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The Things On My Mind

January 21, 2026 //
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I’m sipping coffee on an icy freezing morning in January, in a cafe space that seriously wants to be cozy and welcoming. The baristas here do their best, and they are cheery and familiar, and greet me as if genuinely pleased to see me. It’s nice. On the other hand, I may be the only walk-in customer for the first several hours they are open, and it’s a largish space with quite a bit of available seating that goes unused day after day. Chain coffee with a busy drive-through; “cozy” is not quite the correct descriptor, but it is warm inside and the coffee is hot.

I sit for some while sipping my coffee and thinking my thoughts. I’m in a weird headspace this morning. Not really looking forward to work. Not looking forward to the day itself, in any particular way. The news and the world have me vexed, stressed out, and even angry (sometimes). I don’t look at the news this morning, but I can’t pretend that we didn’t get so close to eradicating measles – then fail by our own deliberate (fairly stupid) actions. I can’t pretend that masked government thugs are being civil and professional as they go about the business of kidnapping US citizens from the streets, shooting, and maiming people for at worst some civil infraction that barely rises to the level of a criminal act by any definition (Seriously? tell me again how entering the US looking for a better life for yourself and your family by becoming a contributing citizen is “criminal”? This country was built by immigrant labor.). We’ve lost our fucking minds. Our president thinks it is appropriate (and feasible)(and worth doing) to talk about taking Greenland for ourselves – as if they don’t have a population that governs itself, and might have a fucking opinion about that. What the actual hell?

…All that and more. So much nastiness, pettiness, and bullshit, so much destruction and cruelty…and here we are. Cruelty is now policy. It’s on my mind a lot more than I write about it, and I sometimes find myself “picking at it” like the raw bleeding edge of a torn cuticle, thoughtlessly causing myself more damage and pain. Fuck. I breathe, exhale, and relax. I let all that go – again. I pull myself back to “now”. To “here”. This moment, this place, this experience…

I’ve got my own shit to worry about, right? I mean, the usual real life day-to-day fuss and stress that goes on for anyone, nothing tragic or terrifying (the world provides plenty of that, and I’m grateful for my relatively good circumstances presently). I worry about household maintenance that is needed, and I worry about my recently damaged car being properly repaired. I stress out over traffic when I’m in a hurry to be somewhere, and whether or not my Traveling Partner has what he needs for a comfortable day while I’m in the office. I juggle work and running errands and maintaining the household and getting meals on the table – all the usual shit in an ordinary life. (G’damn am I glad I don’t also have little kids to care for!!) I do my best to avoid taking mundanities personally. I avoid making assumptions that include some entity or individual being personally out to harm me (it’s rarely true, ever, and it does me no particular good to color my experience with that frame of mind). Chronic pain. Disability. Resource limitations. Health generally. Aging. Employment. An ever-growing to-do list that keeps me on a short leash with limited “free” time to read, relax, reflect, and enjoy a pretty good life… ordinary shit we all deal with to one extent or another (unless we’re among the very few with the means to shape our life very differently). I try not to just bitch endlessly about that kind of crap. It doesn’t help me to do so. Venting has been shown to have limited value for good mental health. It’s also probably pretty dull reading. So… yeah. Sometimes I’ve got shit on my mind that I don’t care to be fixated on, or to spend a lot of time writing about or discussing. It’s unproductive and unhealthy to become mired in other people’s drama – or our own. Some mornings the best I can do is sit quietly, drink my coffee, and think my thoughts until they carry me elsewhere.

Why go on about what I don’t write about? I dunno, I guess my thinking is that I’m as human as anyone, having my own experience, but still seeking solutions, still walking my path alert for obstacles along the way – and still walking on in spite of those obstacles. I’m not looking for opportunities to “get it off my chest” so much as I am seeking, finding, and sharing the tools and practices that light my way to a better experience living my life. It’s been rough sometimes. I’ve been through some shit. (You, too, I bet?) I live a better life than I ever expected to – and I’ve made a lot of changes to get here. I want to mostly focus on that. The changes. The possibilities. The practices.

Maybe you have thoughts, too? I rarely ask – but I am interested. Curious. If a particular post on this blog moved you, gave you insight, or lit your way somehow, would you consider commenting and linking to that post? Was it just a thought or some often shared aphorism that anchored you? An “eye-opening moment”? I’d love to know, if you are willing to share that with me. You are a presence in my life, though we’ve likely never met. What brought you here? What brings you back? You matter. I write with you in mind.

I sigh and shift uncomfortably in my seat. Arthritis and chronic pain – that’s fucking real as hell this morning, and I ache with it from my fusion (T12-L1) to the base of my skull these days. I will dutifully report it on my next doctor’s appointment, he’ll make a note and do nothing much about it; there is nothing much to be done. Still, it could be worse (so much worse), and I’m grateful for the day, this moment, and this cup of coffee. Life is more better than bad, and has been for awhile. The day-to-day inconveniences, nuisances, and moments of frustration or annoyance are inconsequential, generally, and do not define my experience unless I allow them to fill my awareness and crowd out my joy. It’s a journey, and I keep practicing.

I sigh to myself and get ready to begin again.

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Categories 2024 Election, Allegories, anger, Anxiety, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, Frustration, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, meditation, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Sleepless Nights, The Art of Being, The Big 5, War and News of War, winter, women, Words

Book Learning

January 19, 2026 //
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I can remember my father mocking people who lacked “real skills” but who were also educated people with college degrees. He had no fondness for abstract intellectualism that could not get anything done in the world in a practical sense. It’s a fairly commonplace perspective, frequently held by practical minded working people, perhaps to secure a sense of achievement in spite of the lack of a degree. Memorized facts without comprehension aren’t particularly useful, generally. Applying knowledge in the real world can create change.

Books make great gifts!

Why do I mention it? I mean, it’s probably pretty obvious that “book learning” alone doesn’t amount to understanding a topic deeply or being able to make suitable use of the knowledge. I watched a video yesterday talking about the increasing lack of ability to read that seems to be developing in young cohorts of students (in the US). Book learning isn’t all there is to education, but g’damn reading is a pretty critical life skill, and if our youngsters receiving their education aren’t learning to read, we’ve got a real problem ahead. Traffic signs, price tags, menus, clocks, rental agreements, job offers…we need to read a lot of things, and recognizing shapes and colors is not an adequate substitute for reading comprehension.

Books can be filled with practical information.

Why learn to read when an LLM can read a summary aloud and save us the bother? (Why learn math when there’s a calculator always at hand?) I struggle with why these would be questions, but I remember teachers answering my own youthful “why learn math?” question by trying to give examples of the raw power and utility of having a basic understanding of math. One truth that is more important than any one example and might have been more persuasive; we need to learn math (and reading) to develop problem solving skills, and for depth and nuance in our understanding of the world. We need these skills to support our ability to think critically and recognize misinformation. If we lose our ability to read we become dependent on spoken opinion, and susceptible to marketing hype and outrageous lies by politicians and pundits.

Other books take us on an adventure.

I am fortunate to enjoy reading, myself. (It took me awhile to come around to the legitimate value in math, but eventually I got there, too.) I am happily reading The Stand, a gift from my Traveling Partner. I prefer to read the news rather than watch it. I can’t actually imagine not being able to read. If nothing else, the amount of paperwork required in life would be far less manageable if I couldn’t read the forms!

Thanks for being here, by the way. If you’re reading these words, now, I’m grateful that you are literate. (Not only because you’re reading what I wrote, but also because you can.) One day you may be considered to be among the elite intellectuals of the world, simply because you can read, at all.

Books are the software upgrades for our minds.

I sit at my halfway point on this trail, watching Venus setting slowly on the western horizon. I spotted it one morning some time ago and looked up what this very bright “star” might be. I read about it. Now I gaze upon Venus with even greater wonder and appreciation. I smile to myself, eagerly considering spending the day reading. Maybe I’ll pull a cookbook from my shelf and peruse the recipes and bake something? Seems a good day for it. I could spend more time writing, later – I hear snail mail is making a comeback as a hobby or lifestyle choice. Promising.

… I’m not pointing fingers or being critical of the shortcomings of other people. I’m quite human myself, and some of life’s critical skills fade with disuse. My handwriting (pen and ink on paper) has gotten pretty dreadful because I don’t often pick up a pen these days. Practice would be helpful. Letter writing has potential, with that in mind. I think fondly back to my great-grandmother, who lived well past 100 years. She wrote letters to friends every day. I used to write a lot of letters… until email and the Internet and the convenience of a keyboard intervened. Creeping incompetence – and I don’t have to succumb to it. I have choices and the freedom to choose change.

Anyway. Read a book. Don’t let that skill erode away completely! You definitely really need to be able to read. Reality can be unforgiving, and doesn’t accommodate ignorance in any gentle way.

Some books we fill with our own story.

I sigh to myself as Venus dips below the treetops. I breathe, exhale, and relax. I contemplate all the many books I’ve read, and the many more I have yet to read. The books on my reading list have guided me along my path. I doubt I could have come so far so quickly without them, and AI summaries would not have been enough to teach me what I needed to learn.

The first hint of daybreak touches the sky. Is it already time to begin again?

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Categories art and the artist, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gardening, gratitude, Healthy Living, inspiration, meditation, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, solo hiking, The Art of Being, War and News of War, weight loss secrets, Words

When Plans Meet Reality

January 18, 2026 //
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I was finishing up the grocery shopping, yesterday, when I got the message from the Author. His flight was cancelled. The next flight available would push his arrival late into the evening, cutting a short trip on a long weekend by a full day. A little later, he confirms his plan to visit has unraveled – perhaps another time? Maybe. I was disappointed.

I was also in a ridiculous amount of pain. It made sense to let go of my disappointment, and get on with my day. My Traveling Partner encourages me to take it easy, get some rest, and enjoy our cozy tidy home for the day. I did, and it was so worth it. It was a lovely evening. I cooked a simple wholesome meal, we ate as a family. It was pleasant and relaxed. I spent time reading, and playing a favorite video game. The downtime had practical value and I woke feeling rested this morning and eager to walk the marsh trail up the road.

I arrived at the trailhead. This morning the gate into the parking is locked. I’m surprised, but only because it hasn’t been being locked overnight for awhile (since the government shutdown last year). Doesn’t matter, really. I take one of the spaces in the lower parking lot, adjacent to the highway. This morning is a cold one, just at freezing (32°F, 0°C). I’m grateful to be dressed warmly, but mildly frustrated with my gear being “all over the place” (it isn’t, it’s just not as I had placed it, after the Anxious Adventurer used my car recently). I manage to find everything I’m looking for: hat, scarf, gloves, headlamp, and an oversized fleece that fits nicely over layers of sweaters. The effort warms me, and I head happily down the trail in the the predawn darkness.

I hadn’t planned this weekend to unfold this way, but it’s still a long weekend, and all the loose plans I had made were to do with hanging out with the Author and my Traveling Partner. I fall back on familiar things, like this more distant, longer trail. I’m looking forward to reading later, too, and maybe spending more time playing video games – I often just don’t have the time or energy for such things. I smile to myself, feeling very loved by the way my Traveling Partner encourages me to slow down and get some much needed chill time. I remind myself to tackle a handful of housekeeping tasks before I settle into a day of leisure (dishes, laundry, and changing bed linens). Some housekeeping details are best handled, due to their big contribution to perceived quality of life. I’m okay with that, although sometimes it seems tedious and inescapable. The work of living life still has to be done. There are verbs involved.

My footsteps crunch down the trail in the darkness, a small circle of light ahead of me bobbing about with my stride. A possum crosses the path ahead of me as I near my halfway point. She gives me an irritated look. She doesn’t need the light and probably finds it a bit blinding. I pause and turn it off to let her pass, then continue on my way. A tinge of orange begins to shift the hue of the eastern horizon. Daybreak. I walk on.

Daybreak

I get to my halfway point, notice that the log I often sit on has been removed. I keep walking, on around the next bend to a spot further down the year-round trail where there is a bench, near the river. I’ve got a sliver of view of the eastern horizon, and the lights of some business or community beyond the highway on the other side of the marsh. I sit down to write and watch the sunrise. The quiet is… quiet. So quiet. I sigh to myself contentedly. What a lovely moment! Even the wintry frosty morning manages to delight me. Occasionally I pause my writing to jam cold hands into warm pockets to sit with my thoughts and just breathe. Barely freezing. I’m grateful for the mild winter now, but we’ll likely all be regretting it when Spring comes and there hasn’t been enough precipitation to replenish aquifers and water crops. I frown when I think about the likelihood of heightened wildfire risk.

…We plan and we plan. We forecast weather and seasonal needs and resources. Reality doesn’t care about our careful planning; it does what it will without regard to anyone’s plans. It’s good to have a “plan B”, just in case, or a comfortable relationship with change. The orange on the horizon becomes deeper, richer, and more vibrant as I watch. Dark feathers of distant trees are silhouetted on the skyline. Beautiful. I watch silently, happily. I’m okay with this moment just as it is. I make a point to enjoy it. There is no value to rushing through it.

Dawn brings more light to the marsh and meadow. Shapes emerge from the dissipating darkness. Trees. Shrubs. Ponds. The trail. I breathe, exhale, and relax. Beautiful morning to watch the sun rise. A little later I’ll begin again. For now this is enough.

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Categories Allegories, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, inspiration, joy, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Practices, solo hiking, The Art of Being, winter, Words

Having My Own Experience

January 17, 2026 //
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I’m sitting at my halfway point on this local trail, before dawn.  Venus is bright above the western horizon. It is a clear, mild morning. The forecast suggested it would be near freezing this morning, but it is much warmer. 45°F (7.2°C). Pleasant, compared to freezing, and I am enjoying it. I am comfortable in the warm clothes I chose.

One by one the primroses are beginning to bloom in my garden.

I smile when I recall the primroses blooming in the flower beds along the front walk. They don’t understand that it is winter, they bloom in the mild Spring-like weather regardless what the calendar says. I think about that awhile, and the phrase “bloom where you are planted”. Like garden flowers, human beings also bloom at the time most right for them individually.

I watch Venus slowly sinking towards the horizon. I reflect on how peculiar it is that this appearance of movement is not what it seems. It isn’t Venus moving at all; it is the Earth rotating on her axis. I have no sense of that motion at all, as far as I can tell, I only observe the apparent movement of the stars. There’s something to learn there, about perspective and reality and truth.

My back aches fiercely. No headache yet, today. My tinnitus is loud in my ears. I sigh to myself, grateful for the mild morning and this walk. The air smells like Spring, already.

A beautiful young buck steps slowly out of the trees, watching me as he steps cautiously onto the trail and walks past, glancing my way as if verifying that I am not going to follow. He stops a short distance from me and steps into the grassy strip of meadow on the other side of the trail. I am watching him, and sitting very still. I don’t immediately see the two does who follow him out of the trees and down the path. They are abreast of me, almost close enough to touch, when I see them. They startle me, my movement startles them, and the herd of three quickly move further down the grassy strip beside the trail.

Today the Author arrives for a short visit. After my walk I’ll stop by the store and pick up a few things. My Traveling Partner hustled me and the Anxious Adventurer through a bunch of little changes and housekeeping tasks that had fallen a little behind, in order to restore order from chaos that had crept in while he was (far more) disabled (than he is now), and to prepare for company. The last of the holiday changes made to accommodate the Giftmas tree were returned to more typical placement, too. I was grateful to have help, and for the vision and encouragement provided by my beloved; sometimes the thought work or emotional labor is the most tiring part of some project, and I don’t have vast reserves available for either, lately.

I went to bed exhausted, aware that my fatigue was as much cognitive as physical. Lately I struggle to “find a quiet moment” at home, often turning my attention to a book or a show, only to face frequent interruptions from “noise”. Hyperacusis leaves me feeling as if I can’t get a moment of peace, but it is symptomatic and highly subjective. The coffee grinder isn’t louder than usual. The cupboard doors aren’t being slammed. Someone putting away the dishes isn’t an intentional assault on my senses. Stray remarks lobbed at me unaware of my attention being elsewhere are neither more frequent nor louder. The timing is not deliberate. It’s a “me thing”. The only real solution is the stillness of solitude. It’s a feeling that the literal only time my consciousness is fully my own is when I am alone with my device set on “do not disturb”. Definitely a “me thing”. It is an illusion, and a bit of madness, perhaps.

I breathe, exhale, and relax, and pull myself back to this present and quite solitary peaceful moment. These walks meet many needs, and a little solitude is one of them. I savor the stillness as daybreak comes. Venus is lower on the horizon now, barely above the dark smudgey silhouette of the treetops. The Earth keeps spinning. The wheel turns. The clock ticks on.

I check the time and sigh to myself. I fill my lungs with the cool morning air and exhale slowly. A new day, a familiar path, and I’m having my own experience. I remind myself to let small shit stay small, and to avoid taking things personally. I stretch as I stand. It’s time to begin again. I turn and face the sunrise and start down the trail.

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Categories Allegories, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Relationships, solo hiking, Spring, The Art of Being, winter, Words

The Journey of a Lifetime

January 13, 2026 //
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I’m on the trail this morning. It’s been a few days. There aren’t many changes. The morning is foggy and chilly, but not really cold. This trail is mostly paved and about half of it is lit by parking lot and walkway lights. The dense fog makes everything look mysterious and a little spooky.

Foggy winter morning on a journey that is the destination.

I get to the last bench along the trail, not quite halfway. Daybreak? Sort of. The sky is beginning to lighten, and faint silhouettes begin to be visible as shapes in the fog. I set down the hot coffee I’ve been walking with, switching hands now and then for warmth. I write a few words.

It feels good to be on the trail, even as chilly as it is. I also really appreciate that I’ve finally (re)developed local options for comfortably working from an alternate location, without a long drive. I sip my coffee and let the cup warm my hands again. I listen to the quiet.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. My breath forms a cloud that mingles with the fog.

My Traveling Partner pings me details to do with a work project he is in the middle of. I reflexively look at his messages, although ideally I’d be here, in this place, enjoying a moment of solitude, focused and present in the moment. It is habit after almost two years of trying to maintain constant awareness that he may need me at any moment. I’m finding it a difficult habit to correct. Life is like that, though; we walk our path, overcoming obstacles, and learning new ways. Those ways don’t always prove useful indefinitely. Detours. Bumps and potholes and a variety of potential pitfalls. We take the journey a step at a time, seeking the best path forward and balancing the awareness of the path immediately ahead, while also giving the destination attention. Losing sight of one could result in injury, losing sight of the other could result getting lost.

…Funny what a good metaphor for living life walking this trail can be…

I sigh as I get to my feet. It’s time to finish my walk and start my day. I finish my coffee before it goes cold, and then begin again.

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Categories Allegories, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, solo hiking, The Art of Being, winter, Words
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