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October 4, 2025 //
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I reached the trail before daybreak. I walked down the path in the darkness, the bobbing half circle of light cast by my headlamp lighting the way ahead of me, but obscuring anything I might have seen beyond that bit of light. I consider that metaphorically for some distance, until my thoughts wander on.

Daybreak, and a new day.

By the time I get to my halfway point on the trail, I am thinking about the many “versions” of “myself” I have been over a lifetime. Each of the many jobs, addresses, relationships, traumas, and triumphs, have left their mark on the woman I am today. Steps on a path. A journey that is its own destination. I find myself asking some questions as I reflect on my life and the changing context(s) in which I have lived it. I think about the “here and now”, and the changes that brought me to this point.

  • In what version of myself have I been happiest, most often?
  • In what version did I most respect myself?
  • In what version did I enjoy the greatest sense of consistency between my values and my actions?
  • In what version did I seem to be most likeable?
  • In what version was I most likely to compromise my values for personal gain?
  • In what version was I villain, hero, or “NPC” in my life?
  • Are there versions of me that I regret so thoroughly that I am ashamed of the person I was?
  • How do I hold on to the best bits of all of the many versions of the woman in the mirror, and discard the worst, to become truly the woman I most want to be? (And is that version truly worthy of the effort required?)

I find self-reflection a worthwhile practice. I sit with my thoughts, listening to the sounds of an autumn morning between marsh ponds and meadow, breathing the chilly air carrying the scents of fall flowers and some hint of…mildew? It is a gray morning. The sky lightens slowly revealing a cloudy sky. The threat of rain exists in the scents on the mild breeze, and also in my arthritis pain.

The pain is annoying. I think (and write) about it too much, probably. It sometimes feels inescapable.

My Traveling Partner and I both deal with chronic pain. I do my best to manage my pain. When we’re hanging out, in pain, we each do what we can to take care of ourselves and each other. Our efforts are not reliably successful. Last night was difficult. I’d find some position in which my pain was lessened, and hold myself rigidly trying to hold on to that bit of improved comfort. He perceived it as “tension”, which I guess it was, in a sense. My tension is uncomfortable to be around, for him. He wants to help if he can (but he can’t really, it’s not that sort of thing).

His experience of pain had him squirming in my periphery, trying to get more comfortable, which I find uncomfortable to be around. I’d very much like to help, if I could (but I can’t really, it’s not that sort of thing). We do our best to be kind to each other, compassionate, empathetic without fusing with the experience of our beloved partner. It’s difficult. Pain “shrinks our world” and we’re sometimes terse with each other, when it’s actually the pain itself that is annoying us.

We ultimately ended the evening early, withdrawing to separate spaces to seek some kind of relief, if only from dealing with each other’s pain on top of our own. Seems a harsh and rather isolating approach to take, but it’s probably better than hurting each other’s feelings or taking out our discomfort on the person we love most.

I didn’t sleep well. Pain, again. I struggled with falling asleep, and once I had, I was awakened multiple times by one noise or another, or light, or the sound of angry voices, but each time I woke, the room was dark, and the house was quiet. It was weird. I woke abruptly, around 02:00, feeling a sense that “something wasn’t right”, but again all was apparently well and quiet. I returned to sleep and dreamt that I was awake… really thought I was, until my artificial sunrise woke me from a deep sleep. I had forgotten to turn it off for the weekend. I was still feeling groggy and a bit out of sorts even as I began my trek down the trail, some time later.

Saturday. No hurry, and there’s certainly ample time for self-reflection, and this is as good an opportunity than any – better than most. I breathe, exhale, and relax. I let my awareness of my pain recede into the background (for as long as I can). Daybreak becomes dawn, then daylight. I watch from my seat on this fence rail. A soft sprinkling of rain falls briefly.

I sigh to myself, suddenly missing old friends far away, and yearning to sit down over coffee and conversation. I’m momentarily overcome with a poignant feeling of nostalgia… Annapolis… Killeen… Monterey… Augsburg… Fresno… Times and people, long ago and far away. My eyes tear up a bit. The moment passes. My thoughts move on.

It begins to rain softly. I look down the path toward other places and new experiences. I admit to myself with some reluctance that it must be time to begin again… and I get to my feet, and walk on.

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Categories Allegories, autumn, breathe, Free Will, grief, health, Healthy Living, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Sleepless Nights, solo hiking, The Art of Being, War and News of War, women, Words

Finding Peace

October 2, 2025 //
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It’s still quite dark. Daybreak will be soon. It is one of those moments that feels hopeful and filled with potential. I sit with that feeling, savoring it, and enjoying the experience of existing.

… Sometimes that’s enough…

As I pulled into the parking lot at the trailhead, I saw another car parked on the far side, at the edge of the lights. A man was laying on top of the car, looking up at the sky. Not the sort of thing I see, most days, it is unusual to the point of being noteworthy, most especially on a rainy cloudy morning – there are no stars visible to gaze upon. I park well-away from him, partly to avoid disturbing his peace, partly to avoid disturbing my own. Peace is hard enough to find, right now, and I’m happy to be considerate of someone’s small success when I happen upon it.

The morning smells of rain. The trail is still wet with rain that fell during the night. The ground on either side is squishy, muddy, and slick. I don’t mind any of that, but I’m glad I wore my fleece over my sweater, and that I carried my rain poncho with me (handy for creating a dry place to sit). I look into the darkness of the trees at the edge of the creek. There’s nothing really to see just yet, it’s too dark. Looking across the vineyard, back toward the parking, I see the lights spaced regularly, creating mysterious shapes among the oaks along the trail on that side. There are no real mysteries here, just illusions created by patterns of light and darkness. True of a lot of circumstances. I sit with that thought awhile.

I’m honestly okay right now, for most values of okay. That’s something. I can’t change the world with a single decision in any detectable way, and certainly life, more broadly, is not “all about me”… but…me being okay, myself, right now, is a good enough starting point for most journeys. Definitely this one. I breathe, exhale, and relax. I turn my attention to my own subjective experience. I feel this moment, and allow it to be enough. I need this peace. The chaos of the world won’t dissipate because I’m staring it the face, neither will it worsen if I’m not scrambling to do something, say something, right fucking now. I’m not that important – few of us are. Even among the powerful, very few people are so significant that their moments drive the world, and of those who are? I have no direct influence over them, nor, frankly, do I have to allow them such influence over me. There is distance between us, and in that distance, I can find a moment of peace.

I breathe, exhale, and relax, sitting in quiet contentment on a weekday morning. I am grateful to be employed, and to mostly have my shit together, most of the time. It’s enough, generally speaking, and chasing more has rarely resulted in anything but stress and misery, for me. Exploring sufficiency has been more worthwhile and satisfying. (I’m not seeking to discourage your ambition; we are each walking our own path.) As it turns out, “enough” really is enough.

A sprinkle of rain begins falling. My mind wanders to dinner, later. I smile when I think about how much my Traveling Partner enjoys my cooking. I feel supported and appreciated when I think about the help I’ve been getting around the house lately, from both my beloved, and from the Anxious Adventurer. Without that help, I quickly exhaust myself trying to do everything, all the time. That exhaustion becomes enduring fatigue that undermines my emotional and physical wellness – and my ability to find peace. This is better. I remind myself to say “thank you” explicitly.

I sigh contentedly, as I stand and stretch. It’s a new day, although sunrise hasn’t yet happened. It’s only barely daybreak, but I walked a bit further this morning, and didn’t walk the short loop. It’ll be a longer walk back to the car… I think it’s already time to begin again.

… I found my peace out here on the trail. Where will you find yours?

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Categories Allegories, Anxiety, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, inspiration, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, solo hiking, The Art of Being, War and News of War

TBD

September 26, 2025 //
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I slept through the night, waking to the artificial sunrise of my silent alarm. I dressed and left the house in the usual way. I arrived at the trailhead before daybreak, put on my boots, grabbed my cane, and began the trek down the trail.

I walk and breathe, my mind a mostly barren place, nothing really amounting to actually thought going on. I just walked.

… Strange morning…

My Traveling Partner pings me. No “good morning” greeting or inquiry about my state of being. Instead I get a hurt reminder that I had said I would pick up a package waiting in the mailbox. I’d forgotten, distracted by a moment of discord shortly after I got home yesterday. Shit. For the time being (and it is a recent change) we’ve only got one key to the mailbox, and picking up the mail now requires a return home to grab the key, or the foresight to take it on the way out the door. A suprisingly complicated change, once brain damage is accounted for. I sigh to myself. I do my best to do everything that needs to be done… Seems always just out of reach.

I’m now at my halfway point feeling aggravated, disappointed with myself, and fairly disinterested in interacting with “the world”… And it’s a fucking work day. Great. I ignore the slow tears dripping down my face. For the moment I have no patience with this very human experience. My Traveling Partner is having a difficult morning, himself. I do what I can to be supportive, compassionate, and kind. Maybe one of us will turn our morning around and have a good day?

I breathe, exhale, and… Well, I try to relax. I persist with trying to meditate, trying to let go of my irritability, trying to simply breathe and be… Inhale. Exhale. Repeat. How fucking hard does this shit have to be?!

Daybreak comes. I look down the trail and get to my feet. It isn’t all lovely mornings, big smiles, and beautiful sunrises. This is a very human experience, and sometimes there’s real work involved, and however “successful” the outcomes seem to be, the moment may still be quite unsatisfying or unpleasant. It is what it is. Another reason to begin again… and it’s time. I’ll do my best.

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Categories Allegories, anger, anhedonia, Anxiety, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, Frustration, health, Healthy Living, meditation, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, The Art of Being, The Big 5

Hanging Out Between Moments

September 24, 2025 //
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It’s rare to begin a day “on empty” without something else going on. I woke feeling a bit dizzy, and vaguely nauseous. I arrived at the trailhead before dawn, nonetheless, ready to walk… for most values of “ready”. There’s a work day ahead of me, and I face it with the strange sensation of not being certain how many days of work I have completed this week, nor am I certain how many remain, at least not initially. Eventually, out on the trail, I get my bearings. Now, having a clearer sense of what day it is, I proceed down the trail with more confidence.

… Am I just tired?…

Not “just” tired, I’m also in pain. As I walk, silently urging myself to continue down the trail, I begin to wonder if my fatigue and weirdness are all pain related…? Seems more and more likely as I walk. I sigh to myself. Pain is aggravating, and tends to shrink my world. I’m halfway down the trail and get to my resting point before continuing on, and I’ve no particular recollection of the walk so far. Rough. I sit down on the rock I find convenient for the purpose and look around me without much enthusiasm. It’s hard to focus my attention on other things, this morning. If it weren’t a work day, I’d just go back to bed.

Now, I’ve annoyed myself by emotionally giving in to pain. I frown for a moment, irked with myself for “making it so easy” for pain to get the upper hand this morning. I remind myself that it’s only a moment, and to avoid taking it personally. I’m still irritable over being in this much pain – and also for being so ridiculously sleepy. I catch myself being unusually unkind to myself over the pain I’m in, almost to the point of cruelty, and I work on letting that go. I’m already doing what I can to manage the pain I’m in, there’s no excuse to also be cruel. I’m human, with human injuries, human damage, and human limitations. I’ve also got extraordinary human will, better than average endurance, and I’ve learned to value and demonstrate compassion – surely I can trust myself to provide myself with care and consideration? Pain isn’t a joke. It isn’t something we seek out. Pain is not entertaining. This morning’s pain is way beyond “discomfort”, and taking care of myself is an important step to take. I sigh to myself again. More practice? Definitely.

My Traveling Partner pings me a greeting. He’s in pain this morning too. I’m grateful to be easily able to work from a different location. I’m having enough trouble managing my own pain. I’m pretty confident trying to work from home when we’re both hurting so much would be a poor choice. Still, I feel loved and I am grateful for his affection, and his good morning greeting. I hope we both find our way through the pain to the other side.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. There’s time for meditation before I finish my walk. There’s time to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, gratitude, health, meditation, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, pain, Perspective, Practices, solo hiking, The Art of Being, The Big 5

Finding Balance, Getting Centered

September 22, 2025 //
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It is the fall equinox. I took the day off from work to reflect, and to find balance. It’s the equinox, after all. It is a time for balance, day and night briefly the same length, a reminder that balance can be found, but not held static. Balance is not a permanent condition.

Lincoln City, at Road’s End, before sunrise.

I sip a hot coffee. The paper cup is warm in my hands. The morning is chillier here on the coast. I’m grateful for the foresight to have worn a warm sweater. I listen to the roar of the waves and the sea breeze, watching the sky begin to lighten, as daybreak, then dawn, each arrive in turn. As the dawn lights the horizon, I begin watching the waves roll in, in rows, stretching along the now-visible beach. The horizon itself is obscured by morning fog or dense clouds. I hear sea birds taking flight, calling to each other.

Where do I find balance? I guess anywhere that I create it, from whatever chaos is handy in the moment. Balance is in the choices I make. Same with “finding my center”. I create that center, that firm foundation, that moment to pause, to reflect, to breathe, and to simply be. I know that I’ve made it sound too easy. It’s not reliably easy. I sometimes choose poorly, or attempt to snatch a sense of balance from a moment that wanted something else of me entirely. As with painting, composition matters – just because a sight exists, doesn’t make it visually beautiful, worth putting on canvas – and so too with moments and seeking (or finding, or creating) balance. It’s not always “time for that”.

Moments later, same location, different perspective.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. This is a good place for meditation, and a good moment for it. I take time for that as the sun rises, watching the waves, listening to the sea breeze, letting my thoughts float gently by, observed but not engaging with them. I focus on my breath, and the waves, and the distant horizon. There is time later for other things. For now, this is enough.

… Time passes. What’s left of my coffee is now cold. So are my hands. Curious gulls stand very near the car, eyeing me curiously. The misty western horizon has taken on a delicate shell pink hue, and the waves are steely gray edged in frothy white as they reach the shallows along the shore. Beautiful.

After meditating, before walking on the beach.

Certainly there is enough daylight now to easily see the steep path down to the beach. It’s quite chilly this morning, but I’m warmly dressed, appropriate for the chill of an autumn walk along the ocean beach early in the morning. I’ll take my time and enjoy the sights. The morning is mine, for finding or creating balance, on a lovely fall equinox. Later, I’ll return home and prepare a lovely meal and celebrate at home. It’s nothing particularly fancy, and doesn’t need to be (although the recipe I’m following is complex, and the dish suited to a celebration). I’m simply observing the change of seasons my own way.

…Then, I’ll begin again.

Pause and reflect.
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Categories Allegories, autumn, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, inspiration, joy, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Practices, The Art of Being, Uncategorized, Words
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