Though my perturbation over the four inches of April snow and cold is undeniable, I can’t deny my gratitude for it: it was the only chance I’d have to take a photo of Kirby as a puppy in the snow.

This morning: a joyous return to the Book, to the rhythm to the day in the process of rediscovery and implementation. Shock of shocks: feed the hungry puppy first, then write; reap the benefits, repeat - hopefully.

Taking one of my periodic pauses in my 20+-year meditation practice – whether it lasts for a day or forever, I don’t know and I don’t particularly care: at present, I’m capable of hearing what’s going on inside my head quite well, thank you very much, and I don’t need to hear more of it, more of the same (shit, different day), at least until it tells me something new. Preferring to write in my journal more often and to take small moments to catch myself throughout the day, bringing myself back to the middle of the braingauge.

Had a go at writing this while I toiled at the Book (thank you, I suppose, cheap Logitech keyboard with bluetooth switch wheel), something to do while I think of the unwritten. But it’s better to be alone with the unwritten; back and forth is one step too far into the drift. Will stick with writing elements/scraps of these either by hand in journal or on legal pad while doing The Work but not drafting on another screen. That remains for this post-breakfast, pre-run interregnum.

Kirby’s currently chasing his tail; the day awaits.

Listening: DRIFT 2 and DRIFT 3, by Hailen Jackson.