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Reality Almost Always Wins

April 18, 2026 //
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I’m sitting at a favorite spot on the coast. Beautiful coastal forest, nicely private cove with a beautiful beach and a rock formation with great tide pools. I’m not on the beach; too crowded. One end is crowded with loud families doing beach-y family things. At the other end, some gathering of a … tribe?.. of fundamentalist looking folks of one variety or another, the women inappropriately dressed in heavy ill-fitting sack dresses and bonnets, thick stockings and uncomfortable looking very plain shoes.

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

The two groups don’t mingle. In between there is almost some sort of understood zone of bare beach, by way of which a random neutral party could make their way from the parking lot to the water’s edge. I got close enough to see the arrangement. I’m not here to feel crowded or scrutinized. I go back to the car and park in a shady spot well away from anyone else.

I grab my coffee and my power bank, and sketch book. Turns out I don’t feel like sketching. I sip my coffee listening to the birds and savoring the breeze. It smells of ocean and forest flowers. It’s quiet here. I like that about this place. Every passing stranger feels like an encroachment on my consciousness and I’m eager to check into my room. Check-in time is not until 16:00. I’d hoped for an early check-in, but the hotel let me know that would not be available today, after all.

Well, shit. Today has been like that, generally. Plans? Let me welcome you to reality. I’m not bitching, I’m just being reminded that plans or no plans, without any consideration for expectations, wishes, or hoped-for outcomes, reality is what it is.

Lovely day on the coast feeling loved and grounded? Nope. Not this morning.

Pleasant brunch at a favorite breakfast bistro? Sure, if I’m okay with being elbow-to-elbow with other customers. Popular morning for brunch, I guess.

Soul-healing walks on favorite beaches wrapped in solitude? Um… not exactly. It’s a beautiful day; the beaches are crowded.

… I also don’t feel like dealing with my bullshit, and apparently I brought that with me…

Early check-in and feasting my eyes on the gorgeous ocean views at a hotel I’ve long wanted to try… Well, I’ve got the room reserved, but no early check-in. I won’t know what the room itself is like until later. (If I had come expecting to paint I’d have been disappointed.)

I had hoped to do a bit of shopping, but retail spaces are also crowded and my mind recoils from the contact. I really just want to be quite alone for a little while. I don’t find what I’m looking for.

…My fucking left foot is already hurting (plantar fasciitis)…

I sigh to myself and sip my coffee. It’s cold now. I don’t really care. It’s fine. I’ve now gone from Road’s End to Fogarty Creek, and two things are demonstrably true; everywhere I stop there are other people, and everywhere I go, I’ve still got to deal with the woman in the mirror.

Reality does not care about my plans, my needs, nor my beliefs. It’s just real. A smile breaks through; I’m okay for most values of okay. I’m finding enough solitude to recognize patterns in my thinking, and to process shit that has been on my mind, and to meditate and reflect without interruptions, even from my own wandering primate mind. A chance to unpack some baggage maybe, or find a clearer sense of direction in life. I breathe, exhale, and relax. Enough has to be enough, at some point.

I think about my Traveling Partner and let myself wonder frankly and without evasion whether our paths have begun to diverge, has paths often do. I think that would break my heart. I would probably bounce back, eventually, but I doubt i would ever be quite the same. This relationship has changed me so much. It has become a defining part of who I have become over time and has influenced what I choose to practice and how I see the world. I’m suddenly aware of my back pain, amplified by the moment of sorrowful contemplation.

I love this man too much to let this partnership just fall apart. Funny thing, on the subject of reality, this partnership – this love – sometimes doesn’t “feel real”, even after 16 years. I don’t mean that it feels somehow insincere or performative, I mean that it is often like a fairytale, at least from my perspective. We have to work at it, we’re human beings after all, but so often I feel as if I am living a romantic story. It’s beautiful. I reliably feel like a jerk when I break that spell.

I’m human, too.

I move the car to a different beach. There are still “a lot of people” here, but this beach stretches seven walkable miles when the tide is out, and people in small family groups tend to spread out.

My idea of “a lot of people” has my own desire for solitude as it’s comparison. This may not be accurate for most values of “a lot of people”.

I watch the waves crest as they near the shore and listen to the sound of seagulls mingling with the sound of children laughing. I make a lot of choices that influence my experience (and thus my subjective experience of reality), and I have a lot of control over how I react to, and interact with, that experience. Can I do better? Yes! I keep practicing. I still fall short of my expectations of myself, sometimes. I learn from it and keep going. That’s enough.

My heart fills with love for my Traveling Partner. Living with my chaos and my human foibles and failures has to be hard. I hope it is worth it to him, the way I find loving him as he is worth it to me. We’ve grown a lot together over the years. I still choose him.

I sigh to myself and look at the time. It’s a little while until check-in. I pull my sunscreen out of my purse – seems smart today – I’ve got time for a walk on the beach before I begin again.

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Categories Allegories, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, Spring, The Art of Being, The Big 5, Words

A Plan With a Convenient Twist

December 23, 2025 //
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When I originally planned my holiday time, it was with consideration of being new in my role, leading a team through a very busy season, and expecting I might still be scrambling to finish some holiday task or another. As it has turned out, my team is stronger than I knew and capable of getting the job done when I’m unavailable. I’m also finished with the holiday preparation. I don’t really need “more time”, but I did get quite sick after I returned from traveling for work. Turns out my plan to work half days this week (and taking the Eve and Giftmas Day off entirely) is a much appreciated adjustment to my work schedule as I get over being ill. Convenient.

Yesterday after work I focused on self-care. I feel a bit more better this morning than yesterday morning. The first thing in the morning congestion and coughing didn’t last as long, and my sinuses required fewer tissues. Small win, but still worth appreciating. I’ve got another short day today… for which I am deeply grateful. I may not actually have an entire work shift in me, quite yet. I am at least able to get a walk, and add a mile or two on these boots before the work day begins. The walking seems to help clear the congestion in my lungs.

The morning is another mild one. It rained more during the night, but for now the cloudy sky is only that. The trail is dotted with puddles. Slippery leaves are scattered here and there. I walk carefully, with my cane keeping me steady. I breathe – as deeply as I am able – filling my lungs with the rain-fresh “winter” air of the Pacific Northwest. Everything smells clean and fresh and healthy. Holiday lights on apartment balconies shine through the trees from across the creek that meanders past this section of the trail. The morning is quiet and dark. Daybreak won’t come for another hour.

“Morning! Coming up on your left!” I hear,  behind me, the voice of a stranger. Another walker – the older gentleman I spotted a few mornings ago. “Nice morning for it,” I reply as he approaches and begins to pass me. “I hope I didn’t startle you, Miss, I tried not to.” He sounds friendly and not at all threatening. We walk abreast momentarily. He shares that he’s seen me walking in the mornings and admits that it inspired him to walk more.

Turns out he’s the night security guy for the construction site on the other side of the parking lot, and began getting a walk in at the end of his shift, on this trail so convenient to the job site. He wishes me a good morning as he walks on ahead (at a faster pace on longer legs). I return his well wishes, grateful to have my solitude returned, and appreciative of a stranger’s consideration. Nonetheless, as I walk I feel for the knife in my pocket, and move it to my left hand, keeping my sturdy trekking pole in my right hand for balance. Oh, I’m not any sort of intimidating character or threat, nor am I inclined towards violence, but I’d take advantage of a lifetime of suppressed ancient rage to make an attacker rethink their life choices by defending myself, in order to enjoy another mortal day in the arms of my beloved Traveling Partner.

My hyper-vigilance is aroused by this passing stranger in the darkness, which seems unsurprising. I don’t take it too seriously; I’ve come a long way over the years, and this won’t wreck my day. It barely qualifies as “triggered”, and mostly seems useful, reasonable, and manageable. I keep walking, until I reach my halfway point and stop for a moment, to meditate and write.

Even in the darkness, sometimes there is light.

The sky has a familiar faint glow of the light of human communities reflecting back from the clouds overhead. I enjoy the silhouettes of trees and buildings and partially defined shapes of things that seem less obvious. I sit with the quiet, breathing, exhaling, relaxing, and filling up on the feeling of peace and stillness of the moment. I enjoy the feeling of being free to take my time. I enjoy feeling unrushed, unharried, and unbothered.

… Happy Holidays, however you celebrate the season…

I smile, remembering that I need to pick up a holiday pie, later this morning (then find myself wondering if I’m supposed to pick it up tomorrow… and suddenly wonder what day it even is? (Then double-check the date). I chuckle to myself. A human being, being human. A soft sprinkling of rain begins to fall. Predictable. No surprise in rain falling here, this time of year. I pull my folded rain poncho from my pocket, where I had shoved it as I got out of the car “just in case”, and put it on. The rain stops. I’m grateful to be prepared.

A small herd of deer steps shyly from the trees and walks across the trail into the grass at the edge of the vineyard, a short distance away. They are aware of me, but don’t seem concerned. I watch them. They watch me. When the rain begins again, I stand and stretch, and the deer walk away slowly, down the grassy strip along the path, before veering more deeply into the vineyard. I turn the other direction, looking down the trail towards the too-bright lights of the construction site around which the trail eventually wraps. (I wonder how this trail will change after that hotel is finished?)

I sigh quietly, contentedly, breathing the damp winter air, grateful for the mild morning. I enjoy these moments… and it is time to begin again. There are more, other, moments to enjoy… further down the path.

… And visions of sugar plums…

…Twas the night before Christmas…

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Categories Allegories, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, inspiration, joy, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, solo hiking, The Art of Being, winter, women, Words

When the Rain Comes

September 6, 2025 //
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I woke to a bright flash and the sound of thunder a few minutes ahead of my alarm. There was a message from my Traveling Partner sent during the wee hours of the night, asking if the thunder was keeping me awake, too. It wasn’t, but it eventually did wake me. As I dressed, I looked at the forecast. If it’s still raining, it won’t be for long, maybe.

I head to a more distant favorite trailhead, meadow and marsh, fewer trees. When I get there it’s still dark, not yet daybreak. I park facing west and watch the lightning illuminate the western sky at unpredictable intervals. I make a futile attempt to get a photograph of lightning; this is not the camera for that purpose. I give up and sit quietly, just watching, and waiting for the gate to the nature park to open.

Lightning before, lightning after, but the click of the shutter doesn’t catch the sight. There’s a lesson here.

… So much lightning seen, and not photographed…

I sit watching, as daybreak arrives and becomes the dawn of a new day. Most of the lightning I see arrives without thunder. It must be far away, I guess. Most of it flashes horizontally across the western sky, seeming never to touch the ground. Instead of a blinding pure white light, some of it appears almost orange, and I wonder at it, and contemplate what the cause could be and whether I’ve ever seen that before. We rarely get thunderstorms here, but lacking the sound of thunder, does this count as that?

I watch the lightning for more than half an hour, as the dawn sky brightens. Is it even safe to be out on the marsh trail in the open during a lightning storm, I eventually wonder? I’m content to wait and wonder, there is no reason to rush; it’s a Saturday.

…It isn’t even raining, at all…

Once there is enough daylight to make out the trail easily, I lace up my boots and go.

I enjoy the hues and shadows of the blue hour, as they change.

I get to my halfway point on the other side of the marsh and the meadow safely. I perch on a fence rail near a small pond and watch the western sky. The lightning seems less frequent, and when I see a flash, it is more to the north. The storm is moving. No surprise; storms move. An unexpected really bright flash of lightning tears across the sky, this time with the crackle and boom of thunder, catching me with my eyes wide open looking directly into the brilliant white light. I’m momentarily blinded, and wait, grateful I wasn’t walking at the time.

I breathe the rain-fresh summer air. It smells clean and fresh and healthy. I breathe deeply, filling my lungs with cool joy. I enjoy the moment of solitude and quiet. I watch a large-ish herd of deer crossing the meadow. Three does with eight fawns, almost grown, their spots almost gone. I scan the meadow and treeline looking for the buck, but don’t see him. This is a delightful moment simply to exist in the world. I sit with that thought and a feeling of contentment and joy, awhile longer.

After some little while, I notice my legs becoming stiff. Seems a good time to move along down the trail to the next moment. I wonder briefly whether my beloved Traveling Partner managed to get the rest he needs, and whether I should find something to do after my walk and let him sleep in, or head straight home after a short trip to the grocery store on the way? I chuckle to myself. I can rely on him to let me know, and don’t need to guess.

I get to my feet, stretching and looking down the trail. It’s time to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, inspiration, joy, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Practices, Sleepless Nights, solo hiking, Summer, The Art of Being

Steps and Practices

June 3, 2025 //
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Beginnings are pretty easy. I enjoy a beginning. Momentum can be difficult to sustain, though, and practices do need practicing. Failures are a thing human beings have to deal with. Beginnings come in handy as a way to follow-up on a failure. Just begin again. Ideally having learned from that failure, of course; it’s not super helpful to repeat the same failure and learn nothing from it. lol Steps on a path though; every beginning, every failure, every new attempt, each practice practiced takes us further on down the path we’ve chosen. Walk on.

Where does this path lead?

…I love a good metaphor…

The path isn’t always easy. It’s not always paved or level, it won’t always have convenient points at which to stop to catch your breath, it won’t always be illuminated, and sometimes – often – there’s no map to guide you. It’s a complicated journey in that sense, but in another very practical way it is as simple as taking another step. Incremental change over time is reliable, just slow. We do become what we practice – whatever we practice. 😀

I breathe, exhale, and relax. My walk was short today; there was a somewhat sketchy stranger on the trail, and I let my discomfort guide me back to the car a little early. Safety matters. The day stretches ahead of me, mostly unexamined and so far utterly routine. Just a day in a life. I’m okay with that. Working from home means taking my breaks in the garden, and I’m looking forward to it. First though? Coffee. Then? Then I’ll begin again. 😀

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Categories Allegories, Anxiety, breathe, Free Will, gardening, gratitude, Healthy Living, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, solo hiking, Spring

The Plan Is Not The Experience

March 20, 2025 //
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The map is not the world. The plan is not the experience. I’m chuckling to myself over my iced coffee, hastily prepared on my way out this morning. I woke at my usual time, but ahead of my alarm. I woke from a sound restful sleep that followed a deeply relaxing day of self-care and creativity.

… I woke thinking it was Monday, and that I was “running late”…

I rushed through my morning routine, quickly made coffee, and quietly left the house (very much in the usual way). I was heading to the office in dense traffic and a drenching rain before I remembered that I’m off work today (and tomorrow… and next Monday…), and that I’ve got very different plans than work. It is, however, raining quite hard, too hard for unfamiliar mountain roads in darkness, too hard for plein air painting with soft pastels, later.

…I hope the rain stops…

I head to a nearby familiar local park with a favorite trail to wait for daybreak, and (maybe) a break in the rain. I’ve got plans, sure, but I’ve also got backup plans (mostly amounting to alternate destinations). Rather than frivolously wasting fuel going all the way to one location then to another, I give myself some time to wake up properly, get my bearings, and wait for more daylight while I think things over. The whole point of this time off is to do with relaxing and indulging artistic inspiration. There’s no need to rush at all. No rules imposed on my decision making beyond being safe. No “timeliness requirements”, no “KPIs” or “SLAs”. If I wanted confirmation that I need this break from work, this morning’s somewhat panicked wake up certainly provided that!

It’s still quite early. The rain pauses long enough for a quiet walk in the pre-dawn gloom along the well-maintained partially lit trail. I gather my thoughts and consider the various locations I’d identified as being of particular interest this week. (Damn, yesterday was such a lovely day! Such a beautiful place!) I’m still inclined to head to the view points I’d selected (already a backup for my original plan, which is at high risk of snow and difficult to access under such conditions), but it’s not a route I care to drive in the dark on a rainy day. I sit with that thought awhile.

One point of view, and a pleasant recollection. Mt Hood in the distance, yesterday.

At some point, a spirit of adventure and eagerness to explore becomes a careless disregard of safety. At some point, a strict focus on safety becomes a fearful reluctance to experience something new. There’s a path between those choices. That’s the path I’m looking for, and hoping to find fulfillment, inspiration, and joy along the way. The “destination” may not actually be important to the experience. The journey is the destination.

I sip my coffee, grateful for the time I’ve taken for myself. Grateful to have recognized the need and acted upon it. Grateful for a partnership that supports and nurtures me. Grateful to see another sunrise. The sky slowly begins to lighten. Soon it will be time to begin again… I wonder where this path leads?

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Categories Allegories, art and the artist, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, inspiration, joy, Logic & Reason, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Practices, solo hiking, Spring, The Art of Being
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