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What It Is, What It Could Be

September 7, 2025 //
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I woke several times during the night, and returned to sleep with relative ease. I slept in, which wasn’t expected, but I’d made room for the possibility by not turning on my alarm at all. Sunrise comes later in the morning these days, but it still beat me to the trailhead. lol

…No idea why I was having such a restless night…

I set off down the trail as soon as I was parked and had my boots on…

A favorite spot to linger for a moment.

Yesterday, my Traveling Partner wanted a bit of time to himself to wake up and have his coffee, which is not a problem for me – it’s more of an opportunity. I poked around in retail spaces that sell used books looking for something particular to add to my wee library. I didn’t find it – and frankly didn’t expect to any more than I expect to see a herd of unicorns in the meadow on my morning walk. I was using the specific focus of my search to refine my attention, more than anything else. It was all for the joy of searching. What I did find is a 1979 12th edition Fanny Farmer cookbook – the very same cookbook which, along with the Better Homes and Gardens cookbook, and The Joy of Cooking, contained nearly all of my Dad’s “secret” recipes that were staples of my childhood. There are a lot of memories in those pages. $3 was not too much to pay for a cookbook in such great condition.

Recipes and memories

Being an older edition of this cookbook, the recipes are very much the ones I remember. My Better Homes & Gardens cookbook is a much later edition, by comparison, modernized more recently, and some of the changes to conform to modern dietary guidelines “break” the recipes (example, most of the recipes have simply had salt removed entirely and are quite bland). I can (and do) make corrections, but it’s nice when I don’t have to.

When I got home, I happily began looking for old favorites to try, and made a tuna casserole for dinner. It was definitely a tasty reminder of comfort foods of my childhood. I liked it well enough that it may join the rotation of everyday staple meals, or at least turn up on the table more often.

This morning is a cool, rainy one, at least here at the nature park. The trail is wet, and the meadow grass is wetter. The return of the rain reminds me that soon the seasonal marsh trail will close for the year, as the meadow soaks up more water, and becomes marshy once again. The geese are beginning to return, too. Autumn is approaching.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I feel the pointless anxiety that chased me up the highway this morning begin to dissipate, with each deep breath of cool morning air. I fill my lungs with the scents of a rainy late summer morning at the edge of this meadow, and each time I exhale I imagine still more of my anxiety being released with my breath. It’s a simple enough exercise in visualization, and very effective. I’ve no particular reason to be anxious, but there it is; I deal with anxiety.  Managing my anxiety such that it remains at a more or less normal level, serving to alert me appropriately to give attention to some legitimate concern and only that, is an ongoing challenge. I no longer take an Rx remedy – the side effects tended to be problematic – so I have to put enough consistent practice into self-soothing, non-attachment, and perspective to keep myself from succumbing to more severe episodes (and ideally also prevent panic attacks). When I am fortunate enough not to have much anxiety at all, it’s easy to think I’m “over it” or that it isn’t an issue for me anymore, but that’s an illusion, and it’s exceedingly foolish to give in to that bit of self deception. Steady practice and good self-care make more sense.

What am I so anxious about? It’s not even a question I actually have to ask, this morning. I just finished my first week at the new job, which has a 30-day “trial period” built into the contract. I don’t have any reason to expect that I won’t satisfy that requirement sufficiently well, it’s just a lingering awareness in the background with a lot of potential “what-if” attached, and this is a driver of anxiety for me. It is what it is. What it is, is a temporary circumstance, and utterly ordinary. “Nothing to see here”, but my anxiety doesn’t want to hear that. Everything could go wrong… On the other hand, there’s no reason at all to expect that things will go wrong… Anxiety is a liar.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. It’s a lovely morning. I smile, thinking about a cookbook filled with recipes and memories. Today I’ll bake something, between housekeeping tasks. It is that day – a day to bring order from chaos, and get some things done before a new week begins. My anxiety nags me that I’ve only got three more weeks to “prove myself”, and I laugh out loud, startling a chipmunk I didn’t see until it darted away. I prove myself every day. I have for years. The thought makes me smile and my anxiety is gone for the moment, and has no power over me.

…The way out is through. It’s a journey, and I learn as I walk my path. We become what we practice…

I look down the trail, and up into the stormy sky. I smile to myself, remembering the new Hello Kitty tray my Traveling Partner made to hold my glasses when I am not wearing them. I feel very loved. I find myself eager to continue the day, and to return home to my beloved. Weekends are short – too short. I’m grateful to get to spend so much time together, and still have so many opportunities for a little solitude, too. It’s a  nice balance.

I’ll sit with my thoughts a little while longer…soon enough it will be time to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, Anxiety, autumn, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, Summer, The Art of Being

So Human

September 3, 2025 //
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New job, first day, and all of that went well yesterday. My headache was a 12 on a 1 – 10 scale as I headed home, and I did my best not to allow it to vex me. I was grateful it was a Tuesday – by longstanding practice, it is the Anxious Adventurer’s night to cook, which means less work (for me) and tasty tacos (generally).

… Turned out to be less than ideally easy to get to that moment…

My brain was exhausted when I got home, and the headache was kicking my ass. A shower might help, I’d thought, but no, it didn’t. I took additional pain medication and settled into a darkened room to meditate and hopefully ease my pain and maybe recover some cognitive energy to get through the evening on…

My Traveling Partner alerted me that he was facing unexpected difficulties and excessive time required in a project to do with server maintenance on our home network. My many many (hundreds of) gigabytes of images were…so many. Too many. Backups of copies of duplicates of old drive contents and folders of images I didn’t want to lose were carefully saved – and in several cases nested within each other, multiple times by several names – a byproduct of every tense OS upgrade, or computer replacement over time (for decades), and worse still, it was also all partially backed up as zip files from my old Google Photos app or on a cloud storage platform. Fuuuuuuuck. So many copies…of copies.

…Can I please do something with that fucking mess?!...

Yeah. I was annoyed and aggravated and frustrated to tears by the impatience and irritation in the otherwise entirely reasonable request. I’d even been working on it, piecemeal, much of the past year on and off, whenever I had a spare minute, was also thinking about it, and happened to be on my computer… But I hadn’t finished the important part (deleting the old copies) – I was pretty spectacularly busy with working for a living, caregiving an injured partner, running errands and keeping up the housework, and trying to stave off exhaustion as much as I could while managing chronic pain.

In an instant I felt unappreciated and disrespected – and invisible. I cried the entire time I pushed myself through the steps of reviewing each folder, feeling angry and unsupported. I wept frustrated tears while I deleted folder after folder, fingers crossed that I would not delete the sole copy of some image that has lasting value for me. I managed to finish the work needed in about an hour of mostly focused time, distracted only by my own tears and my Traveling Partner’s continued pings, messaging me continuing to explain why finishing this project matters to him in this moment and more generally, and checking on my progress. Unhelpful for me in the moment (trying to focus and work with a headache), but I recognized his desire to feel heard, and to reconnect and resolve painful emotions. I did my best.

… G’damn that fucking headache though, and not one fucking word of sympathy or care from anyone, which caused hurt feelings that lingered for a while in the background. I was silently mired in a very “fuck all of you” sort of place for a little while before I was able to let it go. Humans being human. I’m fairly certain everyone in the house was doing their best, but…as is often the case, it didn’t feel “good enough”. Our results vary, and as human primates we can expect a certain amount of bullshit and drama to be part of the experience. I chose to let small shit stay small and move on from it without doing anything more to address the circumstances directly.

A new day, a new chance to begin again.

Funny thing, this morning none of that mess is important or relevant at all. My tinnitus is loud in my ears, but my headache is an inconsequential 2 on a 1 – 10 scale. My Traveling Partner was awake when I left the house and seemed to be fairly merry as he kissed me goodbye for the day. It was a pleasant parting and I’m eager to return home at the end of the work day without resentment or ire. Resilience for the win. I’ve worked years to get to this place. I’m grateful that a momentary upset no longer sends me spiraling into chaos, futility, and despair that lingers for days or weeks.

I walked the local trail with my thoughts, enjoying the dawn. It’s a new day. It even feels good to have finished a project that had been stalled (and was seriously taking too long). I breathe, exhale, and relax. I can feel the reduction in the chaos in my life, having cleaned up my files. Funny how that works (for me). I’m grateful to my Traveling Partner for taking such skillful care of our network, and for making it clear that my failure to complete a project I’d started more than a year ago was holding up progress. I’m grateful that his own resilience allows him to bounce back from a tense or angry moment, too. I’m grateful that I never fear violence as a potential byproduct of his anger – he’s not that person.

I watch the sunrise contentedly from my halfway point. It’s a new day, a new moment. I’m okay for most values of okay, and there is no anger in my heart. It’s a fresh start – and time to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, anger, Anxiety, art and the artist, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, Frustration, gratitude, health, Logic & Reason, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Summer, The Art of Being, The Big 5, Words

Routine and New

September 2, 2025 //
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This morning is a new beginning. New job. First day. It’s a fully remote role, which is pretty routine for me these days, but… some things are not routine at all. New tools… some of which are familiar from other roles, at other times, but in other versions or configurations, too. New. Novelty can be challenging, sometimes. It tends to crack open any bit of complacency or assumption-making foolishness, presenting things from a new perspective, or by being wildly different than my recollection of that thing. Novelty isn’t bad. It can be refreshing and a wonderful route to new perspective or deeper understanding. It can be frustrating and vexing (mostly only if I fight it). I breathe, exhale, and relax.

One by one I go through the various email items in my inbox inviting me to this or that tool, system, or database. Routine – and also new. The process is familiar, the specifics are less so. I’m shortly finished with those items, and curious about others. It is still quite early in the morning, and it’s likely that the majority of the team members here in the US won’t be on until a bit later in the morning. I sigh with a mixture of contentment and relief. I’m grateful for the quick turn around from one role to the next. I’m even sitting at an open desk at the co-work space that had become so familiar and comfortable in my last role…though the little office that is assigned to that employer is no longer mine. This still feels a familiar and welcoming place, comfortable for working. My Traveling Partner had gently encouraged me to consider working from this location vs my office at home; he knows me well, and it is often the case that my frustration with this or that new tool or login process can cause my emotions to flare up uncomfortably (for both of us) on day 1, though I tend to be very emotionally “well-managed” during work days, generally, at this point in my life. (That wasn’t always the case, for sure, and both my beloved and I live with the emotional scars of that earlier time, and tend to be very considerate about it now.) We both dislike the experience of having to deal with my frustration with myself in the moment.

I smile to myself and just listen to the soft quiet of the office at this early hour. There is so much to learn, to do, to get sorted out – and there’s no hurry, this is just day 1. It’s definitely time to begin again…

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Categories Allegories, Anxiety, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, Frustration, gratitude, Healthy Living, inspiration, joy, meditation, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, The Art of Being, The Big 5

House of Pain

August 31, 2025 //
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Yesterday was a pretty relaxed day of getting things done, although not that many things, and rather slowly. I spent the day in pain, and that put pain management as a high priority, competing for my attention through the day. My Traveling Partner was also dealing with pain, and struggling to focus on the work he was doing, too. We managed to enjoy the day together in spite of pain. Later, when the Anxious Adventurer returned home from work, he brought his own pain along with him. Nonetheless, we all mostly managed to mostly enjoy the time, without complicating the experience with pain. That’s something, and I sit for a moment this morning, grateful for the good day yesterday in spite of pain. Everybody hurts sometimes… Living with chronic pain is its own special hell, but it can be managed to some extent.

It could have been worse; I found enough “spoons” to bake cookies.

I woke this morning from a deep restful sleep, and was awake for a few minutes before I realized I wasn’t asleep anymore. I got dressed and headed to the local trailhead I favor. I don’t have any reason to drive further, really, and this is a pleasant trail and it is a quiet morning. It’s Labor Day weekend, and there’s no one here but me, so far. It’s the sort of weekend a lot of families use to go to the coast or to the mountains, this little suburban trail is neither of those.

A hazy summer sky reminds me that the world is burning, elsewhere.

I walk the trail, down through the oaks, between the parking lot and the vineyards, winding around the bend past mature grape vines, and down into the trees that grow more densely along the creek, until I get to this spot, convenient to sit a moment with my thoughts. I’ve grown very comfortable with practicing meditation outside, somewhere along the trail I’ve chosen, in the early morning. I’m rarely interrupted. It’s pleasant and quite calming. Lovely morning for it, in spite of the haze of distant wildfires.

… I’m still in pain (again) today. Like a lot of people, I live with chronic pain…

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I reflect on age, and aging, the vagaries of the absolutely crap-tacular US healthcare system, and what it means to balance endurance with joy, and what it takes to thrive in spite of chronic pain. Then I let all that go and enjoy this lovely morning moment of quiet contentment out here on this trail. I’m less anxious, knowing I’ll go back to work on Tuesday, which is helpful. Like a lot of other things, anxiety tends to worsen pain, or at least seems to make it more difficult to manage or ignore.

I watch some chipmunks playing at the edge of the trees. They delight me. I would definitely pet one if it came close enough, and laugh at myself over it. It’s probably not a good idea to try to pet wild creatures, generally speaking. I spend a moment wondering if I’m such a chucklehead that I’d actually do something so foolish, or would I only want to? I find myself unable to be entirely certain. I hope I’d choose wisely. My ability to apply self-restraint and impulse control are much better on the GLP-1 I’ve now been taking for more than a year. It has improved my life quite a lot, because I’m not so likely to do dumb shit “because it seemed like the thing to do at the time”.

The rising sun illuminates the strip of meadow beyond the trail that separates the forest from the vineyard. I see an elder couple walking their dog slowly approaching from the farthest point along the trail still visible to me. Nice morning for it, and I knew I wouldn’t have the trail to myself indefinitely. They wave and offer a cheery greeting as they pass. I wave back and reply.

More housework today, I guess, that’s the routine. Pain slows me down, but I try to avoid letting it stop me. There’s just too much to do, and we’re all in pain (in this household) – someone still has to get things done. When we all commit to doing what we can and coordinate our efforts, we still manage a pretty good quality of life, and sometimes even manage to forget the pain for a little while. It doesn’t do to let things go too long, it’s harder to catch up than it is to stay on top of things.

…New job Tuesday…

I sigh to myself and enjoy the cool summer morning and the scents on the breeze. Meadow flowers. Mown grasses. Forest and creek. The lavender scent I’m wearing, that reaches my nose when I move. My hair feels soft on my shoulders and I wonder again if I should get it cut? I feel comfortable in my skin in spite of my pain, and grateful to have worn a sweater over my lighter summer top. The first hints of autumn approaching are all around, and the cooler morning is just one sign.

I’ve lingered here awhile and my legs are beginning to feel stiff. It’s time to walk on. This day is a good one to get things done… but there are definitely some verbs involved. lol It’s time to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, Anxiety, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, joy, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Practices, solo hiking, Summer, The Art of Being, weight loss secrets

Where Does This Path Lead?

August 30, 2025 //
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I arrived at the trailhead just at daybreak. No waiting required. I laced up my boots, grabbed my cane and stepped out onto the trail dimly visible in the gloom of dawn. There’s a dense mist clinging to the low places, and the air feels a bit more brisk than recent summer mornings. Fall is coming.

A new day, a new moment, a new beginning.

The trail crunched under my feet as I stepped along carefully. With each step the sky lightened, dawn becoming day, and more of the trail being revealed to my eyes. Sounds in the brush became little birds, an occasional squirrel, and a possum. Further down the trail, I passed by a family of racoons, and wondered if it is the same family of racoons I’ve seen here before? Out in the mists of the meadow, I see a small herd of deer. I have the sensation of solitude, though I know there are other people on the trail this morning; I saw two cars parked nearby when I arrived.

I walk with my thoughts. I’m back to work Tuesday, though not inclined to fuss about it much or celebrate too eagerly. No particular doubts or concerns that it could fall through, it’s not that at all, it’s more that these feel like uncertain times, and I’m very fortunate to secure a new position so quickly, and not inclined to have that information create stress for folks who may not be similarly fortunate. So, I take a chill and somewhat discreet approach to the whole thing, to avoid being callous or haplessly cruel. I am excited though. It’s a new beginning, and a new adventure.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. It is a Saturday, at the start of a long weekend. I don’t have any plans, besides a bit of housework and getting myself ready for a new job. I decide to go to the co-work space I’d been frequenting in my previous job, for day 1. Convenient, familiar… and “colleagues” there will appreciate knowing I am back to work and okay. I’ll work out something closer for the long-term if I can. Gas is expensive and it makes very little sense to drive so far to work remotely! 😂

Summer oaks

Arriving at my halfway point, I see racoons playing where I generally take a seat, on a fallen log. I walk on a little way to a large rock, out in the open, past the oaks. The meadow stretches out before me, and I can see headlights sweep around the curve of the highway beyond. In a few more weeks, most of the meadow will become marsh, and the seasonal trail will close. I take a deep breath of the fresh morning air. It smells of summer flowers and mown grass.

I’m feeling mostly pretty ready for the changes ahead. I know change can be hard on me, though, and I give thought to what sorts of things might ease the feelings of upheaval and disruption. Like doing the first shift from a familiar co-work space, there are little things I can do to make the experience feel more comfortable. It’s mostly a matter of good self-care.

I watch the dawn become day. No sunrise, really, the sun is obscured by dense gray clouds on the eastern horizon and the clear starry night sky has become a milky overcast backdrop for silhouetted birds and trees, with only the faintest suggestion of blue. Will it rain, I wonder? The forecast says it’s unlikely, but the air smells like rain, here, now. The morning mist spreads, creeping towards me until I am surrounded by it. I’ll sit awhile longer with my thoughts… and enjoy this new beginning.

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