Archives for posts with tag: love and lovers
« Older Entries

Baptism by the Sea

September 20, 2026 //
0

Or, more specifically, in it. It was the “joyful noise” that distracted me from what I was doing, which was a less than ideally productive bit of messing about with a painting I already knew had “failed” – so I was working and overworking it, trying to find something in it worth keeping. I did not. The noise down on the beach wafted up at regular intervals. Cheering. Clapping. A crowd of merry-makers. It is, after all, a beach, and it is the end of summer.

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

My back was aching, anyway. I stood and stretched to take a break and step out onto the balcony to see the source of the noise. A dense gathering of people, on day I might not expect so large a crowd unless for a planned event (like the kite flying event going on further up the beach this weekend). I watch and listen. I can’t make out the words, other than an occasional call for “the next” to come into the water. There the crowd, on the edge of the water. The bay is very shallow and it is low tide (just 12 minutes ago). There is a man separated from the crowd, further out, where the (very) shallow bay reaches waist deep on an average-sized man, which this one appears to be. He raises his arms to the sky, calls to the next person, they come to him in the water – and he dunks them in. The crowd goes wild with cheers, clapping, and calls of “hallelujah!”. Full immersion baptism is still a thing in some Christian denominations. (I can’t say I really “understand”, but understanding is not what religions are about.)

…I rather question doing that sort of thing in the muddy water of Siletz Bay, but it isn’t my religion, and I really just don’t have a horse in that race…

I stand on the balcony watching for a little while. I find myself wondering why the many followers of the god of Abraham, Isaac, and Moses Jacob* don’t all recognize each other on the path? Why are they at odds, ever? The ink on a set of holy documents is barely dry before older sects decry the false gods and heresies of a religion that just seems like more of the same to me, with my outsider’s perspective. Fighting like poorly behaved siblings, and very much in need of a nap. Real community develops around shared ideas (and suspicions), but it is a shame so much damage is done in the world over religion(s).

A September morning at Siletz Bay, and no hint that a sunny afternoon is ahead.

I take a breath of the clean sea air. The afternoon is warm after a chilly, overcast, misty morning. When did that change occur, I find myself wondering. I had been “distracted” from watching the clouds and the changing tide, focused on a small 5″ x 7″ piece of carefully prepared board, on which I had been utterly failing to achieve anything that could actually be called “art’. The colors came out muddy and imprecise, and the lack of precision wasn’t the serendipitous sort I often count on, it was more the failed chaos of the lack of clarity of mind that sometimes comes “as a side” with inspiration (for me). Too many ideas, and I failed to select the focal point of the work with sufficient care. The piece doesn’t know what it wants to be, at all, and our dialogue fails to reach an understanding between thought and execution.

Afternoon sunshine, ripples on water.

…The warm afternoon sunshine cares nothing about such things. I make a cup of tea and take it out onto the balcony, to listen to the waves as the tide turns…

I briefly consider taking pictures of the baptism ceremony happening on the beach below me, and decide against it. Isn’t part of what’s gone wrong in the world the loss of privacy from too many of our personal moments being photographed by (or for) strangers and unseen cameras? Turning our lived moments into “content” for the broader consumption of others is a little weird, is it not? Were I participating in such a moving personal moment as my baptism into a religion, I would certainly not want to discover later that it was published somewhere, in an article I had no opportunity to see or consider, putting me on display for anyone at any moment. Nope. I would not care for that at all. So… I put my camera down, and sipped my tea instead.

A recent sunrise near home. A moment of lived experience that will never be repeated quite as it was.

We make moments. We make art. These are very human things. Lived experience. You know what “AI” doesn’t have? Any of that. No comprehension. No emotion. No pleasure in a moment of lived experience. No context. No compersion. No joy. No ability to grow wisdom through failure – because there is no understanding. I watch the sun beginning the slow summer journey from afternoon to eventual nightfall. It’ll come when it comes. Watching a sunset on a warm summer afternoon is also a very human experience. However many times you might get an AI to describe a sunset, it has never seen one. You may not like everything about every group of people, but do you really want to abdicate human decision-making about human lives to some thoughtless algorithm that doesn’t understand the consequences of its decisions and can’t comprehend the outcome? That can’t ever understand the emotional and real-world cost of taking human lives? I sip my tea and think my thoughts as I watch the human beings on the beach doing human things. Living their lives.

An unexpected visitor.

Gulls sail past on eddies of air currents invisible to me. They watch me sitting on the balcony, expectantly. Will I, perhaps, bring something tasty out onto the balcony and carelessly look away? They are practiced at this. I can see from the spatterings of bird poop on the balcony rail that this is a stopping point for one or more of these birds. (Earlier this morning, I turned and found myself facing a lone pigeon sitting on the rail. Gulls are bigger, but it’s no surprise when they stop on the balcony or on the rail – tourists mean snacks..) I watch the small fishing boats out in the choppy waters at the mouth of the bay. This is a popular spot for fishers.

I sip my tea, and think about love. The moment feels eternal. I’m not in any hurry, and I can’t hear the clock ticking at all. 🙂

*and a quick “thanks!” for my Traveling Partner, who definitely knows more about Christianity than I do!!

Tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,
Categories Allegories, Art, art and the artist, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, inspiration, joy, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, The Art of Being, The Big 5, thoughts on AI, Words

Love Songs In The Key Of G

August 15, 2026 //
0

I slept in. It was after 05:00 when I woke. The house was quiet. I got up, dressed, and left without rushing but as quietly as I could. I nonetheless managed to bang the bathroom door with my knee, but as I left the house still seemed quiet. It seemed likely my beloved may have slept through me leaving. Win.

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

The morning is gray, cloudy and overcast, and the dry meadow has a different scent as my steps crunch down the trail. My thoughts are looking back on yesterday evening’s stress and conflict. His pain. My pain. The various different medications we each take, some that are unfortunately very sensitive to changes in timing or dosage, some that don’t combine easily with this or that other medication. His PTSD. My PTSD. His perspective. My perspective. Each of us having our own experience of the moment. Sometimes conflict develops out of any one of these – or out of some mismatch in assumptions, expectations, or values, or out of fatigue or pure human cussedness. It’s all so very human.

… It’s also seriously vexing…

Our evening ended decently well, in spite of his irritation with me…or was it mine, with him? I take a deep breath and release slowly, something like a sigh, something like letting it go. We’re very human. Sometimes human is hard.

It seems trite to say I am “a work in progress”, but it is true; we are each continuously becoming the person we will be in some future moment, on some future day. We make choices. We take actions. We demonstrate our current skills. We make decisions based on our understanding in the moment. We endure the consequences of who we are now. Along the way, we become… someone. Hopefully we become someone just a little bit more like the person we most want to be, each day. As goals go, it’s a pretty good one.

I look out over the summer meadow dotted with ponds. Soon enough, the rain will return, the ponds will swell and become small lakes, and the meadow will become marsh again. There is seasonality in love, too, though it’s less clear precisely when or why the seasons of love change; these changes don’t show up on my calendar. I sigh to myself. I love my Traveling Partner on this whole unnecessary potentially unhealthy deeply passionate level that doesn’t make any fucking sense at all. When he’s angry or frustrated with me, I feel such indescribable pain. It’s likely the same for him; I can feel how much he loves me, and I see it everywhere around our home.

… Passion and devotion don’t necessarily equate to “healthy”. I could do better, and I have much to learn. Maybe that’s the point of it all, anyway? To learn, to grow, to become…

Somewhere else in the world (27 miles away, at home) my beloved wakes and pings me a greeting and my heart takes flight, as though I’m a teenager with her first crush. Crazy to love like this. I mean that as it sounds, potentially a sign of (or coming from) mental illness. 😂 I mean, as mental illnesses go, I’ll take being in love over any other for sure, but I’m not entirely convinced it isn’t actually craziness.

I smile like an idiot at the little birds keeping me company, perched on this fence rail. I feel pretty good. I got enough rest. I am in love. For now that feels like enough. I remind myself to take my time, and to do my best. I remind myself to listen deeply and to communicate understanding, and to be present. It’s a lot, and I’ll keep practicing. We become what we practice.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I let some minutes tick by, sitting here with my thoughts and a heart full of love. It’s already time to begin again…

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

Hazy Sky

July 31, 2026 //
0

I walk with my thoughts. The sky is hazy from distant wildfires. The western United States burns (somewhere) every year now. I don’t recall that being a thing at all when I was a kid. I think about the likelihood that we’ve broken our planet, and whether there is any hope. Gloomy thoughts.

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

The weekend stretches ahead of me shrouded by a fog of uncertainty. I have no specific plans. I’d like to paint, but there’s quite a lot of housekeeping that wants doing. I feel tired, vexed, and generally annoyed with… Something. I don’t know. Probably biochemical bullshit,  nothing more. Feelings. Sand in my metaphorical oyster. Another work day and then… something else. I don’t know. I don’t even know what is bothering me or what might resolve it – but, hey, at least I’m aware that there’s something here I don’t know and which isn’t a certainty. That’s something, I guess.

… Embracing uncertainty is helpful, there is always uncertainty…

My back aches. I grief myself over “whining about it”, though I haven’t actually said words aloud. Well… Okay, there’s this, here, a handful of words. I remind myself that I chose this. I chose to live, not die. I chose the uncertain outcome of potential injury over the certain outcome of being stabbed and beaten to death in my apartment. My injuries were serious. Life changing. I am, however, quite alive. So far, I have even survived myself, and the ebb and flow of circumstances. So… there’s that.

I watch the haze on the western horizon become pearly pink, and developing a gradient fading into pale orange and then blue overhead. I sit at my halfway point – on this trail, and possibly in life (depending on genetics, lifestyle, and quality of medical care over time). I sift through my thoughts looking for fragments of optimism to stitch together into a properly good mood. I’m not finding much, but I keep looking.

“Emotion and Reason” 18″ x 24″ acrylic w/ceramic and glow details

One cannot rationally argue with emotions. They have their own purpose, and their own way. Arguing about how another person feels is completely pointless; people feel how they feel. What I do find, at least for me personally, is that it is possible to gently interrogate my emotions to determine what may be causing the feeling. This morning it seems rather likely that my mood is heavily influenced by the physical aftermath of a really heavy conversation with my Traveling Partner last night, and not really about this moment here at all. (Messed up chemistry from the strong emotions themselves, mostly, and dehydration from crying, feelings of uncertainty and sorrow that linger; human stuff.) So… self-care and self-reflection are on the menu today. (Shouldn’t they be part of every day?) I sigh to myself. Doing the work to build a healthy relationship is challenging, and more so perhaps between partners who both endure chronic pain, and both have PTSD. Worth the effort and the tears, it’s just hard sometimes.

…I think about what works, what doesn’t, and how annoying it is that it can be so difficult to be certain which is which…

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I reflect on this mortal life and the clock that never stops ticking. I think about what matters most. The sun rises on a new day, and new opportunities to be the woman I most want to be… and I think about beginnings.

Tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,
Categories Allegories, anger, Anxiety, Brain Injury, breathe, Despair, forgiveness, Free Will, Frustration, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, Logic & Reason, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, Summer, The Art of Being, The Big 5, women, Words

One Day of Many

July 9, 2026 //
0

I have a splitting headache and my sleep was interrupted. I’m tired and cross, and feeling very much that I’d like to be left alone. I’m grateful for these few moments of solitude in the morning.

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

I’m sitting at the edge of this trail wondering. I take a welcome sip of the coffee I carried down the trail with me. The morning feels chilly. It’s probably me, not the weather. The coffee is warm in my mouth and down my throat. I’m grateful for the moment of self-consideration that directed my groggy decision making this morning. Coffee sooner was a good choice this morning.

Tears fill my eyes and threaten to spill over. I brush them away angrily. “I don’t have time for this weak ass shit this morning,” I snarl to myself softly, “and fuck this headache, too.” My tinnitus is loud in my ears. I didn’t get enough restful sleep (haven’t for days) and my thought processes are slowed way down. My pain is poorly managed. I’m feeling very human and very fragile. My eyes sting from tears that finally begin to fall. Too much? Not enough? I feel broken and out of alignment. Out of step. Faltering on a path that has seemed certain and clear on other days.

… Moments pass…

I’m finding little reassurance in aphorisms and platitudes this morning. This morning I am uncomfortable with uncertainty and impermanence, and I feel myself clinging. Wanting certainty so much. Yeah… good luck with that shit. I take a deep breath in, and as I exhale I find myself weeping. Just fucking crying by the side of this trail, sitting in the summer sunshine on some random Thursday morning. Wondering.

…Is the sky still blue…?

I begin again. Breathe, exhale, relax. I shift gears. Meditation. Failure. Breathe. Repeat. The morning is not off to an ideal beginning. I’m struggling with my demons, and although for the moment I’ve got some sort of tearful stalemate, I still feel pretty shitty. My pain meds begin to kick in. So does the coffee. Eventually, I’ll “mask up” – put my work face on – and begin the work day. I don’t know, maybe the utterly disappointing ordinariness of it all will anchor me to here, now, and I’ll feel less hopeless.

… The clock is ticking…

The sunshine in the oak trees is beautiful. The air smells sweet. Songbirds sing merry songs. The tidy vineyard rows are a playground for so many little birds. I watch them flitting about, and try to identify as many as I recognize, but don’t put much effort into it. I am distracted and preoccupied. I keep letting this shit go. I breathe, exhale, and relax… and find myself back in the mire again and again.

I sigh out loud, frustrated with myself and the shitty start to the day. (And also? Fuck this headache.) I watch the dawn become day. Sooner or later, I’ve got to begin again… only I don’t know where this path leads, and I lack enthusiasm for walking it.

…

…

… This too will pass. Everything does. Change is.

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

Hello, Dawn

June 25, 2026 //
0

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.

Tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,
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
« Older Entries