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A Hint of Fog

June 11, 2026 //
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The morning mist caught me by surprise. No reason it should, I suppose; the temperature warmed in the wee hours after several cool Spring days, and today is expected to be hot (27C/80F). Tomorrow is forecast to be even hotter, and there is an extreme heat advisory.

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

The sunrise began with a ferocious heat-threatening diffuse orange. Pretty, although I’m not looking forward to the heat or increased wildfire risk. I remind myself to drink plenty of water.

Beautiful sunrise, hot day ahead.

The mist clings to the low places, gathering in near the rivers and creeks mostly. It envelopes me as the trail turns to wrap around the vineyard, leading me down closer to the creek that runs adjacent to the trail. As I walk I wonder if maybe I should have worn a fleece or my cardigan? It’s not hot yet. 😆 I’m chilly, in spite of walking.

I get to my halfway point and stop to write and reflect. It is Thursday. (Already?) Tomorrow is my birthday, 63. (Already?) I’m taking a few days off, an entire week. My Traveling Partner is in the middle of an important work project. He encouraged me to consider fucking off for a couple days, and I make plans for a couple nights on the coast. It’s nice to have that kind of freedom. I feel very loved. So far this is an extraordinary birthday celebration. Yesterday he gave me another book – and I’m thoroughly delighted – Barbara Walters “How to Talk With Practically Anybody About Practically Anything”, which I’ve wanted for a long time. It was a surprise that it is also a first edition in excellent condition.

There is so much more to find within the pages of a book than mere words on pages.

… I’ve got a lovely stack of books to read…

…63?

I don’t “feel my age”. I’m not sure I gave much thought to what being 63 would feel like, though. I feel more or less as I’ve always felt. The feeling of age or aging only hits me when I notice my capacity for manual labor is less than in my twenties, or I happen to take a longer look at my hands. “Aches and pains” don’t signal age for me; I’ve lived with serious chronic pain since my twenties. There’s some gray in my hair. Arthritis that was limited to my damaged spine for a lot of years turns up in my joints now, too. But, generally speaking, 63 feels like any other year. I will probably enjoy it every bit as much as I’ve enjoyed 62. 😆 The clock is ticking, but mostly I don’t notice.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. Pretty morning for meditation. The morning sun lights the trees along the trail. The mist begins to thin and fade away. There’s a whole new day ahead, then my birthday.

I happily contemplate a couple days on the coast as the weekend wanes… I’ll set off early, after I water the lawn in the morning. I’ll pack light, maybe bring my pastels, and load the car the night before. I’ll be gone just as the sun rises, probably, and I know my Traveling Partner will miss me – that’s part of the point. Having that chance to miss each other prevents us taking each other for granted, over time. I anticipate the joy of walking miles of beach in the cool morning breeze, and enjoying an iced coffee at some choice spot to sit and listen to the waves caress the shore, and the gulls calling to each other overhead. There’s a fantastic bagel shop near a beach I like, and I look forward to a fantastic bagel on the beach. It’s the kind of small delight that I savor. They add up to an immense quantity of joy, over time.

I smile contentedly. The best part about a couple days of solitary time away is returning home to a cozy life filled with love. I’ll never be wealthy but I feel rich; I have love.

I take a deep breath of the cool morning air and taste the scent of flowers. Summer is coming. I look down the trail amazed by how far this journey has taken me. 16 years ago I could not imagine being actually happy, like, at all, ever. I figured settling for surviving my life would be the best I could do. I’m grateful to have given myself a chance to continue on. I would not trade this life as it is for any other. My first real glimpses of happiness left me more confused than appreciative; I was ignorant of real lasting love, and certainly had no skill at being happy when happy moments turned up. It took practice just to accept the possibility of happiness. There was still so much chaos and damage to sort out. So much to learn about love and loving. There’s still more to learn even now. I’m okay with that. The journey is the destination and I’m traveling in very good company.

I glance at the time and the clear blue sky. It’s time to walk on. It’s time to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, art and the artist, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, inspiration, joy, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, Spring, The Art of Being, The Big 5, women, Words

Opportunity and Effort

June 7, 2026 //
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Yesterday was beautiful at the outset, but slid sideways into hurt feelings and aggravation later. Pretty sure it was mostly me: poor communication and unsuccessful pain management – but even if it weren’t me at all, I’m only going to be able to work on the me portions effectively, ever. So… that’s on my mind this morning.

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

…I almost returned to Basket Slough this morning, it was that lovely, yesterday.

A beautiful place for self-reflection.

Instead, this morning I head to Spring Valley, another lovely spot with a pleasant trail.

Every path begins somewhere.

I could skip writing at all today and share this cute (and deeply meaningful, wholesome, and encouraging) video that my Traveling Partner shared with me yesterday. 😁 It emphasizes some of the points I often make myself. (I hope you enjoy it.)

I breathe, exhale, and relax. Yesterday’s sunny (and also rainy) afternoon has become a memory. This peaceful morning begins with a new moment on a less frequented trail. As I get my gear together, a truck pulls into the parking lot and a burly outdoors type climbs out and gathers his gear. Backpack, waders, net, fishing rod, cooler… Definitely looking like he’s here with a purpose. The river is very nearby. It flows past still and silent. He doesn’t bother with this spot right here by the parking; he heads purposefully down the trail. I give him time to get well ahead of me; I have no interest in conversation with strangers this morning.

The Willamette River on a Spring morning.

I head down the trail with my thoughts. I consider yesterday’s walks. I recall seeing a medium-large gopher snake on the Basket Slough trail leading up into the oak savannah to the viewpoint. He was too quick for my camera, sliding away into the grasses alongside the trail and quickly disappearing. As I walk this morning, I happily spot a family of rabbits playing at the edge of the meadow, and they see me approaching and dart away into the brush before I can get pictures. Life is like that (love is too); opportunity is not enough. We’ve also got to make the effort required, and even so we may be met with failure instead of what we think of as success.

… That’s frustrating (and disappointing)…

Doesn’t much matter that there are no “do overs” (there aren’t, not really, what’s done is done) – we can, and must, begin again. We can learn and grow and do better next time (or do something altogether different). It’s a journey.

A wild rose along yesterday’s path.

I think about the rose I did photograph… And the lady bug I didn’t photograph. There are choices we make in every moment. It’s not always clear whether or how our choices will be significant. They often are, though, and it may be for the best to make all our choices with care. Moments are finite and fleeting and we don’t know when the journey will end or when travelers may part company. Ideally we each do our legitimate best every moment, every choice, every relationship, every day… It’s a lot to keep up with. Failures happen. Stupid catches up with all of us eventually (at least a few times). Sooner or later, we all take a turn at hurting someone’s feelings, or of being hurt ourselves. It’s a very human experience.

…Do your best. Make your effort count…

I don’t write any of this from a perspective of finding the journey easy or the path ahead clear. I’m writing from the perspective of being very human and, regrettably, sometimes a complete asshole. I’m sitting here contemplating how thoroughly (and frequently) I manage to fuck up some of the simplest seeming things, like basic communication. I sigh to myself. I’m not making any excuses. I could do better. I’m also not giving myself much grace or consideration at the moment, I’m pretty vexed with myself even after a night of rest. Part of me says I did my best, and wants me to learn and grow from that. Part of me says I fuck this shit up way too often and I can (and need to) do better. I guess both positions are true.

Does matter where the path leads if we don’t make the choice to walk and take the steps to make the journey?

I take a breath of the cool Spring air at the edge of this meadow. I listen to the sounds of the birds all around me. In one direction, the trail curves away around the meadow. In the other direction, it also curves away around the meadow. 😆 From this vantage point there’s no obvious difference – but the distance in miles may differ, and the outcome may differ. What I find along the way may be different, too. What matters most is to choose – without knowing the outcome – and to begin. The journey is the destination. That has to be enough. There is nothing else.

I sigh and walk on. This rock isn’t very comfortable anyway, and I “think better on my feet”. This morning I am a little preoccupied with self-interrogation of how I can more skillfully listen deeply, and avoid talking over people (particularly my partner), and how to make things right with my beloved after hurting his feelings and being an insufferable ass. Another sigh, this one a bit impatient and frustrated with myself, but realistically this is “the vehicle” I have for this trip. I’ll have to make it work.

It’s a new day, and there are new opportunities to be the woman I most want to be, and to be a better lover and partner than I was yesterday. There are choices involved, and effort, and verbs – and still more opportunities to begin again… but the clock is ticking. Time is finite and we are mortal creatures. It’s time to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, anger, Anxiety, Brain Injury, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, Frustration, gratitude, Healthy Living, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, Spring, The Art of Being, The Big 5, women, Words

Time to Reset the Operating System

May 15, 2026 //
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Sometimes it’s necessary to do a “reset” and update some settings. I gaze into the little strip of trees along the creek bank. It’s hard not to notice the apartment buildings on the other side. I sigh to myself, frustrated by this feeling of my consciousness being encroached upon. There’s a certain lasting fatigue that seems to linger even after a good night’s rest. I fight it unsuccessfully with sleep, meditation, healthy breaks from work, half-assed attempts at boundary setting… I need to “reset my OS” (metaphorically speaking).

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

I’ve got a room booked on the coast for the weekend, and a couple of meetings I can’t dodge between now and hitting the highway heading for a sunset ocean view. My Traveling Partner is right; I need a break, and I also need to reset my understanding of what he’s capable of, now. I breathe, exhale, and relax. Nice morning for it. I haven’t even packed yet. I rarely do anything so spontaneous. I chuckle out loud to myself, and hearing the sound, I am struck by how much it resembles my Mother’s laugh, and my Granny’s. I smile. I’m okay with that.

I got home last night after some quick grocery shopping, to discover that my beloved had cleaned the house more or less top to bottom over the course of the day. He’s clearly less disabled than he has been. I’ve got to stop behaving as if he needs continuous assistance with everything. It’s not true, and I am myself made of mortal flesh. I’d do well to recalibrate and adapt to the new normal. As I think the thought a wave of relief washes over me. I’ve worked so hard to care for him, and endured much. I’m due a bit of a break and he’s surely due the opportunity to simply be, without my constant worried fussing.

“Baby Love” blooming by the front door.

A simple question remains; will the damned deer ever stop eating my fucking roses?! Oh. “No.” The answer is no. 😆 But that’s not the question. The actual question is; can I get myself to slow down and care for myself, for real? Buy a couple new bras that actually fit? Get my hair cut? Maybe sleep in? Spend a day painting without distractions? Shop without anyone else in mind? It’s not at all easy to give up all the caregiving habits that were so much a part of the last two years. It is now necessary to complete the process of shifting gears again, back from steadfast accommodating caregiver to partner, friend, and lover. I am relieved and grateful… And I need a break to care for myself and update my thinking.

“Rainbow Happy Trails” blooming, too.

… And the deer will go on eating my damned roses, because they are having their own experience and care nothing about the circumstances of my human life…

“Whimsy” finally blooms for the first time since I planted her.

For real though, I’m glad I got some pictures of the roses in bloom yesterday, because this morning the flowers are all gone. I sigh to myself. Life isn’t perfect; it’s a journey. The journey is the destination. (And deer eat roses.) I’m not even bitching (well, maybe a little),  by most definitions, things are okay. Hell, I’m making a little weekend getaway to the coast happen on very short notice. That feels good even if the price of gas is still eye poppingly expensive. $5.33?? Are you kidding me with this shit? Ffs, take his toys away and put that senile old clown on a fucking time out. 😆

The sun rises behind me. A low mist in the vineyard hints at a cooler morning. It may be chilly on the coast. I remind myself to pack a warm sweater and wear my fleece. I smile, feeling light. It’s time to begin again.

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Categories 2024 Election, Allegories, Anxiety, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, Spring, The Art of Being, women, Words

Skill, Talent, Practice

April 21, 2026 //
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It is a rainy morning. It wasn’t raining when I left the house, but it clearly had been. It is raining now, as I sit parked at the trailhead, waiting for a break in the rain. Sort of. I’m less waiting than taking time to write and meditate before I walk. Seems likely to be a poor morning for sitting quietly along the trail. 😆

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

Some long while ago I made a note to myself about the perplexing puzzle (for me) that is boundary setting:

Every boundary we set, however healthy, is an obstacle to the person being advised they may be encroaching on a boundary. That’s just real. It is what it is. We either set healthy boundaries – and respect those ourselves – or the world walks over us.

I made that note years ago on a scrap of paper that I later tucked between the pages of the book I was reading at the time. It was a meaningful and relevant observation in that moment; the boundary I was setting was simply that I was reading and did not wish to be interrupted for chit-chat by my then partner (now ex). I found the note recently, while moving things around on bookshelves, when it slid to the floor, a reminder from a past version of myself that this has been a challenge for me for a long time. Brain damage, cPTSD, and a lifetime of anxiety-driven “people pleasing” mingling to form a persistent bit of chaos and damage. It’s been difficult to “fix” while living it.

I’m grateful that my Traveling Partner is aware of (and alert for) this problematic bit of code in my operating system. He is quick to take note if I am exhausting myself trying to tackle every casual request in an instant, or frustrating myself by walking over my own reasonable boundaries. He reminds me to put myself first, often, and to practice good self-care. He respects clearly set boundaries with genial acceptance. But… The boundary setting is mine to do. It’s up to me to manage my boundaries, to respect them myself, to provide kind reminders when needed – before I’m frustrated, before resentment develops, before I might become likely to snap at someone I care about. It’s basic communication. I have to do the verbs. I find boundary setting uncomfortable. This is one small part of the legacy of trauma and abuse that I’m still dragging with me through life.

Working on this crap is hard, not gonna lie about that, but protecting and nurturing healthy agency is worth the effort required, and I’ve got a partner who truly enjoys me at my whole, healthy, and sane best, even when I set a boundary. I’m much better with boundaries these days, and finding the scrap of paper with the note written on it (from sometime before 2010) is a meaningful reminder that this is something I’ve had to work at for a long time.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. Basic communication skills are something human primates still have to work at to develop those fully. We’re not born as great communicators. We learn as we go. We practice what works – and sometimes what works in the context of trauma and unhealthy family dynamics is not at all healthy, nor particularly functional, outside that dynamic, in the larger world. I still struggle with some of this. Still dragging along some unnecessary baggage. I sigh to myself and imagine setting down a heavy suitcase with busted wheels, scuffed and worn and shabby looking. I imagine letting a heavy backpack slide from my shoulders to the ground. I visualize unpacking them both, and chuckle to myself because this thought exercise actually gives me a real feeling of relief in the moment.

I have no native talent for communication. I work at building my skills in this area – and have done so for years (with considerable success), and I practice what I learn about healthy communication. I improve over time. I’ll continue to work at it until it feels easy and natural. That seems like a better choice than continuing to endure being poor at basic communication. 😆 I have choices. I make choices. I practice. I improve over time.

How many times have I stood in this place, and faced my limitations aware that I have so much further to go? Doesn’t matter at all. The journey is the destination. We become what we practice. Incremental change over time is an effective approach to changing who I am and becoming who I most want to be.

I notice that the rain has stopped. I grab my cane and my rain poncho, and begin again. This is my path. Walking it requires me to do the verbs. 😄

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Categories Allegories, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, Frustration, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, Spring, The Art of Being, The Big 5, Words

A Peaceful Indulgence

March 8, 2026 //
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This morning I slept in, even accounting for the change to Daylight Savings Time, and in spite of this head cold, which is much better today.

Spring comes to the marsh and meadow, and the oaks on the hillside.

I get to the trailhead equipped with new boots and a smile that feels too big for this moment. I’m enjoying the glow of being so deeply loved, and the recollection of a leisurely coffee with my Traveling Partner this morning. It was quite delightful. Right now, nothing matters more.

Where do you find your peace? How do you restore your resilience when it’s tested? How do you recharge your batteries? Are you doing enough of those things to feel well and whole and reliably content? Just questions I asked myself on the way down the path – many times over the years, actually – and they reverberate through my consciousness as my steps took me down the trail this morning. Lovely morning for it.

… Right now, feeling wrapped in love and filled with contentment and gratitude, I am as happy as I have ever been. This is a happy moment. I marveled at it as my steps crunched down the trail, cane in hand, smiling. This is a truly wonderful feeling. I savor this feeling and the moments that lead me here this morning. I chuckle to myself happily; I feel safe from self-sabotage, because I’m also comfortably aware that “this too will pass”. Moments are fleeting, and it’s best to enjoy them without getting attached. 😁

I breathe, exhale, and relax. No coughing. I think I’m getting past the worst of this cold and beginning to recover.

I am fortunate to be so loved. I’m grateful that the most profound love of my lifetime is also my friend. I’m grateful for the depth of our connection and these years of joy and growth that we’ve shared. I’m deeply appreciative for the opportunities we’ve taken to lift each other up and offer encouragement and wisdom won through facing life’s challenges individually (and together).

I sit swinging my feet and looking out over the marsh. It is less solitary at this time of the morning, and I see hikers and photographers out on the trail, on the other side of the marsh. Ahead of me or behind me, I can’t tell. We’re fellow travelers on a path we hope will take us where we want to go. It’s figuring out the destination that is the tricky bit, isn’t it? That, and not being distracted by some other traveler’s journey. We’re each having our own experience. Sometimes it takes awhile to figure out that the journey is the destination.

I smile happily, enjoying the moment. It’s enough. Later, I’ll begin again.

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Categories Allegories, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, joy, Love, meditation, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, Spring, The Art of Being, women, Words
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