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.