Archives for posts with tag: solitude
« Older Entries

One Day of Many

July 9, 2026 //
0

I have a splitting headache and my sleep was interrupted. I’m tired and cross, and feeling very much that I’d like to be left alone. I’m grateful for these few moments of solitude in the morning.

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

I’m sitting at the edge of this trail wondering. I take a welcome sip of the coffee I carried down the trail with me. The morning feels chilly. It’s probably me, not the weather. The coffee is warm in my mouth and down my throat. I’m grateful for the moment of self-consideration that directed my groggy decision making this morning. Coffee sooner was a good choice this morning.

Tears fill my eyes and threaten to spill over. I brush them away angrily. “I don’t have time for this weak ass shit this morning,” I snarl to myself softly, “and fuck this headache, too.” My tinnitus is loud in my ears. I didn’t get enough restful sleep (haven’t for days) and my thought processes are slowed way down. My pain is poorly managed. I’m feeling very human and very fragile. My eyes sting from tears that finally begin to fall. Too much? Not enough? I feel broken and out of alignment. Out of step. Faltering on a path that has seemed certain and clear on other days.

… Moments pass…

I’m finding little reassurance in aphorisms and platitudes this morning. This morning I am uncomfortable with uncertainty and impermanence, and I feel myself clinging. Wanting certainty so much. Yeah… good luck with that shit. I take a deep breath in, and as I exhale I find myself weeping. Just fucking crying by the side of this trail, sitting in the summer sunshine on some random Thursday morning. Wondering.

…Is the sky still blue…?

I begin again. Breathe, exhale, relax. I shift gears. Meditation. Failure. Breathe. Repeat. The morning is not off to an ideal beginning. I’m struggling with my demons, and although for the moment I’ve got some sort of tearful stalemate, I still feel pretty shitty. My pain meds begin to kick in. So does the coffee. Eventually, I’ll “mask up” – put my work face on – and begin the work day. I don’t know, maybe the utterly disappointing ordinariness of it all will anchor me to here, now, and I’ll feel less hopeless.

… The clock is ticking…

The sunshine in the oak trees is beautiful. The air smells sweet. Songbirds sing merry songs. The tidy vineyard rows are a playground for so many little birds. I watch them flitting about, and try to identify as many as I recognize, but don’t put much effort into it. I am distracted and preoccupied. I keep letting this shit go. I breathe, exhale, and relax… and find myself back in the mire again and again.

I sigh out loud, frustrated with myself and the shitty start to the day. (And also? Fuck this headache.) I watch the dawn become day. Sooner or later, I’ve got to begin again… only I don’t know where this path leads, and I lack enthusiasm for walking it.

…

…

… This too will pass. Everything does. Change is.

Tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,
Categories Allegories, anger, Anxiety, Brain Injury, breathe, Despair, Free Will, Frustration, gratitude, loneliness, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Sleepless Nights, solo hiking, Summer, The Art of Being, War and News of War, women, Words

Rested and Eager

July 2, 2026 //
0

I woke gently after a good night of deep sleep. I woke surprised to be awake, and surprised that it was only minutes until my alarm would have brightened the room. I got up quietly, hoping to avoid waking my Traveling Partner, and slipped out of the house and watered the lawn before I headed for the trail.

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

A new day, full of promise and opportunity. Don’t waste it

It’s a chilly morning. I walk down the trail marveling at the vapor of my breath, like a child, and watching the sun illuminating the oaks as it rises. The sky is a beautiful blue, clear and cloudless. I walk with my thoughts. I’m eager for the long weekend ahead. Eager to paint and feeling deeply inspired. My eagerness to paint competes with my eagerness to fly my new drone, although I chuckle to myself every time I think about my drone, because I also think about South Park, season 18, episode 5, “The Magic Bush” (a hilarious and rude cautionary tale about drones and “drone hobby enthusiasts”).

I grin happily as I walk on. My very first drone is cute, and rested so lightly in my hand after I unboxed it and inspected it with care. It arrived rather late in the evening last night, and even if it had been all charged up, I was already too tired to take it out for a flight. Today is soon enough. I’m pretty good at waiting. 😆 I satisfied myself in the moment with the excitement of its arrival and busied myself with charging the batteries and the controller.

…New experiences slow that ticking clock…

I reach my halfway point and stop awhile. I breathe, exhale, and relax, and enjoy a solitary moment on a peaceful summer morning. I’m looking forward to some studio time this weekend. I’m looking forward to hanging out with my partner. I sit in the morning sunshine feeling grateful and anticipating a pleasant long weekend.

I don’t much care that this particular long weekend is thanks to the 4th of July holiday being observed on Friday the 3rd. Trump and his clown car of corrupt cronies and billionaire sycophants have largely ruined the holiday with their grotesque (and extraordinarily unsuccessful) partisan spectacle of wasted taxpayer dollars. I have no interest in celebrating the walking obscenity that we elected to office, I’m just hoping we manage to salvage our democracy from the wreckage when he’s gone. Still… I do enjoy a long weekend. There’s that.

I sigh to myself and shiver a bit. I should have grabbed my fleece, I think to myself. The sun is warm on my back. The contrast makes my nerves tingle. I check the flight map on my device… Would I be able to fly here? I’m delighted to see that I would be cleared to fly here. (I’ve always wanted to see what is beyond the trees on the far side of the vineyard.)

I sit with my thoughts, composing the view as if to paint it. It’s a pretty scene. I feel relaxed and unbothered, grateful for the lovely moment. It’s a promising beginning to the day. I stretch and sigh when I notice the time. Already time to finish this hike and begin again.

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

Not Bad, But…

June 30, 2026 //
0

I was up too early. It is another gray day. I’m tired, and I’ve got a headache I would describe as “my third eye hurting”. I’m tired. I walk the loop around the vineyard, and I’m back at the car before dawn.

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

So… I nap in the car awhile and wake to heavy gray clouds and a stormy forboding sky.

Say hello to a new day.

I sit up, groggy and a little dizzy, surprised to have actually slept. I take my morning medications with a swallow of cold black coffee left over from yesterday. I yawn and stretch. The morning seems unremarkable. I’m fine with that. Another day.

…I’m grateful… but I’m also thinking about coffee 😆

It is a payday. Later I’ll do all of the budget stuff. Pay bills. Buy groceries. Ordinary mundane activities. Routine. Unexciting. I’m fine with that, too.

I sit listening to my tinnitus and the HVAC on the roof of a nearby building. Robins hop about, singing their cheerful song. I take time for meditation. I eye the gray clouds overhead. Looks like it might rain, later.

I sigh to myself. I really want coffee. I stretch and yawn, and decide on a course of action. I click my seatbelt into place, and get started on this new day. It’s as good a beginning as any.

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

Gray Uncertainty

June 26, 2026 //
0

It’s a gray and rainy morning. I woke too early, still groggy when I left the house. I reached the trailhead ahead of the dawn by a bit more than an hour. The darkness was chilly. The trail was dotted with unseen puddles. Everything is damp and smells of fresh earth and recent rain.

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

I walk a bit farther than usual before I stop. I enjoy a different perspective on daybreak when it comes.

Blue morning.

… I’ll be fine after I have some coffee…

I sit awhile watching the blue hues become a rather ordinary uninteresting gray rainy day. I’d rather be sleeping. Or painting. I feel moody and cross.

I sit with my thoughts awhile, not really meditating, just thinking things over. Options. Choices. The way ahead. Life. I sigh to myself. The complexities of being human vex me sometimes. I watch the gray clouds glide past overhead. Stormy weather. Chilly enough for a sweater. I’m glad I wore one.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I look down the trail. The solitude is pleasant. Uncomplicated. I get to my feet, and stretch. It’s a new day. The clock is ticking. I remind myself to let small shit stay small – and I begin again.

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

Pink, Gray, and Pain

June 16, 2026 //
0

Some of the most useful “tools” in my self-care/mental health “toolbox” seem to be those to do with pain management, or which serve some other purpose, but also make it maybe a bit easier to manage pain. This seems odd to me any time I’m not in pain, but when I wake twisted with arthritis pain early on some morning, I’m grateful.

The view I woke to is no less beautiful because of pain.

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

I woke in pain to a cooler morning. The sunrise isn’t visible from here, but I see it reflected in the pink hues of the dawn sky over the western horizon. A distant bank of stormy looking clouds hangs above the horizon, a dark gray beneath fluffy white. The ocean reflects back silver gray like brushed aluminum, each wave reaching the shore crested in a curl of white. The ebb tide seems to sound different to me than the flood tide that will come later today, sometime in the afternoon.

…If the beach were just a little bit easier to get to from here, I’d already be headed down there to check out the tide pools before the day warms up, and while the beach is deserted. I hurt too much for that right now, and I want to paint later, so I sip my coffee and avoid exhausting myself…

Gulls fly by the window, calling to each other. A crow flies by. The morning sky continues to evolve. I sip my coffee letting the dawn sky and the beach scene beyond the window entice me with inspiration. Swallows swoop and dive just beyond the window. There are so many! The textured gray of the ocean holds my attention for a while, working out just how to capture that in pastels. Breakfast crosses my mind, and more coffee.

A beautiful view is sometimes enough distraction.

One of the most powerful pain management tools I’ve got doesn’t come in a pill. It’s distraction. Simply that; distracting myself from focusing on my pain prevents it from dominating my experience in the moment and frees my attention for other things. By itself, it may not reliably be enough to manage my pain, but it is useful, and it really does help to focus on other things, most particularly things that may evoke wonder, curiosity, awe, joy, or delight. I’m grateful for this beautiful view.

…I’m grateful for this solitary time…

I stretch and sigh to myself. Practices being what they are, there are things yet to do this morning to begin the day. Meditation. A walk (yes, even in this amount of pain, I just have to go to a beach access point that doesn’t involve endless stairs down a cliff to get to the beach) – my morning never feels quite right if I don’t get a walk in more or less first thing. lol My bones feel less stiff, and I know a hot shower will help more. I think about the day ahead as the view continues to evolve.

…Ooh, breakfast…

It’s as good a time as any to begin again.

Tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,
Categories Allegories, art and the artist, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, inspiration, joy, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, solo hiking, Spring, Summer, The Art of Being
« Older Entries