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The Plan Is Not The Experience

September 7, 2026 //
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I made my plan yesterday evening, after returning from the coast. I’d take my walk in the morning, and return home, do a needful housekeeping project, do laundry, and paint. My plan has already begun to unravel.

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

I stepped out onto the trail and it … squished. Mud. Quite a lot of mud, actually. I guess I’m not surprised; we’ve had a couple days of rain. In late fall and winter, I don’t bother with this trail, because it becomes treacherously muddy and difficult for me. I sigh to myself. It’s not going to be that bad, but I don’t see enough with my headlamp to feel wholly secure tackling this trail that runs alongside the Willamette River for quite a distance. Sliding off some bit of river bank into that icy water is not on my list of desirable adventures to enjoy on a Monday off! 😆

I get back in the car to write and meditate and wait for daybreak.

When daybreak comes, I embrace the opportunity to see the world with new eyes.

The trail is slick in spots and muddy, but not impassably so. I slow down, grateful for my cane. The morning is cool and still smells of rain. The robins are out, calling to each other from the trees, and scurrying along the ground, looking for tasty morsels. Chipmunks, squirrels, bunnies – it’s a fun morning to spot creatures along my route. Before I got started, there was an owl calling from somewhere very nearby. I take my time and enjoy the walk.

One of many bunnies. So many bunnies. 😆

The bunnies – young from this year, I think, based on their size – cavort happily in the weeds and shrubbery along the path, now and then darting across the path to the other side. They disappear into the brush as I approach, and reappear behind me after I pass. I wonder to myself how many will survive the hungry owl I heard earlier?

I notice leaves already beginning to turn. It seems “too soon” for those changes, but the equinox is only two weeks away. I keep walking.

The sun begins to rise above the trees on the opposite bank of the river, to the east. It shines golden through the trees. Hints of gold, amber, and russet hues among the leaves and dense summer foliage are more pronounced in the sun beams stretching across the path. Seasons change. The clock ticks on.

Annoying loud voices approach from behind me on the trail. I pause and step to the side, turning to have a look. Loud older men, with fishing gear and a rather ridiculous amount of genial camaraderie, making their way to some favorite fishing spot, with as much right to be here as I have myself. They’re still fucking annoying, being all loud and stuff on this lovely quiet morning. They each raise a hand in greeting and offer me a boisterous good morning greeting. I nod, wave, and return their greeting, staying back from the path until they pass by, then continue on my way, happy that the branching trail takes me up the hill and around the other side of the meadow, in the opposite direction.

A new day will come, and with it a chance to begin again.

“Softly, as in a morning sunrise…” I begin to sing as I walk, feeling the moment differently as the golden light fills the space between the leaves of the trees along the path. Oh, to be sure, the legacy of Nancy Wilson has nothing to fear from me. 😆 I can’t carry a tune – but I love the way it feels to sing the song in my heart.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I definitely still plan to paint today, but I know the value of a plan, and I have been humbled by circumstances too often to count on a plan becoming reality. Maybe it does, maybe it doesn’t. Maybe I sit down to my easel, but inspiration won’t make the short trip from my mind to my hands, or maybe my hands won’t cooperate in bringing my inspiration to life? Maybe my Traveling Partner will ask for my help with something else? Maybe… Life is a sea of maybes and the plan is not the experience.

Practice non-attachment. Count on impermanence. Change is.

My headache reminds that this fragile vessel has its own limitations to be accounted for. I sigh quietly. I keep walking. The clock keeps ticking. The sun rises on a new day.

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

Cloudy With a Chance of Imperfection

August 31, 2026 //
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Yesterday was a mixed bag of joy and aggravation. I really wanted to paint after returning home from coffee with a friend. I was in so much pain that I was uncomfortable to be around, even for me.

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

I couldn’t make it work, and inspiration got hung up in my Traveling Partner’s irritation and my own discomfort. I took more pain medication and laid down for awhile.

My beloved kindly woke me some time later, so I wouldn’t miss the entire day. I got some laundry done. We hung out a bit. It was fine. It was a quiet, mostly pleasant evening together. I went to bed early (crazy early, like 6:30 pm) still dealing with pain. I slept through the night, waking only once, briefly. I must have needed the rest.

This morning I woke rested, mind empty, heart serene, feeling content and unbothered. I dressed and left the house, seemingly without waking my beloved. I hope he sleeps deeply and wakes rested.

Heading down the trail, the morning seems almost spooky it is so quiet. I gently touch my left ear, checking that I actually do have my hearing aids in. Yep. It’s just an unusually quiet morning. My footsteps seem quite loud, generally I don’t notice them at all. My breathing, too, is audible. My tinnitus? Not as bad as usual, seems like. I do a simple “body scan” as I walk. Vertigo? Nope. That has thankfully cleared up. Headache? Mild. Arthritis pain? It’s there, but not yet bothersome, today. My gait feels steady, and if not effortless, at least comfortable. Good enough. Generally speaking, a mostly comfortable Monday.

The first hints of daybreak reveal the trees, silhouetted against a dark sky, not yet at all blue. I’m also not blue, which is a nice feeling, although I know my Traveling Partner would ask me irritably to rephrase it in terms of what I am feeling, which does seem reasonable. I guess this morning I am feeling…calm? Calm. Contented. Yesterday I felt the weight of considerable sorrow, though I never really sorted out why. Sleeping it off was probably a good choice.

So… here I am. Today. I get to my halfway point and stop to meditate and to write. It is an ordinary work day. I don’t really have anything on my mind at the moment, and don’t feel like digging around in my brain trying to find some worthwhile kernel of an idea to get started with, so it’s just me, and this moment. That’s fine, too. It’s enough. I breathe, exhale, and relax.

As I watch the sky lighten and change colors, dawn becoming day, I think about the powerful advantage (and convenience) offered by having dedicated studio space again. I can paint after work, any time. I smile; the thought feels like a quick shot of high potency joy straight to my soul. I grin to myself and fidget excitedly like a kid about to receive a gift they just know is exactly what they wanted. I chuckle aloud. I’m pretty easy to please. My Traveling Partner is right; I need to take better care of myself, and do more things for me. He is far more capable than he was after his injury, and I can trust him to tell me when or if he needs help. That’s a huge weight off my shoulders, and peculiarly, I am having some difficulty adapting.

I breathe deeply, and as I exhale I visualize releasing my stress and baggage. It’s a simple, perhaps slightly silly exercise, but I find it effective. I relax and return to meditation. I write. I watch the sun rise. I begin again.

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

On Death and Impermanence

August 26, 2026 //
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Some time ago, I left myself a note scrawled in a notebook I keep tucked in my handbag.

Write about death, art, what we leave behind, how little anyone will care or remember. Talk about how we yearn, and take, and build, and how little it matters and all of our destruction for what? Admit to the hypocrisy of even writing about it. Ponder meaning and impermanence.

Yeah…or don’t? I read about Dolly Parton dying with little surprise and an unexpected feeling of real sorrow. I don’t listen to her music much, and she still managed to touch my life. How strange.

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

I head down the trail in the darkness. Sunrise is a way off yet. By the first hint of daybreak I reach my halfway point, still pondering Dolly Parton. She seemed to have been equally famous for her music and her genuine goodness, and I saw her relationship as a powerful model of what partnership over a lifetime could look like. How often are truly decent good people ever famous? She did a lot in life to spread that around, too.

…In a world where you can choose to be a Donald Trump or a Dolly Parton, wouldn’t being Dolly be by far the better choice? I’m just saying, clearly being a good person didn’t hold Dolly back at all. Choose wisely. The path ahead is your own.

I sit thinking about choices, and kindness, and being the best version of myself I know how to be, in spite of physical pain, in spite of chaos and damage, in spite of circumstances. Dolly made it look easy, but looking at those hairdos and those outfits, and reading some of her backstory, I very much doubt “easy” was part of the package. She did the verbs, though, and this does tend to support the idea that they can be done.

… And she leaves behind her art, as a musician, and so many memories for people whose lives she touched. As legacies go, that’s pretty big. Impermanence is what it is, and someday everything and everyone that ever existed on this earth, and even the very planet herself will be gone, and maybe then, Dolly will be forgotten, along with the rest of us… But for all the time humanity lingers, creating lives and memories on this mud ball hurtling through space, we have a chance to be better than our worst impulses, and to create a world that says something wonderful about who we were, once we’re gone. That seems worthwhile.

I sit with that thought awhile. Daybreak comes. It’s a bit cooler today. I’m grateful for the cool of the morning. It’s likely to be another hot day. I slept well and deeply, waking only once, and rather early in the night, for no obvious reason. I’m rested, but also uncomfortable. It’s mostly just arthritis, and I do my best to let it go with minimal success. I find myself a little aggravated that today is a work day, but also grateful just to have a job at all.

I sigh to myself. Sometimes life feels like an endless series of compromises between equally unpleasant choices, although I know that is an illusion. There are so many more choices available, and my choices to compromise this or that are my own. I smile to myself at the reminder and stretch, feeling my body welcome the movement. I feel okay for most values of “okay”, and it’s a lovely morning to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, Art, art and the artist, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, grief, health, Healthy Living, inspiration, meditation, Metaphors, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, solo hiking, Summer, The Art of Being, women, Words

Every Step

August 18, 2026 //
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I woke from complicated dreams feeling unbothered. They faded from my recollection before a memory of the details could form. I dressed and left the house, going back for my new headlamp, which I managed to forget in spite of the helpful note from my Traveling Partner.

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

I set off down the trail in the dark, my headlamp creating a well lit area ahead of me (or wherever I happen to look). It’s a much better headlamp than my old one. I’m not really surprised by that; my beloved recommended it to me. I smile to myself. I feel loved, with every step.

The humidity is 93% this morning, according to the weather app on my phone. Bleh. I feel it. It feels like other places I’ve lived… Maryland… Georgia… Alabama. Oof. I begin sweating before I’ve reached my halfway point. By the time I stop, I’m pretty damp. The air quality is some better today though, feels like. The temperature is mild and the air is calm. It’s a quiet morning. I sigh to myself and take a seat on a big rock. It’s not yet daybreak.

“Nothing to see here,” I think to myself. It’s not a criticism. I feel content and unbothered, and mostly pretty comfortable. Comfort is relative. I don’t escape the chronic pain very often at this point (hardly ever), but this morning it is a manageable 2 out of 10. I stare at the circle of light on the pavement just beyond the edge of my boots. Nothing to see there either really. I breathe, exhale, and relax. Nice morning for a quiet bit of meditation.

I rub my hands together, massaging my thumbs with particular care. I’d like to be painting and it feels unfair to be feeling arthritis developing in my hands. I find myself wondering if a paraffin wax heat treatment would help or only feel nice? I sigh out loud without meaning to, and notice that the air tastes a bit like fall, already. My mind wanders – maybe some time in the studio this weekend? That would be lovely.

I sit watching as daybreak arrives. I turn off my headlamp and let it hang from my neck. I’ll wait awhile longer, here with my thoughts, and then I’ll begin again. I can see the path ahead pretty well now. Here comes a new day. What will I do with it? I don’t know yet, aside from working. I hope I choose wisely.

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

Life is Defined by Decisions

August 2, 2026 //
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Walking with my thoughts at daybreak. I have a Benjamin Tod song stuck in my head. The refrain is direct and deeply meaningful for me.

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

Life is defined by decisions
You may burn bridges you ain’t got time to mend
You’re too old to be in this condition
You’re too young for the lord to take in

Real. Life is defined by our decisions, or at least shaped by them significantly. We are shaped by circumstances. Shaped by trauma. Shaped by our decisions. When I give it too much thought I begin to feel the mighty fist of fate squeezing and molding me with as little regard for me individually as a toddler with Play-Doh. Here I am.

Yesterday was “defined by” decisions, for sure. A lot of words come to mind, but I still have a lot to consider and process and put into future decisions. Verbs.

My beloved reads my writing (almost every day). One of the most delightful things about my Traveling Partner reading my writing is that I feel very “seen” – visible. Understood. When I make some point very well, he takes a moment to let me know and sometimes shares my writing. It’s something I appreciate.

One of the most uncomfortable things about my Traveling Partner reading my writing is that I am very visible; he sees where I am falling short on good self-care, and when I let some critical practice fall by the wayside. He points out hypocrisy. He calls me on my bullshit. When I’m struggling with something I’ve dealt with before, he observes the pattern and redirects my attention to some previous bit of writing with which I can support myself and get back on track. This too I appreciate – but it is uncomfortable as hell. I’m grateful. We don’t grow from comfortable experiences.

…If I were a better person, perhaps I would find a more gracious approach to accepting his support. I sigh to myself. I can be a resentful defensive asshole about feedback sometimes. I can do better. I’ll practice…

Our conversations yesterday were powerful, raw, deeply meaningful, heartfelt, frank, and vulnerable. I’m not going to call it a good time – but it was needed and I feel more deeply connected with my partner as a result. That’s good stuff. The discomfort doesn’t last. The feeling of connection can, if I feed it some verbs.

The sun lights the treetops, looking a bit like autumn.

The morning is cloudy. It feels like it may actually rain. After I finish my walk, it’s another day of laundry, and chores and housekeeping. My pain feels pretty well managed. I’ll work on keeping it that way.

… Life is defined by decisions…

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I’m still more questions than answers. Still a student of life, practicing practices, doing my best, and taking this journey without a map one step at a time. Incremental change over time really does add up, but it is a slow process, and we definitely can’t expect the promise of future progress to satisfy every circumstance. It is what it is (which is to say slow and uncomfortable, but worth the effort).

I smile thinking about enjoying a cup of coffee with my beloved before I set off for my walk this morning. Vulnerable is hard. Connected is supremely beautiful. These experiences are related; connection requires vulnerability. I am good at neither of these. I sigh to myself at the admission. Okay, now that I’ve said it, where does that leave me? Standing on the edge a beginning, I guess.

Summer meadow flowers

I sit watching a new day begin. It’s time isn’t it? We create a lot of our experience. Our lives are defined by our decisions. Choose wisely. Do the verbs. The clock is ticking. Fuck it all up? Well, shit, learn something and begin again. Learn what matters most. Decide who you most want to be. Do those verbs. Didn’t work out? Do something different. Incremental change over time will continue to shape and define you. It’s a process.

I sit awhile longer reflecting on the progress I’ve seen my partner make in the lifetime we’ve spent together. He’s certainly playing the game on advanced settings. We’ve traveled a long and difficult journey together. It is an adventure I hope to continue all of my mortal days (and whatever may be beyond them).

It’s time to begin. Again.

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Categories Allegories, anger, Anxiety, Brain Injury, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, Frustration, gratitude, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Summer, The Art of Being, The Big 5
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