Archives for posts with tag: walking in the dark
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First Frost

October 31, 2026 //
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The car crackled as frost broke when I first opened the car door, this morning. It is an icy and cold morning as I start down the marsh trail. Foggy, too.

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

Days of rain and gloom in the mornings have given way to autumn afternoons, some mild, some unexpectedly warm, others drizzly and chilly. This morning we get the first frost here where I am, but the freeze warning for the 24-hour period made it clear colder weather would be happening, and the frost visible all around was a thin glaze of clear ice on bridges and overpasses, and “black ice” is an obvious risk this morning. I drove with caution, mindful to stay at safe speeds for icy conditions.

… Being safe is smart, even if tech bros and AI fanboys don’t understand that…

I am similarly cautious as I head down the trail. I am warmly dressed, appropriately for the weather, and I have my headlamp adjusted for best visibility in foggy conditions. It just doesn’t take much to keep safety in mind. The journey is more comfortable and pleasant when it is a safe one.

Am I “risk averse”? Damn right, I’m risk averse. I’ve taken my share of risks, and based on experience, I finding taking a safe path is generally the wiser choice. Will I take risks? Well, yeah. Sometimes the predictable risk looks manageable and the outcome worth that risk. I still favor a safe path when I’ve got one, in most circumstances.

I walk with my thoughts through the predawn darkness. Daylight Savings Time ends tomorrow. I’m not looking forward to the days of disrupted sleep and medication timing, but I get through it every year, even though the stupidity of DST leaves me bemused. Do people really think that changing the clocks changes the reality of diminishing day length as the season changes? Human primates, eh? So inventive. So imaginative. So willing to make dumb decisions because the idea seemed good at the time. Slow down. Choose wisely.

I get to my halfway point in the dark. It’ll be dark when I walk on, too. Not my preference, but I don’t think changing all the clocks to avoid darkness makes sense. I wear a headlamp instead.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. My breath mingles with the fog. I hear movement on the marsh… somewhere. I don’t see anything. There are no sounds that alarm me, but like the deer I keep a watchful eye. In the darkness, I rely more on sounds for threat detection. The morning is cold and quiet. The source of the noise emerges from the meadow grasses along the trail. Racoons. A large female escorting a group of smaller racoons crosses the trail, some of them playful, some adventurous, some of them stay close to her as the group travels. If one of them spoke to me in a human voice as they passed, “nice morning for it”, or some other polite greeting, I wouldn’t be surprised – but I also don’t expect it. It’s a strange foggy morning on the marsh before dawn.

I meditate awhile. I write. I reflect on thoughts and ideas and inspiration for new paintings. This quiet time is reliably my own, and I enjoy it. Later a manicure and maybe some studio time. For now I am here, now, and it is enough. I’ll walk on when I get too cold to sit longer; that’s soon enough for beginning again.

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

Darker, Chillier

September 14, 2026 //
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Autumn is definitely approaching, although I won’t be surprised if we get another stretch of hot weather, later, we often do. This morning is cooler and feels chilly. The receding darkness of night seems somehow darker, reinforcing the perception of seasons changing.

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

I got down the trail to my halfway point still in darkness. Beating daybreak by some minutes, I sit quietly in the darkness, listening, watching, and simply being. It is a Monday morning, and the weekend felt too short.

… I sit thinking about seasons and cycles, and the ticking clock of mortality…

Next weekend I will enjoy a brief rest from the day-to-day demands on my time and attention; I’ll be painting on the coast. I’m looking forward to it, but having been planned, I’m no longer preoccupied with it. The recollection forms, I acknowledge it, and my mind moves on to other things. It’s not that I don’t need the break, I for sure do, it’s more that I don’t benefit from picking at it like a wound. It’s soon, and the time will pass in the usual way, moment by moment, and that’s enough.

… What is “enough”? It’s an important question, and a very personal thing. Your results may vary…

I twist and stretch, seated uncomfortably on this rock. It’s not the fault of the rock; I often sit here and it’s fine. This morning I ache, mostly strangely sore muscles. Not all that strange when I remember I’ve been making a point to do more, and have added strength training reliably to my exercise regimen. Slipping without falling on the muddy trail yesterday probably also used my muscles differently. I feel the most sore in muscles that I relied upon for my balance in those moments.

I yawn and watch the sky lighten. Daybreak(ish). I’m ready for a new day, and also a little reluctant to “deal with all that”. Typical human bullshit. 😆 I’d rather be at home, in my Traveling Partner’s embrace, living a life of ease and leisure. Turns out the world doesn’t give away such lives as freebies very often, and I didn’t take the steps necessary to get to that place, when I was younger. It would have taken very different circumstances, too, most likely. I’m not bitching – I’ll walk the path I’ve chosen (we all do), and hope to choose more wisely in all kinds of things than I did when I was much younger. We don’t know what we don’t know, and mortal lives are surprisingly short. I sigh to myself. I’m grateful in spite of challenges; it could be much worse. I’m fairly fortunate.

I’m waxing a bit philosophical perhaps. Life is pretty good, for most values of “good”, and I’m content more often than I’m not. That’s a big deal. I stretch and yawn, and get more comfortable for meditation. Then I stretch more, again, and write awhile. It’s quiet and so far the morning is lovely and peaceful here. I think ahead to coffee. That’ll be nice, too.

My hands are stiff and the morning chill seeps into my bones. I remember feeling warmed from within, in my 20s and 30s, as if my heart was a tiny white hot sun burning inside me. I rarely wore a coat and mostly didn’t feel a need to. I often walked a brisk two miles to grab lunch at my apartment, instead of on base, and my walking pace then was such that a two mile walk (each way) still left ample time for lunch. Funny to feel (and be) so much slower now.

The sky is still mostly dark. Somehow it’s already time 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, women, Words

Up at Four

April 14, 2026 //
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… And out the door. It’s only now dawn. I made the walk around the long loop of the trail in darkness, the circle of light from my headlamp bobbing along ahead of me. I didn’t stop for long. It’s a mild gray morning, but not raining. I just didn’t feel like writing in the dark this morning.

I sneeze a few times. I use a few tissues. I take my allergy medication. I walk along marveling at modern convenience. My mind wanders with my steps as I walk this familiar trail. Lost in thought I step off into the damp grass once or twice.

I hear geese overhead as I sit writing at the start of the trail, after I’ve finished my walk. Another work day. It’s fine. I’m grateful to have a good job that keeps the bills paid and food on the table. I have a lot to be thankful for. I sit with my gratitude for some little while.

I have no idea what woke me, this morning. I wasn’t having any luck going back to sleep, so I got up. I’m unbothered by such things. I’m content to be on the trail quite early, and I’m lucky to live in a safe place where walking in the dark does not present unreasonable risk. Life doesn’t have to be overly complicated. I sit enjoying this moment now, between the trail and the workday. I feel relaxed and unhurried.

I breathe, exhale, and relax, and think of faraway friends and the many ways distance and circumstances can change us. How many years does it take to figure out who we most want to be? How many more to become that person? Still more years after that to make changes because we didn’t know then what we do know now. Being a human being can be quite complicated. So much practice needed – and what we choose to practice will determine who we become. It’d be nice to get that memo quite early, but we seem cursed to figure it out on our own, stumbling through the consequences of our actions, over time.

… Time…

Seems like there is precious little time to waste in this short finite mortal life. The path is always ahead. We choose it as we walk. We become what we practice. Our results vary. I sigh to myself. Practical truths worth reflecting on. It’s already time to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Practices, solo hiking, Spring, The Art of Being, War and News of War

Cloudy, Rainy

October 10, 2025 //
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It rained during the night. The trail is wet, puddles frequent. The sky is dark and the clouds obscure the coming dawn. No moon to light my way this morning. I am dependent on my headlamp. Neither the darkness nor the occasional sprinkles of rain stop me, though. I have this path to walk.

I slept decently well, and woke feeling sufficiently rested to enjoy the day, in spite of my restless night. Some noise or other prevented me sleeping for some little while, and I woke during the night sometime later, though I never figured out why. Given the opportunity, I could maybe go right back to bed and sleep away the morning… although it’s probably wishful thinking, and anyway, it’s a work day.

This morning, my back aches fiercely. I remind myself it’s “only” arthritis pain – I’m rarely without it anymore, but it could be so much worse. I sit on this picnic table, rain poncho spread beneath me to make a dry place to sit. The night sky is beginning to lighten. My mind wanders to other autumn mornings, other points in my life. Other moments. I yawn, watching a mist begin to gather, here, close to the creek. I breathe, exhale, and relax, and take time for meditation as the mist becomes thicker, obscuring the “view” in the darkness.

I think about the new earrings my Traveling Partner made for me. I smile, feeling wrapped in love. He made enough for me to share with friends, of several kinds, and one cute pair of hearts, just for me. I feel visible and understood. I feel grateful, and appreciated. I definitely feel loved.

Love takes many forms.

I hear footsteps approaching slowly. A doe is walking down the trail towards me. She sees me, pauses, and veers off the trail in a different direction, heading into the trees and disappearing from view. The silhouettes of trees are now distinctly separate from the dark gray of the sky. Daybreak approaches, and I see the very first headlights of a farm worker arriving for work on the far side of the vineyard. The clock is ticking. It is a new day.

I yawn and sigh, sitting here in the quiet pleasant stillness before dawn on a Friday morning. It is enough simply to be…at least for now. lol This is a very human experience, filled with moments of all sorts. I get to my feet with an audible groan. Fuck this “aging” bullshit! 😆 I stretch and contemplate the day ahead. I could really use a cup of coffee… and it’s time to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, autumn, breathe, Free Will, health, Healthy Living, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Sleepless Nights, solo hiking, The Art of Being

A Point of View on Perspective

December 29, 2024 //
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I drove to the trailhead this morning thinking about how far away this once seemed, although it now feels quite close to home. It’s become a familiar drive, and is also the approximate halfway point on my morning commute when I work in the office. Those details don’t change the distance in miles, nor do they alter the time it takes to make the drive, but what a difference in perceived distance and inconvenience!

I got to the trailhead still thinking about time and distance and the differences in perception perspective on a journey can make. A very long walk often only feels long when it is new and unfamiliar, seeming to grow shorter over time as walking it becomes commonplace. Funny how that works…

I walked down the trail in the pre-dawn darkness, thinking my thoughts. I came upon a good stopping point after what seemed a long while; I’ve been walking a different trail here, but with all the recent rain, only the “all season” trail is actually walkable now. The change in trail is a change in perspective, and perceived distance. I was still sore from yesterday’s walk, this morning, too; it has more hills and felt like a somewhat more challenging workout. This morning feels like a serious effort, and a bit “too far” though a look at my step counter and the trail map tells me there’s very little difference. Perspective.

I sit quietly, writing, enjoying the quiet. It feels colder this morning, though the temperature is the same as it was yesterday, maybe even a degree warmer if I trust my recollection. My legs and back ache, and my discomfort sets me up to “feel the cold” more, perhaps.

Repetition and familiarity create an experience of “ease”, and what seems easy also seems to require less time, or amount to less distance. Practice changes our perception of difficulty. Just something I am thinking about as the new year approaches. Want to get good at something? Practice. Want something to feel easy? Practice. Want some particular skill or response to become “second nature”? Practice. Do the verbs. Do them again. Do them better. Do them over. Keep practicing.

… Fuck I wish I didn’t ache like this though…

I laugh to myself and shake off my irritation with the pain I’m often in; it would be much worse if I gave up on the walking. I know this from experience. Experience also brings perspective. The journey is the destination. The longer I walk my path, the easier it may feel, and the more I may understand. (I say “may” because there are damned few guarantees or certainties in a human lifetime, and a lot of verbs required, and my results do vary.)

I begin to notice the chill a bit more in the darkness. I see a hint of daybreak in the blue gray of the eastern horizon. I can make out the path without my the headlamp now. I guess it’s a good time to begin again – with new perspective.

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Categories Allegories, breathe, Free Will, health, Healthy Living, inspiration, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Practices, solo hiking, The Art of Being, weight loss secrets, winter
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