It’s a pretty morning. Nothing fancy, a pretty sunrise, a nice walk on a summer morning, and it is Friday. The morning is chilly, the sky is a clear and soft cerulean blue hue, with faintly yellow edges down low on the horizon.
[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]
I walk thinking about stress, anxiety, mental health, and what it takes to thrive when the news of the day is a toxic cocktail of AI slop, advertising, and propaganda with only a sprinkling of actual news thrown in (most of it bad).
… Maybe I should paint more..?
Yesterday evening, background stress I wasn’t explicitly aware I was carrying got identified and called out by my Traveling Partner, gently. Instead of fussing resentfully, I used the opportunity to head to my studio. The timing seemed excellent for it; I’ve been trying to nudge myself to paint more – and more often! This turned out to be a good choice.
Untitled pastel, 5″ x 7″ 2026
Make of it what you will.
I definitely need to paint more! I sigh contentedly from the side of the trail. Beautiful morning, sunshine illuminating the tall oaks and the tidy vineyards. I feel inspired and unbothered.
I breathe, exhale, and relax. Nice morning for meditation. A good morning to begin again.
I breathe in the sweetly scented summer air on this trail between a vast meadow of clover and the broad silent river on the other side of a strip of trees and brambles. Beautiful morning. Sunny and cool, for now, some heat in the forecast later.
No AI here, only a human being and a camera phone.
[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]
I woke this morning feeling recovered from whatever sickness laid me flat yesterday afternoon. It was a delight to water the lawn at daybreak and to watch the sunrise as I drove to the trailhead.
Sunrise by the river.
I sit on a rock near the river, enjoying the mild summer morning. It’s beautiful. I don’t need more than this right now. I listen to birds singing and chirping. I take a couple pictures, wishing very much that the pictures could also capture the scents. Wildflowers and clover. Nice.
… I let my mind wander contentedly, feeling free…
Weeds or wildflowers? It depends on your point of view.
When I say I don’t use AI to write my blog, I’m very serious. Another kind of freedom worth celebrating. No AI editing the pictures. No AI generated images. No AI authorship or editing. No choices to turn over my thinking to an algorithm or LLM. No AI research. My spelling mistakes and weird grammar and syntax are my own. My limited knowledge is my own. My thoughts are my own. My lived experience is real and human and messy. I’m okay with all of that. I don’t think my position on AI is at all unique; I get more comments and friendly feedback about my AI disclaimer than any topic I actually write about. I feel amused – and vindicated.
I keep to the path I’m on; there’s real freedom and independence in saying “no” to the AI slop and unnecessary “tools” being shoved into every app whether it’s helpful, or desirable, or not (“not” seems generally to be the case). I don’t need it. I don’t use it.
… AI is not capable of understanding the human experience…
A small bird sings to me for a few minutes.
I breathe, exhale, and relax. The scents of summer wildflowers fill the air. It’s a lovely morning. I feel free. That’s worth celebrating.
Free your mind. Live your life. Go outside.
I think about the day ahead. I’ll fly my drone. Fold some laundry. Maybe paint. Read awhile. The day is mine to live as I choose. I hope I choose wisely.
I woke early. So early. My Traveling Partner was awake and trying to go back to sleep. I dressed and slipped out into the early morning darkness, headed for a favorite trail, barely awake.
[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]
As I pulled out of the neighborhood, it occurred to me that I maybe wasn’t quite awake enough to drive or to be out in the world. 03:30 is too early for most places to be open. I stop by the gas station, fill up, and get a cup of coffee.
… Quite possibly the worst cup of coffee I’ve ever had (and I’ve had military coffee). We’re talking about a cup of coffee so bad it was the taste that woke me up, not the caffeine. 😆 I’m not even complaining, mostly just laughing. I’m awake, and wasn’t that the point? I force myself to drink it before I start down the trail.
It is another gray rainy looking morning. A Wednesday. Nothing remarkable about any of that. It is the beginning of an ordinary day. I’ll work from home. I am expecting a package. I yawn and briefly wonder what else the day holds? I’m not sure I care, beyond my package and my paintings. I’m eager to be in the studio again. I feel inspired by recent hikes on lovely trails.
The sky brightens as the sun rises, unseen behind the dense clouds. I chuckle to myself; I’ve been sitting here awhile. I’m fine with that – it’s my time, to use as I wish. I watch the clouds changing shape, pushed by air currents I neither feel nor see. I watch them change colors as the sun rises. Bits of blue sky peak through here and there. Another yawn. I haven’t yet fully shaken off sleepiness in favor of a new day.
I breathe, exhale, and relax. I meditate and consider the day ahead. I add items to the grocery list that were overlooked yesterday. I take a deep breath of the mild summer air. I brush off the chronic, persistent feeling of having forgotten something. I nearly always feel that way, but it rarely reflects the truth. Baggage.
I start thinking about a better cup of coffee, and beginning again… The day awaits! The clock is (always) ticking.
Some of the most useful “tools” in my self-care/mental health “toolbox” seem to be those to do with pain management, or which serve some other purpose, but also make it maybe a bit easier to manage pain. This seems odd to me any time I’m not in pain, but when I wake twisted with arthritis pain early on some morning, I’m grateful.
The view I woke to is no less beautiful because of pain.
[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]
I woke in pain to a cooler morning. The sunrise isn’t visible from here, but I see it reflected in the pink hues of the dawn sky over the western horizon. A distant bank of stormy looking clouds hangs above the horizon, a dark gray beneath fluffy white. The ocean reflects back silver gray like brushed aluminum, each wave reaching the shore crested in a curl of white. The ebb tide seems to sound different to me than the flood tide that will come later today, sometime in the afternoon.
…If the beach were just a little bit easier to get to from here, I’d already be headed down there to check out the tide pools before the day warms up, and while the beach is deserted. I hurt too much for that right now, and I want to paint later, so I sip my coffee and avoid exhausting myself…
Gulls fly by the window, calling to each other. A crow flies by. The morning sky continues to evolve. I sip my coffee letting the dawn sky and the beach scene beyond the window entice me with inspiration. Swallows swoop and dive just beyond the window. There are so many! The textured gray of the ocean holds my attention for a while, working out just how to capture that in pastels. Breakfast crosses my mind, and more coffee.
A beautiful view is sometimes enough distraction.
One of the most powerful pain management tools I’ve got doesn’t come in a pill. It’s distraction. Simply that; distracting myself from focusing on my pain prevents it from dominating my experience in the moment and frees my attention for other things. By itself, it may not reliably be enough to manage my pain, but it is useful, and it really does help to focus on other things, most particularly things that may evoke wonder, curiosity, awe, joy, or delight. I’m grateful for this beautiful view.
…I’m grateful for this solitary time…
I stretch and sigh to myself. Practices being what they are, there are things yet to do this morning to begin the day. Meditation. A walk (yes, even in this amount of pain, I just have to go to a beach access point that doesn’t involve endless stairs down a cliff to get to the beach) – my morning never feels quite right if I don’t get a walk in more or less first thing. lol My bones feel less stiff, and I know a hot shower will help more. I think about the day ahead as the view continues to evolve.
I’m sitting on a bench over looking the Pacific ocean. It’s a bit after sunrise, but the sun hasn’t yet cleared the hilltops to the east. The sky is a pearly pink and a delicate pastel gradient blends it into the blue morning sky overhead.
[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]
Wind, waves, and a sunrise.
I listen to the gulls and sip my coffee. I’m in no hurry. It’s Sunday and I’ve got a couple relaxed days of painting ahead of me. I breathe, exhale, and relax. Each time work surfaces in my thoughts, I make a point of letting it go. Now is not the time.
I reflect on the crazy amount of pressure at work lately. I have to admit, a lot of that pressure is internal, and self-imposed. I reflect on the many times my Traveling Partner has cautioned me to slow down when I’m panicking over work stress, and how often he has helpfully pointed out that I’m the one putting myself through all that. Sometimes it’s hard to accept that I cause so much of my stress myself.
…He hasn’t been wrong about that; most of the pressure I’m under is reliably self-imposed (and unnecessary, and not helpful)…
Even this trip to the coast is intended, at least in part, to slow me down a bit and give me needed perspective. I reflect on that as I listen to the waves of the receding tide. I sigh to myself, grateful to have the opportunity to step back from work for a couple days. Grateful for a partner who supports and respects that need, even suggesting that I take the time.
I reach out to wish him good morning and to express concern about the heat and his wellness and to be encouraging in some way. My words are poorly chosen and don’t reflect awareness of what he wants and needs from me in the way of supporting and encouraging him. I get an unexpected blistering reprimand; he needs something different from me, and I feel like a jerk for the unhelpful outreach and poor timing. Shit. Failure sucks. I screenshot some of the messages to consider later (otherwise they may get lost in later conversation), and to share with my therapist for additional guidance.
I wonder what small birds practice?
I sit with my thoughts, watching the sea and gazing out at the western horizon. I missed my morning hike planned for Basket Slough this morning. I had hoped to watch the sunrise from there, rather than in my rearview mirror, but I had gotten the route confused for another. Basket Slough is in an altogether different direction (south) than the one I traveled this morning (west). I’ll hike the beach instead. There are miles of beach here, and about seven miles or so are walkable at low tide.
I sigh quietly, thinking about what matters most, what it takes to be (and become) the person I most want to be, and contemplating my obvious shortcomings in a way that is self-compassionate, kind, and useful. It’s a more difficult practice than the words imply. It’s easier to “drink the poison” and lose the useful details in the message, sometimes. The resulting festival of self-pity, guilt, shame, and emotional self flagellation may seem cathartic in the moment, but doing so would be mostly pretty poisonous, too. Better to lift myself out of the muck and sever the doom spiral neatly before it pulls me down. I can accept with sincere contrition and regret that I’m capable of errors in thinking, poor decision making, and poorly chosen words at precisely the wrong moment. Feels like a lot to work on. It’s a very human experience.
… Brain damage sucks, but there are useful workarounds for many of my specific challenges, they only require constant practice, and unlimited patience! 😆
I watch the parking lot here fill with folks in boots suited to mud, with buckets and shovels, heading down to the beach to dig for shellfish. This is a popular area for that. They are purposeful and well equipped for their task. G’damn I sure wish I felt similarly right about now. I definitely don’t. As with the crushing pressure of work, I suspect the feeling is illusory, and largely crafted within, built on my feelings of insecurity and doubt. Again, very human. This shit isn’t easy, or obvious, or in any way effortless – but it is possible to grow and change and improve over time.
I think about love, and notice that the blue hue of my glittery fingernails matches the sky. I listen to the wind whisper to me about practice and persistence, and learning from mistakes. I can’t know what the future holds – but I don’t have to. I can exist in this moment here, now. I’ll be busy enough with that, there is no need to become anchored to past regrets or future worries. “Now” has plenty with which to hold my attention.
I finish my coffee and grab my cane. It’s a beautiful morning, and it’s time to begin again.
Where does this path lead? The journey is the destination. Am I on the right path?