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I’m sipping my coffee and thinking about words this morning. My coffee is seriously pretty damned dreadful, and the words I’m thinking over can be vexingly easy to misuse.

People are pecular, and inclined to misattribute what is going on within themselves (or externally) to some cause or another without even a casual fact-check. Humans being human; we are prone to assign “blame”. We think we know the how or why of a circumstance and we decide who or what is at fault based on our “knowledge”. Sometimes we think the fault is our own, and possibly accept responsibility for some event or circumstance, maybe even seeking to make amends for some thing we think we’ve done. Other times, it’s someone else deciding who or what they think is at fault for some situation or event, and they put the responsibility with that individual or group or entity, assign blame, perhaps demand accountability or redress of perceived wrongs. It’s strange stuff, most particularly because it’s often quite subjective, not well-researched, even thoroughly fallacious (or just fucking wrong). We human beings make a rather ridiculous number of assumptions, are exceedingly “gifted” at flawed reasoning, and confirmation bias, as well as offensively fond of maintaining a self-righteous grip on some dumbass notion without regard to any sort of fact-checking. We like being “right”, and we’re often willing to believe we are in spite of mountains of readily available evidence to the contrary. Fucking dumb. Humans being human.

I keep sipping my dreadful coffee. “Why do I do this to myself?”, I wonder, vaguely amused. I could totally go back to the break area and make a better cup of coffee. Instead I continute to sit with my coffee and my thoughts.

When I was much younger, I was often willing to expend a lot of energy arguing against stupidity (or lies). I rarely do now. It’s not that I’m not amused/offended/discouraged by apparent idiocy – totally am – I just… don’t feel I have the time to waste on that, these days. I have a life to live, and it is finite and mortal. I’d rather let wrong-headed bullshit go, and just move on (and potentially simply reduce contact with people perpetually inclined toward lies, stupidity, or negativity). I’d rather just not hang out with someone who is fond of conspiratorial bullshit than argue the point. I’d rather just smile and maintain a comfortable distance or an agreeable presence in the face of someone insisting on being wrong about something for which there is definitely evidence for a different opinion, than fuss over minutiae that may not truly matter for enjoying a moment together as people. It’s not that I don’t enjoy “being right” as much as the next person… I don’t enjoy expending energy fighting for it. If you think differently than I do, but don’t violate my personhood along the way (or anyone else’s), why do I care? You’re free to be wrong. Generally speaking, this seems a win, to me – being accepting, being tolerant, being okay with uncertainty or even being wrong. Only…

…I’m reading “On Tyranny“, and the author makes several very solid cases for specific circumstances in which being accepting or “agreeable” is not a good thing. Something to think about, and I sit with my coffee this morning thinking about words, thinking about ethics, and thinking about the potential risk in being too accepting or too tolerant, under a variety of circumstances. Definitely worth thinking about.

…Although, keeping it real? This doesn’t feel like a world where we’re all at tremendous risk from being “too tolerant” most of the time…

Sometimes there’s real personal risk involved in tolerantily accepting blame (or inaccuracy, errors, or lies) rather than arguing a point. Tolerance is virtuous – unless it is tolerance of actual evil. Real damage can be done. Words have meaning, how we use them matters. The world is complicated, and there’s surely room for many thinkers and many opinions, but there is only one actual reality, one world we all live in, one set of provable, demonstrable, documentable, actual facts – and a lot of people willing to undermine that reality to bolster a narrative that they prefer (whether for power or for profit). Real people can really get hurt. I could become one of those. So could you.

I sip my coffee grateful for this quiet moment of solitude. Right here, right now, there’s just me, this moment, and this dreadful cup of coffee. It’s on okay moment. I’m okay with the bad coffee; it’s real. It’s authentically crappy, and it is what it is. There’s nothing to argue about, and nothing to fear in being honest about it. No particular harm in it. Nothing controversial about a bad cup of coffee – unless perhaps I’m ready to go down the ethical rabbit hole of “should we be drinking coffee at all, considering the terrible exploitation of coffee growers?”. I sigh quietly. Shit is complicated when we “zoom out” and take in a bigger picture.

Reality is what it is. Reality doesn’t care what I believe (or what you believe), or whatever bullshit notions I may be inclined to cling to. Facts don’t lie – but it’s damnably easy to be wrong about whatever conclusions are drawn from them. Another sigh. Another sip of dreadful coffee. My thoughts don’t change anything this morning, and it’s time to begin again.

…Maybe a cup of tea, instead?

It’s the first morning of 2025. Unimpressive in most respects thus far, but that isn’t the point of a new beginning, nor is it the goal of this very human journey. There’s really no one to “impress”, and nothing much with which to impress them, not really. Thoughts to the contrary tend to be illusions we create in our own heads or adopt from others and subsequently use to torment ourselves with further illusions of disappointment and perceived failure. We could do better by ourselves than all that nonsense. It’s at least worth the attempt.

A new year, a new beginning. Choose your verbs, and practice.

We’re each human beings, having our own very human experience, each walking our chosen path alone, all of us in this together in spite of that. I look down the trail. It is a chilly misty morning that threatens rain. The world is damp and quiet. I sit with my thoughts a moment after lacing up my boots. Another mile ahead of me. Another moment of this precious mortal life, in which to consider, to choose, and to act. Where does this path lead?

In practical terms, last year I walked 788 trail miles (according to my tracker), and lost about 50 lbs. They may or may not be related. I’m not doing the walking to lose the weight in any specific direct way. It’s probably helpful to keep walking. Certainly it’s helpful to eat in a healthier way and manage my calories more closely. I’m very certain the semaglutide is a huge part of the weight loss, but even that is more about my health overall, and managing tricky details like my blood sugar, and oddly, my cognitive and emotional approach to food. It was always more complicated than “willpower”. It took a long time to be okay with that and to give myself a fucking break and be as kind and compassionate with the woman in the mirror as she seeks to be with the world. Humans being human.

I don’t really do “resolutions” at the New Year. I do take some quiet time to reflect quite seriously about who I am, who I most want to be, and what it might take to close the distance between the two. It’s a journey. The journey is the destination. There are so many steps in a mile, so many miles in a journey… and so many choices. I’ll definitely keep walking, both practically and metaphorically. In practical terms, I hope to reach one thousand trail miles this year. (Sounds like a lot but it averages to less than 3 miles a day over a year, which sounds pretty doable.)

I’ve got a list of books to read, and some quality of life goals that require changing some behavior. Nothing fancy or drastic, and incremental change over time can have really big results. We become what we practice. It’s enough.

I had a modest plan for today, and I don’t know if I am realistically up to it. I spent yesterday pretty ill, and I’m not yet back to 100%. I’ll take it easy in my walk, keep it short and unambitious, and be gentle with myself. Later I’ll take down the holiday decor – I’m pretty sure I’ve got enough in reserve to get that done. My other thought was to do the floors, all the floors, all the ways. Sweep, mop, dust baseboards, spot clean here and there were needed, and vacuum thoroughly – it’d be nice to begin the year bringing order out of chaos in this humble way, and I always enjoy how the house looks after some serious “detailing” of some kind… but… I’m fairly certain that project might be too much for me, today. Pushing it off to the weekend feels like “giving up”, but it also feels like self-care.

New year, new beginning – there are choices ahead, some simple, some complicated, and there’s a life to be lived. It’s definitely time to begin again. What will you be practicing? Where does your path lead? See you on the trail (metaphorically speaking).

One step at a time.

I drove to the trailhead this morning thinking about how far away this once seemed, although it now feels quite close to home. It’s become a familiar drive, and is also the approximate halfway point on my morning commute when I work in the office. Those details don’t change the distance in miles, nor do they alter the time it takes to make the drive, but what a difference in perceived distance and inconvenience!

I got to the trailhead still thinking about time and distance and the differences in perception perspective on a journey can make. A very long walk often only feels long when it is new and unfamiliar, seeming to grow shorter over time as walking it becomes commonplace. Funny how that works…

I walked down the trail in the pre-dawn darkness, thinking my thoughts. I came upon a good stopping point after what seemed a long while; I’ve been walking a different trail here, but with all the recent rain, only the “all season” trail is actually walkable now. The change in trail is a change in perspective, and perceived distance. I was still sore from yesterday’s walk, this morning, too; it has more hills and felt like a somewhat more challenging workout. This morning feels like a serious effort, and a bit “too far” though a look at my step counter and the trail map tells me there’s very little difference. Perspective.

I sit quietly, writing, enjoying the quiet. It feels colder this morning, though the temperature is the same as it was yesterday, maybe even a degree warmer if I trust my recollection. My legs and back ache, and my discomfort sets me up to “feel the cold” more, perhaps.

Repetition and familiarity create an experience of “ease”, and what seems easy also seems to require less time, or amount to less distance. Practice changes our perception of difficulty. Just something I am thinking about as the new year approaches. Want to get good at something? Practice. Want something to feel easy? Practice. Want some particular skill or response to become “second nature”? Practice. Do the verbs. Do them again. Do them better. Do them over. Keep practicing.

… Fuck I wish I didn’t ache like this though…

I laugh to myself and shake off my irritation with the pain I’m often in; it would be much worse if I gave up on the walking. I know this from experience. Experience also brings perspective. The journey is the destination. The longer I walk my path, the easier it may feel, and the more I may understand. (I say “may” because there are damned few guarantees or certainties in a human lifetime, and a lot of verbs required, and my results do vary.)

I begin to notice the chill a bit more in the darkness. I see a hint of daybreak in the blue gray of the eastern horizon. I can make out the path without my the headlamp now. I guess it’s a good time to begin again – with new perspective.

I’m sitting at the trailhead listening to the rain fall, still hoping for a break in the rain sufficient to get a walk in without also getting soaked. I listen to the traffic drive by on the nearby highway. I observe the gleaming wet stripe of asphalt that crosses the view. The fields on the other side of the highway are in a low spot, as is the marsh behind me, and each year the fields and marsh flood in the winter rainy season, closing the lowland marsh trail and creating a vast shallow lake where the fields are. I had planned to walk the marsh trail. I’ll take the year-round trail for the rest of the rainy season. Different trail, different view; reality doesn’t care about my plans. lol

Lights reflected off a seasonal lake, before dawn.

I’m enjoying the quiet. I’m unconcerned about the rain. Circumstances change and change again, it’s best to enjoy things as they are whenever possible. Some people struggle to find joy. I used to be one of those. Turns out it is surprisingly easy to change that in favor of becoming a person who easily finds joy in the moment. It does take some practice, and it’s not really something that can be faked. I breathe, exhale, and relax, noticing again the quiet of the morning and enjoying it.

Maybe today I’ll do some painting before the clock runs out on the holiday season and the year?

I notice how much my neck is hurting and how loud my tinnitus seems. I shrug off my discomfort, because I also notice that the rain has stopped, and there is, for now, clear sky overhead. I grab my headlamp from where I leave it hanging from the gearshift, and my boots from the floor on the passenger side of the car. The weather is quite mild, although rainy, and it’s a good morning to walk, in spite of the darkness. I smile to myself, finding joy in this moment, too. It’s a good moment to begin again.

I’m sipping my coffee from the relative comfort of the office, having just put the finishing touches on the budget for this payday. I sigh quietly. The big gift-giving holiday of the year is behind me, now, and although the glow and warmth and merriment linger in my recollection and my sense of things, it’s definitely time to put my focus on paying the bills. We’ve got to pay for our fun, and this is a pretty solid, reliable truth of the human experience. Choose your adventure; pay the price of admission. There’s always a price to be paid. Big choices, small choices, moments of overreach, investments in a future we earnestly desire – doesn’t matter “what it’s all about”, sooner or later the bills come due. Running from it just makes the interest pile up (metaphorical or actual – things don’t get less expensive if we try to avoid paying the cost).

I sit with my osteo-arthritis pain; the bill I pay for choosing to live – and to do so without violence. That broken back that griefs me on the regular? I find it hard to feel real regret over that; I chose life, my actual own life, rather than face likely (imminent) death at the hands of my violent ex-husband. Was the price too high? Hardly. It was very much worth the price I’ve paid – and will continue to pay. Doesn’t make it less expensive.

Thankfully, most of the time the bills that come due in life are merely actual bills – the payments we have to make for some moment of fun we chose to have. This morning, I’m looking over my budget, grateful for the job that pays for the life my Traveling Partner and I are fortunate to share at this point in our lives. We’re not wealthy, and probably never will be (I don’t think it’s really a goal for either of us, honestly – we just want to enjoy “enough”), but the pantry is stocked, and we’ve got electricity, heat, running water, and highspeed internet. We’ve got books to read and a well-outfitted shop in which to make things (or fix things). We’ve got our little garden, and our life together. It’s enough. It is, in fact, the best life I’ve personally ever been so fortunate as to enjoy, and it’s definitely worth the price I pay when the bills come due. Isn’t that the important thing? That it feels worth it, I mean? That it feels like enough?

I sit with my gratitude in this quiet moment, hoping that this good time in our life together lasts a good long while. The future isn’t written and the world is full of turmoil. It’s hard to say where the future will take any of us, or how long one mortal life may last. I look over the budget one more time, and ask a question I know matters – although I don’t like to consider it; what can I do to protect my partner’s future from uncertainty if “the ultimate bill” comes due, and he’s left to go on without me? I don’t run from that thought these days – it’s too important to overlook it, and the bills always come due, eventually. That was a hard lesson to learn, but it’s an important one. So, I recommit myself to freedom from debt and building our savings; if either of us is left to deal with life alone, it’d be nice not to worry about debt. We have shared values and a shared understanding on this detail, and we plan together. It’s a partnership, for real. I smile to myself; it feels good to have a proper partner on life’s journey. More to be grateful for.

I sip my coffee. I breathe, exhale, and relax. It’s a mortal life, sure, but so worth taking time to savor each precious moment. I look at the calendar – 4 more days to the near year. Already? Already. Time to begin again.