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A Better Version

October 30, 2026 //
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Walking and thinking on a damp chilly autumn morning. A fog clings to the ground, and wraps the trees.

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

Interesting conversations with my Traveling Partner last night. Dinner together. Some videos. Nothing much out of the ordinary, it was a pleasant evening at home, in spite of being obviously impaired by pain, the both of us. When did I stop being able to easily “power through” and give a convincing impression of fitness? It seems recent? By the end of most days now, I just… can’t.

Still, there are better versions of me, and this is the idea that I’m giving thought to this morning as I walk. How to be the best version of myself moment to moment, in spite of pain, in spite of PTSD, in spite of brain damage, and in spite of aging. I’m not even looking for a cheat or shortcut. I’ll take the long slow approach, that’s fine. If this shit were easy the world would not be the festering shit pile of corruption and suffering that it seems to be.

… Hell, wouldn’t we all be better off if everyone at least gave a moment of their time to considering being their best selves? I can almost hear someone snap back “how do you know they don’t?”, and I know my response; look around you. That’s how I know. Gaza. Ukraine. Somalia. Rwanda. Yemen. Iran. Seems obvious more than a few people in power aren’t giving being the best version of themselves any thought at all. (When you vote, turn those fuckers out.)

So, I sit here at the side of this trail thinking about how to be the best version of myself. It matters to me. I’m not sure I’ll get there but I’ll be able to look back on a life well-lived in the attempt.

I breathe, exhale, relax. I meditate under a cloudy sky. The air smells of rain, fallen leaves, wood smoke, and petrichor. A lot of candle makers will charge you crazy prices claiming to be selling this scent. They never get it quite right. That’s the thing about the real experience of a scent or a place; any simulation, any fake, any artificial representation is going to fall short for anyone who has lived the moment. There’s something important to understand there, about artifice. I think about that awhile. Being my best self isn’t a “fake it ’til you make it” proposition. That doesn’t really work. Frontin’ like a player doesn’t make you a player. Dressing like a CEO doesn’t make you head of the company you work for. Playing make believe is…play. Becoming one’s best self is work and practice.

I inhale deeply and enjoy the sensation of exhaling. I visualize letting my stress go, exhaling it with my breath.

Wait, did I just dismiss artifice and play acting in one moment, then turn right around and use a visualization exercise in the very next paragraph? Yes, yes I did. Visualization, imagination, playing pretend, and even “dressing for the job you want”, all have a place at the table in life. Becoming the person I most want to be has some real work in it, and a commitment to practice over time. Lots of verbs. So much practice. No guarantee of success, and an implied promise of failure along the way. It’s hard enough just figuring out who we want to be. The work of becoming is its own challenge.

I get to my feet and stretch. I guess it’s as good a time as any to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, Anxiety, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, Despair, forgiveness, Free Will, gratitude, health, meditation, Metaphors, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, solo hiking, The Art of Being, thoughts on AI, War and News of War, Words

Life.

October 29, 2026 //
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It is quiet here at the side of this trail in the darkness. It is early, before sunrise. It is autumn, chilly but not cold. Everything around me is wet from rain during the night. The clouds are dense and the sky quite dark, no stars shine through.

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

I breathe in the chilly fresh damp autumn air, grateful to breathe easily, thinking my thoughts. The freedom to walk safely in the darkness in the wee hours is precious and I make a point to savor it. I have no reason to expect that I’ll always have such freedom. It’s a strange world, and very few things are truly lasting certainties. So, I sit here contentedly for a little while, just being. Grateful.

The night was a difficult one. I sigh to myself, from frustration, or impatience, or maybe because life itself is often difficult. It could be so much worse. I practice anchoring myself to this moment here, now. It is quite a pleasant one, and it happens to be the one I’m in. Handy.

I breathe, exhale, and relax.

I hope my beloved gets the rest he needs. It is hard on him too when I am having a bad night.

Yesterday was tiring. My annual wellness check with my GP was fine. I’m in good health for my age and considering my history that’s impressive (to me). I got my flu shot. Convenient. It’s a long drive away, though, and I was tired by the time I got home. I shared a quiet evening watching videos with my Traveling Partner. All very ordinary and happily mundane.

… I’ve been having bad dreams, more or less nightly, for awhile now. Dreams of war, of chaos, of having to “mask up” in response to some threat of chemical or biological warfare then discovering the chemical agent is inside the mask… Rough. Worse are the more abstract dreams. How the hell is a dream of a “rainstorm” of strangely sticky confetti a “bad dream”?! I have no idea. What does a dream of blood going down a drain actually mean? Lucid dreaming practices sometimes help me find my way out. Waking up is a reliable way to stop a bad dream, though it does not prevent them lingering in my thoughts, sometimes for days.

This morning I’m tired but clear headed. It’s enough to get by on. The weekend is coming. I am hoping to spend much of it in the studio. How do I most easily put a nightmare to rest? I paint its picture. It is a peculiarly personal way to exorcise my demons.

A sprinkle of rain begins to fall. I get to my feet to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, anger, Anxiety, art and the artist, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, gratitude, health, inspiration, Love, Menopause, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, The Art of Being, War and News of War, women, Words

Weird Weather, Still Walking

October 28, 2026 //
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I slept well, and struggled to wake easily. I slipped out of the house quietly, without waking my beloved (I think).

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

The rain was fell intermittently as I drove to the trailhead. The air felt colder than the thermometer says it is. It is a relatively warm 51F/11C, and experience suggests it should feel warmer than it does. The raindrops feel warmer than I expect. It’s very strange. I get to the trail, dressed for the rain, so of course it stops raining. I begin to remove my poncho, as if to suggest confidence in the cloudy skies. As I do, it starts raining again. I laughed and put my poncho back on before I headed down the trail towards the creek on the other side of the vineyard. Nothing to see, really, it’s still quite dark and only my headlamp to light my way. I see the rain falling.

My beloved pings me a greeting. I find shelter under the trees and reply. The morning feels bright and joyful – and it’s not even daybreak yet. 😆

A break in the rain (more of a drizzle, really) and I set off again. The rain taps the hood of my poncho. A gust of wind pushes me sideways, then I overcorrect and stumble the other direction when the wind dies away. A fit of sneezing almost knocks me off my feet, but I barely give it a thought – I’m way more focused on not pissing myself as I sneeze! 😂 I stop, stand still, and catch my breath, grateful for the brief pause in the rain, and the tissues I remembered to stuff into my pocket.

When I finally reach my halfway point, it has felt like an adventure to get this far. I take shelter under the overhang of the evergreens along the creek. My usual spot is out under the open sky on the other side of the trail, but it’s raining again, so I choose differently. I sigh to myself. I won’t linger long. Today clearly isn’t the day for that.

Yeah. Rain. It is autumn in the Pacific Northwest, rain is just part of the package. Movement catches my attention. A small group of deer are walking past. One mature doe is leading three others, younger and smaller. She looks at me calmly, as she passes. They head into the trees just beyond where I’m standing. The rain continues.

I sigh to myself and finish this, eager to pull my cardigan more tightly around me and jam my hands into warm pockets. Surely I’ll warm up as I walk? I’m already looking forward to a hot shower after work. Silly human primates, always yearning for something. I grin at my very human foolishness, and begin again.

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

Different Moment, Different Day

October 25, 2026 //
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I woke later than usual. No alarm. Sunday. I woke feeling genuinely better for the first time in many days. I got up, dressed, and slipped out of the house quietly.

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

It’s been awhile since my Traveling Partner had a chance to sleep and wake without my (sometimes uncomfortable) presence first thing. I also prefer to wake alone and get myself together before I have to deal with people. Yes, even my beloved. I hope he sleeps in, and enjoys waking slowly.

I’m probably not yet up to a long walk, so I make a shopping list and head up the highway to a favored grocer to pick up a few things. I grab coffee on the way. I take my time with things. This is that delicate time between being ill and being entirely well where a morning of exertion could easily result in a relapse and days more being sick. I am taking my time. There’s no reason to rush.

Autumn is all around. I enjoy seeing the fall colors everywhere. I’m eager to take my recollections into the studio with me and paint thoughts of autumn, seasons, and change. A steady rain has been falling. My arthritis pain is well-managed and not vexing me. Good day to paint.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I finish my coffee and check my shopping list. It’s already time to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, art and the artist, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, health, inspiration, joy, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, The Art of Being, The Big 5, Words

Refresh, Relax, Recharge

October 23, 2026 //
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I’m feeling better. Enough better to really enjoy a walk in the chilly autumn air before dawn. Refreshing like a cold drink of ice water on a hot day.

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

It is cold, though. Above freezing, but only barely. I’m grateful for this warm sweater and the fleecy cardigan I added to that as I left the house this morning. The cold manages to feel more refreshing than anything else. I’m glad to resume my morning walk. It just “feels right”. I definitely needed the rest I got from taking a break from my walking for a handful of days. I’m glad I yielded to my Traveling Partner’s strong recommendations that I stay home, get some rest, and give myself a break.

When I am sick, one of the things that is notably impaired is my judgement, along with my impulse control. In other relationships, this has lead to things like me going out in a snow storm to take a city bus to the closest location of a specific fast food chain at my then-partner’s behest, in spite of being feverish and struggling to breathe when I had the latest hideous strain of flu. It sounds ridiculous without any embellishments or storytelling strategies. I was so sick I was having to sleep sitting up – but my fucking partner still sent me out in a snowstorm for a fucking cheeseburger. I very nearly missed the last bus back before the roads were shut down and the buses stopped running completely.

…He complained that the burger was cold by the time I got it home to him…

I sigh to myself. I didn’t even understand at the time that I was being taken advantage of, which still feels more than a little embarrassing, now.

I’m grateful to enjoy a relationship with a partner who looks out for me, now. Being cared for truly feels really good. I’m always looking for ways to return the favor. Partnership; we’re in it together.

The weekend is coming. I’d take off on my own and give my beloved a break from having me around so much while I’m sick, but I did that last weekend. We don’t have it like that. Besides, I’d probably do well not to rush myself back into the full measure of work and busy-ness, immediately. I sit at the halfway point of my walk thinking it over. A short work day today makes sense. Maybe a gentle weekend close to home, and time in the studio, or reading quietly? Coffee with my Traveling Partner, over conversation about our radios, perhaps? Quiet and gentle sounds good.

The cold morning nudges back to my feet. It’s some time before sunrise, and there’s only a hint of daybreak to be seen. I’ve got a busy (short) day ahead… May as well begin again, and get started on it. This path won’t walk itself!

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