I have been thinking about the in-between time.
Not elated, not despondent.
Not beginning, not ending.
Not mountain height, not valley floor.
Not storming, not sunshine.
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The trail stretches ahead, level, almost featureless.
Trees close in on both sides.
A gentle drizzle falls, steady, not storm.
Each drop gathers on the leaves, then slips off in silence.
The air carries a faint earthy smell, damp soil and bark.
The ground darkens, roots slick, footsteps softened.
No summit to celebrate, no descent to endure.
Just step after step, one more patch of woods, one more corner.
This is where most of the walk is spent — not in triumph, not in crisis, but in the quiet carrying-on.
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The quiet stretch rewards attention.
When I give it, even the smallest thing becomes a gift.
Here I learn patience.
Here habits are formed without spectacle.
By attending to the ordinary, I learn how to attend to everything.
Attention.
– from the mountain
Consider:
Can I stay attentive, even in this in-between time?
Reading:
“The true secret of happiness lies in taking a genuine interest in all the details of daily life.”
— William Morris
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“Do not look for the extraordinary. Look deeply into the ordinary, and it will open to you.”
— Zen saying
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“In quietness and in confidence shall be your strength.”
— Isaiah 30:15 (KJV)
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