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Ripples, Reflections, and Waves

September 23, 2026 //
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My homecoming was lovely, although I arrived in what turned out to be the middle of my Traveling Partner’s work day. I did my best to stay out of that, and to respect his work day.

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

I’m still thinking over experiences and lessons learned from my coastal getaway. Sometimes the processing takes more time than the lived experience. The thoughts come in waves, glimmering with the reflected light of many little fragments and impressions, the way the afternoon sunshine sparkles on the rippled surface of the sea.

It’s a metaphor.

There’s time for all that. I yawn as the sunrise begins to develop color. I drink in the autumn air on the edge of the marsh. A little chime goes off on my phone, reminding me to take morning meds. I stupidly attempt this simple feat without water, and choke on a tiny dry tablet that wants to stick dangerously near my airway. I cough several times, hard, and get relief, but now there’s a spot in my throat that just feels wrong, somehow. Annoying.

Like a moment on fire.

As I sit watching the sky, it lights up in hues of pink, magenta, lavender, and raspberry. So beautiful! No picture would really do this justice, and if I painted it just as it is, I feel certain it would be criticized for lack of realism. It’s quite fantastic and splendid, and I feel fortunate to see it. Wow.

I breathe, exhale, and relax, and think about the day ahead. He has appointments. I have an errand to run. Later, we’ll catch up with each other at home. He proposes we do something together. I agree that sounds nice. No idea what that will mean when we get there… but I’m looking forward to it. It’s easy to forget that today is a work day. I’m glad I took it off, instead of immediately diving back into work!

I sit with my thoughts and this beautiful sunrise. Soon enough it will be time to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, art and the artist, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, gratitude, Healthy Living, inspiration, joy, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, The Art of Being, The Big 5, War and News of War, women, Words

Golden Years

June 2, 2026 //
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I woke with a song in my head this morning. “Golden Years“, David Bowie…from sometime in the 70’s I think?  1976. An interesting year. His album Station to Station was one of the very first albums I ever owned. No idea why that was the song in my head as I woke… The song still lingering in my ears and my heart as I retired for the evening last night was very different, “End With You“, Benjamin Tod. Both are love songs, and certainly I’m feeling very loved this morning (as I did last night).

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

The waning full moon setting at dawn.

Another new day begins. I get up, dress, and water the lawn before I head to the trail for my walk. All very ordinary for the life I live now. My “golden years”? Yeah, maybe; I’m as close to living “happily ever after” as I’m likely to get, and it feels good to feel safe and to feel loved. Neither life nor love are “perfect” (whatever the hell that even is), but they’re pretty g’damned good, generally.

I sit with that thought at the side of this local trail as the sun rises, illuminating the stand of oaks that line this part of the path. The moon is a lovely pale pearl against the delicate pastel blue of the morning sky. Pretty. I smile to myself, thinking about a book and two new sweaters – early birthday presents from my beloved Traveling Partner who decided to give me multiple little gifts this year in the days leading up to my birthday, instead of all at once. I grin and swing my feet from my seat on this bench. I’m eager to wear the sweaters (they’re cute and cozy and suit my sense of style), and to read the book (it’s one I’ve been wanting to read). Today will be too warm for sweaters and there will be little time for reading, but these are temporary conditions and do nothing to dim my enthusiasm or change this feeling of being loved.

The sun lights the vineyard, and the clock keeps ticking. I remind myself to enjoy the time I have, “while I’m standing in it” – it’s the only time I’ve got! Now. The rest is either anticipation or memory. I breathe, exhale, and relax, and enjoy this moment.

… The work day will begin soon enough…

I smile like a kid and wonder what my next birthday present might be and what kind of birthday cake I might be enjoying when the day comes? My Traveling Partner knows so well how to delight me. I suddenly miss him with a ferocity that surprises me. He’s not gone, he’s at home, still asleep, and has yet to start his day. 😆 I’m as in love with him as I was the first time I felt his strong arms around me or the tenderness of his touch. I’m fortunate to know a love like this.

… What delights you? What little moments of good fortune put a smile on your face? I hope you make a point of enjoying every fleeting beautiful moment of joy that life brings your way!

I laugh when the song in my heart shifts gears unexpectedly. “Happy Together“… the Turtles? Weezer? Doesn’t matter, it’s the sentiment that matters. The joy. I’ve definitely got a few minutes for joy. Then it’ll be time to begin again. Hopefully I can pack my joy like a lunch and take it with me to enjoy all day.

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Categories Allegories, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, joy, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, Spring, The Art of Being, women, Words

Strange Days

April 10, 2026 //
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I’m still getting used to the sense of peace that has seemed to envelope our home. The Anxious Adventurer is well on his way back to his maternal family. He shares pictures and updates from the road, whenever he stops along the way. I’m glad he’s taking his time and having a safe journey. I’m glad he has moved out. I still don’t get how he managed to create so much tension and discord from his purported good intentions. One of life’s unsolved puzzles, I suppose.

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

Yesterday ends with a pretty pink sunset.

Yesterday was a lovely, rather ordinary seeming work day. I’m able to comfortably work from home any day – which was not at all the case while the Anxious Adventurer resided with us. We just weren’t getting enough good quality sleep and it was a far better choice to avoid bullshit conflicts caused by fatigue and lost resilience by working elsewhere. I sit at the halfway point of my walk this morning thinking about that between sneezing fits. I add travel tissues to my shopping list.

Today begins with a chance to begin again.

The weekend is almost here. I plan to spend time in the garden. I remind myself to ask my beloved Traveling Partner to turn on the outside water to the front of the house (I can’t reach that valve) and add a reminder to turn on the water to the back (which I can stoop down for more easily). It all feels so relaxed and ordinary.

… I feel so much love…

Pain changes who we are. Mine is more well-managed than it had been. The medications we may be asked to take for some variety of conditions may change who we are. I watched my beloved go through it both before and after his surgery. Of course the changes we go through (or which are inflicted upon us) also change us. No question about that, and as human beings we go through a lot of changes. The Anxious Adventurer chose change, but found it uncomfortable and never quite embraced the opportunities it presented. Fighting change also changes us. We are who we are – also true – and change itself is nonnegotiable. Change is.

… What we choose to do about change and how we behave in response to it matters a lot, and we have so much control over that…

I sit smiling, breathing the almost warm Spring air. It smells of flowers. I sneeze a few more times. Tree pollen. I’m okay with it. I like the smell of flowers more than I care about the sneezes. I think about my beloved Traveling Partner and my heart is filled with joy and encouragement. I’m grateful that in spite of going through so much these last couple of years, we’re still together, still a strong loving partnership. The outcome wasn’t guaranteed, and at times I had doubts. It was hard sometimes and I honestly wasn’t sure I could do the needful when called upon. I was so tired, so often. Here we are, though, on the other side. I’m glad.

I sit listening to the noisy robins and watching squirrels play. I spot shy bunnies in the underbrush at the edge of the trail. They are quicker than my camera this morning. I’m in no great hurry to rush off to begin the work day. I sit with sore muscles thinking about love.

For a time I allow myself the luxury of paying no mind to the ticking clock. I am not measuring minutes or moments, just enjoying them awhile. Later will be soon enough for work calendars and meeting schedules, housework and to-do lists. This moment is mine. I savor it. I can begin again a little later.

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

Steps on a Path

June 11, 2025 //
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I’m thinking about the year that is ending today. My birthday is tomorrow. My birthday last year is barely an afterthought or footnote in my memory, and I have to look up photos by date and old writing to recapture of sense of that day. It wasn’t as important-seeming as the imminent arrival of the Anxious Adventurer, or my Traveling Partner’s scheduled surgery and day-to-day care needs. At the end of May, I’d gone camping for a few days. In July, I made a change from painting in acrylic to painting in pastels. June? June is largely missing from my recollection. I think I was mostly just glad to have survived another year.

Pictures tell a tale of living life along familiar pathways: walks on favorite trails, getting storage ready to accomodate the Anxious Adventurer, and time spent on watches and my Traveling Partner’s watchmaking tools, a coffee at a little cafe in the Pearl District. All of it felt like either a distraction from, or preparation for, my Traveling Partner’s surgery, scheduled for August. It was a weird time, and my birthday wasn’t really a particularly “big deal”, all things considered. I was definitely okay with things just being okay.

Strangely, the more I search my emails and photos for pictures to do with my actual birthday last year, the clearer it becomes that I don’t have any. lol I appear to have (perhaps) gotten a new phone around this time last year? Possibly a new watch, although it’s not clear quite when that happened – perhaps in May. lol The photo history on my phone just stops some days after my birthday, and there is nothing older there. The photos in my cloud storage skip the entire week of my birthday. lol I was clearly putting my mind and my time on other things. I sigh to myself and let it go. It’s barely even a minor aggravation, just a bit puzzling considering how commonly I snap a picture of this or that moment. The year, taken as a whole, was a busy rollercoaster ride of emotions and trying circumstances, but there were many joyful moments and things I recall quite fondly in a life well-lived, generally speaking. I’m okay with that. More than okay with it, I just lack the right words.

…In spite of the chaos in the world, and the train wreck that is American government presently, I am happy to be alive, and faced with another birthday…

…62 years…

For sure this journey has not been all cake and ice cream. I’d laugh, but frankly trauma isn’t all that funny. I’m glad I have survived all that I have, and have had so many opportunities to begin again, to do more better, and to walk this path toward becoming the person I most want to be. I’ve grown a lot. I’ve learned a lot. I’m proud of the woman in the mirror; she’s been through some shit, and she’s seen some things, and still she persists in walking her path. I’d be impressed, too, but… (and?) I do know how very human I actually am, and how hard I really have to work, and how often it isn’t quite enough. My results vary and I need more practice. That’s just real.

So… today is the last day of being 61. It wasn’t exactly a milestone year of any kind, but it was the year during which I had to learn caregiving for real (and omg do I ever suck at that – it’s very difficult), and I am pretty glad to see this particular year coming to an end. Recent months have been pretty splendid, and I’ve loved feeling my relationship with my Traveling Partner deepen and grow and become something quite wonderful, like falling in love all over again. It’s good seeing him making real progress toward regaining his skills and mobility, and freeing himself from being dependent on caregiving. I’m eager to discover what 62 holds for me – and for us, as a new year together begins.

I sip my coffee looking out at the blue summer sky. There was a fat luminous full moon hanging low over the horizon as I left the house this morning, but it is long gone now. It’s a new day, and it’s time to begin again.

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Categories art and the artist, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, Love, meditation, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Spring, Summer, The Art of Being
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