After two days of steady rain,

the sun came out. I noticed among the people a feeling of joy, renewal. The cook at the Garlic Press usually has a dour face, but today she was snapping her fingers--to the music. I turned around and couldn't believe it was the same person.

Yes, the mundane is everything . . .

I chased after a rabbit just to see how far I could run . . . it wasn't very far.

There is this pull toward a greater livelihood. I am pulled by aspirations and dreams despite the absurdity of these dreams.

I am still alone today, but it's not so lonely.

Ignorance is easy--like sleepwalking. But then, you also have to walk to get out of it, to wake up. Life is flat and then suddenly it's remarkably contoured, twisted, curvy, long . . .

On the trail, walking--for hours. My thoughts were like loose pockets, holding nothing. I could hear the trees creaking above the bridge . . .

Funny how I make a choice and then my life begins to unfold in a different way. It's a pattern made up of moments.

Instead of pining for a different life--a miserable condition of wanting something that never comes--I started to believe one choice could alter this life . . .

The hours are empty. They were always empty. Before I filled them with hatred, self-loathing. Now, for some strange reason, friends are calling me.

Yes, you're right. I feel better.

I want to remember this.

But don't we lose wisdom? I've tumbled into old ways like an alcoholic stepping into familiar taverns.

The wisdom is deeply personal. It relates to a specific circumstance.

After all, I'm just shining like the sun today. Nobody with nothing inside. And these words are all temporary. They mark my place in one instant.