Archives for posts with tag: speak truth to power
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People First

March 13, 2026 //
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In this nation where billions are wasted on AI and warfare, people are suffering. It’s not that there isn’t enough to go around, enough to lift everyone out of poverty, enough to build a peaceful world of sufficiency and comfort for everyone, and even to provide healthcare to everyone… it’s that greed gets to the hearts of power first.

…Hard times follow for many people, and it is frankly shameful…

I woke in pain, which means I woke thinking about work and bills and doctors and the grind that seems required to get ahead, stay ahead, and maybe finish with a little left over to pass along. In a nation with the means to spend the many hundreds of billions of dollars it takes to wage unwanted war on a nation that could not harm us, this is both annoying and honestly horrifying. You only have to listen to billionaires talk about people to know they don’t care about people beyond the potential cash value they represent.

I can’t honestly say that I “like people” in general. I’ve been hurt and disappointed too many times. But I value people, and I like many of them individually and cherish what they bring to my experience of life. I cherish and deeply love one person, now, and have loved others. Are billionaires actually capable of love or of valuing people, or humanity?

I walk the trail in the darkness with my blue mood and grim thoughts. I’m vexed that humanity has not yet given up on warfare. What a fucking travesty. What a waste of resources. The cost is too high. The money wasted could be better spent.

… I take my meds and hope that my pain will ease… Doing so reminds me of the ridiculous cost of medical care in this country. I keep walking.

I manage to dodge most of the puddles in spite of the darkness. I’m walking without my headlamp, which is a little silly, but I didn’t care to deal with the bobbing circle of light this morning. I just want peace. There is no peace. Somehow the thought of shining a light on this dark mood only annoys me, so I don’t. I just keep walking.

I get to my halfway point, still hearing the song in my head. “Hard Times” by Devil Makes Three is too relevant right now. I woke with this song in my head and a heavy heart. I’d like to feel differently. Maybe I’ll feel differently later. I ignore the tears sliding down my cheeks. I’m not looking for comfort; I feel things deeply, that’s a super power, not a character flaw. I let the tears fall.

Billionaire grifters dragging the world into war for a profit… This is not what I thought I was fighting for as a soldier watching the cold war end. Instead of a world at peace we’ve handed the future over to thieves at a bargain while we watch them burn it to the ground. The death toll is grotesque. The tears fall. Not just mine, falling helplessly and pointlessly over a war on another continent, but also the tears of loss and pain and terror of the many real human beings whose lives have been destroyed by wars no one needs, that serve no identifiable good in the world. It sickens me. …Or is that queasy sensation only my own physical pain? I sigh to myself.

I wish I were looking forward to the day and the weekend ahead. I get to my feet, tears wet on my face, trail wet from recent rain. I may as well walk on. I have practices to practice, and a life to live. I can begin again. Change is. Hard times come and go. Nations rise and fall. This too will pass.

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Categories Allegories, anger, anhedonia, Anxiety, breathe, Free Will, Frustration, gratitude, grief, health, loneliness, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, solo hiking, Spring, War and News of War, Words

But Coffee First

March 6, 2026 //
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The hot (so hot) coffee is soothing on my still raw feeling throat and warm in my hands. The morning is mild, and it rained during the night. This lingering cold was complicating my morning, so I picked up coffee on my way to the trailhead instead of after.

It was a good choice. Walking and drinking coffee at the same time makes for a slower, relaxed walk. I reach the halfway point at daybreak, even though I got started earlier than I have been.

Taking the moments as they come, enjoying them as they are.

I set my coffee down and reach for a tissue – and manage to kick over my coffee cup clumsily. Well, shit. I sigh to myself and shrug, picking up the cup. It’s not quite empty. I finish what’s left and crush the cup flat, and put it in my pocket.

Spilled coffee is not exactly high tension disaster. Once, a long time ago now, it might have been too much to bear, or felt like heartbreaking misfortune, in an unexpectedly fragile moment. My resilience was so poor then that any harsh word could crush me completely, and any misadventure, however minor, would wreck my day. I was aggressive, easily triggered, and prone to explosive emotional outbursts inappropriate in adult behavior. It’s not like that now, after years of practicing practices and building emotional resilience. Now I can even hear about heinous acts of pointless violence, and endure, without hours of weeping or withdrawal. I no longer “bear the weight of the world” on my own shoulders…at least not every day, all the time, until it crushes me like a paper cup. I make other choices and protect my peace.

I walk my own path.

…I care, and I do what I can, and freely speak my mind on troubling events in the world, and having taken care of my own heart, and my own peace, I can be more effective and speak with greater clarity…

I watch the gray rainy dawn bring a new day. It’s an ordinary enough day. Work…then the weekend, and the first trail mile in new boots. I’m looking forward to it. This stupid head cold vexes me. I could do more, better, without it. I sigh and start a coughing fit. Once it passes I breathe the fresh air deeply. It already tastes of Spring.

The new medication for my neuropathic pain actually seems to help fairly profoundly without making me stupid, knocking me out, or causing some nasty side effect worse than the pain. I’m enjoying the improvement. It has even “turned down the volume” on my tinnitus quite a bit. I’m grateful to my Traveling Partner for encouraging me to keep seeking a solution, and for sharing his experience on various medications he’s been given. We are not “the same”, but we are both human, and have similar physical challenges. Similar enough in some cases to learn a lot from talking about our experiences together, and supporting each other. I am fortunate to have this partnership.

A soft misty sprinkle begins to fall. No winter here, this year, not really. I sigh and chuckle; I enjoy the misty rain drops on my face. Still… the rain gets me to my feet, ready to begin again.

However straight and obvious life’s path seems at a glance… I can’t quite see where it leads.
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Categories Allegories, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, Spring, The Art of Being, War and News of War, winter, Words

Bombs? No bombs? Breathe.

March 2, 2026 //
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Okay, so here we are. War. First things first; are there bombs dropping where you are, or is it a legitimate risk that they may? If yes, then please put this down and get to safety. I’ll still be around, later. You definitely have more important things to be concerned about, like safety, shelter, and potable drinking water.

Special Delivery, MC Frontalot – I earnestly wish this weren’t still so relevant.

If there are no bombs dropping where you are, and you are safe from harm, generally speaking, then please consider not immersing yourself in “war porn”. Read the news in words, no images if you must “stay current”. Or, you know, don’t. I’m not telling you what to do, just sharing what works for me.

I don’t want to watch bombs dropping – I already know what war looks like. I don’t need to watch hours of video footage of violence, destruction, and death. I have looked directly at the face of war. I don’t take it lightly, and don’t view it as necessary or needful or as a productive use of time and resources, at all. I am an anti-war army veteran. I’ve fought and been in combat. I’ve helped clean up damaged facilities and retrieved and cared for the dead. War is nothing to celebrate, even for the victorious; it is shameful, wasteful, and tragic.

People who wage war – who call the shots and send human beings to fight and die – don’t fight those wars or pay the price for the violence. I think they should. You want war? Then you pick up a weapon and go lead that fighting, you fucking monster. You go pull the bodies out from under the buildings you bombed. You answer to the grief stricken population.

I’m grateful no bombs are dropping here. I hope it always stays that way.

I take my usual morning walk feeling grateful and fortunate. I seem to be coming down with a cold (another one??), nonetheless, compared to being bombed, I’m quite fortunate. It is an ordinary Monday, following a lovely weekend.

I sigh to myself watching daybreak become a gray morning, without any hint of a colorful sunrise… but there’s also no rubble, no destruction, no death from above, no sirens blaring, no sounds of wailing or weeping. No fear. No stench of death or chaos. It’s another pleasant quiet morning at the edge of a small town, near where the vineyards meet the highway.

…We got so close to a world at peace, y’all…

Bombs or no bombs, it is a useful practice to take care of ourselves as best we can with the resources available. Breathe. Reflect. Be helpful, kind, and compassionate. Listen deeply. Lift people up. Use your words wisely, they are powerful.

I do my best to prepare my heart – and my resolve – to endure a world at war (again). I’m still hoping things may cool down once the billionaires and powerful grifters in office have what they want (that they could not simply purchase). I sit reflecting on how I can be truly helpful to the real human beings, the noncombatants affected by the trauma inflicted by war, if at all.

I take time for meditation. I breathe, exhale, and relax. I’m grateful to be where I am, and even who I am. It’s enough. It’s Monday, and it’s time to begin again.

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Categories 2024 Election, anger, Anxiety, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, meditation, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Spring, The Art of Being, War and News of War, winter, Words

Facing Change, Choosing Wisely

February 28, 2026 //
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My walk this morning began at sunrise. Beautiful. Worth the drive. Feeling rested and eager, I headed down the trail at a brisk pace, but with the spare trekking pole from my gear bin, instead of my usual one that functions as my outdoor all-purpose cane. (I forgot about grabbing it from my Traveling Partner’s pickup.)

Every sunrise is a new beginning.

The brisk pace was foolish. It’s a chilly morning, and I’m warmed through from walking when I get to my halfway point and stop to write and reflect. My ankle and left foot are feeling the adverse effects of my enthusiasm, though, and remind me why my plan today includes shopping for new boots.

… I’m not annoyed to be replacing these boots over any perception of poor quality. It’s not that at all. It’s that this pair of boots turned out to be “single use” in the sense that they can’t be re-soled. The built-in cushioning air pockets designed into the molded (or extruded, I don’t know) soles can fail through wear (obviously), and can’t be repaired. Crappy design not intended for durability. I dislike designed obsolescence, and find it to be a pretty shitty sales tactic. Still, I’ve had (and worn) these boots for almost 3 years and they’ve lasted pretty well…

The bare trees are full of little birds.

I sit awhile watching a variety of small birds hopping about and flitting among the bare branches of the oaks that dot the meadow. There’s a hint of soft green beginning to show like a haze when I look at the trees from a distance. Spring is coming. I think about the world for a moment, more worried about war than I’d like to be. It feels real and potentially imminent in an uncomfortable way, and creates a sorrow deep within me. I thought we were past this, but no. Evil still exists in the world. Human primates are neither fully domesticated nor are they “civilized”. Am I prepared to deal with it? I sigh to myself grateful for a full tank of gas and my gear in my car. Even recognizing how little that really prepares me for, it gives me some comfort.

… I definitely need boots I can walk in comfortably over a long distance…

The Chaotic Comic wants to get together for brunch. Maybe tomorrow? I’d enjoy that. I sit awhile longer, letting my foot and ankle recover a bit before I head back to the car – at a slower,  more considerate pace. I think about my choices, and what I look for in a sturdy boot, before I begin again

Yes, the boots, and the shopping, are metaphors. Choose wisely; how you equip yourself for the journey matters.

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Categories Allegories, Anxiety, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, inspiration, meditation, Metaphors, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, solo hiking, Spring, The Art of Being, War and News of War, winter, Words

Breathe, Exhale, Repeat

February 25, 2026 //
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Another new day – I’m grateful. For the moment I am existing in the space between acknowledging the pain I’m in, and moving on from that awareness to living the day. This, too, is a practice.

The sun was rising as I reached the trailhead. I’ve been walking in the promising glow of early morning, a clear blue sky overhead, and a strip of orange on the eastern horizon. Lovely. It’s chilly but not really cold, about 5.5C (40F).

The tangle of oaks along this trail reach for the blue sky above.

Spring is coming. I see it in small growth buds on branches that will soon become leaves. Green stems of flowering plants and grasses are pushing through the matted decaying leaves. In the distant hills, I see snow in pockets of shady high places. In the lowlands I see mist and fog. Nice morning for walking.

A nice morning, generally.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I meditate here among the trees, near the creek bank. It’s lovely. When my mind wanders, I pull it back to this moment, here, now. There is time to begin again, a little later. This moment is worth enjoying.

… Isn’t that the way of most moments? They’re worth enjoying or worth changing, and regardless of their worth they are fleeting. Quite temporary. I sigh to myself, grateful for pleasant moments in all their variety. Appreciative to have so few truly unpleasant ones (most of the time). Grateful to have choices when change is the wiser path.

Milky white clouds, formless and diffuse, high above, begin to move in, covering the beautiful blue of the sky. There’s a dense bank of storm clouds to the south, too. My arthritis agrees that more rain is coming. I sigh, reminded of the pain I’m in. Peculiarly, for the time of year, I hear thunder in the distance. How strange. I decide against lingering any longer. I get to my feet to finish my walk.

Time to begin again.

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Categories 2024 Election, Allegories, Anxiety, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, solo hiking, Spring, The Art of Being, War and News of War, winter, Words
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