Hello again.

It is time to return to a regular essayistic practice. Why? Because my thoughts have gotten unfocused and lax and I think anyone who is self-critical in this era recognizes the culprit. I did not enter a picture of my phone because I would rather focus on what I need to return to rather than give more airtime/pixels to its usurper. Nature heals. I know this. I try to walk miles outside every day, preferably near the water or in the ocean-blanket-sound of the woods. But lately, that has felt more difficult, as has the poetry. I will not bore myself with the everyday concerns that are intruding—trodding—heavily upon my brain just now, although I may soon. Right now it feels enough to announce my intention to walk more, write more, be less connected to the virtual world and more attuned to the inner and outer worlds that a lake high in the mountains of West Georgia and a blossoming tree on its banks manifest for me. Here is the place. There was the now I want to know more regularly, more intimately. Let me please get to the being. The path feels a bit overgrown.