Resting under Oracle’s skies for three nights, beneath my poncho, amidst rain, thunder, and lightning. Javelinas stirring in the night, my mind racing, fueled by Dollar Store energy shots on the hike towards new shoes.
My body urged me to seek solace in the trail. To keep moving in a dance of exercise-induced neurogenesis, while the rain rolling across dark skies mirrored my internal chaos.
Deep breath.
“I am not my body.”
So, I typed on my phone, embracing the forgotten power of unstructured writing. Stream of thought, a release valve for the mind’s noise.
A thousand thumb-typed words later, the exorcism was complete. Stray fragments of consciousness surrendered, collapsing back into self. I was whole again, united.
Even if unpublished, writing was a potent tool, reigniting my essence, acting as a beacon, guiding me through the storm of distraction and attachment.
Shoes arrived early, under a rainbow that guided me back into Oracle, dividing the rain to the north and south, keeping me dry. The Mexican restaurant was closed, but a giant cookie beckoned, 25 miles away.
#AZT #writinglife #whitin