Stepping Back
A lot seems to be unfolding in this writer's life. For one, I am thankful that I have people who love me that remind me to write and that I get up a little earlier the next day to do so. It feels good and my day is going to be better for it. It already is. My writing isn't taking the form of anything concrete at the moment but it is still very substantial. I find myself exploring morning pages again and wonder how I ever strayed from them in the first place. They allow me to dump whatever I need to out on the page first thing in the morning and to, many times, discover insights that allow me to exhale whatever I'm holding inside. That's good because otherwise I'd be holding my breath and would eventually turn various shades of red, purple and blue. 
Instead, I let go.
I took this picture on my recent trip to Eugene, OR; the place that I will be calling home in less than a month. This one is part of the Skinner Butte and I felt compelled to photograph these makeshift stairs.
I've looked at this picture a number of times since I've been home. Yes, I did walk them while I was there and do know where they eventually came out. It was a little anticlimactic to say the least but I'm not certain what I was expecting in the first place. This, then, reminds me that sometimes it's not about what is at the end but instead about the journey to get there. Each step, each path, each road is different and many times the best part is taking them to get to where I'm headed. More often than not, I'm focused on the destination and forget to breathe in the excitement of actually GETTING somewhere. And who knows what the end really is anyway? I may head out somewhere only to find a new road that leads me somewhere completely different. That's the part to relish. That's the journey. That's the moment that I'm in.
In the distance can be something I see. Something I can wait to get to. I'm learning not to rush to get there but to instead step back and just take it all in. So here I go.
