Archives for posts with tag: mindfulness
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Milestone

May 1, 2026 //
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Today is my anniversary with my Traveling Partner; 16 years together, a bit more, and 15 married. As long-term relationships go, it’s not exactly “a lifetime” – I’ve had to try a few times to “get it right”. This anniversary is a major milestone for a minor reason; it is my longest long-term relationship.

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

My next longest long-term relationships (14 years together, never actually married, and another that was 14 years married, but only 10 of those together) were problematic extensions of traumatizing models of “family life” I’d dearly like to erase from memory, but for the fact that my path through the chaos and damage eventually brought me here. I wouldn’t change a moment if it might mean missing out on the love I’ve found with my Traveling Partner.

“Communion” 2010

So here I am, walking as the sun rises, smiling and hearing love songs in my head. We have dinner plans tonight, and I’m excited about that. I haven’t gotten him a gift. I don’t know how to give a gift worthy of a love like this one on the limited budget I would have. Dinner together at the best restaurant in the area seems fitting. (His idea, which tickles me so much.)

“Contemplation” 12″ x 16″ acrylic and iron oxide. August 2011

Is love “enough”? I walk and think about that question and find myself answering “enough for what?” before shrugging off the question as irrelevant to my lived experience of love and loving. Love is love. Questions of sufficiency seem to lead down a path of price tags and comparisons and cost/benefit analysis, and that seems foolish. Love doesn’t have to be “enough” to fulfill some other purpose, it is enough to experience love, ever. I get to my halfway point, still smiling and feeling lighthearted. It’s a beautiful morning, and I am fortunate to be in love.

“Cherry Blossoms” 2011

I breathe, exhale, and relax. Meditation is difficult this morning. I fidget like a child in church, restless, excited. My mind wanders (don’t forget to pick up your Rx, don’t forget your manicure appointment, don’t forget to double-check the grocery list and stop by the store…). S’ok. It’s a very human experience. Most people don’t notice my brain damage; little glitches in the background, unusual difficulties with communication, oddball “quirks” that are actually coping mechanisms for getting around “thinking holes” and shit that just doesn’t work the way it should. I’m used to it, mostly. I’ve improved a lot over the years (so much). My Traveling Partner sees more of it than most people – and manages to be kind, loving, and generally very supportive, without succumbing to the potential temptation to exploit me to his advantage. (Not true in previous relationships, one of which apparently had exploitation as it’s specific purpose.) I feel safe and loved, which is pretty wonderful for this busted up weird human primate doing her best to figure life out, I must say. 😆

A token of affection. Love on a chain. The only heart-shaped locket I have ever owned.

I sigh contentedly, even happily. It’s a beautiful morning and I feel loved. I watch the sun light the vineyards along this trail. Such a beautiful moment. I sit here awhile longer. I have some errands to run before I return home to my beloved. I feel fortunate and merry, and supremely pleased to have taken the day off (and grateful to have had that option). Love makes it a beautiful day to be alive.

I smile and breathe the sweetly fragrant Spring breeze. I let the clock tick on (how could I even stop it?), soon enough it will be time to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, art and the artist, Brain Injury, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, inspiration, joy, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Practices, Relationships, Spring, The Art of Being, The Big 5, women, Words

Spring Cleaning

April 26, 2026 //
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Yesterday was one of those lovely days that refresh and deepen an intimate connection through serendipity and shared experiences. My Traveling Partner wanted to begin Spring cleaning, now that the weather was warm and mild, and we’d completed the rearranging of rooms after the Anxious Adventurer had moved out. It made sense, and I had no reasonable excuses to decline. So. Housekeeping together.

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

My beloved regaled me with stories of that aspect of military life that is cleaning. No servants for soldiers (or sailors) in these modern times, and we both have memories of tackling clean up as a group endeavor. Our recollections are very different. He recalls almost fondly the shared experience of cleaning work and living spaces with his Navy peers. My similar recollections of Army life are fraught with feelings of irritation, resentment, and sexual harassment. lol I held my tongue and enjoyed his stories and hanging out together. He kept the music coming, we took turns in some areas and supported each other when needed. It was honestly fun as hell.

G’damn I am glad to see him back to being his “usual” particular and playful self. He’s funny and forgiving, and relaxed, these days. He manages to balance being understanding and accommodating with also helping me gently push myself to do more better, when I’m able.

He’s sexy and funny, and he loves me, and we have history – shared and unshared – that ties us together with a depth that would be hard to describe in practical terms. “You had to be there.” We were.

There was this one moment, yesterday… A piece of music he’s played for me often. I… didn’t get it. Didn’t realize the significance. It’s strange that I didn’t listen closer sooner. I generally do. Yesterday I finally did. He was astonished, and a little hurt too, maybe, but as I listened, I realized how powerfully “us” (and me) this song really is, and we connected (again) over a shared moment. It became part of the soundtrack of love. I think back to where/when he first shared it with me. Even more meaningful in context. I played it for myself again quietly before bed, and again this morning.

Love binds us in the most beautiful way.

I walked with my thoughts, of love, of nearly perfect moments, of how good things can be – even housekeeping – together.

There’s more housekeeping to do. Neither of us have quite the energy and pure force of will to deep clean the entire house in a single day, even together. I’m okay with it; I enjoy the time I spend with my beloved. I spent a short time in the garden, too, and there’s still more work to be done there. The strawberries and blueberries are blooming. Will I get a good crop this year?

Love songs in my head and flowers in my garden.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. Meditation and a golden sunrise, later coffee with the Chaotic Comic, and it is a lovely morning. Strangely, all I can really think about is my Traveling Partner and the love song in my head.

… It’s strange…

The wheel turns. The clock ticks on. I’m grateful to share so much of this journey with this singular human being who is my Traveling Partner. I find myself wondering how many lifetimes we may have crossed paths and found love? It often seems too profound, too deep, to develop in a single lifetime. I breathe in the scent of Spring flowers. I watch the sun touch the tops of the trees.

It’s an interesting journey. I’m fortunate to have such good company along the way.

It’s a big world. Lots of options. Choose wisely.

I smile to myself. I’ve got a heart full of love and a mind full of daydreams. I watch the squirrels and robins in the morning sunshine. It’s a beautiful moment and I enjoy it awhile. I think of my beloved and my smile deepens. When I begin again, he’ll be there. It’s an amazing feeling.

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Categories Allegories, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, inspiration, joy, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, Spring, The Art of Being, The Big 5, Words

More Than a Happy Place

April 19, 2026 //
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I sipped my first coffee, feet up, sitting by a cozy fire, watching the light change with the gray coastal dawn. The view to the west is layers of gray and soft blue. For me, this place is more than a delightful destination to get away for a little while; the ocean symbolizes a relentless force of reality that compels self-reflection and forces me to face myself as I watch the waves roll in. There’s no arguing with the ocean. It represents a resilient nature indifferent to external storms, even in the midst of them. Obstacles are washed away, or, like driftwood, piled on the shore, visible, removable, and easy to avoid. The ocean is unyielding about her boundaries, and for me she provokes deep thought, and a presence that I find I must linger with.

…The views from this hotel are spectacular…

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

I pour a second coffee. The coffee machine here is quite clean, and the coffee must be fresher than usual (for a hotel); it’s quite good. I sit watching the waves. The tide is going out. I am surprised by a deer ambling up the steep slope just beyond the window.

It’s worth it to slow down and observe what’s going on, even when nothing seems to be going on.

She looks at me through the window, pauses to nibble some tasty plant, and ambles on.

Two of the women most dear to me (and most significant in my own life as a woman), loved the sea and seaside places. My Dear Friend and my Granny have ended their mortal lives some time ago, but when I am at the seashore, I feel them with me. It doesn’t matter whether it is the rocky coastal beaches of the Pacific Northwest, or the marshy edges of the Chesapeake Bay, or the kitschy seaside towns that tourists flock to each summer. I love being by the shore, too, if only because it connects me so deeply to these two women, who are so much a part of who I am myself. Sometimes when I most need to be alone, I am taking that time to “talk with my ancestors” in a way I find difficult to describe. It sometimes seems funny that I never feel my Dad’s presence in such places; his are the forests and meadows. The ocean seems to me to be a very feminine sort of energy. I find myself wondering if sailors feel that way, too? Theirs is a very different relationship with the sea…

Fisherman early in the morning.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I feel well and whole, and capable. I feel comfortable in my skin and grounded in the goodness of my life. I’ll head home eagerly to see what my Traveling Partner has done while I’ve been gone. He is, himself, a force to be reckoned with, and as his abilities return he is capable of moving mountains (and definitely furniture). Certainly, he moves me.

For now, it’s me and this beautiful expanse of beach, and this gray ocean under a cloudy sky – and another cup of coffee. I’ve got plenty of time to begin again, a little later.

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Categories Allegories, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, inspiration, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Practices, Relationships, Spring, The Art of Being, women, Words

Evening Light

April 18, 2026 //
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It is evening. Between sunset and nightfall.

There’s something about the quality of the light in the evening.

Breathe. Exhale. Relax. Stop – or, at least pause. Breathe in the evening calm. Exhale and embrace the next moment. Moments are so fleeting.

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

I sit for a pleasant little while in the stillness between chapters of The Stand. Will I finish it? Maybe. Maybe not. I’m enjoying the time spent reading, carried off to some other place, although I’m definitely glad it is a book and not a first hand account! 😆

The light is going dim. The distance between day’s end and Road’s End seems far, now, connected only by moments.

… There’s something about the evening light that beckons me to pause and reflect…

I miss my Traveling Partner more than a bit, paradoxically, considering how much I’ve been craving time alone with my thoughts. I sigh to myself, and pick up my book. I’ll begin again in a moment – a different moment – for now I’ll just watch the tide come in as the evening light fades to night.

A sliver of moon and a star. A moment.
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Categories Allegories, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, inspiration, joy, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Spring, The Art of Being, Words

Chilly, Early

April 17, 2026 //
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It is a Friday morning. I’m sitting at the halfway point of my morning walk. I sat here for some little while before I pulled my hands from my pockets to write. This morning I made a point to grab my heavy fleece, scarf, and gloves from my gear bin in the car. Practical. I’d feel smart to have done so, but it’s more to do with being reminded they are there for me, last night, when I went looking for a spare filter cone for an evening coffee for my Traveling Partner who had put the ceramic one in the dishwasher.

… Reminders are helpful…

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

I feel the cold. Another near-freezing morning, but already daylight (jeez, how long was I sitting?) and things will warm up pretty quickly. Probably. Change is, and warmer days are coming.

I take my medication on time, double-checking that I took all of it. I missed a small pill yesterday morning that resulted in an unfortunate (and deeply unpleasant) emotional meltdown over nothing of consequence. It was inexplicable, and I was grateful to discover my mistake a little later, and felt more myself shortly after taking it. I think there is too little discussion about the very real psychiatric and mind or mood altering effects of common prescription (and nonprescription) drugs. We could do better.

A small herd of deer quietly and slowly walks past me, one by one. The group of does steps from the trees on the creek side of the trail, each looking at me cautiously as she steps into the more open space, and they cross the trail, and continue into the vineyard, nibbling on choice grasses and tender green shoots. Spring. They’re hungry and lean from winter, and a couple are also clearly pregnant. They are more concerned with finding food than they are with my quiet presence. They walk on, and disappear from view.

My Traveling Partner offered to disappear for the weekend. Maybe he will, maybe he won’t. I feel very loved that he offered. I could fuck off to the coast, myself, and get some solitary time, but the expense is difficult to justify. I sit thinking about things he said yesterday evening about self-care and taking the time I need, and setting better (clearer) boundaries when I’m reaching the limits of my resources. He reminded me that he no longer needs the near-continuous care I was providing after his surgery. This is definitely true. I’m relieved and happy every time I think about it. I’m also struggling to adjust, to step back, to give myself a break.

…We become what we practice…

I sit reflecting on what I need, myself, to be well and healthy, and to thrive in my life. I remind myself how adaptable I am. I remind myself that we become what we practice. I sigh quietly and watch the vapor of my breath dissipate in the chilly morning air.

… Maybe a drive to the coast and coffee on the beach this weekend, if my beloved stays home? Or a very different sort of self-care in the form of some retail therapy? (I could do with some new bras, and prefer to shop for such things in person.) Maybe a different hike somewhere new? Another sigh. No idea. I could stay home and paint, or finish tidying up my studio… I could work in my garden. I feel the “want to’s” begin to collide with the “have to’s”, and feel annoyed with myself when they blend and blur and begin to morph into more of the same scrambling and striving and working that I’ve trapped myself in for awhile now. I should work on that.

I laugh out loud. Adulting is hard. I’m tired. I’m also making choices. I can make different ones. I get to my feet, looking down the trail into the future. It’s time to begin, again.

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Categories Allegories, Anxiety, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, Frustration, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, Spring, The Art of Being, The Big 5, women, Words
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