Life With Toast

Whisper of experience: August 1st

Air crackles across my ears - breath, step step step - it reminds me of early mornings staring into a fireplace. The infrequent bursts of sound - breath, step step step - light exploding and fading away. Gazing endlessly the flames would lull me into a warm trance - breath, step step step - I try and find that easy place once more. Watch for cars, watch for bikes - breath, step step step - thinking about how much is left doesn't help. I don't run to think - breath, step step step - I just run.

I've always found basketball to be a great mind-cleanse. In the heat of a game or practice, I can't think about emails or problems or anything, just what is directly around me. Slowly, the paint chips of built up thoughts and ideas get chiselled out, shown their fragility that was there all along. By the end, I am exhausted, but cleared in a way that birds must feel after a migration. I never found running to induce these micro-migrations, to really take me to away with it. Lately, as I've begun pushing myself and intentionally setting that time not to think (a fun paradox if you've 'tried'), it's starting to happen. Every time it gets a little bit easier - breath, step step step - the trick isn't to think about, just give it a shot.