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Some Monday

April 13, 2026 //
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I am awake. I’m groggy and clumsy with sleepiness I haven’t been able to shake off yet. Initially, I wasn’t sure what woke me from my deep sound sleep. I rarely get such sleep. I struggled to sit up, to disentangle myself from the hose of my CPAP mask. When I sat up the room was dark. What the hell woke me? I had a vague recollection of hearing my name called, and trying to understand what was being said to me.

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

I got up, dressed, and left the house, still wondering what woke me. My Traveling Partner messaged me on the way out. It wasn’t an apology for waking me. It was information about his poor sleep through the night. Context? The timing suggests he did indeed wake me, and it’s pretty close to my usual time, anyway. I shrug it off, yawn, and pull out of the driveway. Maybe my walk in the fresh Spring air will wake me more thoroughly?

… Sucks that he had a bad night, though…

I sat stupidly at the trailhead, in my car, for rather a long time before I was clearheaded enough to recall that taking actual steps would be required. I just wasn’t awake. Once I noticed I was “stalled”, I grabbed my cane and set off down the trail, my mind still quite foggy.

It’s a beginning.

Down the trail, past blooming cherry trees, and tall oaks. Past vineyards with tall green grass growing between the rows. Along the creek and the strip of forest growing along the bank, I walk listening to the loud calls of the robins and softer calls of a variety of small brown birds. Eventually, I reach my halfway point and stop for a moment. Mostly awake by this point, I sit and write, meditate, and reflect. New day, new challenges…

… Lovely weekend, now over…

It is a Monday. No dread, really, but little enthusiasm, either. I’m here. I’m ready to do the things, but the day ahead doesn’t fulfill any particular purpose of my own. It’s a job. I do the work, collect a paycheck, and live my life. I chuckle to myself, without merriment. Humanity could do better than this.

I sigh to myself. The air tastes sweet and I wish I were headed for some destination, and not to a desk and a digital workspace. I’d rather be at my easel or in my garden. I’d rather be sleeping in or drinking too much coffee at some sidewalk cafe in some forgotten little beach town somewhere, or hanging out with friends beside a crackling fire. This is not that time and I let it go. Clinging to some other moment or some desired moment that is not now robs me of the chance to savor this one. I smile and look at the many signs of Spring around me. A carpet of tiny yellow flowers in the grass beckons me to sit awhile… The clock is ticking, though, and I’ll soon have to begin again. It is, after all, a Monday.

One moment of many, insignificant by itself.

I get to my feet with a sigh, a yawn, and a sneeze, and turn to head back down the trail the way I came. It’s time.

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Categories Allegories, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Practices, solo hiking, Spring, The Art of Being, Words

The Unexpected Detour

February 15, 2026 //
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Once upon a time, many years ago, a younger version of me was making the trip down to visit family in Baltimore over a weekend. At the time, I was stationed at Aberdeen Proving Ground (more specifically, at Edgewater Arsenal). It was winter, and the roads were icy and there was a heavy snow falling. A smarter human primate would have more carefully considered the risks and stayed “home”, safe and warm in the barracks. I chose differently.

As the rear end of my Honda CRX Si broke loose from the icy road, and the car began to slide sideways around the tight curve of the offramp, spinning slowly, I resisted the urge to apply the breaks, began down shifting gently, and steering against the spin. I began rethinking my life choices. I came to a stop at the foot of the offramp, grateful there was no one behind me, and that I hadn’t hit anything. The car stopped, centered in my lane, but facing the wrong direction. I counted myself lucky, and got turned around, then finished my drive to my Aunt’s house.

… It’s a metaphor…

The unexpected is going to happen. However well-prepared we may think we are for this or that circumstance, we are mortal creatures of limited vision, and our meager preparations are no match for the vagaries of reality. Sometimes shit is just going to go sideways, whether we are prepared or not, and all we can do is hold on and do our best to “steer out of it”, and maybe learn something.

Yesterday was pleasant. The additional rest of sleeping in made a lot of difference and I enjoyed the day in my Traveling Partner’s good company. We are each having our own experience, and today is a new and entirely different day. Had I known when I woke this morning what I know now about where we each stand with our own shit to deal with, I might have made very different plans. 😆 Here I am, thoroughly human, crying in my partner’s pickup, parked at a local trailhead, thinking perhaps I’ll “just walk it off”, but it’s hard to walk while crying. My tears make my eyes burn, and the trail is crowded with strangers today. I don’t want to deal with them any more than I want to deal with me.

My head aches and my tinnitus is loud enough to be a distraction and uncomfortable. I’m irritable, partly just because those things are irritating, but also because my beloved is similarly irritable himself, for his own reasons, and we can’t manage to coexist in shared space, for the moment. Easier to just leave the house and know that one of us may find something like peace, maybe. Maybe not. I just don’t know what else to do at this point, besides give him space and take some for myself.

Like winter, circumstances are not personal.

The sky is gray. The trees are bare. The mild temperature doesn’t hide the fact that it is a bleak wintry day. I’m probably bringing the gray bleakness with me. I’d like to be at home, reading and resting or playing a video game, or baking or just anything besides sitting here crying in a parking lot. Acknowledging these feelings only serves to remind me I could have grabbed the book I’m reading and brought it with me. Stupid drama-prone primate brain! Inefficient. I sigh to myself. I try to meditate. I breathe, exhale, and… It’s hard to relax with my tinnitus shrieking in my ears this way.

A lot of the shit we go through is hard, but very little of it is “personal”. I remind myself to let small shit stay small, and to assume positive intent. I remind myself to do my best, and to take care of myself. I remind myself to be kind, patient, and compassionate – to my Traveling Partner and to myself. I remind myself to ask for help when I need it, and to accept it graciously when offered.

I reach out to the Anxious Adventurer, and ask if he can handle doing the dishes and making dinner? I’m grateful that he can. My feet already ache from my walk earlier, but I grab my cane and my resolve and get ready to put another mile on my boots. I want something better out of the day, and I will have to begin again to get there.

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Categories Allegories, anger, Anxiety, Brain Injury, breathe, Despair, forgiveness, Free Will, Frustration, gratitude, health, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, The Art of Being, The Big 5, War and News of War, winter, Words

The Journey of a Lifetime

January 13, 2026 //
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I’m on the trail this morning. It’s been a few days. There aren’t many changes. The morning is foggy and chilly, but not really cold. This trail is mostly paved and about half of it is lit by parking lot and walkway lights. The dense fog makes everything look mysterious and a little spooky.

Foggy winter morning on a journey that is the destination.

I get to the last bench along the trail, not quite halfway. Daybreak? Sort of. The sky is beginning to lighten, and faint silhouettes begin to be visible as shapes in the fog. I set down the hot coffee I’ve been walking with, switching hands now and then for warmth. I write a few words.

It feels good to be on the trail, even as chilly as it is. I also really appreciate that I’ve finally (re)developed local options for comfortably working from an alternate location, without a long drive. I sip my coffee and let the cup warm my hands again. I listen to the quiet.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. My breath forms a cloud that mingles with the fog.

My Traveling Partner pings me details to do with a work project he is in the middle of. I reflexively look at his messages, although ideally I’d be here, in this place, enjoying a moment of solitude, focused and present in the moment. It is habit after almost two years of trying to maintain constant awareness that he may need me at any moment. I’m finding it a difficult habit to correct. Life is like that, though; we walk our path, overcoming obstacles, and learning new ways. Those ways don’t always prove useful indefinitely. Detours. Bumps and potholes and a variety of potential pitfalls. We take the journey a step at a time, seeking the best path forward and balancing the awareness of the path immediately ahead, while also giving the destination attention. Losing sight of one could result in injury, losing sight of the other could result getting lost.

…Funny what a good metaphor for living life walking this trail can be…

I sigh as I get to my feet. It’s time to finish my walk and start my day. I finish my coffee before it goes cold, and then begin again.

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

Friction

December 7, 2025 //
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The first hints of daybreak touch the sky as the rain starts again. I waited out the darkness, after getting to the trailhead early (so early). It was raining, then, and may be raining when I finally start walking. I don’t know. It’s not the most important detail.

Daybreak on a rainy autumn morning.

My mind is cluttered and full of chaos. I half-woke ridiculously early, to the sound of my aggravated Traveling Partner swearing about something (probably about being awake). Some brief time later, (minutes or seconds, I don’t know), he specifically wakes me to check on me. I get up to pee, just to be certain I could just go back to sleep and not have biology waking me prematurely in another hour or two. The next couple of hours pass restlessly; I’d fall asleep, be wakened by some noise or other, and drop off again. At some point I remember beginning, finally, to sink into a really deep sleep. “At last,” I remember thinking contentedly, “sleep. Real sleep.” I woke again, when my Traveling Partner went back to bed. Fuck. I knew I wouldn’t go back to sleep, even as tired as I was. I could feel my brain getting going, preparing for a new day, and I was suddenly aware of an owl hooting loudly somewhere nearby. G’damn it. I went ahead and got up, dressed, and left the house.

… How the absolute fuck is my sleep this g’damned bad even after all these years and so much careful practice, good sleep hygiene, treating my apnea, adding a  noise masking device to my sleep space… Part of me wants to be really angry about this – but part of me recognizes that the anger itself only further impairs healthy rest (for me). I let it go, but resolve to ask my beloved to please just not wake me when I’m sleeping unless there is some emergency. I’ve got to get some fucking sleep (and I know he understands, as someone with sleep challenges, himself). I rarely have the opportunity to go back to bed later on, and get that lost rest. Working a full-time corporate job really limits that potential.

This morning I’m very tired, my head aches, and my eyes feel gritty. I have errands to run, and a business trip to prepare for.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. The morning is a bleak foreboding gray. I listen to the geese overhead, and the tinnitus in my ears. This morning the tinnitus is so annoying that if I thought pithing myself with an ice pick might be helpful in a practical way, I’d probably do it. (Do not do that!!) My tinnitus definitely gets worse and louder over time as I lose sleep. I remind myself that tonight is another night, tomorrow another day; this will pass.

I sip the hot (now only warm) coffee I picked up at the gas station on my way out of town after filling the gas tank. It’s a genuinely bad cup of coffee, acidic and somehow vaguely sludgy. It’s still coffee. Who the hell knows how long real coffee will still even be available? Instead of pouring it out wastefully because it’s terrible, I sip it slowly, letting the caffeine (and the ritual of morning coffee) do its work. I stay in the moment, present, aware, sipping this coffee and appreciating that I have it. Dawn comes. A new day. I’m cross and tired and vexed by physical pain. I look down the trail irritably, aware that I’ll likely feel better on the other side of my walk, in spite of the lack of sleep, and I’m stupidly also managing to be annoyed about that (which just makes no damned sense).

… I try not to dwell on this fucking headache or my arthritis pain…

I look back over my writing, checking for spelling mistakes and incoherence. (Huh. I bitch too much.) I sigh to myself, impatient with my very human limitations. I stretch and grab my cane and my rain poncho. All I can do is my best, and that path begins right here, now, in this moment. It’s time to begin again, again.

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Categories Allegories, anger, Anxiety, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, forgiveness, Frustration, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Sleepless Nights, solo hiking, The Art of Being, The Big 5, women, Words

Don’t You Know It’s Dark Outside?

November 22, 2025 //
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I slept in a little, this morning, a rare and delightful experience for me. I woke rested and eager to begin the day.

My Traveling Partner is awake and greets me happily. There’s so much love in his eyes and his words. He playfully quotes song lyrics to me in lieu of conversation. He knows I won’t assume any ill intention (the lyrics are fron a song with a vaguely threatening tone). Neither of us is a jealous sort of person. We both find jealousy toxic and destructive. We enjoy word play, and have a lot of fun in using song lyrics in conversation; it’s amusing when we spot it, and often just as funny when we don’t. I feel wrapped in his love as I leave the house, and the chilly morning doesn’t dampen my good cheer – I know I’ll come home to the warmth of my Partner’s love.

One dark and foggy autumn morning.

It’s enough later in the morning that it’s almost daybreak when I get to the trailhead. I decide to write a bit and wait for the sun. It is Saturday, and it is my weekend.

I find myself noticing that I’m feeling somewhat nauseous. This early in the morning, nausea on an empty stomach (for me) is pretty rare. I take a deep breath and exhale slowly and thoroughly and begin doing a “body scan”, making a point to be present in my physical experience and aware of all the many feelings and sensations. I quickly determine my nausea is most likely a byproduct of pain, nothing more (or less) serious than that. I’ve already taken my morning medications, but they haven’t yet had time to reach peak effectiveness. I sigh to myself, and stretch, change my posture, continue breathing, and hoping the pain eases shortly. I’ve got an appointment later that may be helpful.

I sigh quietly, feeling mostly pretty contented and merry while I wait for the sun. Could be worse. This is just physical pain, and although it is pretty bad this morning, my anxiety of the past several days is greatly diminished, somehow making the pain both more obvious and less significant. Meaning to say, I guess, context matters and perspective is useful.

What does “enough” look like?

Dawn comes, gray and foggy. It’s a spooky sort of misty autumn morning, chilly but not freezing. I can see the trail quite easily, and I’ll have it to myself; I am alone here. Quite alone. I embrace the solitude and joyfully seek it out. I know it’s not the sort of thing that suits everyone. I even recognize that my enduring fondness for time alone is a reflection of past trauma; I feel safe and at peace alone, less anxious, unconcerned about the expectations, needs, and experiences of other people. It’s just me and this trail right here, now. Sure, I often (sometimes quite quickly) find myself missing the charm and companionship of my Traveling Partner, but he is understanding and encouraging of self-care, and knows how much this solitary time nurtures me. Self-reflection is a healthy practice, and I enjoy walking with my thoughts.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. After a few minutes of meditation, I grab my hat and my cane, and wrap my scarf around my neck. Already time to begin again… the trail leads into the marsh, disappearing into the fog. I get to my feet, ready to follow it where it leads.

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