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Perfection and Happily Ever After

April 24, 2026 //
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I started my walk on this beautiful Spring morning feeling rested and merry, capable and unbothered. The moment was as nearly perfect as moments ever really get. There’s no “but”, or “and then”, or “if only” – it was simply a lovely moment to be walking as the sun began to rise. I made a point of enjoying it as I walked.

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

I get to my halfway point still feeling pretty lighthearted and still enjoying the spring morning. The grass is dewy and the morning a little chillier than it has been. I’m glad I wore my cardigan.

A new day, with new opportunities to choose, and to practice, and to begin again.

I smile, sitting here quietly enjoying this solitary moment. My Traveling Partner pings me a loving message. It adds to my delight. I find myself thinking about fairytales and happily ever afters. I enjoy a good story, but damn “happily ever after” is an enticing notion that fucked my thinking up for years and years, provoking me to chase happiness, only to fail to ever be happy, again and again. It compounded my misery for a long time.

There is no “happily ever after”. It’s a trap. The Happiness Trap. It’s so tempting and damaging, someone (Russ Harris) wrote a book about it. A worthy read if you are stuck on that treadmill. I was, for a long time.

Happiness isn’t really something to chase, I eventually learned. Through patient practice I learned to build contentment and resilience, and like sleep catching up with a toddler, happiness eventually caught up with me. Happiness, though, is like a moment; it is fleeting. Its intoxicating joy doesn’t last indefinitely, and what remains when the moment passes depends a lot on the path I’ve chosen to walk. Once upon a time, a moment of happiness left behind only misery and disappointment as it departed. Now, happiness can come and go as moments do, and I relish the intoxicating bliss and let it go without clinging when the moment passes. I rest in contentment between moments. Mostly.

See, there’s also no perfection – and no potential for it. The path we walk through life isn’t paved and well maintained in any reliable way. There is no map. No user’s guide. No “training game”. We try things and fail. We learn from mistakes, which we make plentifully (all of us). We walk on. Life is imperfect. People, too. One of the best things I ever did for myself was to stop clinging to the bullshit idea that I could perfect anything, including myself. Imperfect is fine. Imperfect is real. Authenticity matters more than “perfection”. This doesn’t stop me from seeking to become the woman I most want to be, just stops me from being frustrated when even she is not “perfect”. Mistakes will be made. My results will vary. It’s a very human experience.

I watch the sun rise, feeling close enough to “happy” that the difference can’t possibly matter, and it’s enough. More than enough. We become what we practice. Practice savoring each small moment of joy, and refraining from clinging to moments as they pass, and I find myself feeling joy more often, and really feeling it, in the moment (not just noticing as it slips away). It’s nice. Worth the effort. Worth the practice.

Here it is, another morning. Another moment. Another chance to begin again. I breathe, exhale, and relax, and welcome the joy of a moment in springtime before I begin again.

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

Road’s End

April 18, 2026 //
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Roads end. I mean, I guess they do, at some point, even this one, although it doesn’t appear to end here. That’s just the name of this place, “Road’s End”. It’s a small state park at the edge of the shore, with a trail down to the beach. I am here, listening to the sound of wind and waves (and some asshole with their car radio on loud enough to be heard, which I could do without).

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

The view from Road’s End

I definitely need this time alone. I don’t get much solitude as things are, and my Traveling Partner was encouraging to the point of being willing to find me a suitable hotel and book a room for me. (I was going to make it a day trip and call it good enough.) I felt very loved, and excited to enjoy the day on the coast, and a night of solitary fun, reading, writing, and meditating.

A small bird. A moment.

This morning is different. At least for now I am neither merry nor at peace with myself. Instead I’m wrestling demons. It’s fine. Part of life with cPTSD and brain damage, I guess, and in spite of some 30 years in and out of therapy of one sort or another, I still deal with the chaos and damage. I’m not surprised by that, though I am dismayed, disappointed, and even sometimes despairing over it when shit blows up over some little thing, or I disgrace myself by losing my temper or hurting someone I care about with thoughtless words or actions. I do my best, I still fail. This is human.

… It’s also human when it’s someone else having a moment. It is important to forgive, and to make room for people to grow through experience. We’re each having our own experience…

So I’m sitting here at Road’s End, thinking my thoughts. Thinking about endings and beginnings, and change, and trying to be grateful for the solitude I am fortunate to enjoy. I need this time to myself, it meets needs I struggle to meet without the quiet of solitude. I do wish I were enjoying it on other terms than these but feeling mired in my bullshit, I’m glad to be alone with that.

… But is the sky still blue?

What matters most? I sit with the question for a little while, on a fence rail looking out at the sea. The sound of ocean waves reaching the shore and the sea breezes used to be enough to drown out my tinnitus. Now there is a high pitched whine that I still hear, but only on the left side. I frown, momentarily distracted from my thoughts. I hope it’s nothing serious.

I’m thinking about my “baggage”. Not the carefully packed weekend bag I slid onto the seat of the car. I mean “my baggage”. It’s a figure of speech that is so apt it’s easy to forget it is metaphorical. No matter where I go, no matter what relationship I’m in, I drag my bullshit along with me. Baggage. I’ve made so many changes, and I have grown and improved my thinking and behavior so much over the years, but at any moment I may yet again be standing in the middle of my pile of carefully crafted custom matched set of baggage I still lug around with me, somehow only partially unpacked even after all these years. It’s super annoying. Frustrating. Discouraging.

Beginnings. Endings. Practice.

We become what we practice. We choose what we practice. It is important to choose wisely and stay focused on who we most want to be, because if we choose poorly, we may become someone else entirely.

I sit feeling the breeze and watching the horizon. My head is filled with ghosts and regrets. Weird morning to have them turn up and demand attention. My skill with choosing relationships has been poor: a violent psychopath, a manipulative slacker looking for a meal ticket, a cruel woman who delighted in gaslighting me, an assortment of lovers who may have lacked any explicit bad intentions but found value in my limited capacity to understand that I was being taken advantage of… Then there’s my Traveling Partner. One good relationship in a lifetime of trauma and chaos, but the opportunity came late in life, and I still find myself picking metaphorical shards of past damage out of new emotional wounds. I find myself apologizing a lot. That’s got to wear thin after awhile. It still matters, and I keep practicing.

I sit by the sea feeling the breeze, and the weight of all the many mistakes I have made over 16 years with this singular human being. I wonder if he does the same thing, when he finds that he’s hurt me without intending to. Neither of us are perfect beings of pure love and empathy. I feel confident neither of us would hurt the other intentionally. That’s not who we are. We are, however, quite human. I sigh to myself and let it go, at least for the moment. I remind myself that self-care matters, and in solitude there is no excuse to treat myself as second best, ever. I left rather abruptly this morning, instead of enjoying a leisurely coffee with my beloved. Coffee and some healthy calories would be good…

… The descent into madness often begins with poor self-care and low blood sugar…

I guess I should begin again. I don’t know where this path leads…

Sometimes the path isn’t an easy one.
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Categories Allegories, anger, Anxiety, Brain Injury, breathe, Despair, forgiveness, Free Will, Frustration, gratitude, Healthy Living, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Spring, The Art of Being, The Big 5, 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

There Is No Perfection, Only Practice

April 1, 2026 //
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One step after the next, I walk down the trail, stopping occasionally to answer a ping from my Traveling Partner. He woke me early to tell me the home automation was down (my silent alarm is the lights coming on slowly, and the timing is set in the home automation app). I acknowledged the information and went back to sleep without any worries; my medication alarm is on my phone and would wake me in plenty of time. My partner wakes me again, checking whether I had my CPAP mask on? Yep. Sure did. I started to drift back to sleep…then woke. That was it. No more sleep for me.

I sat up bleary eyed, feeling less than ideally well rested. Already past 05:00. May as well start the day. Stupidly I glance at the notifications that piled up as soon as I turned off bedtime mode on my phone. Work shit. My mood shifted immediately.

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

I reached the halfway point of my trail without really noticing the walk at all. I mostly remember the frequent pings of my Traveling Partner’s messages and the notifications of work shit I’ll deal with later. I stopped to reply to each ping from my beloved. I ignored the rest as much as I could. There’s nothing to see, yet. I walked in darkness.

… Walking in darkness… Yeah, that’s what this morning feels like.

I sigh to myself and answer another message from my Traveling Partner.

Like a lot of less than ideal moments, this too will pass. Moments are fleeting. There’s no value in trying to cling to the emotion of a past moment, either, good or bad those emotions fade with time or get replaced by new feelings in some new moment. The better choice is to let them go, to “be like water“, to be present in the moment I find myself in.

…Be present… that’s a practice. Well… I wasn’t doing that. I sigh to myself and shrug. I need more practice.

There is no perfection in this mortal life, only practice. We may work a lifetime to perfect a craft, to develop a skill, to explore the furthest reaches of the universe or the most hidden functions of human consciousness, we will never know everything there is to know, nor master every element of our craft. We will reliably need more practice. May as well get used to that shit.

For a moment I think irritably about the Anxious Adventurer, ever striving to demonstrate that he already knows something, rarely noticing how much more there is to learn.

I sigh to myself, still somewhat irritated by being wakened from an interesting dream that seemed somehow useful or important, definitely infused with profound joy over… something. I never found out. Like reading a really gripping mystery novel and discovering the last chapter is missing. I breathe, exhale, and relax. It was only a dream. I got enough rest. The day ahead should be an ordinary one. Daybreak comes as I sit with my thoughts.

It’s a good time to practice meditation, and to reflect on impermanence, non-attachment, and new beginnings.

My left “shoulder” is aching. Maybe it’s to do with my neck… Feels like I’ve managed to strain my deltoid somehow. The pain is annoying. It layers on top of other more routine seeming pain, crying out for attention it doesn’t deserve from me. The medication that has been bringing such tremendous relief to me generally does not help with this one. I take an Aleve and hope that it helps.

The clock ticks on. I am earnestly craving some sort of proper time to myself without the world – or anything or anyone else – encroaching upon my consciousness or my time. I yearn for uninterrupted time with my own thoughts, no errands, no work pings, no worries, just boots on the path and eyes on the horizon… Not fucking likely, not for awhile. There’s shit to do and bills to pay, and obligations.

I sigh to myself and ignore the tears that spring up when I think about how challenging it is to meet this core need for solitude. The world is at war and we (the United States) are not the good guys. It weighs on me. I’d like to be alone with my grief. That’s not realistic presently. I take a breath and let those feelings be what they are; feelings, only that. The time will come for solitude. When it does, I’ll enjoy it thoroughly and without reluctance or regret.

… Looks like another gray day. It’s time to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, Frustration, health, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, solo hiking, Spring, The Art of Being, War and News of War, Words

Real Luxury Isn’t Always Costly

March 28, 2026 //
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I woke up slowly in a quiet place – home. I made coffee. I made oatmeal, and contentedly sliced the last banana into it, chuckling because my Traveling Partner handed it to me yesterday, before he departed, and I forgot to eat it. I was busy with work (what a fucking waste of limited mortal lifetime, but it pays for everything else).

I took a comfortable seat in the living room. Ate my breakfast. Sipped my coffee. Watched the news Bubu and Dudu videos. I have the house to myself. What a crazy luxury! Better than diamonds or Louboutin shoes for me personally, the luxury of solitude at home is a favorite delight. My beloved knows this, and took his first opportunity to get away, meeting needs of his own, to give me this gift. I feel very loved lazing in my jammies, enjoying my coffee, soft jazz in the background as I write – on my laptop instead of my phone! Good grief, I could get used to this, but g’damn I’d miss my Traveling Partner…

Enjoying a moment of luxury, on my own terms.

… I reflect on that for awhile. When we maintained separate households, morning coffee together was the precious luxury. We made a point of it, often. I would not trade this relationship for solitude…or, not permanently. I do need my time away now and then, no shame, that’s who I am. Wow am I enjoying being able to enjoy that at home. I sigh happily.

Shortly, after coffee, after writing, after meditation, I’ll enjoy a leisurely shower, fold some laundry (because there are still chores to do to maintain good quality of life), and then head to the garden supply place on the other side of town, maybe, for more compost for the garden. I smile, thinking about taking my walk later in the morning, or possibly in the afternoon, maybe on a different local trail? No rush.

I feel content and unbothered, and comfortable in my skin and in my home. How lovely!

… I slept like crap, not gonna lie. With just me and my stepson (the Anxious Adventurer) at home, and considering the bridges he’s managed to burn with me due to his poor judgement and dreadful communication skills (and poor social skills), my mind refused to rest, I was restless and hyper vigilant, fighting PTSD “monsters in the vicinity” alarms clanging away in my consciousness. I slept poorly, woke often, and for too few hours. I shrug it off because this morning? Just wow. So good. This meets so many needs.

I’m grateful for this beautiful morning and the loving partnership that recognizes and supports that need. Did I say I feel loved? I definitely do. I finish my coffee. I’m looking forward to my shower. I’m enjoying these precious moments of solitude at home.

What are the little luxuries you yearn for and struggle to have or enjoy? So much of what matters most to us can feel just out of reach. That’s often because we placed it there, just out of reach, for… reasons. Choose wisely. For fucks sake don’t leave them there out of reach! Do you! What does that look like? Indulge the freedom to be truly who you are. Embrace the experiences you love. Enjoy your moment. If you’re not free to get there now, maybe begin again? These mortal lives are too short to waste time on a shadow of living, constrained by expectations, or the pressure of circumstances (or opinions). Take time to enjoy life’s simple luxuries while the opportunities last.

… Thanks, Love, 😍🥰 I definitely needed this…

I turn off the music and listen to the silence, before I head to the shower. These moments are mine – a precious treasure beyond price – I’ll enjoy them as long as they last, and then? I’ll begin again.

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

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Categories Allegories, Anxiety, art and the artist, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, joy, Love, meditation, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Sleepless Nights, Spring, The Art of Being, The Big 5, women, Words
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