Archives for posts with tag: the journey is the destination

Moments in life are worth savoring. We don’t know when some occasion will be the last of such things. Being present in each experience tends to make a more detailed, more lasting memory, and a stronger impression on our implicit sense of the quality of our life. That’s been my own experience, at least. Falling headlong through experiences without consideration, thought, choice, or awareness, doomscrolling through the days, shortens our time and gives us little to recall later. I sip my coffee and think on that. I also think about how precious and meaningful it is to me that my beloved Traveling Partner reads my blog. I feel “heard” when he comments on something I have written.

Last night my partner recommended a video, we watched it together. He was inspired to share it because he found that it connected with some of my recent writing. I am moved and grateful that he cares so much, and gives such thought to my reflections in these moments when we are not together. I will say, if you’re prone to existential dread, this video may provoke it. It is, however, interesting and definitely does connect to some of my thoughts on this fragile mortal experience, and what remains behind once we’ve moved on.

The point though, really, is that wandering about with our device in our hands, relying on our GPS to get anywhere, counting on calendar reminders to remember anything we plan, seeking guidance through prompts in an LLM, doomscrolling endlessly through timeless hours of eye candy, click-bait, memes, and what passes for “news” in the age of modern media, and generally behaving as if we are puppets without agency is almost certainly a very poor choice for the survival of humanity long-term, in addition to being just a shit way to live life. As poor a choice as that run-on sentence you just finished reading.

Did you know there are already people who feel they are losing their ability to think and reason because of their use of “AI” (it isn’t actually artificial intelligence, at all). Brain rot is a real thing happening to real people. Did you know there are people who have begun actually worshiping “AI” (LLMs) as gods? No kidding, this is a thing people are doing. I mean, certainly an LLM has demonstrable reality in our worldly existence, and certainly we do create our gods, but this seems like potentially a very bad idea likely to do real world harms, doesn’t it? What a world. Maybe do at least some of your own thinking? Your literal survival may depend on those skills at some point (almost certainly). Read a book. Hell, read a book about AI if you’re so interested. Read several. Go outside, you know – on your own, out in the actual world, seeing sights, listening to the sound of birdsong and breezes, and see where your path may take you. Look at an actual paper map. Study it and gain understanding of how the symbols represent the world. Take in the information without voice-over narration. Look at a flower up close. Watch wildlife exist in actual outdoor spaces – real creatures, alive, and aware. Breathe fresh air. Feel the sunshine or the rain on your skin. Have a conversation with a random live human being. Try out your social skills before they erode completely, leaving you unable to ask simple directions to a known location or unable to enjoy a party.

…Remember parties?..

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I had arrived home last night feeling pretty okay. The commute wasn’t all that bad (I took a route that, although busier, had no construction and thus less stress). I was feeling sort of cross fairly quickly, though. No fault of anyone else in the household, and I did my best to keep my bullshit in check (with good success). I just needed some quiet alone time; it’s been a ridiculously busy “people-filled” week, full of conversations, meetings, and interactions, and I had started to have that “everyone wants a piece of me” feeling. I felt a bit overwhelmed and encroached upon, which seriously conflicted with my desire to enjoy my Traveling Partner’s companionship at the end of a long (busy) day. He gently suggested maybe a nice shower, and I had been thinking maybe some video games – but the idea of either honestly just felt like “more work”, at least initially. He was right about the shower; it did a lot to put me in a better frame of mind, and after preparing dinner (cold sesame noodles with chicken) I felt more like playing video games for a little while. The evening ended well and I got over my bullshit and enjoyed the time with my partner. Self-care is an important and worthwhile practice.

Life being lived. Did you notice? Not one word about the news. My device mostly sat idle. We listened to music. Watched a couple videos. Hung out in the quiet good-natured merry vibe of a happy family at home. Dinner was yummy, though I think I could have done some things a little differently and gotten a better result. I didn’t use a device or an “AI” – the recipe is in an actual bound cookbook. I wrote notes in the margin while I was cleaning up dinner, so next time I have my own thoughts waiting for me when I make this again, some other time. Pen and paper – my vote for humanity’s greatest invention. (Reading and writing would likely be my opinion for the most valuable skills not directly related to survival.) Later in the evening a friend who lives on our street stopped by to visit awhile. All very human, life being lived. Awake. Aware. Present.

I’m just going to say it; ChatGPT not only is not a god, it’s not even your friend. (Neither are the tech bros who developed it on stolen intellectual property with personal profit as their primary goal.) This is true of any LLM currently in existence. The 2025 version of “AI” is not intelligent, has no cognition, does not reason, can not feel emotions or sensations, and is 100% dependent on the content it is trained on by human beings capable of actually doing, feeling, understanding, thinking, imagining, extrapolating, and really experiencing life. Why bother asking ChatGPT to do for you what you could do for yourself? Short-term efficiency? What about the long-term consequences of allowing your own skills to atrophy (or never allowing them to develop through use and practice and effort)?

Gudetama – the lazy egg. A meme, a character, a metaphor.

Life is sweet. Suck the juice out of every delicious fruitful moment! Choose your path. Choose your adventure. Try your skills (and your luck). Live. Isn’t having your own experience – and your own thoughts about it – more worthy of your human potential than relying on some predigested homogenous content built primarily on out-of-date information, provided to you in response to a prompt that you potentially took from someone else?? Be you. No LLM can do that for you. No response to a ChatGPT prompt can guide you as well as you can guide yourself through study, practice, and endless curiosity.

Are you still reading? I’m impressed. 😀 Thank you for indulging me. Sometimes I feel like an “old man yelling at clouds” or as if I am “screaming into the void“, when I rant about this stuff. Life is so precious and short, and our abilities need practice to maintain them. We’re pretty fancy primates – but we are primates, and some of what makes us so special is very much a “use it or lose it” proposition. Don’t diminish yourself through dependency on AI. Please. You are so much more than that. We become what we practice. What are you practicing?

It’s your choice. The journey is the destination; choose your path wisely. Isn’t it time to begin again?

My last “proper day of vacation” began with some sleeping in – what a delightful luxury! I dressed and slipped out of the house without waking my Traveling Partner (as far as I know). I decided, yesterday, that today I’d make the drive to the coast and head down to Fogarty Creek, which has easy access to a small private feeling beach enclosed by steep rocky hillsides. The Oregon Coast Trail passes through there.

… Stormy clouds followed me, and I figured it might rain at some point, but I drove on, unconcerned, enjoying the absence of traffic (not another car on the road going my way, at all)…

Kite flying on a stormy morning seemed like a good idea to someone.

I parked with my coffee at a favorite spot with a great view of the ocean. The tide is coming in, and in a few more minutes it’ll be high tide, according to the tide table, but not the highest high tide today. That’ll be later, shortly before sundown, and long after I’ve returned home.

The first rain drops tap the windshield gently, and then it’s just straight up raining. Last time I made Fogarty Creek my destination, it also rained (a drenching deluge blown sideways by fierce storm winds). Today I can see breaks in the storm gray clouds overhead, so perhaps the rain will pass quickly. No matter. I actually don’t care much about the weather today, I’m enjoying my time (and my coffee) anyway. I sit watching a man on the beach persisting in trying to fly his kite in spite of the rain.

The drive over to the coast was beautiful. The roadside slopes and ditches were in bloom with plentiful pink foxgloves and purple vetch, and blackberry brambles covered in clouds of pretty white flowers. The air smelled fresh and sweet. No traffic at all was a nice treat. No traffic = no stress. It was fun.

…So this is 62? So far so good…

I sip my coffee, sitting contentedly with my thoughts on a rainy morning, listening to the raindrops on the roof of the car. I’m enjoying the pleasant relaxed vibe of having nothing specific to do and nowhere I need to be. I savor the moment, because this too will pass; moments are fleeting, and a mortal lifetime is brief. It’s enough to enjoy the moment as it is. I breathe, exhale, and relax. I think of my Traveling Partner and hope he has a lovely day relaxing or working, whatever suits him most.

I sigh to myself as the rain slows to a few random drops. Soon enough, I’ll finish the drive. There’s no rush, and the journey is the destination. It hardly matters whether I drive further down the coast or sit contentedly right here. What matters most is simply to enjoy the moment…

…Then begin again.

My ears are ringing like crazy this morning. I focus my attention on the sound around me, and the songs of early morning birds (mostly robins). I listen to my steps as I walk the paved section of trail near home. I am walking westward. The sky is gray, densely cloudy, and the air smells of recent rain.

I squint at the newly planted section of vineyard alongside the trail, as I approach it. Something red is blooming at ground level, and I can’t quite make out the grape vines in the gloomy early light. Red clover? Vetch? Last year this was meadow (or fallow fields), and I reflect on the feeling I had the first day I came to this trail after the meadow had been plowed under and replaced by vineyard.

One perspective of many possible perspectives.

Here and there wild blackberries encroach on the edges of the vineyard. They aren’t the native sort, they’re an invasive non-native. The blackberries themselves are tasty nonetheless, but it will be many weeks before blackberries dangle ripe from the thorny canes. I walk past some wildflower blooming – or is it a weed? So close to the planted vineyard, I guess it’s very much a matter of perspective. I walk past reflecting on that.

Wildflower or weed?

Breathe, exhale, relax, and keep walking. I am having my own experience, walking my own path, and quietly enjoying this gray rainy morning.

… The clock is ticking…

I pause at my halfway point and sit for a few minutes, listening to the sound of geese overhead and distant traffic. Breathe, exhale, relax. My tinnitus is still pretty bad, but it’s no longer dominating my attention. There is forest around me and I can hear the nearby creek bubbling past. A small brown bird stops near me, hopping here and there in the grass at the edge of a the trail.

This is a lovely quiet morning, suitable for walking. I get to my feet and begin again.

The drive to the office was relaxed and routine. My coffee isn’t bad (neither is it actually good, it’s just coffee). The view from the office window at dawn hints at a warm afternoon, later. A good day to be in the garden.

I’m in the office.

The waning “pink moon” setting as the day begins.

I sigh to myself. Breathe, exhale, relax. I take a few minutes for meditation before work begins. I plan the day ahead. I do a thoughtful body scan, and consider how best to manage my pain and the stiffness that results from the combination of sore muscles and arthritis. I seek the one, and try to avoid the other, but ultimately pain is pain; managing it as well as I can is a good practice. Not letting it run my life is an important choice. They both require a committed effort; there are verbs involved, and a steady willingness to care for this fragile vessel with a full measure of consideration, and my whole heart. I stretch and sigh again, before wondering “at what point is a sigh just a deep breath?” I let all that go and watch the moon set.

Yesterday was lovely. My appointment with the surgeon I was referred to went well, I guess, for some values of going well; I got referred to a different more specialized surgeon. lol Progress? I guess so. The Anxious Adventurer set up two more of the small raised beds for me in my new “west side garden”. It’s small space, and sure, it’s narrow, and limited, and the big A/C unit is right there, but… it’s also just outside my office window, and rather private (not visible from the street the way the front garden is). The first bed is already planted in strawberries, and since I started those from mature plants in 4″ pots, there are already flowers. I smile at the thought and yearn to feel the soil under my fingers as I fill the other two beds with soil and plant them with… something. I don’t know yet. It’s a spot that only gets afternoon sun, and I haven’t yet decided what else to plant there. Maybe just more strawberries? Something with flowers? Perhaps a clematis in that extra large black plastic nursery pot left over from when all my roses were potted (so many years, so many roses)? I smile, feeling my shoulders relax. I get so much joy from my garden I easily forget how I loathed the time I spent gardening as a kid. It felt like an obligation. A demand. Manual labor, nothing more or less, and I was sure that I had better things to do with my time. It felt like indentured servitude, then, and I longed to be 18, and master of my own affairs and decision-making.

What have you planted? How well do you tend your garden? (It’s a metaphor.)

…I’m grateful now for the time I spent in my parents’ garden; I use those experiences a lot, in my own garden, now. I’m still doing most of the labor. lol I don’t resent it any more. I appreciate help when I have it, but I love the work and my only resentment is that aging has robbed me of considerable strength and endurance for it… I have to choose my tasks wisely, and plan the work thoughtfully.

I hope the work day passes quickly. I’m eager to be back in the garden. I think about love and gardening awhile longer. I’d plant honeysuckle or jasmine instead of clematis, but either of those has serious potential to aggravate my Traveling Partner’s allergies rather a lot. I’ll miss them, maybe, but clematis offers lovely dramatic flowers, and will be less likely to be unpleasant for my beloved. I would not willfully choose to harm him. I think about how much I adore him. How my love is returned in equal measure; everywhere I turn in my home I see his love in the little things he has done or made for me. Even yesterday. New work skills, hobbies, creative endeavors, tools and materials, are often tried out or put to use the first time in some new something or other for me. I feel so loved.

A token of his affection, 3D printed, using Hue Forge.

The journey from being mired in trauma, sorrow, despair, or ancient pain is not an easy one. There’s no map. There is no sherpa to carry the baggage accumulated over a lifetime. There’s no handy tutorial. It’s a hard mile and we have to walk it ourselves, but every step, every moment, every sun rise is a chance to walk on, and to begin again. We become what we practice. We have choices. Sure, it’s a lot of work, and it’s often slow going. We stumble. We fall. We fail. It’s human – all of it, so very human. When I began this journey years ago, I only wanted to “be mostly okay” – to feel something good, at least as often as not. I wanted to manage the chaos in my head and to silence my nightmares.

I find myself, now, in a very different place – mostly thriving. Contented. Joyful. Even happy, rather a lot of the time. I wasn’t trying to get “here” – but once I got there, I just kept on walking. Kept working at healing. Kept practicing practices. Kept making better choices and slowly becoming someone more like the woman I most want to be. The journey is the destination – this isn’t new-age-y bullshit, although it is as metaphorical as it is practical – it’s quite real and you can make the journey yourself, from wherever you are now, to that place you most want to be, or at least someplace much better than where you feel you are. Keep walking. One day at a time. One practice at a time. One moment of studious self-care at a time. Making the decisions that the journey requires isn’t always effortless or obvious or even “painless”. Sometimes adulting is hard. I’m not telling you how to do the thing – I’m just saying it can be done, and hoping to provide some measure of hope and encouragement on what is admittedly a difficult journey. Life. Healing. Becoming. It’s not a journey of miles or moments, or hours or days – it is a journey frankly measured in years and decades. A lifetime. But the time does pass, and the miles do add up – and we do get somewhere as we go. Incremental change over time adds up. We become what we practice.

What are you practicing?

If I stopped writing today, I don’t know that it would be missed. There is so much life to live… I enjoy taking a moment to reflect on it, though, and doing so brings me great joy and peace. What about you? What are you doing to cultivate contentment? To find joy in your experience? To build emotional resilience? To become the person you most want to be? It’s not too late to make that journey – you only need to begin again.

I stop along the trail for a message from my Traveling Partner about a housekeeping detail. I’d rather it would have been a greeting or a love note, but it was not. It was a complaint (phrased as a request for action). It’s not an unreasonable request, not at all, and I add it to my list of shit to do without further discussion.

It’s a new day. What will you make of it?

Once upon a time, I was often the most negative person in most groups or conversations. I was cynical, irritable, easily angered, frustrated, and disappointed with people and circumstances, and I found very little joy in life. I complained a lot, about a lot of things, often. I told myself I was funny but that couldn’t have been much fun to be around. I sip my coffee and reflect on how much less often I complain about things these days and how much joy and contentment I find in life, generally. I’m in a very different place. (It took work and practice to get here.)

It isn’t that there is actually less in the world to complain about (I mean, seriously? We’re basically watching the world burn). I don’t find value in complaining as a form of communication, in my relationships. It has its place, I suppose. The negativity of it grates on my nerves. There are better ways. Kind frankness and gentle words are more comfortable to receive and more pleasant to act upon, day-to-day. My Traveling Partner, long ago, asked me to be less negative, and since then I’ve walked a very different path – and I’m glad I did (although it turned out he meant something different by it). I enjoy my life so much more. That’s the thing about negativity; it’s emotionally corrosive, and undermines joy, limits satisfaction, and creates discontent. Who needs that?

I get it, though, it’s so easy to be negative about unpleasant experiences and circumstances. So satisfying to complain – like picking at a scab (and it has about as much real value). A constant stream of negativity and complaining isn’t pleasant to be around, though, and it may result in the loss of relationships or connections with people who just don’t have the energy or will to endure it. Something to think about, eh? Certainly my own relationships have improved greatly since I gave up chronic complaining as a “feature” of my character. I still make an occasional complaint or negative observation; I’m very human. I don’t live my life in that place, emotionally, though. Complaining rarely improves anything; it is action that creates change. I get more done by embracing change, taking action to make my life what I most want to live, and by seeking out joy. It takes far fewer harsh words and frankly just feels better as an experience. I didn’t change the world; I changed the way I experience it. Worth it.

Walk on. It’s not personal.

I smile to myself. I’m having my own experience. It’s a lovely morning. I get to my feet and back on the trail. It’s a good day to begin again.