Archives for posts with tag: what are you looking at?

Living, Loving, Learning

June 8, 2026 //
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I woke early, but later than usual. I didn’t sleep deeply through the night, but I got the rest I need and I feel pretty good aside from a predictable amount of arthritis pain; I woke to a rainy Spring morning, no surprise. I reach the trailhead delighted that the rain is still a sprinkle that won’t slow me down.

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

… What an excellent weekend…

My beloved gave me a couple more birthday gifts and I’m feeling so loved by this twist on a birthday celebration (instead of gifts all at once on the actual date that is my birthday, a gift every day of the 12 days leading up to it). It’s been lovely to receive some books, too – one replacing a book lost when I left an ex, one to instruct me on the basics of chess, others that I’ve been wanting very much to read. Books are an amazing gift for anyone who enjoys reading. I make a neat stack of the books I haven’t yet read. They’ll be properly shelved once they are read, one by one.

New software for my operating system. 😆

Seriously, I really like books. I read. I definitely find it more useful to read from bound books. Reading on digital platforms and devices doesn’t seem as effective for learning or comprehension, somehow, at least not for deep learning. It’s more a quick lookup resource suited to answering a question or finding information. From there, if I’m interested in a deeper dive, I go to bound books.

As I walked I reflected on the books that have meant most to me over the years. I have most of those, on one shelf or another. My books are among my most cherished possessions.

There’s more to life than what can be found between the pages of a book.

I get to my halfway point still smiling. The sprinkle of rain threatens to become more then gives up. It’s an ordinary enough Monday. I smile thinking about the weekend. I got in some lovely miles on beautiful trails. I enjoyed them so much I’m planning to make each of these my routine on the weekends for some little while, maybe through the summer.

… Variety and novelty keep things interesting…

The sun rises, shining golden through a gap in the clouds, and illuminating the oaks along this trail. Pulling my attention back to here, now, and this moment.

It’s a pretty good moment for a beginning.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I enjoy a few minutes of meditation. I feel calm and capable, and ready for the day. I sigh contentedly, feeling a momentary (and entirely temporary) feeling that it never has to be more complicated than this. Feels good. It’s not a feeling that lasts, and I’m okay with that. Emotions are impermanent. As with moments, they are brief and often pass very quickly. Love is one of the few that tends to hang around, if made welcome. My heart fills with love and gratitude when I think of my beloved Traveling Partner. I feel fortunate to share so much of life’s journey with him.

Take it at your own pace. Incremental change over time adds up. We become what we practice, however slowly.

I sit awhile thinking about change and this personal journey that is one human life. There’s been much to learn – and somehow that never really changes. There’s always more. This adventure isn’t about mastery at all. It’s more to do with endurance and becoming something more over time than who we were at the start. This journey changes us. That’s the point. The journey is the destination. Where does your path lead? Is that where you want to go?

What you find along the way may depend a lot on what you’re looking for (or at).

I take a deep breath and exhale slowly, tasting the hint of rain on the Spring air. It’s time I got going. The clock is ticking and this path isn’t going to walk itself. 😆 I stretch and get to my feet. My next steps are waiting.

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Categories Allegories, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, inspiration, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, Spring, The Art of Being, women, Words

More Than a Happy Place

April 19, 2026 //
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I sipped my first coffee, feet up, sitting by a cozy fire, watching the light change with the gray coastal dawn. The view to the west is layers of gray and soft blue. For me, this place is more than a delightful destination to get away for a little while; the ocean symbolizes a relentless force of reality that compels self-reflection and forces me to face myself as I watch the waves roll in. There’s no arguing with the ocean. It represents a resilient nature indifferent to external storms, even in the midst of them. Obstacles are washed away, or, like driftwood, piled on the shore, visible, removable, and easy to avoid. The ocean is unyielding about her boundaries, and for me she provokes deep thought, and a presence that I find I must linger with.

…The views from this hotel are spectacular…

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

I pour a second coffee. The coffee machine here is quite clean, and the coffee must be fresher than usual (for a hotel); it’s quite good. I sit watching the waves. The tide is going out. I am surprised by a deer ambling up the steep slope just beyond the window.

It’s worth it to slow down and observe what’s going on, even when nothing seems to be going on.

She looks at me through the window, pauses to nibble some tasty plant, and ambles on.

Two of the women most dear to me (and most significant in my own life as a woman), loved the sea and seaside places. My Dear Friend and my Granny have ended their mortal lives some time ago, but when I am at the seashore, I feel them with me. It doesn’t matter whether it is the rocky coastal beaches of the Pacific Northwest, or the marshy edges of the Chesapeake Bay, or the kitschy seaside towns that tourists flock to each summer. I love being by the shore, too, if only because it connects me so deeply to these two women, who are so much a part of who I am myself. Sometimes when I most need to be alone, I am taking that time to “talk with my ancestors” in a way I find difficult to describe. It sometimes seems funny that I never feel my Dad’s presence in such places; his are the forests and meadows. The ocean seems to me to be a very feminine sort of energy. I find myself wondering if sailors feel that way, too? Theirs is a very different relationship with the sea…

Fisherman early in the morning.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I feel well and whole, and capable. I feel comfortable in my skin and grounded in the goodness of my life. I’ll head home eagerly to see what my Traveling Partner has done while I’ve been gone. He is, himself, a force to be reckoned with, and as his abilities return he is capable of moving mountains (and definitely furniture). Certainly, he moves me.

For now, it’s me and this beautiful expanse of beach, and this gray ocean under a cloudy sky – and another cup of coffee. I’ve got plenty of time to begin again, a little later.

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Categories Allegories, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, inspiration, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Practices, Relationships, Spring, The Art of Being, women, Words

Look and Listen

September 19, 2025 //
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As I left the house this morning, I spotted the crescent moon rising, almost appearing to chase Venus up the night sky.  I took a picture of it when I got to the trailhead, from the wide open vantage point at the edge of the vineyard on the road in.

Crescent moon rising, Venus and Regulus close by.

I was surprised to get a clear image with my cellphone camera, and even more surprised to see a second star in the image when I zoomed in. “What is that?”, I wondered. I looked it up on Space.com and learned that it is a somewhat unusual sighting, and that the second star is Regulus. I was delighted to get a picture of it.

The morning is quite chilly, and the dawn sky is clear. My footsteps seem loud as I walk past deserted preparations for some event set up at the edge of the trail, filling the area where I usually park. White tents and rows of folding chairs and tables are set out, ready. I walk on by; it’s not for me. I think about that as I walk. The idea that relatively few things in life or the world, generally, are “for me” or about me at all fills my thoughts. It’s a big world, and I am one human being.

I get to my halfway point, still contemplating the many sights I will never see with my own eyes. Events I’ll never attend – or even be invited to. The people I will never meet are a vast multitude larger by far than the number of people I have met. There are books that I’ll never read, having never known they exist, and others I may choose not to read because they aren’t “for me” in some recognizable way. There are groups I am excluded from, and accolades I do not qualify for. There are places I will never visit – it’s a big world, and time is finite. Hell, I’m not even “allowed” to visit some places, for one reason or another. I’m not vexed by any of this. Our mortal time is too limited to do and see everything, anyway.

These are not musings to do with unfairness, inequity, or unjustly placing restrictions on accessibility of places, events, or experiences that should otherwise be open to a particular demographic being out-grouped by shitheads for some trumped up bullshit justification. These are simply thoughts about limitations in life, and those do exist. Some people (maybe most) won’t wake early enough to see this morning’s crescent moon. They weren’t excluded – though they did miss seeing it. There’s a distinction to make there.

Daybreak comes. The sunrise begins. The sky lightens. A new day dawns. We see what we turn our attention to, but we still have to look, and observe, and bring awareness to the moment. We make choices. We are easily distracted. The more of our precious limited mortal lifetime we spend staring at our phones, tablets, and screens, the less able we may be to sit quietly and watch the sun rise.

I sit awhile longer with my thoughts on a chilly autumn morning, watching the crescent moon climb the dawn horizon, as though seeking to make room for the sun. Soon, it will be time to begin again.

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

Artificial Illumination

February 6, 2025 //
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I get back to the warmth of the car after my walk, still thinking about how strange everything looked under the harsh glare of the recently “upgraded” lights along the section of the trail adjacent to the parking, here. Harsh contrast. Strange shadows. The unnatural brightness somehow managing not to reveal anything that looks “true” or “real”. It’s mostly a spooky and irritating effect. Unnatural, and as if anything seen is likely irrelevant.

Not a picture worth taking.

Distant shapes are hidden from view in the glare that forces what is closest to be overexposed. I walked, observing with a certain irritated wonder, and reflecting on the metaphor contained in the moment. Thinking about the way aggressive media attention, for example, forces trivial matters to be blown out of proportion, misdirecting our awareness and focus from what may matter most.

…I almost missed seeing the small herd of deer walking along almost beside me, in the meadow next to the trail…

What are you giving your attention to? What time have you left yourself to do anything about it?

I sit quietly with my thoughts for a few minutes, considering whether to wait and watch the sun rise before I begin the work day. Nice morning for it. Chilly, but otherwise quite pleasant. The sky is just beginning to lighten on the horizon. I decide to sit awhile longer with my thoughts. Soon enough it will be time to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, breathe, Free Will, Logic & Reason, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Practices, solo hiking, The Art of Being, winter