Archives for posts with tag: walk on
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Birdsong and Breezes

July 6, 2025 //
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I “slept in” (for some values of sleeping in), and drove to the trailhead with the sun in my eyes. No traffic. Lovely quiet drive. No pressure, no stress. I walked down the trail eagerly, feeling rested and fit. I hear (and see) robins, jays, finches, sparrows, and swallows. I listen to their calls and songs as they flit about their business in the meadow. A smallish owl perched very still atop a fence post startles me when he opens his eyes and turns his head as I pass; I thought he was part of the fence post! When he takes off and flies past me I get a better sense of his size (not “small”!)

…I keep walking…

A favorite spot to linger in summertime.

I get to my “halfway point” and take a seat on a fallen branch in this copse of oaks. I feel “surrounded by nature” though I’m an easy walk back to the trailhead parking lot, and the adjacent highway. I love this spot for a brief getaway from “the world”. Sunshine, blue sky, birdsong, breezes, meadow flowers…it has everything I want on a summer morning, except my Traveling Partner’s good company and a good cup of coffee. There’s something to understand there about wanting, yearning, seeking, finding, and… sufficiency.

What is enough? Once upon a time, I felt as if every moment had to meet every need and fulfill every desire. That’s a pretty shitty and unsatisfying way to live; nothing can ever measure up to such feelings. Worse still, I wanted so much. I wanted “happily ever after”, and every waking moment felt like failure, regardless how much joy and delight might actually be available. I couldn’t feel the good in my life because I was mired in chronic disappointment. Things didn’t change much until I stopped chasing “happiness” and began to cultivate contentment. Contentment is so… achievable. Turned out to be a useful stepping stone to moments of profound happiness, too, and because I wasn’t chasing happiness, I could really enjoy it with my whole self when I happened upon it.

I sit with my quiet thoughts awhile, listening to the various birds singing their songs. Some I easily recognize, others I’m less sure of. Here too, a lesson; curiosity and wonder leave plenty of room for learning and growth, where “certainty” tends to close that door with a bang. It’s hard to learn when we think we know. “Don’t be too sure” seems like very good advice. I’ve learned to embrace uncertainty and joy. I grin at a little bird approaching me very closely. I don’t bother trying to get a picture, I just enjoy the moment, instead.

The sun is warm on my back. I feel wrapped in contentment and quiet joy. My Traveling Partner pings me a good morning. My heart feels light. I get to my feet to finish my walk, and begin again.

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

Here, Now, and There, Then

July 4, 2025 //
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The sunrise was a bold assortment of hues of pink and magenta this morning, rays of color flaring from behind streaks of pink clouds edged with mauve. I watched as I drove to the trailhead.

A new day, a new perspective.

…I wish I’d slept in…

I yawned through the first half of my walk, feeling sleepy. I feel like I could easily enjoy a nap, though I slept well and deeply and woke rested this morning. Doesn’t matter, and I keep walking.

I reached my halfway point happy to pause, but wishing there were a hammock conveniently nearby. lol There is not.

I sit watching a small herd of deer crossing the meadow. They have two fawns with them. It’s that time of year, and I know I’ll be seeing the fawn that has been keeping the local doe coming back to my garden again and again. Soon they’ll move on for the summer, and my roses will get a break from being nibbled at.

4 of July. My Traveling Partner has some work he expects will keep him occupied for much of the day. I’ll busy myself with tidying up the deck for cooking, later. The groceries are on hand. No errands to run that can’t wait (none that I recall right now), just a pleasant holiday weekend ahead, available for relaxation, good food, and fun.

I sit awhile watching the new day begin, and thinking about summer times past. The things I miss most about childhood summers are fireflies, thunderstorms, and leisure time (which seemed so endless then, it is hard to imagine now). There are no fireflies in this part of the world, and thunderstorms are quite uncommon. I’m managing to get sufficient leisure time, generally, but it doesn’t feel like those endless days of summer from my childhood. I sigh to myself, grateful for the three day weekend.

A little yellow and black bird hops quite close to me and sings a little song before flying away. I don’t even try to get a picture. I already know he’s too quick for me.

I get to my feet. Another yawn. It’s already time to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, inspiration, joy, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Practices, solo hiking, Summer, The Art of Being

Timing, Weather, Etc.

June 18, 2025 //
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I slept in, like, properly slept in, waking a couple hours later than I ordinarily would, feeling well rested, and ready for a new day. Being home feels good.

A familiar view from a favorite trail.

My legs ache. It’s just sore muscles, from recent days of more than usual walking. I mostly ignore it, and walk on. The blue skies of recent days have yielded to encroaching gray clouds gathering overhead. The air feels heavy with higher than typical humidity. I keep on walking, through oak groves and alongside meadows and vineyards. I pass by a creek, and lush dense weeds and wildflowers that grow along the banks, edged by trees. Farm workers in the vineyard eye me warily as I pass. I wave. They wave back. We have nothing to fear from each other. I continue walking.

It was an ordinary walk on an ordinary morning. I hope I have many such walks (and mornings) ahead of me. Gray skies or blue, the details matter less than my ability to walk on, and my freedom and opportunity to do so.

I sit quietly after my walk, on a convenient picnic table tucked among the oaks trees that line the beginning of this particular trail. It’s not remote or exotic, and lacks any sort of features that might attract crowds. It’s just a convenient local trail, well maintained, paved and mostly level, and even lit in some sections (which is nice for very early mornings before sunrise). It feels safe and familiar, and long enough to be satisfying (it’s about a mile and a half all the way around), but short enough to be quite manageable even when I’m having some difficulties. This trail is rarely crowded, which is a nice bonus.

My tinnitus is annoyingly loud in my ears. I do my best to focus on other things. I breathe, exhale, and relax. It is a pleasant morning and I am happy to be home. I remind myself to stop at the store on my way home, but can’t recall what I need to get. I chuckle to myself; I have an app for that. I probably rely on that too much.

I sigh contentedly, savoring this pleasant moment before I begin again. The clock is ticking on a new day. It’ll soon be time to begin again…

Where does this path lead? What will I see along the way?
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Categories Allegories, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, joy, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Practices, solo hiking, Summer, The Art of Being

The Plan is not the Experience

June 17, 2025 //
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I’m drinking hot coffee from a sunny vantage point in the otherwise empty day use area. I deliberately parked my black Mazda in the sunniest spot I saw. I got a short hike in, steeper than I remembered from last time, and great for warming up.

See, the thing is, it was below 40° F (around 4° C), and I woke feeling a bit cold (if nothing else, aware that the temperature had dropped notably) shortly after dawn. I got up feeling stiff, and colder still after walking to the restroom and back. I considered going back to bed, but made coffee instead.

A little bird enjoying the sunshine.

I sit with my thoughts in the sunshine. I’m warm through now, and eager to begin the day. Three things on my list today: pack up camp, get another hike in, and get safely home. Now I’m thinking noodles and a tin of smoked salmon might be a good way to “begin” the morning. My experience here has been quite rich and even profound or illuminating in spots. It’s also been nothing like I planned.

At this point, my legs ache from walking the steep winding trails, even without camping at a more distant hike-in site. My neck and back ache, more from my arthritis itself than from the drop in temperature or the rain that seems very likely. My tinnitus is loud. Ah, but I’ve taken steps to manage my pain, and later today I’ll return home.

…omg, the packing…

I sigh to myself. There are now hikers on the trail visible to me. I’m not interested in conversations with strangers this morning. lol I sip my coffee and consider the packing. I’ll use the opportunity to toss out items that have exceeded their approved shelf life, and finish the trip more organized than when I began it.

…I feel like I could go back to sleep…

I’m glad I prepared for likely deviations from my original plan. The outcome ended up being just what I wanted. Now it’s time to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, inspiration, joy, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, solo hiking, Summer

What It Is, What It Isn’t

June 16, 2025 //
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The ringing in my ears is loud this morning. I pay it no particular attention; it’s reliably always there and the only thing to do about it is to focus on other things. My hot coffee. The chill of the morning at the edge of a meadow surrounded by forest. The distant sound of traffic on the highway, faint but still audible. Voices. I sigh and lace up my boots. A walk after coffee sounds delightful.

… I slept poorly but it hasn’t caught up with me yet…

Light in the darkness.

I woke several times during the night to pee. I guess I’m adequately hydrated. 😆 Each time I stepped out into the darkness, I paused to gaze at the stars a little while. I could see the Milky Way. I would return, following the short path between my campsite and the restroom, guided by the merry string of colored lights that I hung around my tent, specifically to make it easier to find in the dark. The night didn’t begin to feel cold until shortly before daybreak and I was pretty comfortable, just not sleeping restfully.

… The night felt long…

My walk warmed me up more than my morning coffee did. It’s been mostly uphill, and I wound my way through the trees, stepping carefully where the trail was not well-maintained. I reached my goal; the day use area. It took me longer to get here than I expected, but I wasn’t going for speed, only solitude. Walking to leave the sound of voices behind me, and in this instance quite successfully. There’s no one else here right now. It’s lovely and quiet (except for the tinnitus, which no one else hears).

A new day.

My head aches and I am thinking about more coffee, though I certainly had my usual amount (more than). I look over the park map. This trail? That one? What about this other one? It looks new, since my last visit here (which was 2022, I think). It’s probably early enough to find parking at one of the trailheads for the BVT… I yawn and stretch. It isn’t nap time, yet.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. What is my purpose, here? Meditation. Self-reflection. Setting intentions for this next year of living. This, right now, it isn’t really any if those things in a useful way. The miles of trails do seem to connect me with my sense of purpose. I look out at the horizon and wonder how many miles to those hills? The map suggests that those are in the Tillamook State Forest, and about 16 miles away (as the crow flies). It would be more than an hour to drive there, and about 12 to walk it, according to Maps. I think about how often the thing we seek seems so near, but really isn’t near at all. That’s a useful bit of perspective.

The sun comes out from behind morning clouds and warms me. I remind myself to put my phone on the charger when I get back to camp, as I eye the trail heading back down the hill. I think about heading back, and take another look at the map. Time to begin again.

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