Archives for posts with tag: touch grass

Fog in the Morning

November 5, 2026 //
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It’s very foggy this morning. It is chilly, but not actually cold. I get to the trailhead safely, feeling eager to walk in the fog (if only because I’ve been painting foggy scenes lately and I enjoy the view of things obscured by fog).

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

The lights of the parking lot are eerie through the trees.

I walk the trail thinking about luck, and how routinely very successful and very wealthy people fail to honestly account for various lucky breaks they benefited from on their journey to success or great wealth. The “pull yourself up by your bootstraps” myth and similar tales of self-made success are frankly dishonest, though people may eventually come to believe that shit in the retelling of their stories over time. We don’t get where we are alone, good or bad. Sure, we’re each having our own experience, and yes, we are individually responsible for our own actions… but luck matters, too. Like, a lot.

I sigh to myself as I walk with my thoughts in the fog. The entire experience feels like a metaphor.

I get to my halfway point thinking about my general good fortune. I sometimes yearn for an easier life than I’ve got, but this life is good, just as it is. I have it better than my parents did, and lacking their lucky breaks getting here was a lot of work over many years. I’m grateful. I’m here, living this modest life in a small pleasant suburb, at the edge of a beautiful rural region of vineyards and farms and beautiful views. It’s enough to live this life, and more than enough to get to enjoy it in the context of my Traveling Partner’s love and good company.

… I somehow still find myself complaining about petty dumb shit that vexes me momentarily, forgetting how good I do have it, after all these years…

I may never be wealthy (by percentages, very few people ever will be). I may never have a life of excess and luxury. I have it pretty good though – there is a roof over my head, a secure home and well-stocked pantry, indoor plumbing and safe drinking water, and clean clothes to wear. I’ve got a good job and skills I can rely on. I live with chronic pain, but I have the medical care to manage it. I’ve got a head full of chaos and damage – but I’ve also got good therapeutic support and the tools for appropriate self-care. This isn’t a bad life. It’s actually pretty good.

What do you yearn for? What is your dream of a perfect life? Are your own desires obscuring your view of the life you live now? Are you “walking in fog”, not really seeing the joy and beauty of the life you have?

I think and walk until I reach a suitable place to stop, rest, write, and just be. It’s not my usual stopping point. I walked past it in the fog. 😆 There’s definitely a useful metaphor or two in this morning’s walk. There’s a piece of construction barrier handy to sit on, so I stop for meditation and writing. I use my rain poncho to make a dry place to sit. I breathe, exhale, and relax, and repeat. I give myself up to breath and calm observational awareness, sitting in the fog.

I could do without this fucking headache, though; I breathe, exhale, and let that go.

I could do without the arthritis pain. Another breath, another exhalation, and I let that go too.

As each internal criticism arises, I take a break, exhale, and let it go.

Every distracting thought is followed by a breath, and exhalation, and a release of that distraction, letting it dissipate into the fog with my breath.

This is not a difficult practice, nor is it costly. It does not require an expensive course. It does not require a subscription. It only requires practice. It is necessary to do the verbs, there are no shortcuts.

The predawn darkness is giving way to the earliest hints of nautical dawn. This may be my favorite time of morning, these moments when the first clear silhouettes of trees become distinct in the gloom. Shapes appear and become recognizable. There is a feeling of anticipation; the sunrise is coming. Even this feeling is released with an exhalation, to dissipate into the fog. It’s not as if I have any control over the coming and going of the sun anyway.

Lovely quiet morning, I think as I get to my feet. I peer into the fog. Headlamp? No. No headlamp, just this beautiful foggy twilight of dawn, and this foggy trail. It’s enough. I begin again.

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

The App Is Not The World

September 1, 2026 //
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The air feels somehow heavier than usual. Daybreak is yet to come. My bones ache, and years of arthritis tell me it’s going to rain sometime soon. Today? Tomorrow? I have no idea. The sky is blank smooth darkness, no visible clouds, and also no stars at all. This suggests a dense cloud layer overhead. I step out on the trail, turn my headlamp on and start walking.

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

I get to my halfway point and stop to write and to meditate.

… I had an interesting idea in mind for this morning’s writing, yesterday evening. It’s gone now…

I’m peculiarly groggy this morning. I check the app for my CPAP machine to see how I scored as a representation of how I slept. It looks nearly perfect. I scored 100. So, I would appear to have gotten enough sleep. That’s the sort of silliness that comes of trusting a fucking app. 😆 I slept okay, based on my subjective experience. I’m also groggy. These experiences coexist in this moment. An app has nothing whatsoever to say about it.

Making assumptions based on what some app says, or clinging to expectations obtained through some app is just as foolish and fraught with problematic consequences as any other means of acquiring expectations and assumptions. The app doesn’t make a poor practice better… and if there are verbs involved (and there nearly always are), an app isn’t going to do them for me. The effort to walk my own path is mine.

Scrolling through some feed on some app? Do you really not have better, more entertaining or educational, ways to spend time? Seriously; the app is not the world, and it is not the experience, and it is not a gateway to human connection. I think more people are catching on to a better understanding of all that they lose by becoming dependent on this or that app. I’m encouraged to see it, and I hope it continues.

… there’s so much AI slop and algorithmic bullshit in the world right now…

… Maybe make a point to go outside..?

Daybreak comes, confirming my suspicion that the day would be quite cloudy. There is only the thinnest sliver of pale blue sky down low on the western horizon showing through the dense gray clouds. The rest of the sky is gray. The clouds to the east are quite dark and stormy, and sitting here in jeans and a T-shirt no longer feels like an appropriate choice.

I stretch and get to my feet with a sigh and get ready to begin again.

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

Reflections

August 3, 2026 //
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The morning feels chilly on the trail as daybreak comes. The forecast says the day will be hot. My short sleeves manage to feel like a poor choice for the moment, right now.

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

The weekend was pretty amazing. Not easy, not comfortable, not entirely peaceful or joyful, but certainly heartfelt, deeply connected and meaningful. A necessary step on a long journey together, I suppose. Weirdly, I am missing my Traveling Partner intensely this morning, though he is no further away than home. Funny how subjective our emotions and perception of reality can be. We really are each having our own experience.

I’m thinking about one detail of the weekend that matters greatly to me. For context, many years ago, living in Germany, I bought an RC car kit. I was excited about it. It was a very detailed kit that required me to build it more or less entirely from a box of parts. When it was built it was amazing and ran beautifully! I was so excited. My then-husband helped me a bit with some of the electrical pieces I didn’t understand, but in general seemed not exactly uninterested, but watchful. Very little time passed before he stomped my car to pieces in a fit of rage. I only got to drive it once. Since then I haven’t considered RC cars as a hobby. I pushed the whole issue – car, enthusiasm, trauma, tears, and lingering baggage left behind – into a tiny box in a dark corner of my mind and memory, and marked it “do not open”.

… This weekend I opened the box…

More specifically, my Traveling Partner did, without planning to. It started some weeks ago with him buying me a drone and sharing time together learning and taking the TRUST test to safely and legally fly recreationally. It started with the first time I flew my drone – and realized quickly that I’m maybe not personally ideally suited for hobbies that include actual flight. (A combination of neck pain, poor eyesight, and cognitive limitations that make remembering all the many rules and restrictions difficult make flying difficult, nothing tragic.) I said something about having once had an RC car, and quickly realized my mistake; the box was open. I tried to close it up again, only to find myself standing in a big pile of stinking rotting baggage that had to be cleaned up at long last.

The way out is through. It was one more bit of trauma to work through. I like cars. I like driving. I like the fun and delight of miniatures. I like tinkering with small machines. My Traveling Partner gently forced the issue into the open. We talked. I gave up my drone with an emotionally difficult admission that my interest in flying a drone was more about loving him and sharing the time and fun with him. I admitted I prefer cars. He was encouraging and supportive and even pointing out that we could still enjoy that fun together; him flying, me driving.

I know there will still be reflections of past trauma to heal and old baggage to unpack… but I’ve taken a big step. I watched numerous videos with my beloved. We talked cars for hours and looked at videos. He likes cars, too, and has a love of, and affinity for, machines generally. So many choices. We looked at all kinds of RC cars in a variety of scales and styles. I found one car that really captivated me. Again and again, it turned up in moments of “ooh!”, “ah!”, and “wow!”. He talked about driving to the hobby store together and I was an eager yes. At some point he gently asked if I might find value in going alone, and independently making my choice and purchase, having settled on a budget (he has an astute sense of such things and reliably takes steps to support my autonomy and emotional wellness). I definitely knew which car I wanted. Calling the shop had confirmed they had one. I admitted I’d enjoy going by myself. He assured me he had work he needed to get done and kissed me sweetly, all love, before I left.

Zoom zoom.

… I have an RC car. I drove it that very evening after charging the batteries. She’s super cute and crazy fast (even on the lowest speed I was blown away by how fast she zips along). I stared a piece of profound emotional damage in the face and said, at long last, “you have no power over me”, and meant it. That’s a powerful step on this journey.

… and I even got the laundry done…

I smile as the sun rises, thinking about life, love, drones and RC cars. I think about beginnings. I think about the next time I get to drive – maybe after work today? I think about building a display diorama to park my car in when I’m not driving her. 😆 I breathe, exhale, and relax, grateful for this partnership and the beautiful weekend of deep connection and heartfelt conversations. I forget, momentarily, that it is Monday.

There was more to the weekend and to the work and changes that will come out of it, but this is representative of the character of the weekend generally. Loving partners working honestly through a variety of issues together in a meaningful loving way. Beautiful.

I sit smiling in the summer sunshine filled with gratitude, contentment, and love. It’s a nice beginning to a new week. August already? The clock is ticking. I get to my feet to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, grief, joy, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, Summer, The Art of Being, The Big 5, women, Words