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What Are You Celebrating?

July 4, 2026 //
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It is the actual 4th of July. What are you even celebrating? 250 years of… what, exactly? Or… are you celebrating something about the way things are, presently? Think about that. I’m not going to wait – this trail is ahead of me.

Where does this path lead? It’s an important question.

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

What are you celebrating today? America’s 250th birthday? The destruction of democracy at the hands of the corrupt and the foolish? Something more personal? (For a long time I celebrated my freedom and survival from my first marriage every July 4th – totally worth celebrating.) What does the day really mean to you? Is it only a third day off, and a cookout, followed by lackluster fireworks and the sound of sirens after some careless idiot blows his hand off misusing fireworks at home?

…250 years of racism and misogyny?..

On a lighter note, my Traveling Partner pointed out, a couple days ago, that we are observing the six year anniversary of moving into our little small town suburban home. Wow – already? I remember that first 4th of July in a new place, still moving in, no AC, listening to our neighbors blowing shit up until well past midnight. The house was stifling hot, the windows open to a breeze that never seemed enough to cool things down. (I’m glad we had the AC installed. Worth it.) I’m grateful to be free from the constant nagging awareness that my rented housing wasn’t really mine, noisy neighbors and all. Worth celebrating. We worked hard to get here. We are fortunate to be here.

A view of the Willamette River from a convenient rock.

I find a spot to sit awhile and watch the river flow past. I breathe, exhale, and relax. I exchange good morning greetings with my beloved. The lovely pinks and golds of the sunrise that I enjoyed getting here are long gone. The day looks overcast, and there is no hint of sunshine for now, although the forecast indicates a sunny hot day. (Maybe the government should have kept their meteorologists and weather data gathering agencies intact after all? Shortsighted fuckwits.)

I inhale the scented summer air. Flowers. Clover, blackberries, and St John’s Wort mostly, and some wild roses here and there. The combination is pleasant. I exhale slowly, and repeat, filling my lungs and my senses. This is a lovely spot to sit with my thoughts.

I watch young squirrels playing in the branches that hang over the trail. The saplings sway under their weight, flexing and springing back as they jump from branch to branch. While my attention is diverted, a chipmunk sneaks up and tugs at the end of my bootlace, then darts away when I look down. I laugh out loud and startle all manner of creatures back into the safety of the underbrush. Noisy human.

Little birds flit about, landing nearby for a moment, singing a bit of their song, then flying away. This is a beautiful spot. Quiet. Peaceful. I sit enjoying it awhile longer, taking note of blackberry vines heavy with unripe fruit. The thimbleberries are laden with young fruit, too. Among the native shrubs, a twisted old apple tree also has young fruits on it.

I sigh contentedly to myself. I’m not inclined to celebrate the dumpster fire that is modern day American “governance”, but I’ve got this beautiful day, and I am fortunate to enjoy this moment before returning home to a life rich in joy and love. That’s totally worth celebrating.

Wherever you are is a great place to begin, again.
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Categories 2024 Election, Allegories, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, inspiration, joy, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Practices, solo hiking, Summer, The Art of Being, Words

Here We All Are

June 28, 2026 //
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It is a gray rainy summer morning in the Pacific Northwest. Nothing particularly unusual about that. The temperature this morning is a mild 14C/58F. Comfortable. A muscle up the back of my right thigh is aching painfully. I mostly ignore it, but approach a favorite weekend trail from a different trailhead, with fewer hills. The more level ground is an easier walk.

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

What’s your moment like? I wonder briefly how it is we each have our own experience, living our individual “now” moment, like pages in a book; so similar at a glance, such differences in the details, and still so common and familiar we are able to understand each other.

I walk with my thoughts, feeling a delicate spatter of occasional raindrops on my face. Not enough to call it “raining”. The marshy places are barely damp now, replaced mostly with meadow until the heavy autumn rains return. The tall grass is already brown. Most of the wildflowers are fading, dropping seeds for next year’s Spring bloom. The trees in the distance are many hues and shades of green, looking fresh and lush from where I stand.

Doesn’t matter where you are, you’ve got to start somewhere, and that somewhere is where you are.

There’s a delicious spicy herb-y floral scent that I specifically associate with Oregon. I don’t know what it is. I love the scent of Oregon. Meadow, marsh, forest, dunes, desert, savannah…it hardly matters to me. I love the places I have seen and been and traveled through. Oregon is special to me, though I have trouble being clear as to precisely why. Of all the places I have lived or visited, Oregon is one of only two that draw me back again and again (the other is “the Eastern Shore” region of Maryland, with her marshy flatlands and peaceful coves). It’s not that I don’t like (and even love) many other places, it’s more that these “two” (Oregon is pretty vast to be a single place) call to my heart to come on home.

I get to my halfway point feeling a soft gratitude just to be alive, existing, and able to experience the simple joy of a summer morning. Uncomplicated. Unbothered. From my perch on a fence rail, I watch a multitude of little birds flit about. They have their own way of enjoying the morning. I breathe, exhale, and relax. This feels like enough. Right here. Now.

…I am, of course, overlooking all the corruption, drama, and harmful bullshit going on in the US, and around the world. I’m ignoring, for the moment, all the violence and genocide. Drone warfare. The bombings of civilian targets. The fuckwittery of our gerontocracy. The obscene greed of billionaires. The commonness of hate speech and incivility. It’s much. We all need to take steps to preserve our individual peace, and our resilience; the future of humanity may depend on our persistence and endurance. This isn’t a sprint. I sigh quietly and let all that go, again, for awhile…

I spent a couple hours in the studio this weekend. I may go back for more. Painting fulfills something for me that nothing else does. It is soul-nurturing, healing work.

“Summer Sunrise, McMinnville June 2026”

I gaze across the meadow observing the changing light and thinking about palette choices, shade, tint, and hue. How best to capture a misty rain drenching a summer meadow, I wonder? I sit watching until the rain reaches me, then laugh with delight when it finally does, as if surprised. It passes by quickly, leaving me a bit damp, glasses spattered.

I grin at my happy predicament. I don’t mind the rain. I get to my feet and stretch. The trail through the meadow beckons me, and it’s time to begin again (already?).  This, here, now, is as good a moment as any to take a next step, to choose, to walk on, and to begin… but really, anywhere is, it’s simply necessary to begin. To walk on. The clock is ticking.

What are you going to do about it?
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Categories 2024 Election, Allegories, art and the artist, 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, War and News of War, Words

Hello, Dawn

June 25, 2026 //
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I woke gently, ahead of my alarm. I freshenened up and dressed for the day, then watered the lawn as I left. It is a pleasant routine and a lovely morning.

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

I arrived at the trailhead as a beautiful sunrise began, hues of orange and gold quickly evolving to a delicate pearl pink sky. Beautiful.

Well, hello there brand new day!

I head down the path, enjoying the cool morning. Sometimes the path is clear, and the way ahead free of obstacles. Sometimes the walking is easy and my stride relaxed and comfortable. Some days are harder, others easier, and it took me far too long to learn to spend more time, emotional energy, and attention on the moments of joy and delight, however small or brief, than on the difficult moments. Truly, my difficulties generally find a way to get more than their “fair share” of my attention, no effort required. I savor this gentle delightful morning as I walk. I put attention on it, and keep my awareness firmly on “now”. The morning is a delight and I don’t want to miss any of it.

Vineyards along the trail under a pink sky.

I spent much of yesterday evening in my studio, sorting through recent images (and their associated recollections), finding the specific (best?) pictures that captured some detail I knew I wanted to paint. Another significant portion of the evening was spent in my Traveling Partner’s good company, as he showed me his drone and walked me through the features. He gifted me his previous drone, and talked me through basic operation. I even took my first flight! Oh, I’m slow about such things, and we were in the house, so really all I did was start her up,  take flight, and hover awhile, carefully feeling the experience of controlling her in the air. All the while, my Traveling Partner watched me thoughtfully.

… Loving someone with brain damage creates some challenges…

I woke this morning to a loving note from my partner. He’d carefully shopped for a better choice of “beginner drone” for me with features better suited to my limitations (and less likely to potentially injure me under predictable relatively common things that can (do) go awry for beginners). He made some recommendations, and I find myself genuinely excited about it. No particular reason to “go down this path”, beyond the fun of it, and the joy of a shared experience – but there is all of that, and I’m eager.

I grin to myself, feeling very loved this morning. I remind myself to study and take the TRUST test, so I can legally fly my drone.

Each dawn begins a new day. I say it a lot. This morning I’m really feeling the joy in it. There’s another busy work day ahead, but that will happen when the time comes. It needs no attention from me now. I sit contentedly with my thoughts.

There are hard times and good times, and it is pretty easy to miss out on the good times if I allow the hard times and moments of stress to dominate my thoughts beyond the boundaries of those moments. I breathe, exhale, and relax, feeling the pleasant summer morning infuse my consciousness with delight. The oaks stand watch alongside the trail as they always do, and I wonder (again) what their awareness might be like, and whether they have consciousness as I do? It’s not a question I can answer… but I do wonder.

…I think about coffee…

We make a lot of our challenges in life harder than they need to be. Just saying, that’s a very human thing – but we can choose differently. There are verbs involved. Decisions. Will. Action. (Practice.) I smile and watch a bunny on the opposite side of the trail from where I’m sitting. She has slowly come closer, nibbling tasty grasses and watching me for any sign of threatening movement. I sit quite still until she hops away back into the grass. We can choose how we treat those around us. I sit reflecting on how easy such choices seem in the abstract, and how difficult they can feel in the moment.

The clock ticks on. I’m grateful for the lovely gentle morning. I silently wish my beloved well, from the side of the trail, hoping his night was as good as mine, his sleep as restful, and his morning as full of effortless joy. Maybe it will be? Maybe it won’t be. Either way, I hope he knows he is loved. I look at the time. It’s already time to begin again.

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

Openness and “Yes, and”

June 19, 2026 //
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I woke shortly before my lights would have come on to start the day. My Traveling Partner was already awake. He invited me to join him for a coffee and to listen to an album he had found for me.

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

I tend to be a creature of habit. This is an intentional choice, with a clear purpose in mind; it prevents my life from falling apart due to consequences of brain damage and poor memory. It is one of many practical strategies and self-nurturing practices. Here’s the thing though; life is not “on rails”. The path is not a fixed determined way leading to a clearly identified destination. Life is an experience, and the menu of The Strange Diner is vast. We have options. Choices.

I chose coffee with my beloved. I start the sprinkler, and make us some coffee. He starts the music once I sit down. Oh, nice! A Muslimgauze album I haven’t heard! An “archival release” from 2016, so… posthumously. We listen together, drinking coffee. I’m enjoying it so completely I lose track of time – and I’m okay with that; I chose to embrace the moment.

Daylight on the trail.

When I start my walk, it is later in the morning. I’m okay with that, too. I’ve got time. Moments are precious and fleeting, and I do my best to make wise choices and face life and change with a measure of openness. It’s one of my “big 5” values. Openness balances routine and habit pretty well, and tends to prevent my thinking from becoming stale or rigid. Helpful, because I definitely don’t know everything, and most things in life are just not even “about me”.

I get to my halfway point wearing a smile and feeling relaxed and unbothered. I hear sirens in the distance; some other human being is having a pretty bad day, it sounds like. Out of long practiced habit, I wish them well from afar. It could have been me, and if it had been I’d appreciate some kindness, I know. “Thoughts and prayers” are not the most effective ways of handling an emergency, but what we carry in our thoughts and in our hearts does matter…it defines who we are when we are alone with ourselves.

I breathe, exhale, and relax, still hearing the music in my memory of the morning. I reflect on life and love and openness as a lived value. I’m glad I said “yes” to coffee with my beloved Traveling Partner. It was a great beginning to a new day.

I sit awhile in the Spring sunshine. A moment, a smile, and a good spot from which to begin a new day.

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Categories Allegories, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Practices, Relationships, Spring, The Art of Being, The Big 5, Words

Better Than Bad

June 15, 2026 //
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“Are we there yet?” What a strange journey. I sip my morning coffee looking out over the beach at the ocean. I woke to a lovely pearly dawn – and I slept in! What a treat. My first cup of coffee this morning is better than it was last time I stayed here. There is a new and very clean coffee machine in the room. It’s not fantastic coffee, but it’s not bad. I sip it carefully as it cools a bit, contemplating what it takes to make a truly exceptional cup of coffee. What do I even consider to be “a truly exceptional cup of coffee”? I sigh and let it go; as with most things, enough is truly enough.

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

The view I woke to this morning.

I think further about sufficiency, and remind myself that there are circumstances in which “sufficiency” is easily conflated with some compromise in cost or availability or timing that renders something wholly inadequate to the purpose at hand – in which case that isn’t “sufficient” at all, it’s an unfortunate compromise that does not work out well.

…We have to balance a lot of choices in this human life…

I sip my coffee thinking about tools, and how having the right tool for the job is pretty important. A poor choice of tool can ruin delicate work, or slow down completion of an important task. Living a life in which “sufficiency” is an important practice doesn’t mean making poor choices, it’s more about making wise ones. It’s an important distinction. Sometimes what is “sufficient” is actually a whole lot more in some way that I expect it to be. What is “enough” for me, in this moment or for this purpose, may not be “enough” for someone else, or for some other need, or some other time. It feels a bit like a moving goal post, but it is more to do with context and understanding.

…My Mazda is entirely sufficient for my own needs, but it made for a very poor substitute for a pick-up truck for my Traveling Partner’s work needs…

I listen to the waves crash in as I sip my coffee. Is it “sufficient”? Probably. Will I still go forth into the world for something better? Yes, I will. I’m not visiting the coast to experience austerity or seeking to limit myself solely to what is sufficient, this morning – I’m here to paint and to fill my senses with the wind and the waves, and my mind with inspiration. I’m not saying that requires a better cup of coffee, but I would enjoy one. Maybe with a freshly made bagel, down on the beach, perched on the end of some massive driftwood log, with a good view of the rock formation beyond my window, and shaded by the cliff that separates the town from the sea? That sounds pretty good. Definitely better than bad.

What will I find down on the beach?

Yesterday was hot. This hotel room does not have AC (it was built before climate change brought seriously hot days to the summers in this region). I had the window open to the cool sea breeze, but after miles of beach walking in the morning, the heat of the afternoon knocked me out and I napped on and off into the evening – and then still slept through the night! It was a delight to wake to the morning light flooding the room. This room has a nice angle and the light will be good for painting, a little later. I feel rested and alert and alive. I finish my coffee, and morning meditation. I sit awhile, letting my mind wander, listening to the waves.

Each time for the first time. Each moment the only moment. Ichi-go ichi-e. Be here now. Vita contemplativa. The clock is ticking – so what? Let it tick. There is time for “now”.

Give me a minute – in due time I’ll begin again.

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Categories Allegories, art and the artist, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, inspiration, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Spring, Summer, The Art of Being, Words
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