Archives for posts with tag: self-reflection
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Independence Day

July 3, 2026 //
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I breathe in the sweetly scented summer air on this trail between a vast meadow of clover and the broad silent river on the other side of a strip of trees and brambles.  Beautiful morning. Sunny and cool, for now, some heat in the forecast later.

No AI here, only a human being and a camera phone.

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

I woke this morning feeling recovered from whatever sickness laid me flat yesterday afternoon. It was a delight to water the lawn at daybreak and to watch the sunrise as I drove to the trailhead.

Sunrise by the river.

I sit on a rock near the river, enjoying the mild summer morning. It’s beautiful. I don’t need more than this right now. I listen to birds singing and chirping. I take a couple pictures, wishing very much that the pictures could also capture the scents. Wildflowers and clover. Nice.

… I let my mind wander contentedly, feeling free…

Weeds or wildflowers? It depends on your point of view.

When I say I don’t use AI to write my blog, I’m very serious. Another kind of freedom worth celebrating. No AI editing the pictures. No AI generated images. No AI authorship or editing. No choices to turn over my thinking to an algorithm or LLM. No AI research. My spelling mistakes and weird grammar and syntax are my own. My limited knowledge is my own. My thoughts are my own. My lived experience is real and human and messy. I’m okay with all of that. I don’t think my position on AI is at all unique; I get more comments and friendly feedback about my AI disclaimer than any topic I actually write about. I feel amused – and vindicated.

I keep to the path I’m on; there’s real freedom and independence in saying “no” to the AI slop and unnecessary “tools” being shoved into every app whether it’s helpful, or desirable, or not (“not” seems generally to be the case). I don’t need it. I don’t use it.

… AI is not capable of understanding the human experience…

A small bird sings to me for a few minutes.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. The scents of summer wildflowers fill the air. It’s a lovely morning. I feel free. That’s worth celebrating.

Free your mind. Live your life. Go outside.

I think about the day ahead. I’ll fly my drone. Fold some laundry. Maybe paint. Read awhile. The day is mine to live as I choose. I hope I choose wisely.

Happy Independence Day. Live free.

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Categories 2024 Election, Allegories, art and the artist, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, inspiration, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, solo hiking, Summer, The Art of Being, thoughts on AI, War and News of War, Words

Hello, Dawn

June 25, 2026 //
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I woke gently, ahead of my alarm. I freshenened up and dressed for the day, then watered the lawn as I left. It is a pleasant routine and a lovely morning.

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

I arrived at the trailhead as a beautiful sunrise began, hues of orange and gold quickly evolving to a delicate pearl pink sky. Beautiful.

Well, hello there brand new day!

I head down the path, enjoying the cool morning. Sometimes the path is clear, and the way ahead free of obstacles. Sometimes the walking is easy and my stride relaxed and comfortable. Some days are harder, others easier, and it took me far too long to learn to spend more time, emotional energy, and attention on the moments of joy and delight, however small or brief, than on the difficult moments. Truly, my difficulties generally find a way to get more than their “fair share” of my attention, no effort required. I savor this gentle delightful morning as I walk. I put attention on it, and keep my awareness firmly on “now”. The morning is a delight and I don’t want to miss any of it.

Vineyards along the trail under a pink sky.

I spent much of yesterday evening in my studio, sorting through recent images (and their associated recollections), finding the specific (best?) pictures that captured some detail I knew I wanted to paint. Another significant portion of the evening was spent in my Traveling Partner’s good company, as he showed me his drone and walked me through the features. He gifted me his previous drone, and talked me through basic operation. I even took my first flight! Oh, I’m slow about such things, and we were in the house, so really all I did was start her up,  take flight, and hover awhile, carefully feeling the experience of controlling her in the air. All the while, my Traveling Partner watched me thoughtfully.

… Loving someone with brain damage creates some challenges…

I woke this morning to a loving note from my partner. He’d carefully shopped for a better choice of “beginner drone” for me with features better suited to my limitations (and less likely to potentially injure me under predictable relatively common things that can (do) go awry for beginners). He made some recommendations, and I find myself genuinely excited about it. No particular reason to “go down this path”, beyond the fun of it, and the joy of a shared experience – but there is all of that, and I’m eager.

I grin to myself, feeling very loved this morning. I remind myself to study and take the TRUST test, so I can legally fly my drone.

Each dawn begins a new day. I say it a lot. This morning I’m really feeling the joy in it. There’s another busy work day ahead, but that will happen when the time comes. It needs no attention from me now. I sit contentedly with my thoughts.

There are hard times and good times, and it is pretty easy to miss out on the good times if I allow the hard times and moments of stress to dominate my thoughts beyond the boundaries of those moments. I breathe, exhale, and relax, feeling the pleasant summer morning infuse my consciousness with delight. The oaks stand watch alongside the trail as they always do, and I wonder (again) what their awareness might be like, and whether they have consciousness as I do? It’s not a question I can answer… but I do wonder.

…I think about coffee…

We make a lot of our challenges in life harder than they need to be. Just saying, that’s a very human thing – but we can choose differently. There are verbs involved. Decisions. Will. Action. (Practice.) I smile and watch a bunny on the opposite side of the trail from where I’m sitting. She has slowly come closer, nibbling tasty grasses and watching me for any sign of threatening movement. I sit quite still until she hops away back into the grass. We can choose how we treat those around us. I sit reflecting on how easy such choices seem in the abstract, and how difficult they can feel in the moment.

The clock ticks on. I’m grateful for the lovely gentle morning. I silently wish my beloved well, from the side of the trail, hoping his night was as good as mine, his sleep as restful, and his morning as full of effortless joy. Maybe it will be? Maybe it won’t be. Either way, I hope he knows he is loved. I look at the time. It’s already time to begin again.

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

Feels Like Summer

June 22, 2026 //
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No surprise that it feels like summer, I suppose; it is. What is more surprising is that we’ve got another extreme heat warning for our area (two already this year). I guess we’re fortunate. It’s only expected to be in the 90’s.

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

An orange dawn greets me at the trailhead.

I head down the trail with a song in my head. I mostly don’t mind summertime, but it isn’t my favorite. I do have a lot of nostalgic feelings about summer. Memories of hot summer mornings, stifling humidity, swimming lessons, icy cold root beer or sweet tea on the screened-in back porch, and fireflies at twilight fill my thoughts as I walk. I have recollections of so many sticky sleepless nights, and the sweet relief of the cold flowing from the window AC when we were permitted to use it.

This is a very different time and place in my life. My feet carry me past towering oaks until the trail turns to wrap around the vineyard. I get to my halfway point and take a seat on a log left behind after a fallen tree was cut up and hauled away. I wonder, again, why this section was left behind? Doesn’t really matter, it’s a good spot to sit, to write, meditate, and welcome a new day.

The weekend was a thoroughly pleasant one. I didn’t paint but the studio is now set up for it, and I feel as if I could step into the studio at any time on any day and begin to work. It’s a nice feeling. It will require some changes of habit and timing to make skillful use of the opportunity. That’s fine. Life doesn’t stand still. Change is.

After some time passes, I realize that my mind has wandered far away to camping trips and plein air painting. I’d ideally like to go somewhere that presents me with huge vistas and open skies, maybe the high desert down south a ways, or some mountainside with views of hills beyond hills… Do I really want to camp, or just drive far with my camera, stopping for viewpoints and short hikes to see sights? There are so many beautiful and interesting things to see on this continent. I don’t have to go far to see something new or wonderful – Oregon is big. I haven’t yet seen it all.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I pull myself back to this moment, here, now. The work day will begin shortly, but that time is not now. This moment, here, in the early morning summer sunshine, is mine. I watch the sunlight illuminate the tops of the oaks, slowly reaching the edges of the grape vines. I contentedly sit, watching the changing light. (I admit, it doesn’t take much to entertain me.) I’m grateful to have this moment of solitude and joy, satisfied to watch a sunrise. Grateful to have another mortal day.

I take a breath, and then another. I soak in the beauty of the morning, before the heat of the day settles in. It is a deliciously pleasant moment, in spite of pain (which isn’t too bad this morning), in spite of tinnitus (which is shrieking loudly in my ears), in spite of the (likely to be) busy work day ahead. I’m okay with all of it. I’m feeling relaxed and unbothered. I feel like summer. 😆

I smile to myself and stretch. The trail is bathed in golden morning light. Beautiful. I squint towards the rising sun and get to my feet. It’s time to begin again – a new day is waiting for me.

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

A Disney Moment

June 21, 2026 //
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I got a slow start this morning, in spite of waking quite early and heading to the trail I had selected before dawn. It was a sort of “Disney moment” that caused me to pause and sit awhile, before heading down the trail.

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

I had pulled in to the empty parking lot at the trailhead just at sunrise on an overcast summer morning. As I was gathering my thoughts, a bunny appeared from the brush and tall grass. Then another.

Slow down, see things differently.

Then a squirrel darted into view. A robin landed on a nearby rock. Rather than disturb them all, I sat quiet and still, just watching. Slowly, a stately young buck stepped into the clearing, and two does followed as he passed by, gazing calmly at me as he walked past quite close. A young northern flicker lands on the gate post near my parked car.

Where are you putting your attention? In the real world, or on a screen?

How could I create chaos in this idyllic scene by barging about noisily as human primates often do? I couldn’t. So I sat awhile listening to birdsong and watching a variety of creatures that call this place home just living their lives at the edge of this trail, between forest and meadow along the bank of the Willamette River. What a beautiful moment! I could so easily have missed all of it if I’d been walking through life with my eyes on a screen. How much are you missing because you’ve got your phone in your hand?

… I’m not criticizing your choices with regard to what you are putting your attention on. That’s a you thing. Do you. I’m just aware – and noticing – how much I could be missing of this lovely moment, if I had rushed through it, or been focused on my phone instead of the world around me. It isn’t the first time I’ve given this some thought.

There is more and more research available that supports concerns that our device use is degrading our cognitive abilities and critical thinking skills, and making us dependent on “helpful” tech, so I’m definitely not alone in my concern that my phone (and more modern LLM tools) has the very real potential to degrade my experience, my ability to be present, and my attention to the real physical world around me.

…I made the drive over here without my GPS, to avoid losing my sense of direction and ability to navigate without a device; I’m taking this stuff quite seriously…

…I happily put my phone down (after stealthily snapping a couple pictures) to watch bunnies and robins and squirrels and quail and deer and wildflowers swaying in a soft summer breeze. I wouldn’t want to miss this moment. Would you?

A quiet moment on a summer morning, well-suited to contemplation.

What a lovely moment to enjoy! I haven’t even begun my hike yet. 😆 I grab my cane and my water bottle. The trail is waiting for me, and it’s time to begin, again.

Choose your path and walk it.
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Categories Allegories, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, inspiration, joy, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, solo hiking, Summer, The Art of Being, Words

Zoom Out

June 18, 2026 //
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The morning begins gently, if a bit earlier than I’d hoped. I dress, water the lawn, and head to the trailhead.

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

I started down the trail as the sunrise began, walking towards the west, counterclockwise on the loop that circles the vineyard. I walk with my thoughts, still processing an epiphany I brought back with me from my coastal getaway. Something to do with time management and presence and meeting my need for solitude and creative time “on the cheap” and more reliably (and without having to upend my routine every time I need to catch a breath or practice self-care more skillfully). I am grateful for the opportunity to “reset” my understanding of my Traveling Partner’s improved capabilities, too. I feel more easily able to simply enjoy him as he is, without constantly working to anticipate (or soothe) every need and every circumstance. It feels good to be able to focus on what I also need, again.

Zoom out, see a bigger picture.

My self-care “stall points” are pretty commonplace I suppose. I enjoy my beloved’s companionship greatly, and I am easily tempted into doing nothing at all aside from enjoying his company, which definitely prevents me from getting things done. I often attempt to counter this by jumping to immediately handle any task mentioned to me, to avoid forgetting it. The result is that I am constantly spinning from distraction to distraction without making room for what I need for myself, to be well and to thrive. It’s a puzzle. Stepping away and considering my life while a bit removed from it gave me a new perspective from which to compare, contrast, and evaluate. Useful time spent on self-reflection.

Zoom in, consider the details.

I reflect on my thoughts about better self-care, and being a better partner from the vantage point of my halfway point on this familiar trail. These aren’t new thoughts, not entirely, it’s more that they have resurfaced and gained my attention at a moment when I can give them deeper consideration. Useful.

I’ve decided to add two practices to my day-to-day routine, and resurrect another that I had dropped when life was too full with caregiving. The two new practices are rather simple and mostly about time management: firstly, I’ll take 15-20 minutes after work each day for solitude, (just sitting quietly and allowing my mental buffer time enough to clear out anything still queued up at the end of the day would allow me to feel more easily able to be fully present with my partner) and secondly, I’m going to begin committing two hours on the weekends for studio art. I’ll take the time from time I often spend just chilling on the couch with no purpose in mind and which could be better spent – and giving up a portion of the weekend to artistic endeavors sounds very nurturing, to me.

As far as a practice that got dropped being resurrected, I’m going to get back to practicing yoga. Healthy movement has lasting value and I definitely spend too much time just sitting. 😆 I can begin slowly and work around my injuries gently. It’ll be good for me. (And hey, better fitness will likely mean better sex, too! Win!)

I watch the trees become filled with light. The sun has crested the horizon and it is a new day. I have a new opportunity to begin again.

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