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Exactly As It Is

October 19, 2026 //
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It’s Monday. 10 more Mondays left in the year. How wild is that?

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

It was an ordinary night. I slept through it, waking only once. I woke feeling rested, and also feeling as if I’d been away for quite a long time. 😂 It was a good weekend. I got home around noon and enjoyed hanging out with my beloved Traveling Partner. I missed him as fiercely as if I’d been quite far away. Funny how perspective can be quite different than reality.

Unpacking didn’t take long. I’m glad to be home. I was glad to take the weekend away to paint. I’m grateful for the opportunities. I’m grateful for my beloved’s support.

I yawn from the side of the trail. I’m not actually sleepy. I watch the stars awhile. I breathe, exhale, and relax. Daybreak is aways off yet. My nose is running. I reach for the tissues in my pocket. It’s all very ordinary. I think back to a conversation yesterday afternoon with my beloved, speculating whether or not we may have COVID or lingering head colds. Neither of us seem particularly ill, just a bit under the weather. The sinus congestion and this bit of an irritating cough do make me wonder, though. It’s going around. “What is?”, you might ask. “All of it”, I would likely reply.

Be safe, Readers, get vaccinated. (“Against what?”, you might ask. “Against everything”, I would likely reply.)

I sit watching the stars awhile longer. I think about love… And dinner? Seems premature, but it takes longer to figure it out on a glp-1. 😆 I’m barely interested in food, ever, a mild inconvenience. It does tend to make planning harder.

Chilly morning, but not really cold. I could happily go back to bed, cozy and warm, and wrapped in blankets. It is, however, Monday. It’s already time to begin again.

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

Reflections

October 17, 2026 //
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Interesting day. Art that I’m happy with and some good photos.

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

I spent most of the day quietly contemplating some things my beloved has said recently, and some useful perspective offered by my therapist – and my own past writing. Sometimes having memory issues is almost comical, it’s often seriously frustrating, but in this instance it’s actually sort of useful. I can go back and look at my own experience of life, and take my own advice. 😆 I chuckle to myself, although I’m quite serious.

Good day of painting. Strange day of random human stuff. A drunken man raising hell by a nearby restaurant. He punched a woman in the face just a few steps from the hotel. The police were called. Nothing much came of it and the man along with the woman he’d struck retreated to their hotel room. There’s a strange woman on the second floor with a small pack of agitated tiny dogs on perpetually tangled leashes. They yap a lot. In the early morning, when I stepped out for a good quality coffee, the elevator was filled with fishermen and a very strange uncomfortable vibe. I ignored all of it, and kept to myself. I painted, and when I wasn’t painting, I was thinking about painting, and moving colors around in my paint boxes thoughtfully.

Later a bite to eat. Cold fried chicken. It was fine. I crashed pretty early, napped, and woke in time to watch the moon set. Nice interlude.

I catch myself yawning. Tomorrow I’ll head home. I miss my Traveling Partner, and I miss my studio! My beloved is right though; it isn’t so easy to do this kind of thing in the winter. I take a deep breath of the sea air. The last bonfire on the beach has gone out. The scent of wood smoke is dissipating.

I sit star gazing awhile after the moon sets. I think I’m seeing Antares, maybe? I sigh quietly and yawn. Beginning again can wait for the morning. I get a drink of cold water and head back to bed.

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Categories Allegories, art and the artist, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, inspiration, loneliness, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, The Art of Being, women, Words

Who Were You Then?

October 16, 2026 //
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Lovely start to the day, today. Coffee with my beloved Traveling Partner before I headed to the trail to get a walk in before work.

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

I walked in the predawn darkness contentedly, on the edge of humming a little tune, but I can’t quite find the melody. I smile and keep walking. I’m okay for nearly all values of “okay”, and better than that for many more. In a word, in this moment I am content and happy. I walked along enjoying it without asking why. Doesn’t matter why.

I think about the woman I was in 1995. Why ’95? That was the year I walked away from a nightmare, and the year I lived alone for the first time, fully independently. It was a peculiar transformation and it took me awhile to catch up with myself. I spent that year beginning the search for the woman I wanted most to be. It’s taken a long g’damned time to get from there to here. By the time I reach my halfway point (on this walk), I’ve mentally drafted a letter I wish I could send back in time to that earlier version of me.

Continuity of memory is strange. It tends to suggest I am that woman I was then. I doubt that’s really true. She was reckless. Irresponsible. Angry (so very angry). She was prone to disrespecting boundaries. She had no clear sense of purpose, and her goal setting was shortsighted and exceedingly practical. Her path was not yet her own choosing. Shared memory connects me to her, but I am not that woman I once was. Probably a good thing, actually; she was headed for destruction.

Daybreak begins. The starry night sky gives way to shades of gray.

She could have done better, or been a better person. I guess so can I, even now. I sit with that for a little while. Later today, therapy, and a manicure. It is a Friday. I think about the weekend ahead. I think about beginnings and I think about love.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. A new beginning starts right here. A chance to be my best self, a better partner, a better friend. I like beginning again. Each day is a new experience, a new chance to choose and to do better… a new opportunity to love and to walk my path. It’s enough.

I breathe the autumn air deeply. It’s already time to walk on, and begin again.

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Categories Allegories, anger, Anxiety, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, gratitude, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, The Art of Being, women

Name That Emotion

October 15, 2026 //
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I woke with a certain feeling clinging to me as I pulled myself free of my dreams to face a new day.

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

I noticed the pain in my hands as I woke. Then the neuralgia in my face. I snarled silently at Thursday morning, thinking to myself “so it’s going to be like that, is it?”, as I dressed.

As I left the house, I stared at the starry sky with wonder. It still fills me with awe and delight. I recognize Orion overhead and smile; that was the first constellation I learned to recognize. The starry night sky inspires me.

I walk the familiar trail thinking about art, starry night skies, new moments, and inspiration. Nice morning for it. It’s dark but not cold. We haven’t yet had our first frost. That’s not strange here, only an observation. I pause on the trail at a spot with a particularly good view of the night sky, a little vexed by the pointlessly bright lights of the nearby construction site. I star gaze for a few minutes, rubbing my aching hands and enjoying the view before walking on.

I spent some time in the studio after work yesterday. I’m grateful that I could, and that I have dedicated space for creative work. That is an incredible luxury and I am fortunate.

“The Drain”, soft pastels, 2026

At my halfway point, I indulge myself with a long look at a picture of the piece I painted yesterday. It evokes something for me that I can’t quite name. I’m not entirely clear whether the art flows from the emotion…or creates it. At least, that is the case with this one. I felt pulled into the studio yesterday, as if drawn towards a painting not yet conceived, and walked out with a sense of something certain and final. Completed work, yes, and also as if I’d said something I didn’t have words for.

… What is that emotion called..?

I sigh and stuff my phone back into my pocket. I let my eyes readjust to the darkness. I rub my hands – more specifically my thumbs, where the newest arthritis has turned up. It seems likely that over time, perhaps quite slowly, it will become progressively more difficult to paint, as it becomes more difficult to hold pastels or brushes comfortably. I sit with the awareness awhile, not picking at it, not trying to wish it away or argue with it, simply aware, observing the sensation of pain and feeling the poignant hint of sorrow and maybe future disappointment.  No reason to drag all that into this moment from a future that hasn’t yet occurred. I breathe, exhale, and relax, and let the moment pass.

I meditate under the stars. The morning here is peaceful. For the moment, that is enough.

I catch myself squirming and twisting slowly, trying to find physical comfort. Yes, the arthritis is sometimes an absolute motherfucker to deal with, but…it could be worse. So much worse. I stretch and adjust my seated position and my posture. I silently acknowledge to myself that it’s the best I can do for the moment, and take my morning medication. That will help, too.

I write a bit, and watch the sky slowly begin to lighten. I love seeing the various gradual changes as night becomes day. Another sigh. I get to my feet. May as well begin again.

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Categories Allegories, art and the artist, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, health, inspiration, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, solo hiking, The Art of Being, Words

Strategic Distraction

October 13, 2026 //
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This morning I am reflecting on beauty. Thoughts and recollections of beautiful sights are one useful strategy to manage pain; if my mind is focused on beautiful recollections, it is not preoccupied with the experience of pain in that moment. Simple, right?

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

Like a lot of simple ideas, it is more complicated than it sounds and requires steady practice to be really effective – but today my thumbs don’t hurt. I have been feeling deeply inspired lately, and it makes thoughts of beauty easier to focus on. I can explore inspiration in real depth, for a long while, and the pain seems to recede, no longer dominating my awareness. When my thumbs, specifically, are also hurting it becomes difficult to think about beauty and art, because the thoughts themselves redirect my attention back to my pain.

… Not this morning…

This morning I walk down the path more or less comfortably (less, much less), and the morning is slightly warmer. I’m dressed for it, that helps. Knee pain on the right, and a painful little hangnail on my left foot that I only noticed after I stepped out of the car to begin my walk. Arthritis pain up and down my spine. Nerve pain down my left hip. Rough morning for pain and pain management, so… I distract myself from it with thoughts of beauty, and paintings not yet painted. It works, mostly. My results vary.

Fall colors

Autumn colors excite me, and I enjoy the scent of autumn on the chilly breeze: fallen leaves, damp earth, and somewhere a warm hearth and the hint of a crackling fire last night. I am eager to be in my studio again, painting scenes of autumn. As I walk I think about recent sights. Beautiful sunrises. The glimmer of the setting sun across the ripples and slow currents of Siletz Bay. The vineyards becoming neat rows of yellow under cloudy skies. The oranges, rusts, and reds of deciduous trees mingling with the deep dark greens of various evergreens and pines. It is an outstanding season for painting.

I get to my halfway point and stop awhile. No starry sky this morning. Cloudy. Chilly. A quiet reminder of how vulnerable we are, as human beings. We have no fur, no claws, no savage fangs, no poison. We are fleshy and naked to the elements, and only our intelligence and adaptability keep us at or near the top of the food chain. I’m glad dressed warmly. I think awhile about humanity inventing clothing, and continuing to improve it over time. I shiver a bit in the cold in spite of my warm fleece over a warm fleece lined Henley.

I breathe the chilly autumn air and exhale it as a visible breath. I let my body relax. I repeat the simple practice for several minutes. I’m feeling pretty good, now, although chilly. Oh, look, it’s not meditation carrying the weight on this, as good as that sounds. I also remembered to take my meds on time and the Rx pain relief picks up where meditation leaves off. Sometimes ya gotta do both.

I gather my thoughts and get to my feet. I note happily that I’ve managed to stay focused on my own thoughts without giving any thought to work at all. That feels like an achievement, but acknowledging it feels like I just lost the game. 😂 I stretch and feel tension leave my body. It’s a good beginning. I wonder where today will take me?

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