the holiday season, and when one or the other of us lacked the means to be at all lavish about it, we still shared conversation, sentiment, nostalgia, pictures…and I definitely miss the exchange of eager emails about this or that gift for this or that dear one. I miss talking over things we were making, or shopping for, and pictures of wrapped gifts. I miss the game of telling her I would likely not be able to send anything for Giftmas this year, and her agreeing with me that perhaps that was best, then both of us surprising each other with some unexpected package near to Giftmas Day. Shopping for the holiday, it hit me hardest; I don’t need to keep an eye out for some suitable little thing. She’s gone. My eyes tear up, just recognizing that loss, even for a moment. Grief is sometimes quite inconvenient. S’Ok. There is no shame in honest tears.

Love takes many forms.

I sigh to myself, and my heart is eased by the recollection of my Traveling Partner’s embrace, yesterday, during a similar moment. He understood. He held me close until my tears stopped.

The clock keeps ticking. I glance at the time. It’s a work day, and it’s time to begin again.

Tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,
Categories Allegories, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, grief, Healthy Living, Love, meditation, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, The Art of Being, women, Words

Finding Peace

March 1, 2025 //
0

Grief has its own time, its way of guiding us down a path. It’s not always obvious that the way out is through. Yesterday I took time to really grieve the loss of my Dear Friend, with my whole heart and nothing else on my mind. I needed that. Somewhere along the way I found my peace with it. I still miss her, sure, I always will. That’s appropriate. She was a good friend and our friendship endured almost thirty years of growth and change and even the break-up of my relationship with her first born.

The crocuses have begun to bloom.

I got home at a decent hour. Made my Traveling Partner a late lunch. Got a little gardening done. Evening came and dinner was a pleasant family affair, just the three of us, nothing fancy. My beloved had been busy with something in the shop that clearly had his attention. It’s easy to respect that; I’m delighted to see him on his feet and productive again.

As evening closed in on bedtime, my beloved came to me with a gift. A beautiful lithophane of a wild rose, framed in a light-box, originally (long ago) planned to be a gift for my Dear Friend. It was one of the first CNC projects started in my Traveling Partner’s shop, but had proved to be more complicated than originally expected as designed, and then circumstances pushed it to the side, unfinished. Time passed. Too much time passed, the opportunity to give the gift was lost.

I loved the lithophane more as a thing he was making than the potential gift it represented. I had taken the photo, a favorite picture of a rose. The interest in lithophanes as an art form was mine, too. The potential to be a gift was a way to see the thing done; it felt too complicated and frivolous to just ask for such a thing. So much work involved. Here it was, in his hands, finished, his gift to me to help heal my heart, a fitting moment of closure to a year of grief, this gift that began as an idea of a gift for a dear friend, becoming a gift for me. A demonstration of my Partner’s enduring love. I hadn’t expected it. I wept tears of joy and love and the day felt complete in a way I hadn’t expected it could.

I know my partner felt his own grief and regret that he’d never finished the lithophane, most particularly that he hadn’t finished it in time to give it to my Dear Friend. She’d have loved it, I’m sure; she loved every gift I gave her, and especially those that he had made for her. It would have joined the happy clutter of the many little things she didn’t have room for, along with paintings I’d given her over the years (which have now come back to me). I hope my beloved found his own peace in finishing the lithophane. I know I’ll cherish it always.

I know just where I’ll put it.

Grief has its own way, and follows its own path. Mine led me to peace. Now it’s time to begin again. I wonder where this path leads?

Tags , , , , , , , , , , , ,
Categories breathe, Free Will, grief, Love, meditation, Moments, Perspective, Relationships, The Art of Being

Contentment and Sufficiency

November 25, 2024 //
0

It’s a routine Monday morning, more or less. Small details deviating from the expected norms don’t change that. The weekend was strange and somewhat unfulfilling, and already feels like part of a distant past. I shrug off the bits that seem lacking and hold on to what worked.

“Stormy Sunset”  7″x 9.5″, 2024

I didn’t get as much painting done as I expected of myself. I found my heart elsewhere, over and over again, gazing out over the sea thinking of long gone friends and loved ones and letting unshed tears finally fall. It was a most peculiar and deeply emotional weekend, and although it was cut short, I was happy to see my Traveling Partner and to return safely home.

… Funny how reality can veer off our oh so carefully made plans…

I hear my partner’s voice in my memory, “I hope you got what you needed, at least…?” Did I? I don’t know – probably? I definitely needed something. To reconnect with myself more deeply, I think? I got that…or something very like it. Good enough. Sometimes it’s necessary to accept sufficiency and be content with it.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. It’s a Monday. A work day. The ringing in my ears is fucking ridiculous. The pain I’m in from my arthritis is enormously distracting and I am uncomfortable. Still, in spite of all that, I feel okay. It’s funny how much it matters to me that my partner was so concerned to ensure I have room to paint at home. He missed me greatly and doesn’t want me to feel that I have to leave to paint. I feel loved and appreciated, which matters more than the pain I’m in.

I sit with my thoughts awhile longer, even though it’s already time to begin again.

Tags , , , , , , , , , , ,
Categories Allegories, Art, art and the artist, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, The Art of Being
« Older Entries