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Anticipating the Sunrise

October 22, 2026 //
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After a pretty poor night’s sleep, I got up early, my usual time. My Traveling Partner woke me, to ask if I would mind going ahead and getting up and starting my day, so he could sleep. I hadn’t slept well, but he hadn’t slept at all. I mumble “sure” and sit up.

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

I was dressed and gone in 15 minutes.

I was groggy and still a bit stupid as I left the house. I wasn’t sure what I’d do; not yet fit to resume my early morning walks, although mostly over being sick. I stop at the gas station and fill my tank, yawning. I drive to the local trail I favor, and park where the street lights won’t shine in my eyes and nap in the car awhile. I could have taken a seat indoors, at the Big Chain Coffee location nearest me, but I wasn’t up to dealing with people. Not yet. Too early.

My night was fragmented. My sleep was poor quality. The two hours I napped in the car were more restful than most of my sleep that preceded them in the past 24 hours. I wake to the first hints of daybreak. I’m feeling adequately rested, but still not fully recovered from being ill. I yawn and stretch, and give myself time to really wake up.

The food truck that shows up for the construction workers building the hotel on the other side of the parking lot is open for business. I stand in the queue, in the chill of the autumn darkness waiting my turn. A breakfast taco and a cup of coffee, $8.50. The coffee is not quite “bad”, but definitely also not good. It’s strong and it’s hot, though, and it warms my hands through the paper cup. I return to the warmth of the car.

… I’m betting I don’t have a full day of work in me, and mentally juggle the elements of my day with an eye for an early out.

I sigh to myself. Meditate. Write a bit. It’s not a fancy routine, but it works for me. I dislike being sick, it nearly always breaks my routines. Did I remember my computer? Yep, there it is. Computer glasses? Got ’em, no problem. Tissues? Power brick? Yep. I’m ready. I chuckle realizing I did forget to bring along a bite for lunch. I shrug to myself, thinking “it’s always something”.

A new day, a new beginning.

Daybreak comes, a hint of blue at the edge of the eastern horizon. The background noise fills with construction sounds. Machinery. Trucks. Shouted exchanges of information and instructions. I twist in my seat and stretch, as I yawn. The clock ticks on. I hope my beloved is getting the rest he needs.

I reflect for a few moments more, not on any one detail, more on the general ebb and flow of emotions, the changing season, the tick of the clock. I let my mind wander a bit.

I decide to head over to the library, to start catching up on what I missed yesterday. I can even get some work done, using the WiFi there, from their parking lot. And anyway, it’s time to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, gratitude, health, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Sleepless Nights, The Art of Being, The Big 5, Words

Tips From a Friend

October 12, 2026 //
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Here it is Monday, again. I’ll admit, my enthusiasm is seriously limited by the pain I’m in. It is what it is, I guess.

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

I re-read the article my Traveling Partner shared with me, yesterday and think about it as I walk. It’s a cold morning, but not freezing. Today I remembered to dress warmly. I walk down the trail in the darkness, thinking my thoughts.

The article my beloved shared with me includes some excellent tips for clear communication, practices that (when practiced) really work:

    Active Listening: Practice active listening by putting your own opinions aside and genuinely trying to understand the other person’s perspective. Reflecting back on their thoughts and feelings can help establish a sense of empathy and build rapport.

    Empathy and Validation: Recognize and validate the emotions and concerns expressed by the other person. Acknowledging their experiences, even if you disagree with their viewpoints, can create a more receptive atmosphere for any discussion.

    Calm and Respectful Tone: Maintaining a calm and respectful tone and avoiding personal attacks or derogatory language can make a huge difference. By keeping emotions in check, you can foster a more constructive dialogue and prevent further escalation.

    Find Common Ground: Look for shared values, objectives, or aspirations that might serve as a foundation for getting to a common ground. Highlighting areas of agreement can help bridge the gap between differing perspectives.

    Ask Open-Ended Questions: Encourage deeper reflection and exploration by asking about things that invite the other person to speak out their thoughts. This approach can promote self-reflection and potentially lead to a more nuanced understanding.

Good tips. Profoundly good, and like chess,  the basics are so basic one might miss how difficult it might be to master. It is necessary to do the verbs. Worth the work that goes into it. Barring some clinical condition that might get in the way, this is a fantastic starting point for close connected communication and conflict resolution. I walk thinking about change.

This morning my head aches. My arthritis is giving me grief, too, in that very specific way that I associate with cold mornings. It seems worst in my thumbs, and my neck, places where it is a more recent development. I walk briskly this morning in spite of pain. It’s too chilly to stroll.

I get to my halfway point fairly quickly and stop, write a few words, reflect on the challenges of the weekend (and the moments of joy), and meditate under the stars. What peculiar mortal lives these are, and so brief…

Untitled pastel, 2026

I think I’d like to spend more time in my studio this week. I have a lot on my mind, and some of it I just don’t have words for. I sigh to myself, rubbing my hands together briskly in the cold. It’s time to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, anger, Anxiety, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, Despair, forgiveness, Free Will, Frustration, gratitude, grief, health, inspiration, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, The Art of Being, The Big 5, War and News of War, women, Words

Strange World

September 30, 2026 //
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It’s a strange world we live in. AI recruiters interviewing fake job applicants while real people struggle to find work adequate to pay the bills. A government that doesn’t get anything useful done for the people being governed, because grifters and criminals own the Whitehouse. Healthcare that sick people can’t afford. I could go on…it actually does get worse.

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

I take a deep breath of the strangely warm mild autumn air. The morning is peaceful out on this trail. Quiet. As though all is well and right with the world (it isn’t). I walk on, pulling myself back to this moment, here, now, each time my mind wanders to troubling news reports. (How about the one where the US president explicitly threatens nuclear genocide against a foreign nation?) I think about work and haul my mind back from that, too. Now is not the time for any of that. Now is a time for peace and contentment.

… How much more wonderful would this world be if each global citizen faced each moment from the position that “now is a time for peace”? Something to consider. Where do you stand on peace..?

You may be inclined to say I am being naive, but I gotta say, I didn’t kill anyone yesterday. Did you? I bet not. So, clearly it is possible not to kill. Good start on peace is not killing people. Clearly it can be done. I’m annoyed by how persistently people refuse peace and the ridiculous excuses they make to justify their hate and violence.

I sit watching the night sky. It’ll be dark awhile longer. I reflect on the lovely connected peaceful evening I shared with my Traveling Partner yesterday. He bought dinner. We hung out watching miscellaneous funny shit together and laughed. We needed some good laughs. Laughter gets people through a lot of tough times.

… So does love…

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I take in the peacefulness of this quiet morning. I’m grateful for another day. For the moment, shrugging off chronic pain seems almost effortless (it isn’t really, I simply took appropriate medication soon enough to get ahead of it a bit). Meditation. Write a few words. Sit with this peaceful now. Enjoying the darkness before dawn. Gathering my resolve to face the challenges of a new day. Wondering for a moment what the day might hold…

Hints of daybreak lighten the sky slowly. I think about beginning again.

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Categories Allegories, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, Love, meditation, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, The Art of Being, Words

Yesterdays

September 25, 2026 //
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One very useful thing about yesterday is that it is reliably in the past. We can let that go, when we’re ready to.

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

I look down the path, back the way I came. The trees along the path, a strip that runs along a creek bank, are tossing about wildly. My choice of “halfway point” seems potentially regrettable, given the violent winds. I look down the path in the other direction, and contemplate the rainy hours in the forecast, ahead. I’m not wearing, nor did I bring, my rain poncho – another potentially poor choice. I sigh to myself, wondering what will come of it.

There’s a weather alert this morning; high winds. Yep. I see that with my limited human eyesight. The wind is definitely blowing quite ferociously. The trees near me are swaying. From somewhere nearby I hear the kind of cracking noises that suggest one or more of these trees may be felled by the wind. The sound makes me uneasy.  This seems reasonable.

… I somehow manage to doze off briefly, sitting here, upright, wind-buffeted, phone in hand. I wake with a start when my head begins to pull me forward as I nod off. Am I tired? I’m not certain of that, but my sleep has been interrupted and of poor quality for a few nights now. The lack of deep restful sleep since I returned home from the coast is already wearing me down. I’ll feel better after some coffee, I reassure myself. The wind keeps blowing, without comment.

“Seeing Red”, 2026

I sit awhile listening to the trees creaking and groaning as they sway in the wind. The work day yesterday was …fine. Predictably busy. The evening after work was mostly a whirlwind of errands, followed by a serious failure to connect with my beloved Traveling Partner in a meaningful way. The evening fell apart in a cascade of misunderstood remarks, hurt feelings, and not feeling heard. I went to bed early with minimal attention to self-care. At that point I just wanted to be alone with my pain and irritation, feeling peculiarly invisible, and having nothing leftover to deal with any of that.

Detail from “Emotion and Reason” 2012

…At some point my beloved stepped quietly to the side of the bed in the darkness, and touched me softly. He tenderly stroked my cheek with a favorite soft plush toy, a tiny kitten, and placed it near me.

Sometimes this can feel a very lonely journey; we are not alone. ❤ Detail of “Communion” 24″ x 36″ acrylic on canvas w/ceramic, 2011

Later, when he woke me because it sounded like maybe I wasn’t breathing comfortably, the little stuffed kitten was still in my hand. He said something about my fist being clenched around the hose of my CPAP mask. I mumbled something and got up to pee without ever really waking up, and taking an allergy pill as I went back to bed. It wasn’t surprising that I might have been struggling with breathing easily (and it wasn’t allergies); my clenched fist had covered all the little holes that help with exhalation. I do wonder a bit what I might have been dreaming about.

This morning I feel okay. Yesterday is in the past. I linger on the memory of my Traveling Partner’s tenderness.

The rain begins to fall. I wrap my fleece tightly around me, zipped up, and pull the hood over my hair. It’s no rain poncho, though.

…I get to my feet and head back to the car, quickly, taking a shortcut through the vineyard, by way of the agricultural road, to the parking lot…

I am not quite soaked when I reach the car, and I’m grateful for the towel in my gear bin, and my other hoodie, clean and dry. I towel my hair dry in the car, and change into the dry hoodie.  I’m glad it’s Friday. I’m glad I was prepared for the rain, in spite of being too stupid this morning to wear (or bring along) my rain poncho. I’ve managed to avoid most discomfort. My jeans are wet, but not so much that I’m in misery, and they should dry pretty quickly. I blot them with dry sections of towel, rather ineffectively, and without concern. I listen to the wind and rain, feeling the car rock, as I warm up. I’m okay for nearly all values of okay. It’s enough.

Weather changes. Storms blow in, and blow over. Very little in life is permanent – or personal. The world can be a callous and indifferent place. We have these few precious mortal moments, and each other. I listen to the rain awhile longer, reflecting on life and love, and feeling grateful that nightmares fade so quickly..

Every moment of growth is as a rainbow in a stormy sky; a promise of better things.

…A few more quiet minutes listening to the rain, then I’ll begin again…

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Categories Allegories, anger, Anxiety, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, gratitude, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, The Art of Being, The Big 5, War and News of War, Words

We Made This

September 17, 2026 //
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This world we live in – we created it. Together, all of us. It’s a strange thought, isn’t it? Every choice, every action, every mistake, every great new idea; it is through us that we make our world. Choose wisely, eh?

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

This morning I read that Peter Max had died. Monday it was. There’s a little less color in this world with his passing, but realistically, the colors he juxtaposed on canvas (or on envelopes), were not enough to render the world as beautiful as he saw it. I wipe away a single tear with a sad smile and think of Van Gogh for no particular reason.

…I offer them both a silent salute, raising my water bottle to the starry night sky, before I head down the trail…

I rub my hands together a bit for warmth as I reach my halfway point and take a seat for a moment or two. I think of Monet’s failing eyesight, and feel the pain in my thumbs. He kept painting. No doubt I will too, for as long as I’m able.

I sigh to myself feeling the threads connecting my work to theirs. These are more pleasant thoughts, generally, than contemplating the mess humanity has made of the world. Artists and makers know, perhaps more than most people, we are creating this world we live in, all of us, together. So, what are we choosing to make? Is this really what we want? Can’t we do better, relatively easily? I think about that awhile, watching Orion slowly rise in the eastern sky. He’ll vanish from view when daybreak comes.

What exactly are you doing to make the world a better place? I mean the easy stuff, close to home, like treating your partner and family well, and being helpful to a friend, a neighbor, a stranger of another ethnicity. I mean the somewhat harder stuff, too, like speaking truth to power, like standing firm on explicitly calling genocide “genocide”, even if doing so seems to be at odds with national pride or political interests. I mean the obvious stuff, like picking up trash, and keeping things tidy, too. It all counts. It adds up. We could do more, and better.

I think about the weekend ahead. My beloved Traveling Partner programmed the marine traffic radio frequencies into my radio, so I can try listening to the shipping traffic while I’m on the coast. I grin to myself, feeling very loved.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I meditate on gratitude and wonder. I reflect on painting inspiration as yet unfulfilled. I reflect on love and prematurely experience a pang of wistful loss and absence – I will miss my Traveling Partner (I always do). He is my beloved, my muse – why not just paint at home? Why not bring him along? It’s honestly this; I need some solitary time to thrive, and more than that, my passion for my partner is both deeply inspiring, and also an incredible distraction. 😆 When he is near, I will reliably choose his company over most other things, however needful, urgent, or pleasant, those things might be. (It’s admittedly not ideally emotionally healthy, and I am frankly unconcerned.) Since I need to paint and write to be emotionally and mentally well, this sets up a bit of a self-care conflict, internally, so vacations and getaways with my partner are quite a separate thing. This has worked for us. Your results may vary.

I breathe in the autumn scented air. I watch a brightly lit farm machine moving back and forth among the vineyard rows, a way off. Earlier a heavily loaded, slow, quite long freight truck pulled through, on the narrow agricultural access road that cuts through the vineyard. It’s bright colorful lights made a merry display as it bounced slowly along. There’s a hint of sweetness in the air… grapes? Am I imagining the scent?

It’s a lovely beginning to a new day. I slept well. I hope my beloved did too. I think about dinner later – leftover enchiladas. It’s not fancy but the company and conversation will be excellent. My partner is working on a new (work) project. I hope he has a fantastic day working on it. I’m eager for him to tell me more, over dinner.

We live in the world we’ve made. Let’s make it a good one, for everyone. We can begin again. We can do better.

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Categories Allegories, art and the artist, autumn, 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, The Big 5, thoughts on AI, War and News of War, women, Words
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