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In Between

October 3, 2026 //
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The foggy marsh trail feels like a liminal space, this morning. There is only “nothing” in the distance ahead of me, and behind me, and I walk along this portion of the trail in the predawn darkness with my headlamp on its dimmest setting to enjoy the sensation of being between moments.

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

It’s still dark on the foggy marsh trail.

Did you click on the picture, anyway? In spite of the not quite featureless darkness? This moment feels like a decision to click on something partially obscured from view. Life is defined by those decisions. We’re choosing our experience all the time.

I sigh to myself contentedly. The halfway point on this trail is near the Tualatin River. I can’t hear it, but the scent here is different than on the portion of the trail near the highway and the marsh ponds. The strange feeling of being between places or experiences persists. Is it the autumn fog or the moment itself? I can’t tell.

… Don’t feel like hearing me bitching about chronic pain? Skip the next paragraph…

I woke in pain. I’ve taken medication. Stretched before I headed down the trail. Did my PT stuff. Doesn’t matter, the pain accompanies me every step this morning and sneers at my meds. Today it is limited to head, neck, shoulder, and it is exceedingly clear that my neck is the source. I grimace, massaging my neck as well as I can. It’s not an especially helpful effort. I remember some things from the appointment with the specialist yesterday and try something he had recommended and demonstrated with me. It helps. It’s not perfect, but it’s definitely better. Better is good. An acceptable outcome.

New pastels arrived yesterday from a reputable brand with a long history (a characteristic I really value is that feeling of “legacy” provided by distinguished old brands). I hope to spend time painting today, pain permitting. I stretch and feel joints popping and pain easing a bit. I rub my hands slowly, gently. The arthritis developing in my thumbs vexes me. (How many more paintings are left in these hands?)

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I sit with my thoughts awhile. I am unbothered by the ticking clock of this mortal life, this morning. It’s Saturday and for the weekend, my life is not limited by clocks. That feels better than what seems reasonable.

Daybreak comes to the foggy marsh. I get to my feet, ready to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, art and the artist, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, The Art of Being

Yesterday’s Sunrise

October 2, 2026 //
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Yesterday’s sunrise was beautiful. Maybe I’ll paint that sky this weekend.

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

Every sunrise a new beginning.

I spent yesterday taking (Rx) drugs and wracked with pain, mired in irritability, working, and listening to Bauhaus, NIN, and The Stooges. Not exactly cheerful stuff, but infused with a dark moody energy that just seemed to fit. I was even wearing black, though the choice was unintentional.

… This morning is better, so far…

I enjoyed a quiet evening with my Traveling Partner, though I still don’t understand why he took a chance on my company last night; I wasn’t in a good place at all. We both made the necessary effort and it was a relaxed, generally pleasant evening.

This morning? New day, new beginning. I walk the familiar trail in the familiar darkness, grateful it is largely an external experience of circumstances – it’s still too early, not yet daybreak. Nothing like yesterday, when the darkness seemed to ooze from my being. I breathe in the mild autumn air. We haven’t yet had our first frost.

I breathe, exhale, relax. I meditate under the stars. It’s beautiful. I hear something loud, not too far away. The sound of impact, of things breaking, and a short time later, sirens. Someone else is having a bad morning today. Every one of us will, eventually. Very human. Our results may vary, whatever our circumstances or our practices.

“Maybe a shorter walk in the morning?” my beloved had suggested to me. It was a good idea. I sit with my thoughts another minute or two. Self-reflection is a useful tool for gaining perspective.

The sky takes on a hint of blue, and I stretch a gaze at the few stars I can still see. Short work day, and an appointment with a specialist later about this fucking headache, then the weekend. I hope to spend a substantial portion of it in the studio. I’ve got a playlist ready…

… I get to my feet, and hit play, before I walk on. “….Bela Lugosi is dead…” And it’s time to begin. Again.

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Categories Allegories, art and the artist, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, Despair, Free Will, gratitude, inspiration, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Moments, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, The Art of Being, War and News of War, Words

I’m Okay, Are You?

October 1, 2026 //
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I’m okay, for most values of “okay”. It’ll have to do. It’s honestly not worth the effort to bitch about anything going on with me. Mundane stuff. How are you? I care and I’m curious. (Comment if you wish.)

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

I’m sitting at the halfway point on this hike, and probably life as well (if I’m lucky enough to be around to see 120-ish). I have felt as though I’ve been living life “at the halfway point” for awhile now, 15-20 years maybe. It has been a time of struggle, change, healing, and growth. I’ve made some good friends in this time, I’ve probably lost more.

…There’s never a guarantee that life’s scale would balance for me as an unremarkable individual human primate, one of many…

I breathe, exhale, and relax. The cycle is a simple one. My day begins. I do my best. I survive the experience. I sleep, wake, and begin again. And again. And again. Eventually, the sands of time will run out on this one mortal experience. I’ve no idea what’s after that – no one has come back to say. I sit with that thought awhile. Uncertainty. Impermanence. Change. Big ideas that seem smaller under the black night sky. Doesn’t matter. My time. My thoughts.

I meditate. Enjoy the mild autumn morning. Watch for daybreak. Write a few words. I’d rather be setting up my easel for another piece, but it’s a work day. I think ahead to the weekend. Soon.

This is one of those mornings that feels almost like a throwaway moment, “nothing to see here”, as if it were a rerun, and not because I have a routine. It’s more that the moment is unremarkable, which is true in all but one way; the very ordinariness itself. The gentle mundanity is so spectacularly strange feeling to me sometimes, I find it remarkable. Very little of my life has been gently ordinary. I don’t really know whether (or quite how) to enjoy it. I wonder how many such moments I have undermined with unnecessary drama or emotional bullshit in the past simply because I didn’t know how to deal with the ordinary?

I sigh to myself and notice the trees seem more obvious, silhouetted against the sky, than they did moments ago. Daybreak soon, I suppose. Another sigh. I get to my feet and stretch, looking down the path. It’s only a moment. I begin again.

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Categories Allegories, Anxiety, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, solo hiking, The Art of Being

Strange World

September 30, 2026 //
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It’s a strange world we live in. AI recruiters interviewing fake job applicants while real people struggle to find work adequate to pay the bills. A government that doesn’t get anything useful done for the people being governed, because grifters and criminals own the Whitehouse. Healthcare that sick people can’t afford. I could go on…it actually does get worse.

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

I take a deep breath of the strangely warm mild autumn air. The morning is peaceful out on this trail. Quiet. As though all is well and right with the world (it isn’t). I walk on, pulling myself back to this moment, here, now, each time my mind wanders to troubling news reports. (How about the one where the US president explicitly threatens nuclear genocide against a foreign nation?) I think about work and haul my mind back from that, too. Now is not the time for any of that. Now is a time for peace and contentment.

… How much more wonderful would this world be if each global citizen faced each moment from the position that “now is a time for peace”? Something to consider. Where do you stand on peace..?

You may be inclined to say I am being naive, but I gotta say, I didn’t kill anyone yesterday. Did you? I bet not. So, clearly it is possible not to kill. Good start on peace is not killing people. Clearly it can be done. I’m annoyed by how persistently people refuse peace and the ridiculous excuses they make to justify their hate and violence.

I sit watching the night sky. It’ll be dark awhile longer. I reflect on the lovely connected peaceful evening I shared with my Traveling Partner yesterday. He bought dinner. We hung out watching miscellaneous funny shit together and laughed. We needed some good laughs. Laughter gets people through a lot of tough times.

… So does love…

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I take in the peacefulness of this quiet morning. I’m grateful for another day. For the moment, shrugging off chronic pain seems almost effortless (it isn’t really, I simply took appropriate medication soon enough to get ahead of it a bit). Meditation. Write a few words. Sit with this peaceful now. Enjoying the darkness before dawn. Gathering my resolve to face the challenges of a new day. Wondering for a moment what the day might hold…

Hints of daybreak lighten the sky slowly. I think about beginning again.

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Categories Allegories, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, Love, meditation, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, The Art of Being, Words

Sometimes It’s Complicated

September 28, 2026 //
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Morning. Another one. Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful to see another sunrise. Life gets complicated sometimes, though, and it is a lot to take. It’s rarely “all on me”, or even about me (in many cases it’s nothing to do with me at all).

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

It’s not even daybreak yet. It’s quite dark on the trail this morning – clear starry sky, the full moon overhead.  I walk down the familiar trail with a measure of confidence, the bobbing circle of light ahead of me from my headlamp is plenty to see by. I walk with my thoughts, enjoying these moments of peace and quiet reflection; they may be the only such moments in a busy complicated day.

I get to my halfway point and take a seat on the nearby bench.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. Chilly morning. I’m grateful for the warm sweater and cozy cardigan I threw on over it. I can see my breath this morning. Fall. The potential beauty of the morning is thrown off by concern for my Traveling Partner. I find myself wondering whether I should call out from work to take care of him today? For the moment my own pain takes a back seat in my awareness. I breathe deeply, and exhale slowly, working to stave off my stress before it can become a panic attack. My partner needs me to be capable and to provide care. I remind myself that I did it for two years, and I can resume doing so capably, now, when my beloved needs me.

Breathe. Exhale. Relax. Sometimes shit gets complicated. That’s just life. We all go through shit, and it is sometimes the worst we’ve ever been through. Resilience is built over time, but it can sure feel like it can be used up in an instant.

I sigh to myself feeling restless, and for a moment a little trapped and hopeless. I remind myself that change is, and very few moments last. Most things are pretty impermanent, actually, so I take another breath, exhale again, and do my best to relax. I’ll keep practicing.

Still not daybreak yet, but there is the faintest hint of something more deep dark blue than utterly black about the sky. A new day. I keep working to quell my panic (an inner voice snarls at me, “no one has time for this weak ass shit, knock it off”). Breathe. Exhale. Relax. Repeat as needed. I struggle to get comfortable with myself this morning. My mind refuses to settle down or focus, like hearing a fire alarm I know is a test, and still feeling it is urgently necessary to leave the building. This is absolutely not a test – it’s life. Sometimes it’s complicated.

I sigh to myself and hope I get through the day with my perspective intact, and able to provide any caregiving my partner needs. I stupidly look at my watch in the dark. Pointless. I do know it’s time to begin again… I get to my feet and turn to head on down the trail and back to the car.

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Categories Allegories, Anxiety, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, Despair, Free Will, Frustration, gratitude, health, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, The Art of Being, The Big 5
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