Archives for posts with tag: self-care
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New Morning, New Day

August 11, 2026 //
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Well, here we are, another morning, another moment, another chance to begin again and to do better than we did yesterday. A little at a time, our actions and experiences, and the things we choose to practice, will change us. Choose wisely. 😁

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

Today feels better than yesterday, although neither experience of a lovely morning offers me real insight to the difference. This morning I feel calm, kind, and unbothered. Yesterday I was cross with myself and the world and didn’t really have any more reason for that than I have for feeling quite differently now. I say that as an observation that our subjective emotional experiences are sometimes not directly connected to some obvious cause – they simply are what they are in that moment.

…Sometimes what we do about how we feel is more important than the feeling itself…

I slept pretty well, and woke a little startled when my lights flashed on before slowly brightening. I woke seriously groggy and had to slow down and make a careful point of going down my morning checklist to avoid making some small mistake that might wake my Traveling Partner or mess with his morning when he wakes a bit later. I appreciate a good routine, settled, reliable, predictable. This one isn’t that, yet. It needs more practice.

The sunrise from the trailhead already hints at autumn. It comes later, and the colors are a bit different. I consider whether or not to get another camping trip in, maybe after Labor Day? (Less crowded, fewer kids.) I don’t know if I really want to, or if I’m toying with the idea instead of something else. Life’s menu is pretty big, and there is a lot I’d like to do or try or see.

… My mind wanders on…

This year is already half over. Seems strange that it has gone by so fast. Subjectively, in this moment, I feel as if I have “achieved nothing”, which would be a huge bummer if it were objectively true. Oh for sure, I haven’t cured a major disease, changed the trajectory of world events, or solved homelessness in my community, those achievements were never within my reach as an individual. Not my path.

I’ve been painting, working, and supporting my Traveling Partner’s return to working, too. I’ve walked a few miles (about 600 or so, I estimate). I’ve started and finished some projects. I’ve started and failed to finish a few projects, too. I enjoyed one celebratory evening out with my beloved that is still lingering in my memory fondly. I tried out drone flying as a hobby. I got an RC car and happily drive it (it suits me better than flight). I don’t know, none of that seems odd or particularly noteworthy, just snapshots from one human life. Still, isn’t it enough for most of us to live and love and hope to learn to do those things with some measure of skill, over time? Doesn’t that amount to an achievement on its own?

…I feel fortunate…

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I’m grateful for the job I’ve got that supports the life I share with my partner. I’m grateful to be able to say I was able to provide caregiving to my beloved that helped see him through a major injury and recovery, to see him working in his shop once again. (Now that’s an achievement!) I’m grateful for our little house in a small town situated between suburbs and farm fields. I’m grateful for this well-maintained trail available to me each morning and for the sunrise I am lucky enough to see. Maybe it is all quite ordinary, it’s the experience I live, and I feel fortunate for the highs, and I try to learn something from the lows. It’s a very human experience. It’s enough.

I smile and breathe the summer morning air deeply. It smells nicely of mown grass and meadow flowers. The air is clear and still. The temperature is mild. It’s a nice pause before I begin a new day – again.

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

This One’s Just Me

August 10, 2026 //
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Odd morning. I slept well enough. I woke on time. The morning seems ordinary, another Monday. Still, I feel rather out of sorts and vexed with something or other, but I have no idea what, or why.

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

I sigh to myself, waiting on daybreak to start my walk. I haven’t yet replaced my headlamp. Is that what’s annoying me? Maybe, but if so more likely as a larger concern with not getting shit done “in a timely manner”, and some vague sense of being on a metaphorical hamster wheel in life. Maybe it’s just my exceedingly annoying painful left shoulder, which is being particularly annoying and painful this morning? Also? Omg fuck the “aches and pains” of aging. So over that shit.

…So, yeah, I’m pretty cross this morning, but there’s no noteworthy tale to tell, or anything obvious to do about it. Breathe. Exhale. Relax. Don’t take shit personally…

There is so much to do that I feel like I don’t (or can’t) get to. I sigh to myself. I could do more, work harder, burn more energy in spite of pain… It gets tricky when I attempt to stave off resentment by improving my self-care. There’s a balance to strike. At least I’m sleeping. That’s something. We all need sleep to keep these fragile vessels in working order.

Daybreak comes. I’m always strangely relieved when it does, as if there might be some real risk that it might not. I stepped onto the trail, testing my stability carefully before I proceeded. I Checked that my trekking pole is adjusted correctly and securely. Steps on a path. Nice morning for walking. I let my eyes adjust and start down the trail.

We’re each having our own experience. I reflect on that as I walk. However many times I walk this trail, each walk is still new, and is a unique experience. Each other person who has or will walk this trail experiences it differently than I do. That’s a lot of experiences.

I stop at my halfway point. The new hotel being built next to the air museum is visible from here. For now, it is still an eyesore of construction in progress, it’s blocky form inconsistent with the architecture of the museum. It’s ugly and ordinary, another revenue stream for the owner(s). I’d rather have seen more vineyards planted, personally, but I wasn’t asked. 😆

I sit with my grumpiness and discontent. It’ll pass. That is the way of emotions and moments; they pass. I sigh to myself and think instead about driving my RC car this weekend, which was delightful, and I think about the pleasant time spent hanging out with my beloved, or working on my next painting in my studio. It was a good weekend, generally speaking.

… What the fuck do I even have to be cranky about..?

I shift my position and feel all the twinges of pain at once: the shoulder, the knee, the new arthritis in my thumbs, the old arthritis in my spine, the headache, and the occipital neuralgia. I laugh, an actual audible expression of genuine amusement. How is the pain not enough reason to be a bit cross this morning? I shrug it off, satisfied that I’ve got reason enough to feel the way I do. I proceed to get some kind of start to letting that go; there is an entire new day ahead, and there’s no efficiency to be gained by dwelling on pain. I’ll just do my best to…do my best.

I watch the sky lighten. A new day. A new chance to begin again. A new chance to be the person I most want to be.

…No one said it would be easy…

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Categories Allegories, Anxiety, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, Frustration, gratitude, health, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, solo hiking, Summer, The Art of Being

Every Dawn Is a Beginning

August 9, 2026 //
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Pretty morning. Quiet. I’ve got a manicure appointment later, and maybe I’ll spend time in the studio working on a new piece. My approach to painting is slower these days, contemplative and unhurried, and inspired by thoughtful slow consideration before turning my attention to the easel and beginning the work. This is a profound change from large abstractions executed quickly from a passing emotion. I have three unfinished canvases from my acrylic work that may never be completed; the feeling has passed, and I no longer understand the work from the original perspective. I’ve lost those moments. In each case, this is a good thing, for me, subjectively.

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

Another sunrise, another day, another moment to begin from.

I arrived at the trailhead in darkness. I waited long enough to make out the trail without a headlamp; I need to replace my old one, which finally gave up on me while I was camping last month. I can’t complain; it was a cheaply made headlamp I didn’t pay much for, and it lasted for a decade (more?) with just one change of batteries. I won’t be walking in darkness for awhile though, until I replace my headlamp.

Alone but not alone.

Shared experiences are strange. They don’t all happen simultaneously. As I start down the trail I see that someone has placed a pair of child-sized sunglasses on a rock. No doubt lost by some child. A bit of human experience left behind by some human being who shares the experience of walking this trail with me, though we have never met. We each have our own experience of this trail, our own recollection of it, and our own understanding afterward of what it meant. Same trail. Different moments. Shared but different experiences. I think about that as I walk.

I enjoyed a quiet pleasant evening with my Traveling Partner yesterday. We shared the experience of our life together from different rooms doing different things for most of the day. No harsh words or hard feelings, we were simply doing our own things. We both had difficult nights, and the fatigue (and steps taken to address it) kept us both wary of missteps that could cause drama. We were gentle and careful with each other. I hope he felt as loved as I did when the day ended.

“Human” is messy and difficult sometimes. It is worth it to give people room to fuck up, fail, make it right, and grow from the experience.

… I wonder what color to get my nails done this time..?

I sit at the river’s edge, on the bank well above a wee bit of something beach-like that shows signs of being favored by fishermen, thinking my thoughts and watching the water flow past, still and glossy on the surface, reflecting the trees of the far bank. There’s a bit of mist visible, as the sun rises.

Summer morning perspective on a moment.

Minutes later, sunlight illuminates the treetops, changing shadowy greens to bright green and gold. Time passes without a clock, like the river flowing past below me. I sigh to myself, ignoring the awareness of the sense of a ticking clock. I have a better relationship with time than I did in my twenties. I can mostly ignore that fucking clock and just enjoy the moment as it is. I smile to myself and watch as a single yellow leaf falls slowly from somewhere above.

…Time still passes, whether I watch or not…

I smile to myself a little wistfully, fragments of memories tap at my consciousness wanting my attention, but I’m not interested in swimming in those nostalgic waters this morning, choosing instead to leave the surface of my consciousness untouched, calm, instead.

A new dawn, a new day, a new moment; where does this path lead?

I breathe, exhale, and relax. Plenty of time for meditation. I’ve got the day ahead of me. I hope my beloved got the rest he needed and enjoyed a gentle night. I breathe the summer air deeply. I consider the day and the path ahead. “Choose wisely,” I remind myself.

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

Adaptation

August 5, 2026 //
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This morning I do my walk, taking the loop around and heading back to the car. The air quality index is 139, unhealthy, due to wildfire smoke mostly. Worse than yesterday. I don’t really want to be out in it.

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

I walk with my thoughts before the sun rises. Cooler. The poor quality air seems to have somewhat less effect on my breathing, although still uncomfortable. I go through an entire pack of travel tissues before I complete the 1.5 mile loop. Still worth it to get out of the house awhile, before the heat of the day, and to give my Traveling Partner an opportunity to sleep, to wake, and to enjoy his coffee quietly.

My beloved delighted me with an unexpected gift yesterday evening – a handy bag for my RC car. So super cool. The best part is feeling seen and loved. I am eagerly looking forward to driving again, but this heat and the smoky air are keeping me mostly indoors. Maybe this weekend? There’s a nearby public track I’d love to check out, and maybe I will make the drive back to the hobby shop for… some reason. 😆

… I feel a bit as if I’ve found my way back to something that is part of who I am…

I’m grateful to have a partner who “gets me”, loves this person that I am, and encourages me to grow and be even more of the person I most want to be. This is a special relationship – not an “easy” one, but in the context of this romantic relationship (and really no other) I have grown so much! I think back to the woman I was in 1975, just barely on the edge of womanhood, reflecting on who I might become and what life could look like, then – I never imagined I could be here, now, living this life. A life characterized by contentment and love was so far beyond my understanding of what life could be, I hadn’t imagined such a thing. I was more focused on stuff, and money, and getting the fuck out of my parents’ home.

Smoked oaks.

I look at the trees along the trail. A smoky haze obscures the more distant horizon. The haze looks almost like a foggy morning, but for the hint of dirty brown to the color. I breathe, exhale, and relax.

The wildfire map, today.

As recently as 2016, wildfires were not yet a seasonal occurrence in this state. They definitely seem to be, now. It’s disappointing that we’ve managed to break our planet, and the people with the means (whether money or power) seem unwilling to do the needful to turn things around. I sigh to myself, wondering how much longer humanity actually has… The clock is ticking.

The sinus headache from the smoky air vexes me. There’s nothing much to be done about it; breathing smoke is unhealthy. Once I return home, I’ll definitely stay indoors as much as possible. I remind myself this too will pass. Fires will be extinguished. The wind will change direction. “Fire season” will end. The rain will return. Change is.

… In the meantime, I’ll adapt, and I’ll begin again.

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Categories Allegories, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, Summer, The Art of Being, Words

Life is Defined by Decisions

August 2, 2026 //
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Walking with my thoughts at daybreak. I have a Benjamin Tod song stuck in my head. The refrain is direct and deeply meaningful for me.

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

Life is defined by decisions
You may burn bridges you ain’t got time to mend
You’re too old to be in this condition
You’re too young for the lord to take in

Real. Life is defined by our decisions, or at least shaped by them significantly. We are shaped by circumstances. Shaped by trauma. Shaped by our decisions. When I give it too much thought I begin to feel the mighty fist of fate squeezing and molding me with as little regard for me individually as a toddler with Play-Doh. Here I am.

Yesterday was “defined by” decisions, for sure. A lot of words come to mind, but I still have a lot to consider and process and put into future decisions. Verbs.

My beloved reads my writing (almost every day). One of the most delightful things about my Traveling Partner reading my writing is that I feel very “seen” – visible. Understood. When I make some point very well, he takes a moment to let me know and sometimes shares my writing. It’s something I appreciate.

One of the most uncomfortable things about my Traveling Partner reading my writing is that I am very visible; he sees where I am falling short on good self-care, and when I let some critical practice fall by the wayside. He points out hypocrisy. He calls me on my bullshit. When I’m struggling with something I’ve dealt with before, he observes the pattern and redirects my attention to some previous bit of writing with which I can support myself and get back on track. This too I appreciate – but it is uncomfortable as hell. I’m grateful. We don’t grow from comfortable experiences.

…If I were a better person, perhaps I would find a more gracious approach to accepting his support. I sigh to myself. I can be a resentful defensive asshole about feedback sometimes. I can do better. I’ll practice…

Our conversations yesterday were powerful, raw, deeply meaningful, heartfelt, frank, and vulnerable. I’m not going to call it a good time – but it was needed and I feel more deeply connected with my partner as a result. That’s good stuff. The discomfort doesn’t last. The feeling of connection can, if I feed it some verbs.

The sun lights the treetops, looking a bit like autumn.

The morning is cloudy. It feels like it may actually rain. After I finish my walk, it’s another day of laundry, and chores and housekeeping. My pain feels pretty well managed. I’ll work on keeping it that way.

… Life is defined by decisions…

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I’m still more questions than answers. Still a student of life, practicing practices, doing my best, and taking this journey without a map one step at a time. Incremental change over time really does add up, but it is a slow process, and we definitely can’t expect the promise of future progress to satisfy every circumstance. It is what it is (which is to say slow and uncomfortable, but worth the effort).

I smile thinking about enjoying a cup of coffee with my beloved before I set off for my walk this morning. Vulnerable is hard. Connected is supremely beautiful. These experiences are related; connection requires vulnerability. I am good at neither of these. I sigh to myself at the admission. Okay, now that I’ve said it, where does that leave me? Standing on the edge a beginning, I guess.

Summer meadow flowers

I sit watching a new day begin. It’s time isn’t it? We create a lot of our experience. Our lives are defined by our decisions. Choose wisely. Do the verbs. The clock is ticking. Fuck it all up? Well, shit, learn something and begin again. Learn what matters most. Decide who you most want to be. Do those verbs. Didn’t work out? Do something different. Incremental change over time will continue to shape and define you. It’s a process.

I sit awhile longer reflecting on the progress I’ve seen my partner make in the lifetime we’ve spent together. He’s certainly playing the game on advanced settings. We’ve traveled a long and difficult journey together. It is an adventure I hope to continue all of my mortal days (and whatever may be beyond them).

It’s time to begin. Again.

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Categories Allegories, anger, Anxiety, Brain Injury, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, Frustration, gratitude, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Summer, The Art of Being, The Big 5
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