Not there. But here, now…
Lie on cold ground, watch the insects move, and the wind dance a dizzy with long grass. Follow the woodlice and discover their home. There’s a world of intrigue under that flowerpot.
Let today be different.
At dawn, go outside, watch the clouds drift over, majestic forms on a slow push to elsewhere. Care for one. Place your mind in the folds of its cloak and drift a bit, upwards, outwards. The drone of rush hour be damned. You’re here. Here. Put an ear to the earth and listen to its depth. Fill your mind with roots. Things will tilt and shift. Your ground.
…is where you can find good things,
You don’t need a bucket list, twenty destinations, or a death wish.
Instead: walk barefoot on cold grass, in snow, on ice and remind yourself you’re wild. Stand in the rainstorm and listen to the beat, pat, pat, of the droplets. Move. There are books in that library you’ve never read, whole worlds and characters paused there, awaiting the browse of your mind. Swim in the sea but be still awhile; part of the waves and the strangeness of salt. Later, you’ll tuck in your Mer- tail (others might find it distracting) but it won’t stop you climbing a tree and sitting awhile unseen, a witness to the leaves. Turn the wrong way out the station. Choose the ugly place and look for a diamond. It's right there, right here, all around you. Leave others to their choices. Adventure is found in your quest to make the most of a rainy Monday, a week with an empty wallet, a day when everything goes wrong. You know how this life is. You know how it goes. How quickly.
After dark, lie with a blanket under the stars, conducting a symphony of satellites. Regret nothing. Tend the small spaces. Touch what’s not inviting. Be grateful. Seek.
Deep days, wide and full.