Archives for posts with tag: self compassion
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Shapes of Things

August 1, 2026 //
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I woke early, in spite of wanting to sleep in. I got up, dressed, and left the house. Filled my gas tank. Got coffee on my way up the highway to the nature park to walk the marsh trail, more meadow than marsh at this point in the summer.

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

Scene from a summer walk, we choose what we pay attention to. Mostly.

I sigh to myself as I walk. My left ankle has decided for me that this spot, right here, is “halfway”. It isn’t. Not at all, but it is definitely where I am stopping!

There is a convenient viewpoint with a bench only a little further. I take the next few steps slowly and carefully, grateful for my sturdy trekking pole that is my outdoor cane. I sit down, grateful, relieved, and content to be here in this place. I have the trail to myself – or did when I got started (first to arrive, pulling in just as the gate opened with a screech). It is quiet and cloudy. Looks and feels like maybe rain later… the forecast disagrees. Another heatwave soon. I am reminded to add a “hose” to my shopping list to replace a section that split and began to leak just a couple days ago.

The meadow grasses are dry and brown, with the white flowers of wild carrot or maybe Queen Anne’s Lace seeming to float above the waves of brown. The yellow clusters of wild St John’s Wort here and there add a bit of color. The wild roses are mostly done blooming, but don’t yet have hips. The lupines are long gone, even the seed pods have split and spilled their seeds, and withered. I breathe the scent of the summer meadow, exhale, and relax.

… It’s a good thing I’m not in any hurry today, the walk back will be a slow one…

I think about the day ahead. There’s housework to be done. I can probably fill the day with it. I feel myself shrug, an involuntary gesture of acceptance. I guess I’m okay with it. I’ll put on a playlist and dance through the chores until my body just can’t do more, and maybe get caught up a bit.

My mind wanders to RC cars, N scale railroad, Barbie dolls, and painting cast figurines… “hobbies”, past, present, and considered once or often. The clock is ticking. How do I pass my time, find joy, and indulge in play as an adult? A healthy life isn’t built on chores, wage earning, and sleep – there’s more to it. Isn’t there? I have choices and options.

…We shape our experience with our choices…

I breathe, exhale, and relax, and think about the way I have shaped my life, and what shape it might take if I choose differently. Small changes add up. It’s a lot to stay on top of, seeking to make willful changes… Verbs. Choices. Repetition. Reminders. Self-reflection. Incremental change over time, moment by moment, experience by experience, action by action. We become what we practice. (This is serious and powerful, because it is true both of what we want to become, and also of what we loathe, but persist in practicing.)

I’ll finish my walk. Do some grocery shopping, and head home to shape the life I want to live through the use of some well chosen verbs (meaning to say, doing some housework). Where the path may lead me from there, I don’t know. It is the path I choose, but I’ve still got to walk it. I have to begin again.

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

About Impermanence

July 28, 2026 //
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Today is a new day.

I woke to my alarm lightening the room. I switched it off, turned my lights to dim, and sat up. I took a minute to catch my breath and “get used to being awake”. I got up, dressed, and headed out, seemingly without waking my Traveling Partner. Nice.

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

On the trail at daybreak.

The air this morning has almost a hint of autumn to the scent and the feel of the morning air. I yawn sleepily and head down the trail.

As is generally the case, the morning’s discord between my partner and I yesterday was resolved before lunchtime. We enjoyed what little time there was of the evening after I returned home from work, but it wasn’t much. He is working a job that is reaching the finishing stages just before delivery to the customer. It keeps him busy. It worked out okay; I appreciated the time with my thoughts.

I get to my halfway point thinking about Impermanence, and non-attachment. Both ideas contain useful perspective. Non-attachment makes an excellent practice. Impermanence is another way of observing that change is. I’m grateful for perspective and resilience, this morning.

… This morning, no tears…

I watch the sun rise. It is the time of year when the western states catch fire. Scary how much is burning this summer. For now, the winds are pushing most of the smoke east. Here the sky is blue – for now. The wind may change direction any time, it is in the nature of both the wind and of change itself to do so.

There is a song in my head this morning that seems relevant. I sigh to myself, thinking about changes.

Another day, another opportunity to be the person I most want to be. It takes practice – and changes. I breathe, exhale, and relax, and make time for meditation by this trail on this pleasant morning. Changes. It’s time to turn and face the strange. It’s time to begin, again.

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Categories Allegories, Brain Injury, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, Summer, The Art of Being, The Big 5, women, Words

Inexplicably Anxious

July 13, 2026 //
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It happens. It’s an ordinary Monday. I got enough sleep. I woke on time, when my lights came on. I got on with readying myself for a new day, and headed out, stopping only to water the lawn. So… what’s with the crushing fucking anxiety this morning?

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

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I arrived at the trailhead without any difficulty – and I hadn’t expected any sort of difficulty. Everything seems pretty routine and ordinary this morning.

… and isn’t it? So ordinary and routine, and yet I am vexed by my anxiety…

Anxiety is a liar. Anxiety is an emotional and physical experience backed by a powerful cocktail of hormonal signals and internal chemistry. Learning to let it be what it is (and nothing more) is a huge step towards learning not to struggle with it. Whether or not a given moment of anxiety has any basis in reality (a real cause that makes some rational sense) is a wholly separate concern from the experience of the anxiety, and would need to be dealt with separately in any case. I sigh to myself. Fuck anxiety.

“Anxiety” 2011

I breathe, exhale, and relax – again. I keep repeating the exercise until I feel the knot in the pit of my stomach loosen, feel my jaw unclench, and begin to find the simple act of breathing actually simple once more.

Anxiety as a disorder (or element of a disorder) is not reliably attached to a real world experience or trigger. It may surface in response to something as mundane as a random thought or a brief moment of uncertainty. Trauma changes our brain, and one byproduct may be anxiety as a disorder. Why did I wake up anxious this morning? Unknown. Nothing obvious. Maybe genuinely nothing at all, or perhaps the remnant of a dream already forgotten? The important thing is to recognize that it most likely isn’t about anything, and to not bother with troubleshooting for a “root cause”. Having an anxiety disorder is the cause of disordered anxiety. So, I let that go. No point in chasing a cause.

I let my steady steps carry me down the trail as I focus on my breathing and the sights and scents of my immediate surroundings. It’s a pretty morning. The forecast says it will be quite a hot day. (I’m glad I watered!) I walk along with my thoughts, staying focused on this moment, here. The sun rises, casting a golden glow over the oaks. I get to my halfway point and stop to write a bit.

Can I lift myself out of my anxiety? Maybe. I can at least avoid making it worse by refusing to let it pull me further in, and refusing to allow it to spiral out of control, by recognizing it, acknowledging it, and keeping it firmly confined to a narrowly defined experience that I understand. It will pass. No point at all in feeding it.

Funny thing, my Traveling Partner noticed my anxiety beginning to flare up in the background before I did. Two days ago, he began observing it, calling it out, suggesting I do something more to care for myself… I didn’t feel it, and said as much. Well… I fucking feel it this morning. 😆 G’damn. Also… how annoying is that? I sigh again, feeling the weight of my emotions in my exhalation.

I stare at a lock of my long-ish brunette-ish hair in the morning sunlight. It is shot through with gray. I rarely give thought to it. My internal sense of self is much the same as it has always been… I think. Maybe not. I definitely don’t have a feeling of “being old”, yet, but I do feel my years now and then. Not so much this morning, and the gray hair surprises me a little. It is real though, more real than my anxiety.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. An ordinary day in all regards, aside from the anxiety, which I feel ready to ignore, although I know ignoring the sense of it doesn’t change the tightness in my chest, or the sensation of being out of breath, or the feeling of my pounding heart. I just have to give my chemistry time to adjust to something more commonplace, and calmer. In the meantime, I’ve got this walk to finish, and an entire day ahead of me. I guess I’ll begin again. What else?

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Categories Allegories, Anxiety, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, Frustration, Healthy Living, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, solo hiking, Summer, The Art of Being, War and News of War, Words

The Rise of the Fall

May 19, 2026 //
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In the news, grifters go on grifting, the president of the US openly engages in what looks like insider trading, greed continues to shove AI “features” into tools where no one wants it, and people who already have much continue to take more from people who have very little. It’s not exactly humanity’s finest hour. Measles. Hantavirus. Ebola. All pretty bad. You know what’s worse? Genocide. War. Greed.

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

Where does this path lead?

Do better. If nothing else, we can, as individuals, choose to do better than billionaires and authoritarian jackasses. We can stop chasing dollars, and take a long look in the mirror, and question the path we are on. Are you on the path to becoming the person you most want to be? Will you live a life you can be satisfied with, ethically, or will you go to your grave reviled by all those whose lives you damaged?

I’m not telling you what to do. I don’t have easy answers. I’m human, too. I want the safety of knowing the bills are paid, that my family is in good health, and the pantry is stocked. I want the luxury of an occasional meal out, new hiking boots when these wear out, and comfortable clothes that fit. We probably all want something. I’m not here to sneeze on the things that matter to you. We’re each having our own experience. I just don’t see many billionaires doing good things for the world by design. $100 of philanthropy does not make up for $100 in damage to humanity. It doesn’t work that way. That’s not “doing good” in the world, that’s just fixing a pothole caused by one’s own endeavors. Performative guilt-soothing “good” isn’t a benefit to humanity once the damage is done.

Sometimes human primates are very disappointing. (Looking your way Altman v. Musk) Shoving “AI” garbage into the experiences of people who just don’t want it is not good for humanity. It’s just another cash grab by out of touch assholes who think their perspective is the only one that matters.

I sigh to myself and pause on the trail to watch the sun rise. A beautiful sunrise never disappoints. I breathe, exhale, and relax, and fight off the existential angst I woke with. It’s not as if my bitching is changing anything. (Sorry.) I do dislike seeing humanity’s potential actively being undermined by AI slop and enshittification. It truly sucks to see humanity come so far to fall so hard, so fast.

…It does feel (to me) as if we’re falling (sometimes)…

It’s a chilly morning on the trail. The air tastes of something almost autumn-like. It’s still Spring, so it seems strange to taste autumn in the air… but… I think we may have broken our planet, along with other destructive outcomes of human douche-baggery. I sigh, and watch my breath become vapor.

I reach my halfway point and stop for awhile. A warmer fleece would have been a good choice, but relative to genocide or drone strikes, it’s a minor inconvenience, nothing more. I’m well aware that the world I live in is bigger than this peaceful place betwixt small town living and agriculture. I just can’t stomach what I see going on in the world, and this small personal escape each morning to find a moment of contentment, perspective, and solace in solitude is a practice that keeps me from losing hope.

For a moment I can focus my camera on clear blue sky and rest my soul.

A startled possum out for a late one waddles past in a hurry, sticking to the shadows. Strange to see one out in the open in daylight, but she’s clearly more worried about getting home than anything to do with me. Noisy robins get on with the morning. The clock keeps ticking. My head aches and my tinnitus is almost loud enough to mask the sound of HVAC on a nearby building. I sigh out loud just to remind myself that the tinnitus isn’t “real” at all.

What I put my attention on directly determines the quality and character of my experience. I pull myself back to this moment, here, now. I make myself a note about this moment, and the day ahead, and something to do with free will and choices and walking my own path. Then I begin again.

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Categories Allegories, Anxiety, breathe, Despair, Free Will, Frustration, gratitude, Healthy Living, meditation, Metaphors, 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, thoughts on AI, War and News of War, women, Words

Interference Patterns

May 16, 2026 //
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Why do I keep coming back to this place? Surely it isn’t just convenience, ritual, or nostalgia? (I mean… but it could be though…)

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

I think about it for a long while, maybe instead of the thoughts I may have thought brought me here. Too long, maybe, between chapters of “A Canticle for Leibowitz”, which I was finishing, and pages of “The Conspiracy Against The Human Race “, which I am only just beginning, both of which feel significant and well-timed. Cycles and patterns in life and living occur often in this mortal experience. I watch the waves of the ebb tide reach the shore, and return to cross and mingle with the next row coming in. It is late afternoon.

Waves against a rocky shore.

I consider the phenomenon of the double slit experiment, and of watching the ripples of water expanding out from a stone cast into the shallow water at the edge of my grandfather’s pier on Weems Creek on a summer morning. Interference patterns fascinate me endlessly. Interference is a subtle thing, natural and irresistible, and perhaps that is why I come to this place, to listen to sea breezes whisper truths that might escape my awareness in the busy-ness of life, as I contemplate the patterns in the waves as they reach the shore?

Sometimes I just need quiet and solitude – some time alone to “hear myself think”. I have been needing it so much lately, I guess, that any effort to do something else has been met with a feeling of profound discontent, and a sense of resisting what is needful, as if I were interfering with my own sense of purpose. What feels useful and right is to sit gazing out at the sea, or to relax with a coffee by the fire. My initial reluctance to fully yield to “wasting my time” on nothing more (or less) than my own thoughts quickly passed once I yielded to it without reservation (or interference).

I sit with my thoughts. That is, after all, what I come here for. What I came here for this time, too.

The medium brown strands of my hair fall in waves down my bosom. There’s not much gray. The auburn highlights sparkle where the afternoon sun reaches me through the window, hinting at red-headed-ness in my ancestry. One notable indulgence on this trip will be a long overdue haircut with a stylist I really like. I didn’t plan ahead, and I am grateful she was willing to make an appointment for me on a Sunday morning, just before I return home.

… Shit. I miss my Traveling Partner. The poignant feeling of loss and absence strikes me hard, abruptly. Yeah… I come here alone also to escape the subtle interference patterns of love, too. It’s a bit harder to focus on me when my heart is focused on my beloved. Here, for a couple of days, my thoughts are truly my own, entirely. At home, and this is not a criticism, my thoughts and the very fabric of my life is woven and intertwined with his. Every thread connects the two of us. My heart shifts gears now, from missing him to feeling incredibly loved. His love gives me ample room to step away, care for myself, and return more whole and more capable, and more able to partner with him in this life we share. That’s so beautiful…

I smile and set aside writing for some other moment, and return to my thoughts.

(Some time later)

My thoughts became, at some point, an unexpected nap listening to the waves through the open window. I woke, soon enough to think about some dinner and a bit more reading. I exchange welcome words with my beloved. He misses me. I am missing him too. Tomorrow is soon, and I’m looking forward to his embrace when I get home.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I sit in the evening light, watching the day dwindle away to night. Tomorrow I’ll begin again.

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Categories Allegories, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, inspiration, Logic & Reason, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Moments, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Spring, The Art of Being, women, Words
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