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Art and the Artist

April 4, 2026 //
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I am thinking about the work still ahead to bring my studio back to a work ready state. There’s vacuuming to do, clutter to remove and sort through, and basic housekeeping. I’ll be able to move the cabinets that are both flat storage of small canvases and also work surfaces back into the studio after those other details are handled. There are art supplies in storage that can come home. I thoughtfully examine a long glittery fingernail while wondering how much storage may have degraded some paint over time? It’s back to shorter nails, too; easier to hold a brush with a steady hand, or quickly touch something up with the edge of a fingertip. I know what matters most to me.

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

No AI used in the pictures, either, just a cell phone camera, no touch ups. No filters.

It was just the start of sunrise when I reached the trailhead this morning. Chilly. A mist clinging to low places. Pretty morning, and I stepped out of the car delighted to see the clouds disappearing toward the horizon, infused with pink.

I watched the moon set as I walked. I listened to flocks of geese passing overhead, and little birds in the trees as I passed by. What a lovely morning!

Steps on a path.

I get to my halfway point, and sit in the morning sunshine for a little while, feeling it warm on my back. I fill my senses with Spring sights and scents and sounds. I’m eager to be back at my easel, painting. I feel energized and inspired.

It feels good to have my studio back. It also feels a little weird. I’ve spent two years being accommodating, and now I am able to stretch and fill my space with inspiration and purpose. I’m grateful for this opportunity to really appreciate how fortunate I am. It was 35 years of painting before I ever had a dedicated studio space, and that first one only lasted a year – but I learned a lot about what I need artistically, and what matters most. We bought our little house in small town America, my Traveling Partner and I, in part because this little house has enough room for a small art studio for me (a bit of design and shop space for him was something that developed later, and our wee house is a little small for all of everything, but it’s generally enough).

I sit swinging my feet as I sit on this fence rail thinking about the weekend. There’s plenty to do. I try sorting things in my head, first by priority, then by level of enthusiasm, then by difficulty. None of that works; there is a necessary and rather practical order of operations to most of it. Nested tasks that only make sense in one sequence, mostly, and a few other tasks that will create pleasant breaks.

… And then there’s the garden; it’s s lovely sunny day and the garden wants attention…

I breathe, exhale, and relax. The path unfolds ahead, and I need only walk it. The destination? A work ready studio, a cozy, tidy library, and a lovely garden; isn’t that enough? I sigh contentedly, enjoying this moment just as it is. It too is enough. I hop down from the fence rail, startling s bunny in the grass I hadn’t seen approaching, and get ready to walk on. It’s time to begin again.

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

What Path Are You On?

April 2, 2026 //
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I walked down the trail this morning, with my thoughts and a smile. I feel pretty good, in spite of arthritis pain, in spite of a handful of chronic conditions that do slow me down (but generally don’t stop me). I’m grateful for the changes in health science that find me, at almost 63, in the same relatively good health as my grandparents were in their forties. Progress.

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

I do my best to take care of myself. It’s vexing when the guidance changes over time, but that is a necessary consequence of progress. Unfortunately, it’s also an unfortunate consequence of human stupidity or corruption and greed, and it’s sometimes less than obvious where changes have come from. Right now, it’s mostly pretty obvious, because the fucking clown car of corrupt greedy assholes in our government are like cartoon villains, and pretty easy to spot.

This morning the only thing that matters, really, is this moment here, and this path I’m walking.

Where does this path lead?

It’s a lovely mild Spring morning. I think of dear friends, faraway, and remind myself to reach out. Life is precious and too short. Our best moments are in the company of our dear friends.

I think about the garden. It rained during the night. If the afternoon is warm it will be a great time to plant new starts. I remind myself to get going on that.

It’s a short work day ahead. The Anxious Adventurer is coming by a little later to complete some moving details, and help move things around after his furniture is moved out. It’s a milestone and a bittersweet moment. I’ll admit, I have mixed feelings about it; it could have gone quite differently. Ah, but here we all are with choices made and actions in progress. I’m looking forward to having my space back, and my own bathroom, and enough room to paint, and more privacy for sex with my Traveling Partner (no kidding, that’s just real).

We choose our path and walk it. I watch the full moon setting. It’s time to begin, again.

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Categories Allegories, Anxiety, art and the artist, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, gardening, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, joy, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, Spring, The Art of Being, The Big 5

Real Luxury Isn’t Always Costly

March 28, 2026 //
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I woke up slowly in a quiet place – home. I made coffee. I made oatmeal, and contentedly sliced the last banana into it, chuckling because my Traveling Partner handed it to me yesterday, before he departed, and I forgot to eat it. I was busy with work (what a fucking waste of limited mortal lifetime, but it pays for everything else).

I took a comfortable seat in the living room. Ate my breakfast. Sipped my coffee. Watched the news Bubu and Dudu videos. I have the house to myself. What a crazy luxury! Better than diamonds or Louboutin shoes for me personally, the luxury of solitude at home is a favorite delight. My beloved knows this, and took his first opportunity to get away, meeting needs of his own, to give me this gift. I feel very loved lazing in my jammies, enjoying my coffee, soft jazz in the background as I write – on my laptop instead of my phone! Good grief, I could get used to this, but g’damn I’d miss my Traveling Partner…

Enjoying a moment of luxury, on my own terms.

… I reflect on that for awhile. When we maintained separate households, morning coffee together was the precious luxury. We made a point of it, often. I would not trade this relationship for solitude…or, not permanently. I do need my time away now and then, no shame, that’s who I am. Wow am I enjoying being able to enjoy that at home. I sigh happily.

Shortly, after coffee, after writing, after meditation, I’ll enjoy a leisurely shower, fold some laundry (because there are still chores to do to maintain good quality of life), and then head to the garden supply place on the other side of town, maybe, for more compost for the garden. I smile, thinking about taking my walk later in the morning, or possibly in the afternoon, maybe on a different local trail? No rush.

I feel content and unbothered, and comfortable in my skin and in my home. How lovely!

… I slept like crap, not gonna lie. With just me and my stepson (the Anxious Adventurer) at home, and considering the bridges he’s managed to burn with me due to his poor judgement and dreadful communication skills (and poor social skills), my mind refused to rest, I was restless and hyper vigilant, fighting PTSD “monsters in the vicinity” alarms clanging away in my consciousness. I slept poorly, woke often, and for too few hours. I shrug it off because this morning? Just wow. So good. This meets so many needs.

I’m grateful for this beautiful morning and the loving partnership that recognizes and supports that need. Did I say I feel loved? I definitely do. I finish my coffee. I’m looking forward to my shower. I’m enjoying these precious moments of solitude at home.

What are the little luxuries you yearn for and struggle to have or enjoy? So much of what matters most to us can feel just out of reach. That’s often because we placed it there, just out of reach, for… reasons. Choose wisely. For fucks sake don’t leave them there out of reach! Do you! What does that look like? Indulge the freedom to be truly who you are. Embrace the experiences you love. Enjoy your moment. If you’re not free to get there now, maybe begin again? These mortal lives are too short to waste time on a shadow of living, constrained by expectations, or the pressure of circumstances (or opinions). Take time to enjoy life’s simple luxuries while the opportunities last.

… Thanks, Love, 😍🥰 I definitely needed this…

I turn off the music and listen to the silence, before I head to the shower. These moments are mine – a precious treasure beyond price – I’ll enjoy them as long as they last, and then? I’ll begin again.

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

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Categories Allegories, Anxiety, art and the artist, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, joy, Love, meditation, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Sleepless Nights, Spring, The Art of Being, The Big 5, women, Words

Stress Management in Difficult Times

March 26, 2026 //
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Too much stress, too many of the days, and it’s too common as problems go, for too many people. What to do about it? I’m just one person, and I’m not a credentialed expert of any kind (there is help out there, I promise you), but I’m here, and I’m working on my own shit, and I care, generally, and I’m not selling something or harvesting your data. Just a person willing to share.

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

When I’m too stressed, too often, I reach into a metaphorical “bag of tricks” learned over years of managing stress, and years of therapy. I consider the source of my stress (often purely subjective internally manufactured stress) and choose my path.

  • Taking a proper break in a stressful moment, and really stepping away from it to focus on something else is often enough to reduce momentary stress.
  • Reframing the stressful circumstances, and giving myself better understanding of the complexities, and greater perspective is often helpful.
  • Checking my assumptions is very useful; it’s easy to be very wrong about what I think I know. Sometimes stressful circumstances are fueled solely by my own erroneous thinking.
  • Practicing non-attachment, refusing to be wounded by one outcome or another can let me get beyond the source of my stress to an understanding of circumstances that doesn’t cause me so much stress.
  • Meditation – practiced reliably and consistently – helps me build and maintain resilience. Even practiced unreliably, or only as a response to extreme stress, it still functions as a means of creating healthy emotional distance between me and my stress.
  • Evaluating the elements of my circumstances that are driving my stress and identifying (and letting go of) those elements wholly outside my control allows me to put my attention where it can do some good.
  • Saying “no”, setting clear boundaries and acknowledging my limits without guilt, shame, or discomfort (it takes practice) is incredibly useful. It’s too easy to overcommit and create a quagmire of stress over conflicting priorities and missed deadlines. “Can’t say no…” is either a self-imposed illusion, or the product of an abusive relationship (whether personal or professional is not relevant). “No” is a complete sentence, although it may be worthwhile to be more courteous, now and then, depending on the circumstances.
  • When the stress I feel has its roots in wanting more, different, better, or sooner, I find practicing sufficiency a useful tool. Resetting my expectations regarding what I really need vs what I think I want can be a source of real relief. Patience and gratitude help with that.
  • Facing anger with gratitude is almost a super power, and similarly, facing stress with recognition that “this too shall pass”, gives me cognitive freedom to look beyond my stress, through the lens of impermanence

I’m not a perfect person. I guess that is sort of the point. I keep practicing. The journey is the destination. Sometimes I have to begin again, sometimes beginning again is simply a joyful next moment arriving precisely on time. My results vary. I’ve built up a pretty useful toolkit for managing stress over the years, and these tools really work (when I really use them). It’s enough.

Yesterday was hard. The morning got off to a difficult start, but my Traveling Partner and I moved past the moment, and enjoyed a lovely day together. In the afternoon my mood was a little low; emotional storms use up a lot of energy and resilience, and can be quite fatiguing. I know that, though, and didn’t make it a thing. Instead I made healthy salads, my beloved got the crispy romaine and iceberg lettuce he enjoys, I got the dark leafy greens with the nutritional density I need to bounce back from a bad moment. We enjoyed them together.

It’s a stressful world. I hope you find something here to make it a little easier. (If I’ve overlooked a great way to manage stress, please share in the comments!)

I sit at the side of the trail I’m walking, writing and reflecting on life. It’s a cold morning. 1°C. I’m glad I wore a heavy sweater and a warm fleece over that. I watch daybreak become dawn. It will soon be time to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, anger, Anxiety, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, Spring, The Art of Being, War and News of War, Words

333

March 23, 2026 //
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I sat for a few minutes at the trailhead before I set off down the trail. The available mileage read 333, and I thought wistfully of turning the car around, calling out from work and driving east to catch up to the sunrise. It’s early. The sun won’t rise for another two hours.

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

I take a few more minutes to calm myself, to avoid pounding down the trail more stomping than walking; that’s too hard on my feet, ankles, and knees. Pointlessly damaging. Once I am calm, I set off down the trail in the darkness.

I reflect on my experience as I walk, and get to my halfway point annoyed to discover my phone at 35% charged. Wtf? Did I not plug in the charging cable when I went to bed? It’s possible, but the possibility does nothing to charge my phone now. I sigh to myself and toggle on “extreme battery saving”.

This morning I was awakened abruptly by the bang of a cupboard or a door. I dislike being awakened by loud noises. It sets off my PTSD. I’m hyper vigilant as I sit here in the darkness, heart still pounding, tinnitus shrill in my ears, pain amplified by anxiety – all this in spite of well-practiced tools for managing my PTSD. It takes time.

I sit here taking the time I need.

Fucking hell. And on a Monday after a couple days away from work, too. It’ll be a busy Monday. Maybe a busy week. I remind myself that although I can’t reliably control the circumstances in which I find myself, I can control my reaction to them. I breathe, exhale, and relax. I meditate for awhile in the darkness.

I sit listening to the HVAC of a nearby building. This is no wilderness trail, just a pleasant space between human endeavors. Behind me, the acreage of the air museum and a water park, vineyards filling every bit of space in which grapes could be planted. Ahead of me, on the other side of a creek that winds its way to the Yamhill River, an apartment complex, invisible but for a few lit windows and some balcony lights. Later, after daybreak, the farmworkers will begin to arrive, and the construction workers building a luxury hotel none of the locals actually want will begin their work. I sit with my irritation; it has nothing to do with these details, although it is tempting to connect them with my experience.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I let that shit go.

I dislike drama. I dislike displays of temper. I dislike unexpected loud noises. It’s a human life; there’s likely to be some drama, some temper on display, and some loud noises. Hell, sometimes I may be the cause. I sigh to myself in the darkness. My anger over being awakened by shit that isn’t even to do with me at all doesn’t help anything. I let it go. G’damn, I’ll be glad to see the Anxious Adventurer move out. The friction between him and my Traveling Partner is unpleasant to live with.

… They are each having their own experience, and in either case, it isn’t about me…

It’s just two more weeks.

My head aches. I take my medication a little early. I hope it helps.

I sigh again in the darkness, and pull my attention back to me, here, now, in this moment. I’m eager to be painting again. The background tension in the household has made that difficult. I sit reflecting on several views, images, and ideas I have in mind to paint. Being in less physical pain day-to-day has increased my feelings of being inspired. I love this feeling. I focus on the feeling of being inspired and “anchor myself” to that feeling, instead of clinging to my irritation. It’s a good choice, and I feel lifted from my anger.

Soon the sun will come. I’ll finish this walk and return home to work – and to make a good cup of coffee, and begin again.

For now, I’ll enjoy this quiet moment, listening to the HVAC in the distance and the creek nearby, and think thoughts of paintings yet to be painted, and moments of joy yet to come. I’ll open my heart to gratitude, and enjoy fond recollections of the time I’ve been spending with my Traveling Partner, which has been exceptionally pleasant lately, and romantic and connected. Time and moments worth savoring, for sure. I glance at the battery indicator on my phone. 31% now. I shrug, look over my writing and prepare to hit “publish” on this very human experience, before I begin again.

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