Archives for posts with tag: Ichi-go ichi-e
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Step Away From The Feed

October 14, 2026 //
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I get to the halfway point on my walk and take a seat on the bench that happens to be here. I breathe the autumn morning air deeply, filling my lungs then exhaling slowly. It’s a pleasantly mild morning. My breath is not visible.

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

This morning feels pretty good so far, although I’ve been slow to get going. I was awakened from a deep sound sleep and dreams that seemed snatched from another, other, life. Very real. Strangely practical. This morning feels better in spite of chronic pain, and in spite of my tinnitus. It feels better for what is missing more than what is going on in this moment; no feeds, none at all. I haven’t even looked at my calendar. It is telling how much difference it makes.

… I’m not telling you what to do, I am sharing what is working for me…

Scrolling feeds in the morning definitely fucks up my headspace, reducing my resilience and filtering my experience of “now” through all kinds of negativity and drama, and general bad news. It’s not actually good for “keeping me informed”, and hasn’t proven necessary at all. Any FOMO that develops reliably turns out to be as dumb as that acronym. People can and do live beautifully rich lives without doom scrolling through AI slop and advertisements.

I smile in the darkness, feeling light. There’s nothing newsworthy at all going on right here, right now… and that’s fine. It is a quiet, relatively dull moment. Life is full of such moments. Enjoy them! I breathe, exhale, and relax. It’s a nice spot to meditate and to reflect. I also don’t need feeds for that.

I see hints of daybreak in the lighter shade of the night sky. Cloudy. I wonder whether it might rain? I sigh to myself. I’d like to get my GMRS mobile radio installed in my car, weather permitting. I meant to yesterday and wonder where the time went? I remind myself again that I have an appointment this afternoon. I wonder what the traffic will be like? Oh sure, I could answer all those questions and more by opening one app or another on my device, but g’damn I am enjoying these “answer free” moments greatly, and really don’t care about the answers to any of those questions. It’s fine to wonder.

I sigh contentedly. I meditate. I reflect under the cloudy starless sky. It’s enough. I can begin again later – and I still won’t need a feed for that.

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

The Wayback Machine

October 5, 2026 //
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Music is funny stuff. It’s not just pleasing to the ears, it’s also a sort of a “time machine”, after a fashion.

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

I woke this morning with a song in my head, which persistently tried to carry me back to a moment on a hot summer day in Texas, in 1986. I’ve nothing to do there/then, and resist the pull of that long ago moment in favor of this one, here, now.

As I walk down the trail in the dark, I do manage to “change the channel”. My “inner playlist” cues up something a bit moodier, still tugging my attention towards the past.

Hmph. No time for time machines this morning. I stop on the trail and open a music app. I pick out a “mood resetter” and walk on. That’s better. In the darkness the beat powers my steps. I don’t have any experiences or emotions paired to this track, either, and my thoughts return to the moment I’m in.

… Sometimes “the Wayback Machine” is handy, other times less so…

I get to my halfway point and take a few minutes to relax in the peaceful predawn darkness. The weekend was a pleasant one. I sit smiling to myself, thinking about the time spent in the studio and time spent with my Traveling Partner,  and an excellent stir-fry on Saturday. Pleasant and ordinary and wholesome, and a beautiful memory worth savoring.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. It’s a comfortable routine at this point; get up early, walk, meditate, write, then begin the work day. I sit quietly under the starry sky. This feeling right here is one that I worked a long time to be able to experience. Worth it. Contentment and a soft quiet joy are worth making changes for, and worth all the practicing of practices.

… Your results may vary…

I sigh to myself. Contentment is an amazing feeling. Curious that we don’t talk about it more – we’re too focused on chasing happiness to notice more subtle (and potential lasting) emotions like contentment. I sit with my thoughts, watching a curious mist gathering. It hangs in a distinct layer above my head. Hints of daybreak appear. I stretch and get to my feet. Of course, it’s time to begin, again.

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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, Relationships, solo hiking, The Art of Being, The Big 5, women, Words

I’m Okay, Are You?

October 1, 2026 //
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I’m okay, for most values of “okay”. It’ll have to do. It’s honestly not worth the effort to bitch about anything going on with me. Mundane stuff. How are you? I care and I’m curious. (Comment if you wish.)

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

I’m sitting at the halfway point on this hike, and probably life as well (if I’m lucky enough to be around to see 120-ish). I have felt as though I’ve been living life “at the halfway point” for awhile now, 15-20 years maybe. It has been a time of struggle, change, healing, and growth. I’ve made some good friends in this time, I’ve probably lost more.

…There’s never a guarantee that life’s scale would balance for me as an unremarkable individual human primate, one of many…

I breathe, exhale, and relax. The cycle is a simple one. My day begins. I do my best. I survive the experience. I sleep, wake, and begin again. And again. And again. Eventually, the sands of time will run out on this one mortal experience. I’ve no idea what’s after that – no one has come back to say. I sit with that thought awhile. Uncertainty. Impermanence. Change. Big ideas that seem smaller under the black night sky. Doesn’t matter. My time. My thoughts.

I meditate. Enjoy the mild autumn morning. Watch for daybreak. Write a few words. I’d rather be setting up my easel for another piece, but it’s a work day. I think ahead to the weekend. Soon.

This is one of those mornings that feels almost like a throwaway moment, “nothing to see here”, as if it were a rerun, and not because I have a routine. It’s more that the moment is unremarkable, which is true in all but one way; the very ordinariness itself. The gentle mundanity is so spectacularly strange feeling to me sometimes, I find it remarkable. Very little of my life has been gently ordinary. I don’t really know whether (or quite how) to enjoy it. I wonder how many such moments I have undermined with unnecessary drama or emotional bullshit in the past simply because I didn’t know how to deal with the ordinary?

I sigh to myself and notice the trees seem more obvious, silhouetted against the sky, than they did moments ago. Daybreak soon, I suppose. Another sigh. I get to my feet and stretch, looking down the path. It’s only a moment. I begin again.

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Categories Allegories, Anxiety, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, solo hiking, The Art of Being

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

Something Like That, But Different

September 11, 2026 //
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Weird morning… but, not really, I guess. That is part of the sensation of strangeness; the morning has been so utterly ordinary it feels rather strange.

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

I reached the halfway point of my walk in good time. My thoughts are my own.

Very bright (excessively) outdoor lights on a nearby farm building have all been turned on, and they irritate me a bit, but I imagine the farm workers prefer not having to work in the dark. I was grateful when the path turned and put those lights behind me. Walking towards them, they were blinding me a bit. Walking with these very bright lights at my back, the trail ahead is well lit, and my headlamp is not necessary.

Here at this spot along the trail, I can still see those lights, but they are neither helpful nor blinding, only specks of light in the greater darkness. I think about that awhile. A useful metaphor.

I yawn and stretch. How am I this stiff and sore?! I feel like I was in a fight, or endured hours of intense exercise – and I have had no such experiences recently. I definitely could have slept longer. I sit with that thought for a slow moment, doing nothing else. I’m looking forward to a few days of painting on the coast, and watching the tides come and go, over the Equinox… and sleeping in. I’m definitely looking forward to sleeping in.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I meditate. I reflect on this and that. More breathing (best to keep that going, yeah? 😆).

This is one of those quiet, easy to take for granted, sort of mornings on which everything seems…fine. Pleasant. Quite enjoyable all around, save for the subtle nagging sensation that it won’t last. I chuckle to myself at the very idea that it could be any other way. That’s the tempting lie; imagining that life might ever be other than it is, (which is generally fraught with trauma and turmoil, and challenging circumstances) for anything more than a moment. I smile feeling a little like I know some notable secret that unlocks the mystery of life (I don’t). “Go with it,” isn’t much of a secret. Neither is “be kind to yourself,” nor is “enjoy the moment you’re in”. These are potentially mere platitudes with limited utility. It matters greatly how (and whether) I put them to some kind of use.

…Verbs…

It was nice to get into the studio for a little while yesterday, after work. Productive time for and about me – and considering how good that felt, I should clearly be doing it more often. Hell, I even ended the day with enough left in me to cook a proper meal! (I make an excellent and thoroughly delicious stir-fry.)

…I forgot to grab my lunch as I left the house…

I barely notice daybreak when it comes, sitting here with my thoughts. I sigh and get to my feet. Like a child pulling the covers up over me to be warmer, finding too late that my feet have become cold, I consider beginning work early to end the work day earlier. I laugh at myself. I’m familiar with how that tends to work out in practice; working longer for no good reason, and with little value. I commit to relaxing with my thoughts a few more minutes.

…Then I begin again. I’ve got a whole new day for being and becoming, and practicing practices. I hope I choose wisely.

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Categories Allegories, art and the artist, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, inspiration, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, solo hiking, Summer, The Art of Being, Words
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