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The Stall Point

August 21, 2025 //
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I’m sipping my coffee and feeling sort of cross and “stalled”. Just sort of sitting here, not motivated to act, or reflect, or choose, or consider – I’m a bit stuck, honestly. It’s a very human thing. Maybe I didn’t get quite enough restful sleep? Maybe I haven’t actually consumed enough coffee to get my brain going properly? Maybe I’m feeling (understandably) a little lost, or frustrated, or down? One thing I am definitely feeling is that I am dragging myself reluctantly through my experience, at least for the moment. Maybe I need to take a moment and just… cry?

I’ve been a proper adult over this untimely demise of my current job. I’ve been measured. I’ve been resourceful. I’ve been easily able to pivot to tackling the job search related tasks that need to be done now, and plan ahead to those yet to come. I’ve reached out to contacts likely to know someone who knows someone who knows of an opportunity that may be a good one for me. I’ve handled it. You know what I haven’t yet done, though? I haven’t allowed myself to grieve. I’ll miss this job. I’ll miss these colleagues. I’ll miss so many details of this particular routine at this time in my life. I haven’t given in to the hurt, yet. I’ve simply handled business with a clear head and a sense of urgency and commitment. It still hurts, emotionally, to lose this job – and I haven’t yet dealt with that. I’m going to have to, though, otherwise it will burrow into me, fester, and rob me of my will to act. Not helpful.

I’ve got the office alone, and I close the door, put my head down, and let the tears come – they’re right there, waiting. I let the fear and uncertainty wash over me. I let myself feel the hurt. I let the anger and feelings of disappointment and unfairness surface enough to acknowledge them alongside the tears. I go ahead and feel the feelings, and I cry. From experience I know that if I stifle these emotions and don’t provide myself the nurturing and self-care that I need – physically and emotionally – I’ll pretty quickly reach my “stall point”, and just stop functioning properly. I won’t be able to remember errands, tasks, and commitments, I won’t feel like doing anything, and I won’t be able to interact with people comfortably to talk about what I’m looking for out of a new job (because I’ll be mired in the unaddressed pain of losing the old one and too prone to talking the experience of hurting and loss). It’s like any other grief; the way out is through.

The tears pass pretty quickly, for now. There may be other moments, and other tears, with potential to pull me down and stall me if left unaddressed. Funny how embarrassing it feels to yield to a moment of emotion under these circumstances – there’s no reason for that. It’s not anything besides a very human moment of emotion. Emotion is part of who and what we are. I stretch and yawn, and sip my coffee. I’ve got an interview with a talent agency a little later. Later still, I’ll catch up with a friend who may have contract work that will support the short-term need nicely, for some indefinite time – not ideal, but far better than unemployment. I smile – the same friend got me into the contract that eventually developed into this job, that I’m now leaving with such sorrow. I’m grateful. I chuckle to myself over the value in relationships feeling like some “secret life hack” – it really is the people that matter most, and how we interact with them, and the experiences we share.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I do a quick “body scan” and take inventory of myself in this moment. Pain hasn’t been an issue the past day or two, but this morning it’s ferocious, and I have to deal with that, on top of “everything else”. A very human experience. It is often the case that when I am feeling most overwhelmed, or when I am feeling “stalled”, it may be some one small thing that needs my attention so urgently it shuts down everything else until I do give myself the attention I need. Those are generally experiences very much about emotions. When I feel overwhelmed or stalled, I go looking for the feeling that isn’t “being heard”, and give myself a moment to sit with that feeling, deal with it head on, and provide myself with the genuine nurturing from within that I am needing. Self-care. It’s a big deal.

I sigh and drink my coffee in the stillness. The clock ticks on, without any regard for what I may want out of the moment before moving on to the next. It’s already time to begin again – and there’s a lot to do.

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Categories Allegories, anger, Anxiety, breathe, Despair, Free Will, Frustration, gratitude, grief, Healthy Living, Logic & Reason, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Summer, The Art of Being

Have a Carrot

August 9, 2025 //
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I got home from work yesterday, grateful to have survived humanity through one more commute. Fuck, there are a lot of stupid people “out there”… Each homecoming at the end of a work day in the office feels worth celebrating.

Carrots from the garden

I began the evening by picking some carrots from the garden to roast for dinner. They’ll make a nice side dish for the tarragon chicken I plan to make. I’ll use tarragon from the garden, too. This a real treat, because the tarragon is relatively young (planted this year, back in March I think) and still getting established.

The evening was lovely. We hung out awhile, listening to music, watching videos, and enjoying some “family time”. Pleasant. I ended the evening at more or less the usual time, in more or less the usual way. I had a plan to sleep in, have a walk, and go to a morning appointment, and do grocery shopping on the way home. (So far so good, I suppose. I didn’t sleep in at all. I woke without an alarm, at some ridiculous hour, for no obvious reason. Definitely no sleeping in, though I was groggy for the entire drive to the trailhead.)

The morning greeted me with a fat full moon hanging low in the predawn sky. I watched it set, and the sunrise begin, as I drove. Lovely.

A last glimpse of the full moon setting, from a favorite mid-point on my walk.

The summer air is fragrant with a spicy floral scent of something blooming. I can’t describe it, and don’t know for sure what the fragrance is. I breathe deeply. I walk the trail marveling at the dense mist clinging to the ground. The sunrise is hues of peach and pink, edged in delicate gold. I feel fortunate to see such splendor with my own eyes.

Here’s the thing… I’m not in a great mood. I’m cross and fatigued and in pain. Yesterday evening, my shitty mood from sleeping poorly the night before continued to linger. Shitty moods and difficult moments are part of the human experience, but they are not all of it, even in those difficult moments. What I remember most about yesterday are those beautiful carrots from the garden and how delicious they were. What I will remember about this morning will more likely be the scents of summer and the beautiful sunrise, not my headache or my crappy mood. Learning to savor (and be present for) the small joys in life has tended to make life more pleasant, generally.

I sit, smiling, in this favorite spot, watching little birds and chipmunks and squirrels enjoying the morning. I watch the sun rise. I watch the shifting mist flow over the ground, moving with the air, almost as if it were liquid. I watch the moon set, disappearing below the edge of the western horizon. I’m not in any rush. Lingering over this pleasant moment is more than enjoyable; it is restoring my joy and merriment. Each pleasant moment, and each breath of fragrant summer air brings a sense of joy, and my mood slowly improves. My irritation diminishes. I’m still tired and in pain, but it matters a little less with each passing moment of enjoyment in this place. We become what we practice. 😁

I reach a point of quiet contentment and general satisfaction with the moment, and with life. Nice place to find myself. I breathe, exhale, and relax. Sunlight fills the meadow and lights the tree tops. I sigh as I get to my feet. It’ll be time to begin again by the time I get back to the car.

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Categories Allegories, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, inspiration, joy, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Practices, Sleepless Nights, solo hiking, Summer, The Art of Being

Bananas, Strawberries, and Playing Catch-Up

July 22, 2025 //
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G’damn I am so tired. I’m in pain, and I’m tired. I feel like I’m running in place and expecting to catch-up. I’m laughing over it, for now (mostly), because like it or not it’s largely my own doing. Self-care is hard. It requires choices and clear expectation-setting. Everyone around me seems to want something (and it is often completely expected and normal – as with paid employment for example), and I keep bumping my own needs lower and lower on my list of shit to do until… I don’t. Or can’t.

A new day, a new opportunity to begin again.

When I take a minute and put things into perspective, I know that going off my Ozempic for a few days, then abruptly back on at the dose I’d been taking (no ramp down, no ramp up), it likely fucked with my emotional stability and mood management and “sense of things” – and I may still be dealing with that. I also know that enduring pain without prescribed pain management measures can be very physically fatiguing. So, I guess I’m not surprised by feeling sort of chronically overwhelmed and on the edge of exhaustion in spite of feeling that “things seem pretty normal, though”. I breathe, exhale, and relax. I set reminders for healthy breaks. I double check that I have my medication for the day with me (I forgot it yesterday and had to rely on back ups that I keep in the office, most of which I clumsily tossed into the toilet by mistake – it was that sort of day, honestly). I make a point of taking it on time. I take my walk, but it is shortened by the pain I’m in, in spite of level pavement and having my cane. I feel like I’m working damned hard for very little result.

…The thought brings tears to my eyes, which is a level of emotionality that is unusual for me, these days…

I’m suddenly swamped by a feeling of being wholly inadequate and “not good enough”, like, at all. This is an entirely subjective emotional experience not connected to any real world event or interactions, most likely brought on by fatigue and abnormally high self-imposed expectations. Circumstances being what they are, and “good enough” being very subjective, and me being – in general – “fine” for most values of “fine”, I’m fairly certain that this feeling of inadequacy is nothing more than some rando inner demon having its moment, attacking me from within – that’s what demons do. lol I sip my coffee. It’s also “fine”. Not great. Not bad. Just… coffee. I’m okay with it. I reflect on that for perspective. This cup of coffee doesn’t have to be better than it is to achieve it’s purpose successfully, it just has to be available for me. It is that and that is enough.

In spite of the deer eating the tops of all my tomato plants, I’ll have a few tomatoes. Enough.

…”Enough” can be a tricky concept to hold on to, sometimes…

Getting caught up in chasing more, better, or other than whatever is can be tiring and distracting. Finding balance sometimes means making a point to practice a sense of sufficiency in a purposeful focused way, in spite of the to-do list, the goals, the aspirations and ambitions… all of that is immediately irrelevant once the sands in the hour glass run out, eh? The whole of the experience, the journey itself, isn’t characterized by any one achievement or detail, and exhausting myself chasing the details is probably a pretty poor choice. I remind myself to slow down and take care of this fragile vessel. Sometimes that takes more effort, or more time, or more care – or more saying “no”, in spite of wanting very much to say “yes”. I sigh to myself. It annoys me to need both more rest and also more exercise.

…”Finding balance” is largely a matter of cultivating and practicing balance… (I’m not saying that’s easy. Honestly, it’s fucking annoying.)

“Baltimore Belle” blooming in my garden.

I try to lift my spirits with thoughts of flowers in my garden. Far away friends. Upcoming camping trips. It’s not really helping much; I just feel run down. My tinnitus is crazy loud in my ears and I wonder (again) how fatiguing it may be that I make attempts to distract myself or diminish my awareness of it, somehow? (It takes real effort, actual work, to present an appearance, regardless how effective the results may be – and my need for self-care increases with my fatigue.)

…Too much bitching…

Not enough time spent looking at flowers in the garden.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I take some time to meditate before beginning the day’s work. What next? Self-care. Seems obvious, but I’m sometimes fairly crappy at following through on it when I most need to. There are verbs involved. Practices. Consistency. Effort. Will. It’s necessary to do the things, not just hold awareness that they are needful, and not just talk about the relative importance. I sigh, again, feeling frustrated and impatient with myself. It feels like too much, and I put my head down on my desk and let the tears come. It’ll pass. It’s not important, really, it’s just a moment.

The bananas and strawberries? Just fruits. I’ve got some very ripe banana in the freezer for making banana bread when things cool off enough to bake – and when I’ve got the energy for it – and I recently enjoyed some delightful genuinely local (picked that morning) strawberries from a farmer acquaintance (which was nice, since the birds got most of mine this year). I suppose I’d meant to say something more or different about them when I sat down to write, but the moment took me a different direction. Very human.

I sigh again, feeling too human to get enough done. I look at the clock. Still ticking. It’s time to begin again. Again.

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Categories Allegories, anhedonia, Anxiety, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, Frustration, health, Healthy Living, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, pain, Perspective, Practices, Summer, The Art of Being, The Big 5, weight loss secrets

Timing, Weather, Etc.

June 18, 2025 //
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I slept in, like, properly slept in, waking a couple hours later than I ordinarily would, feeling well rested, and ready for a new day. Being home feels good.

A familiar view from a favorite trail.

My legs ache. It’s just sore muscles, from recent days of more than usual walking. I mostly ignore it, and walk on. The blue skies of recent days have yielded to encroaching gray clouds gathering overhead. The air feels heavy with higher than typical humidity. I keep on walking, through oak groves and alongside meadows and vineyards. I pass by a creek, and lush dense weeds and wildflowers that grow along the banks, edged by trees. Farm workers in the vineyard eye me warily as I pass. I wave. They wave back. We have nothing to fear from each other. I continue walking.

It was an ordinary walk on an ordinary morning. I hope I have many such walks (and mornings) ahead of me. Gray skies or blue, the details matter less than my ability to walk on, and my freedom and opportunity to do so.

I sit quietly after my walk, on a convenient picnic table tucked among the oaks trees that line the beginning of this particular trail. It’s not remote or exotic, and lacks any sort of features that might attract crowds. It’s just a convenient local trail, well maintained, paved and mostly level, and even lit in some sections (which is nice for very early mornings before sunrise). It feels safe and familiar, and long enough to be satisfying (it’s about a mile and a half all the way around), but short enough to be quite manageable even when I’m having some difficulties. This trail is rarely crowded, which is a nice bonus.

My tinnitus is annoyingly loud in my ears. I do my best to focus on other things. I breathe, exhale, and relax. It is a pleasant morning and I am happy to be home. I remind myself to stop at the store on my way home, but can’t recall what I need to get. I chuckle to myself; I have an app for that. I probably rely on that too much.

I sigh contentedly, savoring this pleasant moment before I begin again. The clock is ticking on a new day. It’ll soon be time to begin again…

Where does this path lead? What will I see along the way?
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Categories Allegories, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, joy, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Practices, solo hiking, Summer, The Art of Being

Turn That Noise Down!!

June 10, 2025 //
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My tinnitus is loud this morning. Distracting and annoying. I get my walk started early, close to home, but the sunrise had already begun. The sky is shades of orange, pink and dusty blue, and the western hills in the distance are soft shades of blue and gray. Feels like another hot summer day ahead, maybe not as hot as the past couple of days have been. Hot enough to feel like summer, and even the cooler morning temperature hints at the afternoon heat to come.

Sunrise, a new day, a new beginning, a new opportunity to choose.

I walked with my thoughts accompanied by assorted little birds hopping and flying along. Chickadees mostly, and robins;  though I hear the songs of other birds I don’t see them. A small herd of deer bolts into the trees when they hear me approach. The lovely morning might have a certain sparkling Disney sort of vibe if it weren’t for the sound of traffic nearby, and my damned tinnitus ringing and buzzing in my ears. Still, it’s a pretty morning, suitable for all manner of beginnings, and I’m grateful to see another sunrise.

I spot a woodpecker on the trunk of an oak tree, in that instance before he begins drumming away at that bark, either communicating or seeking a tasty morsel. He’s loud too. I laugh and startle him, he flies off to a different tree. I keep walking, until I reach my turn around point, where I stop awhile.

I sit in the early morning shade of the trees along the creek, smelling the scents of Spring flowers. The sun continues to rise on the new day. I think about doing a couple days of camping next week while I’m off, and maybe some painting. I make some room for my mixed feelings. I very much want my time to be wholly my own while I am painting, but I also experience strange pangs of separation anxiety when I contemplate it. That’s odd for me. I don’t really look forward to sleeping on the ground, getting up is more difficult every year. On the other hand, I’m yearning to sit quietly, gazing into the trees without being aware there are dishes to do, or errands to run, for endless seeming unmeasured minutes. I don’t expect to sort myself out on one morning walk. I sigh to myself and let my thoughts move on.

… G’damn my tinnitus is annoying…

Camera or pastels? Camping light, or glamping? A remote site that requires a bit of a trek to reach, or car camping with amenities? Well equipped camp kitchen and outdoor cooking, or freeze dried hiking meals that require little prep or clean up? Effort or ease? What do I really want for (and from) myself with my time? I watch the sun rise and think about it. I’ve got all the gear and most of the needed supplies whatever options I choose. It’s the choosing that is so difficult; it requires a level of frankness with myself about my current needs and limitations that feels mildly uncomfortable. I sigh quietly. There’s time to consider the options.

I get to my feet and turn to face the sun. It’s time to begin again.

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