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New Boots, Familiar Trail

March 7, 2026 //
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My new boots arrived yesterday. I eagerly put them on this morning. I wisely didn’t immediately chuck out my old ones; I don’t know how much break-in time the new pair may need. So far they are decently comfortable.

First steps feel like a new beginning – because they are.

I have on my favorite pair of thick alpaca hiking socks, and these boots feel like they have room for cushioned orthopedic insoles, too. Feels like a win. My gait though is altered just enough to feel different. The boots have a relatively tall sole, adding an inch to my height and changing where I “think my foot is” in space. I chuckle when I recall getting into the car… the first two attempts were just me awkwardly figuring out why, instead of easily sliding into the driver’s seat, I was getting hung up when I tried to put my foot into the car. 😆

… I’m a human primate; I figure shit out…

The morning feels like a lesson in avoiding making assumptions, and perhaps new boots are a useful metaphor. I get to my halfway point. Short walk. Familiar trail. I’m out of breath though, thanks to this fucking head cold. I sit down and cough and sneeze my way through an entire pack of travel tissues, grateful to have brought along two.

I smile to myself contentedly. I am enjoying the morning, and the weather is mild. No work today and I will return home to a human being who loves me dearly. The greatest wealth I’ve ever known is in this love I share with the singular human being who is my Traveling Partner on life’s journey. I breathe, exhale, and… have a coughing fit. I try again. (Damn, fuck this head cold though! 😆 I could definitely do without it. I remind myself that it will pass. Impermanence is more permanent, by far, than a head cold.) I add cough medicine to my shopping list, and sit quietly with my thoughts for awhile longer.

DST changes the clocks tomorrow. G’damn I fucking hate this bullshit. It’s so hard on my body. It changes the timing on all my medications and also makes us all look just a little stupid, as though we think moving the hands on the clock actually changes when the sun rises, or how many hours are in a day. 😂 Fucking idiotic.

I see hints that Spring is coming.

I shrug to myself, and let all that go. Spring is coming. I see it in a faint green haze beginning to show in the tops of distant oaks. Flowers are beginning to bloom along the trail, too. Lush green grasses and weedy plants fill the spaces between the vineyard rows. I love Spring. Funny, I often say that autumn is my favorite season, but I’m not certain that’s true, as I sit here inhaling the scents of Spring. I definitely know what I like. I like the solitary morning moments, and the time on the trail. I like returning home, knowing love waits for me there.

I’m grateful for the paved and level path while I break in new boots. (It’s a metaphor.)

I like beginning again. It’s my path, and it’s Spring. I’m okay with not knowing where this path leads. 😄

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Categories Allegories, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, health, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Sleepless Nights, solo hiking, Spring, The Art of Being, Words

A Little Closer to Sunrise

March 4, 2026 //
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I breathe, exhale, and relax. I sit quietly along this trail, appreciating a new day, a good mood, and having enjoyed a good night of rest. Small things, and still worth appreciating. A lot of small things have joy and wonder and plenty of value worth appreciating.

One moment, and the dawn of a new day.

The western sky is taking on some lovely pink hues along the edges of the clouds. I hear voices coming up the trail, rather loud for so early. “…use this trail almost around the clock, so we….” They come into view as they round the bend. I call out a cheery “Good morning!”, hoping to avoid startling them. “Morning, Young Lady!”, one replies. “We’re going down to put up caution tape and cut off a section of this trail for safety,” says the other. I ask if I’ll still be able to walk the loop all the way around with a detour, and they reply that I will. They walk on. I wave as they depart and they return the gesture. Human beings, being human.

Our words matter. Our gestures matter. Our ability and willingness to include others and to communicate matter. We have so much to offer each other and the world. Good things. We choose, and act on our choices. The consequences of our choices are our own to endure, and to be responsible and accountable is not something we can dodge or defer indefinitely. The bills will always come due. Worth thinking about.

Choose wisely. Speak gently. Act with intention.

The clouds roll past overhead, and it’s a gray sort of dawn. For a moment I catch a glimpse of a luminous fat full moon peaking through clouds and tangled bare branches. Pretty. It doesn’t last. Moments are brief. Impermanent. There’s something to be learned from that. I sigh quietly. I am wrapped in contentment and not eager to move from this place or this moment. The clock is ticking, though, and moments don’t last, even when we linger.

I stand and brush some damp leaves off my jeans and look down the path. New day. New moments. Time to begin again. I smile to myself and set off down the path.

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Categories Allegories, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, inspiration, joy, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Practices, solo hiking, Spring, The Art of Being, War and News of War, winter

One Foot After The Other

March 3, 2026 //
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“Keep walking,” I tell myself silently. Over and over, step after step down the trail to my halfway point. This morning I got an early start, and I get to my halfway point just at daybreak. That’s fine. I just wish those persistent steps had carried me past this shitty mood.

Here. Now.

I sigh irritably and let it go. I didn’t get here by myself, but that’s the way of human primates; we are social creatures, and easily pick up feelings from each other. It’s not personal, it’s how we’re wired. I try again to let it go. I’m cross with myself, with my Traveling Partner, and with the fucking world. “Do better, Assholes”, I mutter to myself feeling seriously cranky.

Another sigh. I’m grateful to have remembered to shove a pack of tissues into my pocket. The tears vex me, and now my nose is running. I feel like a ticking time bomb, which seems like an unreasonable overreaction, honestly. Sitting here alone I can more easily evaluate that, and maybe gain perspective and soothe myself.

Could my seriously shitty mood be a byproduct of changes to my medication? My doctor prescribed something different to help manage my neuropathic pain, things like my headache, my occipital neuralgia, and other pain that is linked to my spinal injury. It has definitely helped with that – it even seems to have “turned down the volume” on my tinnitus, which was unexpected… but this new medication also reduces the need for other prescription pain relief, and reducing the amount of that comes with known difficulties – “the down” is rough. Is my shitty mood coming from (or aggravated by) withdrawal symptoms? It could be. Useful perspective.

I find perspective and reframing very calming. It’s a useful practice.

The Anxious Adventurer is supposed to be doing something or other for his days off, to give my Traveling Partner and I some time alone to enjoy each other. He came down with a cold, but doesn’t say anything about whether that has affected his planning. It’s honestly one of the most vexing characteristics of cohabitation with him; he’s not at all “open”, not out of meanness or any sort of reserved nature, it’s more that he seems to lack basic communication skills and has little will to improve. I still have no idea when or if he’s going somewhere, nor where that might be. He seems clueless why such things matter. (I like to plan, that’s part of the fun for me, and I discuss my plans freely, even seeking other perspectives and suggestions when I am planning something. I know that isn’t everyone’s thing, but fucking hell say something enough in advance for people around you to also plan!)

….Comfortable cohabitation generally needs shared values. Without that, someone is generally not comfortable…

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I meditate as dawn becomes day. A new day, another sunrise, a new beginning… I rely on being able to begin again.

A different “now”, a new perspective.

… Fucking hell, it’s a work day, too… I can’t say I feel like it, I definitely don’t. At all. I inhale the cool morning air. It smells like Spring. It feels warmer than I expect for early March. Fog begins accumulating, oozing up from the creek bed on the other side of the trees. It’s 7C (45F) and feels comfortably mild. There are early Spring flowers blooming: crocuses, daffodils, hyacinths. The air is sweet with the fragrance. I focus on that.

… And I’ve definitely picked up another head cold…

Fucking hell being human is complicated and annoying sometimes. No wonder we do such a shit job of simple communication or managing our emotions with care, or being considerate of others. It’s hard sometimes. It takes practice, and we mostly don’t bother to teach this shit.

We become what we practice.

The clock is always ticking. I get to my feet, reluctant to deal with the world, but recognizing the necessity. It’s time to begin, again.

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Categories Allegories, anger, Anxiety, Brain Injury, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, Love, meditation, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, Spring, The Art of Being, The Big 5, winter, Words

Facing Change, Choosing Wisely

February 28, 2026 //
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My walk this morning began at sunrise. Beautiful. Worth the drive. Feeling rested and eager, I headed down the trail at a brisk pace, but with the spare trekking pole from my gear bin, instead of my usual one that functions as my outdoor all-purpose cane. (I forgot about grabbing it from my Traveling Partner’s pickup.)

Every sunrise is a new beginning.

The brisk pace was foolish. It’s a chilly morning, and I’m warmed through from walking when I get to my halfway point and stop to write and reflect. My ankle and left foot are feeling the adverse effects of my enthusiasm, though, and remind me why my plan today includes shopping for new boots.

… I’m not annoyed to be replacing these boots over any perception of poor quality. It’s not that at all. It’s that this pair of boots turned out to be “single use” in the sense that they can’t be re-soled. The built-in cushioning air pockets designed into the molded (or extruded, I don’t know) soles can fail through wear (obviously), and can’t be repaired. Crappy design not intended for durability. I dislike designed obsolescence, and find it to be a pretty shitty sales tactic. Still, I’ve had (and worn) these boots for almost 3 years and they’ve lasted pretty well…

The bare trees are full of little birds.

I sit awhile watching a variety of small birds hopping about and flitting among the bare branches of the oaks that dot the meadow. There’s a hint of soft green beginning to show like a haze when I look at the trees from a distance. Spring is coming. I think about the world for a moment, more worried about war than I’d like to be. It feels real and potentially imminent in an uncomfortable way, and creates a sorrow deep within me. I thought we were past this, but no. Evil still exists in the world. Human primates are neither fully domesticated nor are they “civilized”. Am I prepared to deal with it? I sigh to myself grateful for a full tank of gas and my gear in my car. Even recognizing how little that really prepares me for, it gives me some comfort.

… I definitely need boots I can walk in comfortably over a long distance…

The Chaotic Comic wants to get together for brunch. Maybe tomorrow? I’d enjoy that. I sit awhile longer, letting my foot and ankle recover a bit before I head back to the car – at a slower,  more considerate pace. I think about my choices, and what I look for in a sturdy boot, before I begin again

Yes, the boots, and the shopping, are metaphors. Choose wisely; how you equip yourself for the journey matters.

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Categories Allegories, Anxiety, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, inspiration, meditation, Metaphors, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, solo hiking, Spring, The Art of Being, War and News of War, winter, Words

Like an Old Friend

February 27, 2026 //
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I got the call yesterday evening. My car was ready to be picked up from the body shop. It’s been two… three? Three weeks, since I had dropped it off. I think. Close enough. I’ve been enjoying the comfort and luxury features of my Traveling Partner’s pickup. It’s very nice.

… I already miss the heated steering wheel and seats. 😆 The view is quite different, too. It defrosts faster on a cold morning, and has such a smooth ride! I already know that I will replace my current vehicle with the same make as my Traveling Partner’s truck, having determined the SUV in their product line will suit me nicely. That time is not now… lol

The Anxious Adventurer gave me a ride over to the body shop. I walked past my car looking over the repair work. Wow. Like new. I mean, I guess that’s the point. I slid into the driver’s seat gently, and readjusted the seat position and the mirrors. I start it up…no squeak. I pull out, getting the feel of it again; it’s very different from the pickup. Less luxurious. Less…(or…more?) of something else I can’t put my finger on. Feels weird, but also very comfortable and familiar. I like this car. But…? Yeah. It has its quirks and shortcomings.

From the trail, the vehicle doesn’t matter.

I drove to the trailhead this morning, feeling pleased to be back in my car again. I do enjoy the truck when I drive it, but it isn’t mine. I don’t like leaving my Traveling Partner stuck at home either, now that he can drive when he wants to. I chuckle at myself for being vexed that timing will prevent me from reloading my gear into my car before the end of the work day. I let it go. It’s not urgent.

I head down the trail into the fog. It’s a chilly morning. The season seems uncertain whether to be winter or Spring. I love hitting the trail at a time of morning to see the sunrise. This morning it is bold orange, veiled by the fog, creating a strange diffuse glow on the morning horizon. To the west, only fog, and the trail disappearing into it.

Friday, at last. It’s been that kind of week. I sigh to myself. I’d eagerly drive somewhere and try a new trail this weekend, but I need new boots before I do that. The car is due for an oil change, too. I  feel fairly certain there were other things I want or need to do this weekend, but I can’t recall them now.

I breathe, exhale, and relax, tasting the cold morning air and watching the sun rise. I stretch and sigh quietly. It’s already time to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, Spring, The Art of Being, winter, Words
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