Archives for posts with tag: thrive

Something for Me

September 19, 2026 //
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It’s a foggy morning. On the other side of a short list of errands, I’ll head to the coast for a few days for some solitary time, painting. I’m eager, but not anxious. There’s no hurry. I planned with care and stayed mindful of my current capabilities and limitations when I did so.

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

I’m sitting at a favorite trailhead, waiting for the gate to open. A short walk will be enough this morning. I want to leave myself enough energy at the other end of the day to easily enjoy hanging out with the ghosts of Claude (Monet), Vincent (Van Gogh), and Peter (Max). I’ve already got my pastels packed up, ready to load into the car.

… Definitely eager…

When the time came to end the work week and pull my head out of the spreadsheets and tool portals, yesterday, I found it difficult. I’m definitely for sure over that, already! My thoughts now are of colors, hues, shades, tones, and the challenges of bringing light into pigment, and giving life to an image on paper. I am expanding into the sense of self that feels the most me. It’s comfortable and familiar, and natural; there’s no need to mask anything or operate from some pretense of whatever is defined as properly professional this year, for this or that industry. It may take hours to really sink in, that the next three days are wholly about where inspiration might take me. This is my time.

I breathe, exhale, relax. Some things don’t change. Some practices have value no matter what may be on the calendar. Meditation. Writing in the morning. Enjoying a pleasant walk. We become what we practice. Taking myself to some other physical place to paint doesn’t change what I need to do to care for myself, manage symptoms, and preserve my emotional resilience. I reflect on the successes and failures of various practices over the years. They don’t all work out, and there’s been some trial and error to “finding my way”.

… Shit… I already miss my Traveling Partner and I’m not even gone yet! 😆 Well, I knew that would be a thing. I adore him. We’re deeply connected. Our lives are intertwined. I feel obvious “separation anxiety” when we’re apart – but there is value in the reminder not to take love for granted. We get the benefit of perspective from a chance to miss each other, and reconnect more deeply when we reunite.

So much of life is about love and loving.

At the halfway point of my walk, I sit with my thoughts of my beloved, sleeping at home. I could have set things up to take off for the coast at first light. I didn’t set up my plan that way specifically to run these couple of errands and take the time to hold each other a moment before I go, and do some little things to make him more comfortable and less inconvenienced by my absence. This doesn’t just feel like the right thing to do for him, it meets needs of my own, to support my partner. Without these courtesies, I’d be distracted the whole time I’m away, wondering about his experience, instead of living mine.

… I think about that for a little while…

Daybreak comes. The fog muffles the sound of traffic on the highway adjacent to this nature preserve. The darkness lifts slowly, revealing more fog, and the dark silhouettes of the grand oaks on this hillside. It seems a good setting for self-reflection and meditation. Inspiring. Lately I have been feeling so deeply inspired to paint, it spills over into other things. I’m looking forward to giving in to it for a couple days.

Daybreak comes.

I hear voices, approaching from up the trail. When they come into view, I wave and call out a good morning greeting, to avoid startling two photographers, approaching preoccupied with their conversation and their gear. They return my greeting and walk on past, towards the photographer’s blind out on the marsh. It’s a good time of year for it; migratory birds are passing through, and the weather hasn’t turned shitty yet.

I sigh to myself and bring my thoughts back to my own experience. Here. Now. Nice moment to be. I sit with my thoughts a short while longer, finding it a luxury to do so. I consider my pain, and pain management. Look over my shopping list one more time, before admitting to myself that it’s probably time to begin again. I smile like I know a secret, as I get to my feet, stretching.

… Travel tissues! I add them to my list and get going.

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

Drizzle

April 11, 2026 //
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Yesterday… Interesting day, and simultaneously uneventful, and also notable in several ways, which is why it was interesting. My studio is coming along and I plan to be painting this weekend. I got so excited about that idea that I left work early to get the weekend started. My Traveling Partner knows how important that is to me and dropped everything to figure out weekend plans that would give me the house to myself. (I feel very loved.)

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

By evening, two things were clear; there was bad weather brewing, and my partner’s attempts to throw something together for Friday night hadn’t worked out. We’d definitely be spending the evening together. Hell, how could I be disappointed by that? Sure, I’m yearning for some solitude and creative time that isn’t interrupted by all sorts of routine requirements of adult life, but I’m also okay with planning ahead. I’ve long found it quite necessary. And also? I really enjoy the company of my beloved.

… What to do?

My Traveling Partner asked me if I wanted to go get frozen yogurt together? I surprised him with an immediate yes, and went to put on something suitable for to leaving the house.

The sky was stormy looking. I don’t mind such things. We talked about the weather on the way to enjoying a frozen treat together. At least for now, so soon after his prolonged incapacitation due to injury and surgery, every outing feels like romance. Date night. We could have gone to the grocery store and I’d have been every bit as excited. We had fun. It was a good time. He was still talking about fucking off for the weekend to do his own thing, and I was still looking forward to it.

Sometime during the night, I woke for no obvious reason. He was up (still or also was never clear). I mumbled some sleepy greeting, heading back to bed (not really awake, honestly), he called to me quietly and reminded me he actually has a full weekend of project work (business), and really should stay home and focus on that to stay on schedule with his customers. I nodded sleepily, unsurprised (the surprise had been that he was so ready to step away and give me the solitude at home to paint). He assures me he’ll be busy and “won’t be in the way”. I say something, words, affirming I’m fine with that. I’m genuinely unbothered. I’ve got my studio back, and I don’t need much more, really. The solitude is – always has been – a luxury more precious than gems. I’m happy to be mostly left alone more or less to paint. It’s enough. I went back to bed, back to sleep.

I woke this morning in the usual way, no alarm set and still waking up quite early. The darkness before dawn was drizzly. It rained through the night, continuing long after the rare thunderstorm had passed. I don’t mind a drizzle. I hit the trail happily contemplating a day spent at my easel.

A beginning of its own. Beginnings take many shapes.

When I began painting in pastels, in July 2024, I had already collapsed my studio to make room for the Anxious Adventurer. I’ve never had my studio available for working in pastels. This feels exciting and new. After the first flurry of eager creative work in a new medium, the fatigue of caregiving began to overwhelm me, and certainly I had nothing left over for art once life was done with me each day. The Anxious Adventurer proved to be damned little help with caregiving, at all, that was all on me. What help he did provide generally came at the cost of my cognitive capacity, resulting in still more fatigue. He didn’t know our ways, and definitely seemed more an adolescent than the grown adult I was prepared for (based on his age). His chronic negativity was draining. The contentious relationship with his father was… annoying.

…I wouldn’t have an environment I could paint in for almost two years, but I wouldn’t recognize that for some months, and the care my beloved needed and could not get from his son would keep me at home, too… for nearly two years…

Two years. For almost two years I’ve felt my inspiration wax and wane, again and again, yearning for the freedom to paint. The time. The energy. The emotional environment. It’s been rough having to stifle all that for lack of space, resources, or control over my environment. I have resented it more than I wanted to, and mostly because I often felt I’d been taken in by some cosmic bait and switch scheme; the help offered by the Anxious Adventurer’s presence rarely materialized and time and again I felt tricked into having to parent a grown ass man who should have had basic life skills mastered at 32.

… We’re each having our own experience. Sometimes adulting is fucking hard…

I sigh to myself by the side of this rain soaked trail. Things are different today. The rain leaves everything fresh and green. The air smells of petrichor and Spring flowers. The day feels full of promise. I have choices and today I will paint.

There’s a ping in the Anxious Adventurer’s travel chat. He’s almost home to Ohio, just a day’s drive away. He complains about the rain. His mother suggests he complain to the rental firm about the leaky truck and the flat tire. He complains that doing so makes him feel bad. I’m surprised when she and his grandmother rush to offer to do it for him. Huh. That explains a lot. I shrug it off. “Not my circus, not my monkeys”.

… Today I’ll be painting.

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Categories Allegories, Anxiety, Art, art and the artist, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, Frustration, gratitude, inspiration, joy, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Spring, The Art of Being, Words

Basic Needs

May 8, 2015 //
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My coffee this morning is less appealing than most mornings. I slept poorly, when I slept last night, at all. I woke feeling groggy and stiff, and reaching for the alarm in slow motion. It seemed to beep an infernally long time. I started to fuss at myself about each detail that felt irksome, or disappointing, a choice that holds the potential to derail both the morning and the day, given an opportunity to do so.

I considered basic needs, instead, and the difference between wants and needs – real needs, basic needs. Is a bad cup of coffee actually such a big deal? Is having a really first-rate cup of coffee in the morning a ‘need’? I do enjoy it. It’s a high priority in the morning to have coffee, both for the ritual and routine of it, and for the pleasantness of the warmth of the cup in my hand. Does having that moment rise to the level of a ‘basic need’? Hardly. Does it, however, ‘meet needs’? Sure. Does my rather average, almost actually bad cup of coffee this morning meet my needs? It does.

If the need being gratified by my cup of coffee in the morning can be so easily gratified even by a bad cup of coffee, and if having a cup of coffee is not, itself, a ‘need’…what is the underlying need met by my cup of coffee in the morning?

The flowers may be lovely, but life's needs must be met before they blossom.

The flowers may be lovely, but life’s needs must be met before they blossom.

What is a ‘basic need’? Without checking references at all, I define ‘basic need’ myself as those needs that, left unmet, result in poor emotional or physical health, perhaps worsening until death may be an outcome. I mean…that’s the definition I tend to force myself to accept in difficult times, when a lot of other needs are unmet; it helps me get by until better times to tell myself I ‘have everything I really need to survive’. Is this extremely short list (food, water, sleep) really all there is to ‘basic needs’? I don’t really think so, myself, because those survival basics don’t do more than offer the most basic opportunity to wake up again to try another day. If I want to thrive, rather than simply survive, my list of ‘basic needs’ expands a bit to include things like shelter, appropriate clothing, sex, acknowledgment and internet connectivity (hey, it’s my list! lol). It gets complicated [for me] to understand, for example, that while I genuinely do see sex as a ‘basic need’ as an adult…my need doesn’t impose a demand on anyone else. That may be true of all needs, actually. My own individual needs do not constitute a demand or obligation on any one other human being, unless we share a specific contract – like the one human beings share with each other in marriage, or that we share as a society with our government. An interesting thought on a Friday that quickly takes me to the question ‘What do I feel obligated to do for my fellow human beings to ensure their basic needs are met, and what more can I do to build a world where we all see mere survival as an unacceptable minimum standard of life for humanity?”

Subjectively, I need this cup of coffee in the morning… It’s clearly not a ‘basic need’ in any sense. (I’m no expert, these are simply my own musings about needs, and your results – and opinion – may vary.) I go to great lengths to ensure I have it, however, and the feeling of having it satisfies in the way feeling a basic need met also satisfies. What’s up with that? I’m back to ‘what is the underlying need being met?’

We are connected, related, interdependent, and reliant upon each other for survival. How do I balance my needs, and wants, versus those of the world?

We are connected, related, interdependent, and reliant upon each other for survival. How do I balance my needs, and wants, versus those of the world?

Do you know what you really need in life? Are the most ‘important’ needs in life truly the basic survival needs? Once we’ve got survival going on…what then? What do I really need as a human primate, a creature of both emotion and reason, to thrive – to be the best of who I am, to become the woman I most want to be, to enjoy the many facets of living in a way that really satisfies?

What do I need to thrive?

What do I need to thrive?

Today is a good day for questions. Life’s curriculum doesn’t take a day off – and the quiz is always an ‘open book test’. Today is a good day to ask ‘what do I need from my life’? Today is a good day to find joy in whatever answers – or experiences – there may be.

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Categories Brain Injury, Free Will, Healthy Living, Logic & Reason, Love, Mindfulness, Perspective, Relationships, Sleepless Nights, The Art of Being, Words