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One Dark and Foggy Morning

November 11, 2026 //
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Walking this trail in the fog and predawn darkness is pretty much like any other. Which trail? Doesn’t matter; there is nothing to see but fog beyond the small-seeming circle of light bobbing along. It lights enough of the trail that I am safe from stepping into the marsh by mistake, or slipping and falling into a pond.

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

… This is definitely no time for AI. 😂 Breathing the fresh autumn air as I walked the trail reminded me with each step how precious this mortal human life is. The experience of walking in the foggy darkness, of waking and walking ahead of the sunrise, of the scents of autumn – AI can’t create or experience any of these. Life is a very human experience.

… Be sure to live some of it…

I smile to myself as I take a seat on a fence rail between the trail and a marsh pond. In summer it’s a very small stagnant pond, more of a puddle, and the ground between the fence and the pond itself becomes grassy and firm. The autumn rain returns each year and refills this pond such that it swells and extends almost to the fence. This section of the trails in this nature park is my favorite. It cuts through the marsh. On a foggy morning like this, it is eerie and mysterious. It’s also on a seasonal trail, restricted between October and May, and I feel a moment of guilt and embarrassment; I had forgotten. It is November.

I sigh to myself, admitting I also ought not really be out here before dawn. The signage is quite specific; park hours are dawn to dusk. I face my mixed feelings about my rule-breaking. It feels strangely American to defy authority and break rules – but that doesn’t address the right/wrong of the choice to be out here on this trail in the darkness of a foggy autumn morning well before daybreak.

I understand myself as someone with a commitment to being my best self, and respecting rules… but here I am, unmistakably not following clearly posted rules. I sit with the discomfort and cognitive dissonance, letting the truth remain prominent in my thoughts long enough to accept who I am, and my decision making which brought me here. Nonjudgmental self-reflection, consideration of what is real and true of this moment. No games or self-defensiveness, no excuses or rationalization. Observation, acknowledgement, and acceptance, only – challenge accepted, I tell myself, and sit awhile longer. My human primate mind really really wants rationalization and approval, I persist in refusing to provide it. I made choices.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. The fog envelopes me in the darkness. Hints of daybreak begin to appear. The sky is a paler gray. The oaks dotting the marsh and meadow are silhouetted, black against the sky. Smaller trees appear through the fog, looking like strangers just standing out there in the gloom. Spooky. I have the trail to myself this morning. Not only because it’s ridiculously early, but also, it is a Wednesday, Veterans Day, but an ordinary work day for many.

… The sky and fog all around me continue to lighten as dawn becomes a new day. Everything around me is fog, as though I had inadvertently stepped out of my reality into some vague, unimagined space, gray and… waiting. Waiting, perhaps, for me to choose a direction, select a path, and begin again.

There’s enough light to see now. I’m still surrounded by fog. The sound of distant traffic on the edge of the park is muffled. The air is so still and quiet that the sound of a nearby wakeful duck on the pond ruffling her feathers seems loud. My feet crunch on the gravel trail when I hop down from the fence rail, stretching as I stand. I look down the trail, into the fog. The world seems to disappear completely about 50 ft (something like 15 meters) from me.

… I walk on, imagining each detail that emerges from the fog to be wholly new, and my own doing. If I were to create the world anew – what would I change? With what purpose in mind? How would I shape it with all of humanity in mind? And everything else? What about all the many details I don’t know or can’t imagine? Would my world be comically lopsided without? I stop on the trail further on, realizing I hadn’t yet finished this. Strange foggy morning.

Walking in the fog. It’s a metaphor.

I finish my writing, and begin again.

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Categories Allegories, 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, women, Words

The Plan Is Not The Experience

September 7, 2026 //
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I made my plan yesterday evening, after returning from the coast. I’d take my walk in the morning, and return home, do a needful housekeeping project, do laundry, and paint. My plan has already begun to unravel.

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

I stepped out onto the trail and it … squished. Mud. Quite a lot of mud, actually. I guess I’m not surprised; we’ve had a couple days of rain. In late fall and winter, I don’t bother with this trail, because it becomes treacherously muddy and difficult for me. I sigh to myself. It’s not going to be that bad, but I don’t see enough with my headlamp to feel wholly secure tackling this trail that runs alongside the Willamette River for quite a distance. Sliding off some bit of river bank into that icy water is not on my list of desirable adventures to enjoy on a Monday off! 😆

I get back in the car to write and meditate and wait for daybreak.

When daybreak comes, I embrace the opportunity to see the world with new eyes.

The trail is slick in spots and muddy, but not impassably so. I slow down, grateful for my cane. The morning is cool and still smells of rain. The robins are out, calling to each other from the trees, and scurrying along the ground, looking for tasty morsels. Chipmunks, squirrels, bunnies – it’s a fun morning to spot creatures along my route. Before I got started, there was an owl calling from somewhere very nearby. I take my time and enjoy the walk.

One of many bunnies. So many bunnies. 😆

The bunnies – young from this year, I think, based on their size – cavort happily in the weeds and shrubbery along the path, now and then darting across the path to the other side. They disappear into the brush as I approach, and reappear behind me after I pass. I wonder to myself how many will survive the hungry owl I heard earlier?

I notice leaves already beginning to turn. It seems “too soon” for those changes, but the equinox is only two weeks away. I keep walking.

The sun begins to rise above the trees on the opposite bank of the river, to the east. It shines golden through the trees. Hints of gold, amber, and russet hues among the leaves and dense summer foliage are more pronounced in the sun beams stretching across the path. Seasons change. The clock ticks on.

Annoying loud voices approach from behind me on the trail. I pause and step to the side, turning to have a look. Loud older men, with fishing gear and a rather ridiculous amount of genial camaraderie, making their way to some favorite fishing spot, with as much right to be here as I have myself. They’re still fucking annoying, being all loud and stuff on this lovely quiet morning. They each raise a hand in greeting and offer me a boisterous good morning greeting. I nod, wave, and return their greeting, staying back from the path until they pass by, then continue on my way, happy that the branching trail takes me up the hill and around the other side of the meadow, in the opposite direction.

A new day will come, and with it a chance to begin again.

“Softly, as in a morning sunrise…” I begin to sing as I walk, feeling the moment differently as the golden light fills the space between the leaves of the trees along the path. Oh, to be sure, the legacy of Nancy Wilson has nothing to fear from me. 😆 I can’t carry a tune – but I love the way it feels to sing the song in my heart.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I definitely still plan to paint today, but I know the value of a plan, and I have been humbled by circumstances too often to count on a plan becoming reality. Maybe it does, maybe it doesn’t. Maybe I sit down to my easel, but inspiration won’t make the short trip from my mind to my hands, or maybe my hands won’t cooperate in bringing my inspiration to life? Maybe my Traveling Partner will ask for my help with something else? Maybe… Life is a sea of maybes and the plan is not the experience.

Practice non-attachment. Count on impermanence. Change is.

My headache reminds that this fragile vessel has its own limitations to be accounted for. I sigh quietly. I keep walking. The clock keeps ticking. The sun rises on a new day.

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

A Song in My Heart

December 11, 2025 //
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The soft beeping almost didn’t wake me this morning. I had forgotten to set an alarm, but that is rarely of any consequence, since I also rarely sleep past 04:30 or so. This morning the quiet beeping alarm that goes off at 06:00, my morning medication reminder, was what woke me. I slept in! I even “overslept”, if I want to call it that.

I smiled through my shower and while I dressed, half humming some merry tune. I feel good. Rested. It’s a nice feeling. I let myself feel it without resistance or argument, savoring the moment. I make myself a cup of pod coffee in the hotel room, and double check that I’ll be ready to join my colleagues at breakfast.

There’s a pretty long day ahead, although much of the afternoon and some of the evening will be the office holiday party. I wonder how well rested my colleagues will be? They continued the evening after dinner, heading to some local favorite for cocktails. I rarely drink, and wasn’t inclined to join them. It was around 19:00 when I got back to the room, as it was, and I was already too tired for much more.

City lights, a view from a taxi.

… But I’m not seeing much of SF! 😆 Sightseeing isn’t the point, though.

It’s a strange journey, this thing called “life”. Meeting some of my colleagues in person has been an experience of it’s own. There are some very smart, creative, kind people here, sharing this professional journey, and making their own ways in the world. I feel fortunate to meet them and be received and accepted as their equal. I’ve had some great conversations and many chances to practice listening. I even tried shawarma for the first time!

I tidy up the hotel room. Meditate. Take time to write a few words, and wonder how my Traveling Partner is doing this morning, and hoping he slept well and deeply.

Somehow it’s already time to begin again…

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

Self-awareness, Self-reflection, Self-care

November 15, 2025 //
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Daybreak beat me to the trailhead this morning. I slept in. My Traveling Partner was up and going back to bed, as I was leaving for my walk. We exchange brief pleasantries and a kiss, and I was on my way.

Stepping lightly down the trail merrily, tinnitus loud in my ears, highway traffic a quieter shhhh-shhhh in the background, I breathe the rain-fresh autumn air, grateful for the moment. This is a lovely one! The morning is gray, and everything is a bit soggy from rain during the night. Aside from a few puddles, the trail is sufficiently well drained to be a comfortable walk. It feels like luxury to walk in daylight. I walk on feeling light-hearted, thinking about the things that make this moment so good, and savoring the experience.

I get to my halfway point thinking “selfish” thoughts. Meaning to say, thinking about the specifically self-focused practices that have served so well on this journey. Accepting that “it isn’t always about me” forces me to also accept that sometimes it very much is about me. How best to care for the person in the mirror without undermining how I treat others? Who am i? Who do I most want to be? What path must I follow to get from here to there? I see the questions as closely connected to each other, interwoven, threads in the vast tapestry of a lifetime, and unfortunately easy to be distracted from.

Self-awareness is about more than “I statements”. It is key to growth and progress (and healing). It encompasses practices like body scans (bringing oneself more in touch with the physical experience of the moment), and mindful presence. “Be here, now” is about self-awareness. Being present in the moment is a more full and complete experience with self-awareness added. Answering the question “who are you?” requires a measure of self-awareness, and can be used (with self-reflection) to push oneself further down the path to becoming who we most want to be.

Self-care is built on many practices. Meditation. Mindfulness. Non-attachment. Eating a nutritious healthy diet. Getting enough exercise. Taking appropriate medication on time. Setting and managing boundaries. CBT. ACT. Mental health care generally. Even things like solving puzzles and coloring can be self-care. Ending toxic relationships and leaving unhealthy professional environments is self-care. When we don’t practice good self-care, however well-intentioned the choice may have been, we suffer needlessly, and are likely to inflict suffering on others.

Self-reflection and contemplative practices of many sorts improve our self-awareness and have the potential to enable better self-care, better decision-making, and more joy in life. Like a quiz in school, self-reflection helps us gauge where we are on life’s journey – like pausing to check a map when orienteering. Asking the questions, reflecting on our answers in that moment and context, considering those answers over time is a way of “lighting our way”.

I guess I’m saying the value of “selfishness” is related to what we mean by “selfish”, and what we do with that.

It took me a long time to learn to put myself on my list of priorities. (Are you on yours?) I still struggle with it, tending to put other people’s needs ahead of my own, often. There’s a healthy balance to strike. It isn’t all about me – but some of it definitely is, and that’s… normal. Utterly unremarkable. Taking care of myself is “selfish” only because it is focused on me, and being someone I do care about (at long last) it only makes sense to care for the woman in the mirror the best I can.

I sit looking out over the autumn marsh. The time I spend in quiet contemplation is not wasted time. Far from it – it has proven to be some of the most well-spent time in a day, helping me along my path, and building resilience I may need in the future to face some sort of unanticipated stress. I am grateful for these solitary moments of contemplation, and for the will to practice these “selfish” practices. I am grateful to have come so far.

I sigh contentedly. Breathe, exhale, relax; I take time for meditation. The dawn comes and goes, and the sky settles on a soft dove gray blanket of layered fluffy clouds. A soft rain begins to fall. I get to my feet and gaze across the meadow. It’s time to begin again.

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

This Is Nice

November 10, 2025 //
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I’m at the trailhead, sitting at my halfway point in the predawn darkness. I woke too early, jerked from a sound sleep by my own anxiety. I dressed quietly and slipped out of the house without waking anyone (as far as I could tell).

Anxiety, 11″ x 24″, acrylic on canvas with ceramic details. 2010

Anxiety is a liar. At least, my anxiety generally has been. I’ve struggled with anxiety for all of my life that I can remember. It was once far worse than it ever is now, and I’m grateful to have better tools for dealing with it these days. A gentle, nonjudgmental, “body scan” confirms the suspicion that developed shortly after I woke; this may not even be anxiety, actually, I’m possibly “just” in pain. Because my osteoarthritis (in my spine) begins at my fusion and extends upward into my neck, it puts most of the intensity in approximately the same general area of my body that I would experience the physical elements of anxiety. I am prone to conflating or confusing them as a result. So maybe I’m not anxious at all? Using the right tool for a given task is important to success…

I breathe, exhale, and relax. Each subsequent deep breath and slow, complete exhalation would ordinarily begin reducing my anxiety almost immediately. Far less effective if what I’m fighting is actually physical pain being reinterpreted as anxiety. I’ve already taken my morning medications, and hopefully they begin being helpful soon. I shift uncomfortably and sigh. Yeah, this is pain. “Just” pain. I turn my attention to more appropriate self-care strategies.

It is a pleasant morning, not particularly chilly, nor rainy. The air is mild and fresh. A delicate sprinkling of rain fell very briefly, more a soft mist really, and it didn’t last. The darkness will soon give way to daybreak, and I’m in no hurry at all. I took today off from work. These quiet moments are mine – and so is the day ahead. I smile to myself in the dark. No drama. No chaos. “Nothing to see here”, and I like that just fine. The world is in chaos, I know, but these quiet personal moments for reflection and self-care matter every bit as much as which criminal cronies the corrupt cheeto-in-chief is going to pardon next. It matters more, probably, at least with regard to this one mortal life that I happen to be living, myself. (I just have to figure he’ll eventually get around to pardoning them all, he seems the sort to abuse that kind of power.)

I sigh and let that shit go. Sure, I’m disappointed in what Americans have allowed to fester within our government. I’m outraged and offended by the level of corruption in the current administration, and the ludicrous petty cruelty being demonstrated by people one might expect to know how to do better. It’s pretty horrible – and the horror is not reduced by also failing to take care of myself. Quite the contrary. Everything going on in the world feels more extreme when I fail to practice good self-care. So this morning I focus on that. No reason at all to even glance at the news this morning.

Another deep breath, another sigh. I can feel my pain medication beginning to help ease my pain, and as my pain recedes, my anxiety is further and further reduced. Daybreak comes, and the sky hints at a cloudy day ahead. The variable autumn weather definitely worsens my subjective experience of arthritis pain. Another sigh. Each one seems to somehow ease my pain in some small incremental way. As my pain eases, my attention broadens, and my world becomes bigger than this one moment here, now. I notice the treeline taking shape along the edge of the creek, beyond the vineyard. I see headlights sweep past as farm workers arrive to begin their day. I think about Thanksgiving, only a couple weeks away. I have a lot to be thankful for. I take time for gratitude while I sit watching daybreak become the dawn of a new day.

I catch myself smiling, feeling relaxed and merry. No work today. No time pressure at all, just a woman, a trail, and a moment. Later, I’ll head for coffee somewhere in town, and poke around in antique stores for a cool restoration project for my Traveling Partner. The day is mine, and I have clearly been needing a break. I’m glad I took one.

There’s always now.

When was the last time you took some time for yourself? Not time spent running errands or catching up on chores or long delayed projects – time for you. Time for self-reflection, for being, and for resting your mind is more what I’m asking about. If you haven’t been taking that time with (and for) yourself, why haven’t you? Won’t you be more capable and resilient if you take good care of yourself? It’s just a thought (and maybe a suggestion).

The sky begins to turn a soft shade of blue gray. No colorful sunrise this morning – but that doesn’t stop me from feeling grateful to see another day dawn. I am intensely grateful; I didn’t expect to get this far. On the other side of the trail, a plump racoon ambles along. She gives me a glance, and continues on her way, a single file line of youngsters following along. I smile. I am reminded that what we notice has a lot to do with what we are looking towards. We are each having our own experience, and in many ways, we’re creating it as we go.

… Choose wisely…

I sigh as I get to my feet, ready to finish my morning walk and begin a new day, again.

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Categories 2024 Election, Allegories, Anxiety, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, solo hiking, The Art of Being, War and News of War
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