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Expectations? Meet Reality.

June 26, 2025 //
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It is the wee hours, and I’m awake. I haven’t yet fallen asleep, but I’ve enjoyed some lovely quiet time reading (re-reading a favorite classic, Siddhartha by Herman Hesse).

…I expected to fall asleep quickly.

An experience is very much what we make of it, and reality has no particular relationship to our expectations at all. I chuckle about it in the darkness. I’m unconcerned about having my device in front of my eyes right now, having dimmed the display to less than 25% and only “stopping by” while I drink some water and finish this cough drop to soothe my still irritated throat.

I was not wholly surprised to find myself wakeful. Different pain meds. Substantial changes in routine (to prepare for surgery), which included giving up supplements, and limiting or changing the timing of various medications and over-the-counter remedies. Of course I’m not asleep. I slept in this morning. I was drugged or unconscious much of the morning due to surgery. I slept for unmeasured hours after I was released to go home. Why would I even expect to actually be tired beyond the fatigue of injury itself? (Every healing surgery is also an experience of being injured, and systems interfered with!)

So. I’ve stirred myself enough to get some water. A cough drop. A change of position. (Picked another book, just in case sleeplessness persists.) I’ll meditate, then try sleep again and see where things stand when a new day dawns. That’ll be soon enough to begin again. First I need to take care of me (and brush aside these expectations cluttering things up my thinking, too, eh?).

Once upon a time there was a rose…

Morning of a new day. Why that picture? Because the damned deer ate my roses (again) and I was thinking about that during the night. I’d waited 4 years for that rose (Golden Opportunity) to bloom! I’m glad I got to see her. The deer only eat tender new growth… many roses bloom on new growth – you see the problem? Could be little cages for every rose next year except those that the deer don’t favor (I suspect they are either too thorny, or don’t taste good for some reason).

My cup of coffee is good this morning. Hot. Well and carefully made. Exactly as I like it. I’m grateful, but apparently I inconsiderately left the counter a mess (everything is just a bit more difficult with my left hand impaired, but that’s no excuse for not noticing that I had dripped coffee and grounds on the counter and failed to clean them up). So human. My Traveling Partner called it out with some annoyance; no one likes waking up to a mess. He was kind enough to clean it up as he made his own coffee. I’m annoyed with myself for leaving it, though. I hope our morning together is pleasant otherwise. I’m mostly myself this morning, but still recovering, and a little impaired. I remind myself to slow down and be patient with myself and alert to my surroundings.

I finally slept last night. I slept until I woke, much later than I generally would. My timing all feels off. It’ll pass. There’s no pressure; I’m off work today to recover. I take my time doing the budget and payday stuff; I’m typing with only 9 fingers, presently, and it feels awkward with the finger that is not available being an index finger. This will also pass. A lot of the details of our human experience are quite temporary. Too temporary for a lot of fuss and bother or agitation, generally. It’d be nice if that were an easier idea to hold onto in a stressful moment! It takes practice – and the practice is in the lived experiences; results will vary. I sip my coffee and think about that. We become what we practice – there is persistence implied, and continued repetition over time. Effort. Verbs. Will.

It’s pleasant to have a Greek yogurt drink (peach) with my coffee this morning. I didn’t enjoy having to go to “clear liquids” only, for the 24 hours before my surgery. lol It was more about the loss of the sensual delight in tasting something good, less about hunger or blood sugar – the Ozempic definitely did it’s job there. Turns out that, at least for me, the experience of food and meals and tasting things is one of life’s real joys, and the day felt stripped of something precious without it. It wasn’t actually a big deal, it’s just genuinely nice not having to go without, and I’m appreciating that. There is real value in taking a moment to appreciate something, to feel it, to enjoy it, to be in that moment, so I make it a point to do that. It has tended to result in an implicit experience of life as pleasant and positive, generally, instead of the bleakness and feeling of futility that once characterized how I experienced my life. A very good practice (for me) and a change I’m very glad I made.

Yesterday was quite nice, after the surgery. I mostly slept, but when I woke it was to an experience of being cared for. My Traveling Partner was wonderful, (going with me to my surgery, bringing me home and caring for me all day) and the Anxious Adventurer did his part as well (bringing me a very nice sorbet to soothe my throat on his way home from work and taking care of dishes and trash and housekeeping stuff), and it was so nice to chillax over silly videos and munch pizza together at dinner time. No idea what today holds, really, nothing complicated – I’m giving myself the best chance I can to heal well and thoroughly without complications. I use my hands a lot. I’m grateful to have the use of them.

I think things over another few minutes. I hear my partner call to me from the other room, checking on me. It’s time to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, Anxiety, Brain Injury, breathe, Despair, Free Will, gardening, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, joy, Love, meditation, Mindfulness, Moments, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Roses, Sleepless Nights, Summer, The Art of Being

Heat

June 8, 2025 //
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There’s a heat warning in my area for today and tomorrow. Summer is here, early. The rising sun was an angry orange as I drove to the trailhead, and the sky was hues of orange and lemon yellow, fading to a watery blue-ish, gray-ish, pale sky with hints – mere suggestions – of faint green. It looks like a morning that must precede a ridiculously hot day. There was no traffic, and the drive was quiet, aside from the persistent zing and buzz of my tinnitus, which seems louder than usual.

I arrive at the trailhead’s empty parking lot and choose a spot, well away from the entrance, towards the far end of the parking lot. I’m annoyed when someone else arrives and, in spite of all those empty spaces, chooses to park directly next to me. It manages to feel like a violation of my personal space, and cluelessly rude. lol   I ignore their greeting and friendly attempt at conversation; I’m not here for that, I don’t know them, and also am not seeking any sort of company, at all. I let them leave while I put on my boots much more slowly than necessary and consider whether leaving and heading to the trailhead on the other side of the park might be preferable?

A strange mist covers the low places along the river.

From this location, I can take either of two trails; the year-round trail, or the seasonal trail. I take the one the other person didn’t take. lol It’s not the trail I showed up intending to take, but that doesn’t much matter. It’s a lovely morning for a walk, although I have the impression of already feeling the heat that has not yet come. I’m grateful for my water bottle, and cold clean potable water. By the time I reach my halfway point, I’m sweating.

… I’m eager to get home to my Traveling Partner, and have a strong sense of just not wanting to be around people much at all, generally. It’s probably just my irritation with someone parking right next to me when there’s an entire empty parking lot to choose from. Maybe it’s something else? I breathe, exhale, and relax, and try to let all of that go. It’s a pretty morning and I’ve got better things to do. I watch a variety of little birds flitting here and there. There are small swallows snatching insects from the air as they flit past. So fast. I don’t even see the insects that they’re eating. A wee yellow and brown bird stops next to me, just a few feet away and sings me a song before flying away. I stretch and yawn, aware that sitting here too long will mean walking back to the car in full sun.

I struggle to remember what my plan is for today. Do I have one? I know I’ve got one errand to run, but beyond that (and with my Traveling Partner’s encouragement) the day is mine. “It’s going to be hot, you should take it easy and do something for you.” Something that won’t heat up the house, for sure… Read? Paint? Reading sounds better… I don’t know. I’m content to just sit here listening to the morning, in the meadow.

I sigh to myself. I feel “unconvinced and uncommitted”. I laugh silently, amused and thoroughly human. It’s definitely time to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, anhedonia, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Practices, solo hiking, Summer, The Art of Being

An Eye on the Horizon

June 5, 2025 //
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I’m sipping my coffee as the day begins. My walk this morning was pleasant, uneventful, and frankly rather ordinary. The day is cloudy, and looks like rain. I’m in a thoroughly manageable amount of pain (for now), and I make a point of appreciating how (relatively) comfortable I am. In a life where chronic pain is a day-to-day experience, it is critical to really pause and be aware of it when pain is not a characteristic of the moment. Most of us don’t actually experience “chronic pain” as 100% of always every moment of every day all the time – it does come and go, and the severity varies. Our implicit memory and sense of “how things are” is notably affected by what we hold on to as “how we always feel” – so making room to be mindful and aware of a lack of pain becomes incredibly important for managing the whole experience of pain over time. Perspective matters. So, I sip my coffee, noticing how (relatively) little pain I am in right now, and make room for gratitude; it could be so much worse (and often is).

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I think about sunrises and sunsets, and views of distant horizons. I think about miles I have not yet walked, and contemplate trails I’ve yet to try. I think about camping, and I wonder when I might next spend a couple days on the coast, painting. I sip my coffee, and let my diffuse feeling of general contentment grow larger in my awareness. My eye falls on a small Hue Forge “painting” my Traveling Partner did from a photograph I’d taken. I feel loved and visible and appreciated as a person, as an artist, and as a partner.

Hue Forge rendering of a sunrise, Mt Hood silhoutted on the horizon.

That distant horizon is a good metaphor for goals and progress and walking my own path; there it is, just out of reach, that thing I think I want to get to. A goal, a vision, a destination – it could be any of those things, or just a place to camp that happens to be within view, but quite far away. What’s on the horizon? I never actually know, I only imagine, based on what I think I see. I have an idea, and a limited view. The closer that thing seems to get, the more detailed and real it may become – but it changes as it comes into closer view, more subject to scrutiny. Is it what I imagined? Is it actually what I want? Am I actually going to get “there” – or is that “there” quite different than I expected it might be? Am I being true to myself, and staying on my path, or has something fantastical on that distant horizon distracted me from my sense of purpose? Is it even real, or only something I thought I saw?

I sip my coffee feeling surprisingly content with “now”. Nice moment for it. Sure, the work day is ahead, but I don’t find that I mind. I’m fortunate to have a job I enjoy, working with a team of people I appreciate and respect (and even like), I feel appreciated in return. We get shit done. I’m working from home, which has the lovely quality of taking my breaks in my garden, or being able to run a quick errand during the day, and not finding myself quite so exhausted when the day finally ends. Nice “now” – I feel fortunate, and pause for gratitude; this too could be so much worse. Most of us do have to work to keep the bills paid and the pantry stocked, and it’s a difficult world. It’s not uncommon to have to endure a terrible work environment in servitude to a company whose values one can’t respect, simply to keep the lights on and the gas tank filled. It’s a lucky few who do jobs they love for companies they appreciate in an environment of mutual respect while being paid a good wage. If you’ve got it, be sure you appreciate it. Change is. Be kind to those who struggle with shit jobs for terrible bosses – it could be you at some point.

…Good cup of coffee…

My Traveling Partner gave me an early birthday gift last night. A new cookbook, and one that I’d spotted thinking “oooh, I’d like to have this one!” quite recently. I thought I’d added it to my wishlist, and was delighted that he had selected it. More delighted still – and a little amazed – when I discovered that I had not added it to my list at all. He knows me so well. I feel loved. This morning when my mind wanders, it is often to the kitchen, and thinking about what new adventures I may find there, between the pages of a new cookbook. 😀

Life can be experienced as a journey. I find it a useful metaphor. No map, lots of choices, and the path is mine to choose for myself. The horizon never really gets any closer – but it’s out there in the distance, tempting me onward. It’s a worthy journey – each step down the path has the potential to reveal some new delight, or to teach me a lesson I probably need to learn. We are mortal creatures – at some point, this journey will come to an end. Hopefully, I’ve learned all I could, experienced much worth sharing, and made a point to jot down some notes for anyone who may follow me down the trail (or simply wonders where I wandered off to).

I glance at the time. The clock is always ticking, and there are things to be done. It’s time, again, to begin.

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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

Buy the Book – while you can

April 28, 2025 //
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I left myself a note a short time ago. I had it on my mind, and didn’t want to forget. I had intended to write a blog post on the topic, at some point.

Write about censorship, libraries, intellectual and cognitive liberty, freedom to pursue knowledge, the nature of truth and how “obscenity” is used to control information.

Simple enough. Scary shit, too. I’m not sure what else there really is to say, though. Buy real books. Read “banned” books. (Who gets to tell you what you can or can not read, seriously?) Practice critical thinking – and use that powerful brain you’ve got there. Make a point of buying those real books from independent book sellers, (ideally from some funky-cool local brick and mortar bookstore) while they still exist. Help to keep the printed word alive. See an article about books being removed from shelves, libraries, curricula, for some buzzword-targeted non-reason? (Looking your way “DEI” “critical race theory” and “woke ideology”…) Maybe consider making a point of seeing what the fuss is about for yourself by actually reading some of those challenged books? It’s a thought. Frankly, aren’t you just a little concerned about your access to knowledge being restricted based on someone else’s agenda? (I sure am.)

However many books, however much experience; there is more to learn.

Don’t allow yourself to be told what you can and can not know, or what is “safe” for you – as an adult – to dare to read. Preserve your freedoms and your rights by insisting on them – and making use of them. Visit your local library and make a point of requesting books that you want to read, if you don’t find them there. Encourage your libraries to stock books that are challenged elsewhere. Why the hell not? Your mind is your own – maybe work to keep it that way? Count on librarians to be superheroes in times like these.

I could easily make a case for reading being an essential tool (and skill) for independent thought, critical reasoning skills, and basic success in life. Other’s have already made that argument more skillfully than I could, and based on real expertise. We may not be able to learn everything we need to know from reading, but reading sharpens our ability to process information, and allows us the exposure to knowledge to be able to learn more faster, over time. Reading creates disciplined focus and depth of knowledge. Reading exposes us to other minds, other philosophies and world views, and other voices on the human experience. Don’t let anyone take these things away from you!

I sip my coffee as I write; you’re here reading, now. Take it another step. Google “banned books” – there are lists out there. Google “controversial books in the 21st century” or something as click-bait-y as “the books they don’t want you to read” – there is a world of books and knowledge out there, and truly some of what is available is remarkable and worthwhile. (Some isn’t; another opportunity to exercise those rational faculties, eh?) Books can be costly – find a used book store, or visit the book section of the local thrift store. Do you want to know “what’s really going on” with Ukraine or Palestine? There are so many books on those topics. So many phenomenal authors with notable credibility and depth of knowledge. Do you want to have a better understanding of what is going on with the technologies that seem to be taking over the world? There are books on those topics too. Don’t rely on TikToks and sound bites from talking heads on line. Read actual books. Go deeper.

Your access to knowledge is actually under threat. Don’t give in. Resist. Read books.

A few more finished… a couple new books added to the stack 🙂
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Categories 2024 Election, anger, Anxiety, breathe, Free Will, inspiration, Logic & Reason, meditation, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Perspective, Practices, The Art of Being, War and News of War

Spring Flowers

April 17, 2025 //
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All along the trail, flowers are blooming. Mostly trees and shrubs, it is too early for roses and other summer-flowering things. The sunrise begins as an orange smudge on the horizon, Venus very bright in the morning sky. I catch a glimpse of what I think was the ISS, and smile. What an amazing feat of science, technology, engineering, professional commitment, and diplomacy! I guess, considering the way things are going these days, it makes sense that it is nearing the end of its expected usefulness.

Pear blossoms (at the edge of my garden)

Holy shit, when did human beings become so terrible? Has humanity always been actually awful, or has it been just those few monsters in our midst making things dreadful for everyone? We’ve really got to stop electing terrible people with malicious intentions to powerful positions. It’s not a reliable means to creating a good world in which people can thrive together. It’s frankly unpleasant and horrifying. We should probably really consider what we teach young people that so many arrive at adulthood lacking critical thinking skills or basic ethics.

I shake my head and keep walking.

Cherry blossoms and hedge flowers.

The trail takes me past a small chapel. This part of the path passes by a parking lot, and is paved and lit. It wanders through tall oak trees. These grow tall and quite narrow, being so close together.

Oregon White Oaks

I keep walking until I reach my halfway point and sit for a little while, avoiding my thoughts, spending time simply taking in my surroundings. I breathe, exhale, and relax. I listen to the robins singing their morning songs. I can hear the nearby creek and the distant traffic. A chipmunk approaches hesitantly before darting away. The sky is filled with the light of dawn and sunrise, and the hills to the west are hues of subtle blues. The rows of grape vines in the vineyard that the trail wraps as it heads into denser trees towards the creek are becoming more visible and the artificial lights I can still see from here are beginning to go out, section by section. The air smells of Spring. It’s a lovely quiet moment and I have the trail to myself.

Here comes the sun.

I sit awhile longer with my thoughts. Too soon the world will catch up with me; it’s a work day, and a busy one. I already know my calendar is full and my task list is long. I sigh quietly. Could be worse. I’m fortunate, and I am grateful for my opportunities. I’m not complaining about the burdens that come with them. I’m just not ready to get started. I’m enjoying this moment.

Enjoying the moment

I smile to myself when I remember (again) that I am working from home today. I can take my breaks in my garden, and enjoy lunch with my Traveling Partner. The clock is always ticking, and it’s important to enjoy the moments we have together. There’s no knowing what the future may hold. I take another breath of the Spring-scented air. It’s time to begin again.

It’s a new day. What will you do with it?
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Categories Allegories, Anxiety, breathe, Free Will, gardening, gratitude, Healthy Living, joy, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, Spring, The Art of Being
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