I started walking every morning. I try to walk about four miles. Two miles out, turn around, and then two miles back. Sometimes I stroll and look all around. Sometimes I start out power walking and then relax into a stroll. Either way, the last mile is heaven. It’s as if it takes those three miles to come back. The last mile is presence. Remembering.

A few days ago, someone had placed flowers all along the trail. Some roses, some daisies. Some entire flowers and some just petals. I thanked them. In my head, I said, thank you for making this little spot in the world a bit more beautiful. You didn’t have to, but you did.

I’ve been talking to a friend about timing- diving timing. It’s like the universe knows when the time is right. You want something so badly and you just can’t get there. It’s just not the right time. And then, you finally start to get there and you can see why that thing you wanted wasn’t happening. There was more to the story. There was more to your story that you just couldn’t see yet.

I am seeing so much lately. So much. How couldn’t I see before?
(There’s no answer to that question.)

Summer is here. Sun and warmth. The seeds are planted. It’s time to water them.

I read this today:
I’ve never seen any life transformation that didn’t begin with the person in question getting tired of their own bullshit.
-Elizabeth Gilbert


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