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An Impressive Effort

August 24, 2026 //
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The sky is clear and starry this morning. I sit with my thoughts beside this trail, at more or less the midway point of this morning’s walk. I reflect on the weekend, the high points and the occasional “wrong notes” in life’s symphony. Generally speaking, it was a good weekend.

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

Yesterday my beloved Traveling Partner was dealing with a lot of physical pain, which sucked for him far more than it affected me, because he did a masterful job of regulating his emotions and kept his communication comfortably emotionally neutral most of the day, even when frustrated. It was a powerful demonstration of how much work and discipline go into that effort, and why it is worth it. I felt relieved this morning to read a message sent during the night, letting me know he had gotten some relief after a most unpleasant day of pain, because I hate seeing him suffer and want only the best for him. I am hoping he has a better day today.

… I’m seriously impressed with how skillfully he prevented his difficult experience from becoming personal, and how much work he put into not lashing out at me over being in pain. His emotions got the better of him once or twice, and I certainly can’t criticize; under similar circumstances, I think I’d have struggled more and done less well…

…We become what we practice.

This morning begins a new day, and a new week. Monday. I can’t say I’m particularly enthused about work, this morning. My tinnitus is buzzing, chiming, and whining in my ears. My head aches. My back aches. My feet ache when I walk or stand on them. G’damn, fuck aging. 😆 I sigh to myself and admit silently that aging may have some unpleasant moments, but it still beats currently available alternatives.

The predawn gloom begins to lighten a bit. Standing nearby is a small herd of deer. Two does and three fawns nibble grass and choice green leaves in the tangle of drying weeds and wildflowers at the edge of the path. They seem aware of me, but unconcerned. I shift my position, trying to escape the arthritis pain in my spine. The deer move along down the path. The sky continues to lighten. Daybreak soon.

I begin the week with a persistent feeling that I’m forgetting something. The feeling is no indicator of truth, it’s just a feeling (an annoying one, for real). I breathe, exhale, and relax, and let that feeling go. It’s common on a Monday, and I suspect it has to do with the unstated difficulty of “getting back to work”, each week. I exhale, and let it go again. It’s not even time to start the work day.

I take a deep breath of the cool summer air. I’m grateful that the wind is carrying the wildfire smoke another direction. We’re basically surrounded on three sides by wildfires this summer, and the clear sky and fresh air are 100% reliant on wind direction.

I sit quietly with this pleasant moment, savoring the solitude and the peace. I feel fortunate to have this experience at all. I feel fortunate to be able to write about it. Fortunate to have you here reading it. The world is in a sorry state these days… I think about what I can do, myself, to make it just a little better, if only in my tiny corner. (I’ll definitely be voting, when the time comes.)

The sun begins to rise. An orange wash along the eastern horizon spreads out, silhouetting the trees along the bank of the South Yamhill River, beyond the vineyard. I watch, feeling calm and unbothered. It’s a new day, suitable for beginning again.

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

This One’s Just Me

August 10, 2026 //
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Odd morning. I slept well enough. I woke on time. The morning seems ordinary, another Monday. Still, I feel rather out of sorts and vexed with something or other, but I have no idea what, or why.

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

I sigh to myself, waiting on daybreak to start my walk. I haven’t yet replaced my headlamp. Is that what’s annoying me? Maybe, but if so more likely as a larger concern with not getting shit done “in a timely manner”, and some vague sense of being on a metaphorical hamster wheel in life. Maybe it’s just my exceedingly annoying painful left shoulder, which is being particularly annoying and painful this morning? Also? Omg fuck the “aches and pains” of aging. So over that shit.

…So, yeah, I’m pretty cross this morning, but there’s no noteworthy tale to tell, or anything obvious to do about it. Breathe. Exhale. Relax. Don’t take shit personally…

There is so much to do that I feel like I don’t (or can’t) get to. I sigh to myself. I could do more, work harder, burn more energy in spite of pain… It gets tricky when I attempt to stave off resentment by improving my self-care. There’s a balance to strike. At least I’m sleeping. That’s something. We all need sleep to keep these fragile vessels in working order.

Daybreak comes. I’m always strangely relieved when it does, as if there might be some real risk that it might not. I stepped onto the trail, testing my stability carefully before I proceeded. I Checked that my trekking pole is adjusted correctly and securely. Steps on a path. Nice morning for walking. I let my eyes adjust and start down the trail.

We’re each having our own experience. I reflect on that as I walk. However many times I walk this trail, each walk is still new, and is a unique experience. Each other person who has or will walk this trail experiences it differently than I do. That’s a lot of experiences.

I stop at my halfway point. The new hotel being built next to the air museum is visible from here. For now, it is still an eyesore of construction in progress, it’s blocky form inconsistent with the architecture of the museum. It’s ugly and ordinary, another revenue stream for the owner(s). I’d rather have seen more vineyards planted, personally, but I wasn’t asked. 😆

I sit with my grumpiness and discontent. It’ll pass. That is the way of emotions and moments; they pass. I sigh to myself and think instead about driving my RC car this weekend, which was delightful, and I think about the pleasant time spent hanging out with my beloved, or working on my next painting in my studio. It was a good weekend, generally speaking.

… What the fuck do I even have to be cranky about..?

I shift my position and feel all the twinges of pain at once: the shoulder, the knee, the new arthritis in my thumbs, the old arthritis in my spine, the headache, and the occipital neuralgia. I laugh, an actual audible expression of genuine amusement. How is the pain not enough reason to be a bit cross this morning? I shrug it off, satisfied that I’ve got reason enough to feel the way I do. I proceed to get some kind of start to letting that go; there is an entire new day ahead, and there’s no efficiency to be gained by dwelling on pain. I’ll just do my best to…do my best.

I watch the sky lighten. A new day. A new chance to begin again. A new chance to be the person I most want to be.

…No one said it would be easy…

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Categories Allegories, Anxiety, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, Frustration, gratitude, health, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, solo hiking, Summer, The Art of Being

Shapes of Things

August 1, 2026 //
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I woke early, in spite of wanting to sleep in. I got up, dressed, and left the house. Filled my gas tank. Got coffee on my way up the highway to the nature park to walk the marsh trail, more meadow than marsh at this point in the summer.

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

Scene from a summer walk, we choose what we pay attention to. Mostly.

I sigh to myself as I walk. My left ankle has decided for me that this spot, right here, is “halfway”. It isn’t. Not at all, but it is definitely where I am stopping!

There is a convenient viewpoint with a bench only a little further. I take the next few steps slowly and carefully, grateful for my sturdy trekking pole that is my outdoor cane. I sit down, grateful, relieved, and content to be here in this place. I have the trail to myself – or did when I got started (first to arrive, pulling in just as the gate opened with a screech). It is quiet and cloudy. Looks and feels like maybe rain later… the forecast disagrees. Another heatwave soon. I am reminded to add a “hose” to my shopping list to replace a section that split and began to leak just a couple days ago.

The meadow grasses are dry and brown, with the white flowers of wild carrot or maybe Queen Anne’s Lace seeming to float above the waves of brown. The yellow clusters of wild St John’s Wort here and there add a bit of color. The wild roses are mostly done blooming, but don’t yet have hips. The lupines are long gone, even the seed pods have split and spilled their seeds, and withered. I breathe the scent of the summer meadow, exhale, and relax.

… It’s a good thing I’m not in any hurry today, the walk back will be a slow one…

I think about the day ahead. There’s housework to be done. I can probably fill the day with it. I feel myself shrug, an involuntary gesture of acceptance. I guess I’m okay with it. I’ll put on a playlist and dance through the chores until my body just can’t do more, and maybe get caught up a bit.

My mind wanders to RC cars, N scale railroad, Barbie dolls, and painting cast figurines… “hobbies”, past, present, and considered once or often. The clock is ticking. How do I pass my time, find joy, and indulge in play as an adult? A healthy life isn’t built on chores, wage earning, and sleep – there’s more to it. Isn’t there? I have choices and options.

…We shape our experience with our choices…

I breathe, exhale, and relax, and think about the way I have shaped my life, and what shape it might take if I choose differently. Small changes add up. It’s a lot to stay on top of, seeking to make willful changes… Verbs. Choices. Repetition. Reminders. Self-reflection. Incremental change over time, moment by moment, experience by experience, action by action. We become what we practice. (This is serious and powerful, because it is true both of what we want to become, and also of what we loathe, but persist in practicing.)

I’ll finish my walk. Do some grocery shopping, and head home to shape the life I want to live through the use of some well chosen verbs (meaning to say, doing some housework). Where the path may lead me from there, I don’t know. It is the path I choose, but I’ve still got to walk it. I have to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, health, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, solo hiking, Summer, The Art of Being, women, Words

Hazy Sky

July 31, 2026 //
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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.

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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

Watching, Thinking

July 30, 2026 //
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I’m already at the halfway point on my walk. It is some time between daybreak and sunrise. I’m watching the full moon sinking through the tangle of oak branches along the trail.

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

Streaky clouds begin to take shape as the sky lightens. I sit with my thoughts. I meditate. It is a gentle start to the day – until I start sneezing. Some meadow flower or tree pollen, dust, or spore, more than likely. I’m grateful to have shoved a travel pack of tissues in my pocket. I feel very human, and just a little grossed out by the time I’m over that. I sit contentedly watching the clouds evolve as the light changes. The sunrise is bland and not particularly interesting this morning, and I’m grateful for the new day, anyway.

Breathe, exhale, relax. Meditate. Write. Think. Repeat. It is a particularly pleasant morning.

Pleasant or not, the amount of pain I’m in this morning is ridiculous. It is very specifically osteoarthritis pain, and very specifically located at my spinal fusion and below it. This is new. Over the years more and more of the joints above my fusion (T12-L2) have become arthritic. The first year or two of pain in a given new area is the worst. After awhile it begins to blur with all the rest. I keep catching myself trying to flex or somehow move this area of my spine that does not move. It is futile and uncomfortable. I glare at the clouds thickening overhead. Rain? The pain says yes, or at least a strong maybe.

I sigh to myself and do my best to let it go. I accepted the pain a long time ago as a consequence of my actions. No regrets, I paid a high price for my survival and escape from domestic violence, and it has been worth that price and more.

I get to my feet, and rub my aching knee as I do. What the hell did I even do to that knee? I no longer recall. I sigh and stretch and look down the trail. Somewhere down the trail, around that bend, beyond this new beginning, is a whole new day. I wonder where this path will lead?

Ask the questions. Do the verbs.
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Categories Allegories, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, solo hiking, Summer, The Art of Being
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