Some of these winter mornings – and evenings – are quite foggy here. I don’t mind. I love the mystery of it, and the sense that with each step I am crafting the very fabric of existence from my thoughts and imagination. I know that’s not a practical sort of perspective on existence, but it’s a fun one, and on foggy days I enjoy it greatly.

Walking in fog; it's a metaphor.

Walking in fog; it’s a metaphor.

Each day is another step on a very peculiar journey. I’ve made some progress along the way – and some mistakes. I practice appreciating the progress, and learning from the mistakes. They seem worthwhile practices.

I slept well last night, and my coffee is hot and tasty. I am in pain. Simple observations of my experience seem sufficient this morning. I look at the day ahead without expectations and prepare to accept, moment-to-moment, how human I am…mistakes, harsh words, moods, awkward moments, and all. I do not know where life’s journey leads, but I keep heading down my path, eyes wide with wonder, and present in the moment.

Today is a good day to be the cartographer on this strange journey. Today is a good day to take a better look at my map. Today is a good day to remember that the map is not the world.