Whenever I've come to post, I've managed to churn out some body-obsessed rant. I was laying awake last night tries to figure out what holds me back, physically. I literally find myself not moving and it is a metaphor, I believe, for my life.
I have a great thrist for stillness, serenity, peace. That has driven some of my inactivity. When my body is still, my mind and imagination soar. I can go to faraway places and contemplate unreachable extremes. I can approach the limits of sensory inquiry. But without the benefit of experience. In many ways, this has been helpful. When I am still, I can think and reason to conclusion. I can sort what is good and bad. And I can move without obstacle.
But then, at the same time, there is no escaping the fact that my stillness does not produce tangible evidence of progress. There is no movement.
I made a move this morning. I intend to follow it with another...